#warden x y/n

[angelfic]

OMG STOP THAT LAST TIM DRABBLE FOR THE VALENTINES THING REKINDLED THIS IDEA THATS BEEN LINGERING IN THE BACK OF MY MIND

Also I’ve been seeing this idea everywhere so I think it’s a sign

So could I get a Tim fic where the reader (gn if that’s okay!) gets this new lipstick and tests how pigmented it is on Tim, like how many kiss marks they can leave before the colors gone and they have to reapply it

Sry if that didn’t make any sense and ty in advance if u choose to write this 🙏🙏

tim drake x reader

warnings — kissing :) suggestive themes ig, established relationship

a/n; writing for tim lately has been so fun it gives me a better high than any class a drugs could. so serious abt that btw. I loved writing this so much anon like I wanna kiss you on the mouth just for requesting it

Tim is very much used to you trying things out on him by now. Your new perfumes, to make him walk past you so you can imagine what people smell when you’re around. Face masks so you’re not doing it alone. Different shades of your nail polishes painted on his fingernails because, well, that one’s mostly just for fun.

Even that one time when you wanted to try out a new heatless overnight curl method and had him sat on the couch for hours with his head full of tightly wound velcro rollers before you realised you’d done it wrong.

So when you plop down beside him on the couch with a freshly delivered package, he doesn’t even bat an eye.

“What’s that?” he asks politely, only sparing you a quick glance up from his laptop.

“New lipsticks,” you say, spilling them out onto your lap and picking one from the bunch to twist it up and reveal the velvety pigment. “I wanna test out the longevity.”

He hums, long fingers typing away. “Sounds fun.”

You grin. “Glad to hear you say that, because you’re helping.”

He pauses, slowly turning his head towards you and considering the lipstick in your hand. Then, he sighs. “Fine,” he relents, going back to his laptop, but not before pouting his lips out for you.

“Not like that,” you snort, gently shoving his face away. He glances up again, a confused crease etched between his brows.

“Then….?” he trails off, quirking a brow. “How am I helping?”

In response, you uncap the top of the lipstick and carefully apply it, using your phone reflection to stay within the lines. You press your lips together, before flashing him a smile. He parts his lips, no doubt to compliment you like he always does when you ask him about any new product. Before he can say anything, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving behind a mark in the shape of your lips.

Tim blinks, touching his cheek where the red imprint of your lips remains and rubs the pigment thoughtfully between his fingers. “Ahhh. I see.”

“You’re my test subject,” you confirm, shifting closer. “My own little lab rat. Let’s see how many kisses it takes before the colour is gone.”

His ears flush, a muted version of your lipstick, but he doesn’t pull away, instead angling himself towards you and shifting his laptop out of the way. “Well,” he murmurs, a small smirk playing on his lips. “For science.”

You laugh, leaning in once again. This time, your lips land on his jaw. Then his temple. The high of his cheekbone. His neck.

By the tenth kiss, Tim is practically radiating heat, fingers curled slightly into the couch cushions, staying obediently still. By the fifteenth, he’s closed his laptop entirely, shoving it to the other end of the couch.

At twenty, he becomes visibly antsy. “Still pigmented?” he asks, voice slightly hoarse.

You lean back to inspect your handiwork, taking in the array of kiss marks scattered across his face and neck. “A little faded,” you say thoughtfully, tilting your head. “Might need to reapply this one.”

Tim huffs a laugh, shaking his head at you. “Of course you do.”

When you reach for the lipstick, which had ended up in his lap somewhere around the twelfth kiss, he catches your wrist and tugs you close enough to brush his lips against your own in a barely-there kiss. “Think I prefer it like that,” he murmurs.

Your stomach flips at the sight of your lipstick faintly colouring his lips. Then you grin, eyes sparkling.

“Well, that’s too bad. We have a test to finish and about… four more lipstick shades to go.”

Tim sighs dramatically, but the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “Fine. But only because I’m committed to the cause,” he says, face as serious as he can muster with it covered in kiss marks.

And with that, you reapply the lipstick in pink this time, ready to start the experiment all over again.

[h4ll0w33npumpk1n]

ME FR ‼️‼️

/not my vid

[reveseke]

Highly a believer in Harry who comes and goes as he pleases,sometimes crashes on the couch and sometimes crawls intl the bed with you if he feels like it. Like an outside cat who has been let inside once and fed —and comes back when he pleases knowing the people there are kind and have good food. No you will not get any peace with him in the house, sometimes yes. Depends on if he feels like being an asshole and scaring the living shit out of you with how good of a guy he's at sneaking up on others and being quiet and eerie or if he wants your attention constantly to be on him.

Yes there are bloody handprints and blood stains in your sheets or on the couch. On your mats. With most likely soot.

[calmcoldevening]

Can you do a Valentine's day themed thingy for slashers x reader please?

Happy Valentine's day, kitten ♡⁠ I hope you spent this day with your love)

Slashers x reader, Valentine's Day headcanons

Michael Myers

• Michael basically doesn't see any special importance in this day, it's not Halloween. But seeing how you fuss that day, Michael just gives up.

• He returns home from hunting, and you meet him in the kitchen with a bright smile and a delicious dinner on the table. It causes a strange, mixed feeling in his chest. He doesn't know what it is, but it's something warm and pleasant.

• You have dinner together in almost complete silence, only sometimes you tell something about your day. Michael doesn't give this dinner that much importance, after all, you often have dinner together.

• After dinner, you sit on the couch together and watch a movie. This time you chose some kind of romantic melodrama, after all, it was in the spirit of today's holiday. And even though Michael didn't give you the special attention you wanted, you just liked that he was with you tonight. Michael liked horror more, he didn't particularly like movies with feelings other than fear. But it made him put some kind of puzzle together in his head.

• In the morning, as usual, you woke up alone. The sheets on Michael's side were cold. It left a painful feeling in your chest. When you came downstairs, you found a large bouquet of scarlet roses on the table. Next to the bouquet was a small note with an inscription on it, written in a sloppy handwriting: "Sorry ♡⁠".

Jason Voorhees

• Before meeting you, Jason didn't really know much about holidays, but now he wanted to please you on such special days. Valentine's Day was no exception. And although he didn't have much money for this, after all, Jason lived in an old camp, which was quite far from the city, and he didn't like people, the guy tried to make this day as romantic as possible for you.

• You did not return to your cabin until late in the evening (perhaps you were at work or studying). You were very tired and your mood was almost at zero. You just wanted to go to bed and forget, this day wasn't anything special. You slowly opened the door to your bedroom.

• What was your surprise when you saw Jason sitting on the bed. Your whole little room was filled with various, mostly red candles. Maroon petals of some flowers were scattered on the bed.

• Jason was sitting facing you, his cheeks flushed scarlet even through the cracks of the mask. He looked up at you nervously and pulled out a pink box from behind his back. You carefully picked it up and opened it. It was a big postcard with lots of pages and cute inscriptions on them. Everything was bright, although a little messy, but it looked nice. Hearts and seals were painted, compliments and words of love were written. Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly nervous.

• You carefully put the postcard on the desk. As you got closer, you climbed onto Jason's lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. A nervous mutter escaped from the man's chest. You smiled, "I love you." Jason blushed visibly. A nervous "I love you too," Jason signed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba was very worried. He knew about the upcoming holiday and didn't know how to please you. Besides, his brothers made fun of him because of his excitement. This made Bubba completely discouraged.

• And yet, the brothers understood his excitement, after all, you were the first and only person Bubba ever loved and who loved Bubba back. They are in no way going to interfere with his romantic plans.

• Bubba asked Drayton to do some shopping, which he agreed to, wanting to help Sawyer Jr., although not without a little joke. But not wanting to make the guy blush any more, Drayton and the twins left the house that day for 'important things'.

• You returned home after a little work in the city and were greeted by a pleasant romantic atmosphere. All the lights in the house were turned off, and the dining room was lit with wax candles. You walked in, smiling softly and looking around the room. Bubba couldn't hide his excitement and fear, he was nervously biting his lower lip. Finally, he looked up at you and handed you a big teddy bear. You smiled happily as you accepted the gift and hugged Bubba. He was overjoyed. After a sweet kiss, Bubba showed you the dinner he made just for the two of you.

• After dinner, you lay in each other's arms all evening. Bubba held you gently to him and covered your face and neck with kisses, whining softly. He was overwhelmed with emotion. He was happy to love you and be loved by you.

Hannibal Lecter

• This man will spend the best valentine's day of your life with you.

• Hannibal will bring you breakfast in bed first. It will be something light but delicious, like a classic American breakfast and a cup of your favorite coffee.

• Later in the evening, he will take you to a nice expensive restaurant and ask you to wait. The man will return with a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a small gift bag. Inside was an expensive necklace with a bright stone that accentuated your eye color.

• If you prefer something simpler, Hannibal will suggest you take a walk after the restaurant. Gentle kisses under the night sky and caring hugs. Hannibal will offer you his jacket to keep you warm.

• This day will be full of tenderness and love on his part, Hannibal will try in every way to show that you are really dear to him. "Even in a room full of art, I would still only look at you."

Harry Warden

• This is a pretty difficult situation, because for Harry, Valentine's Day is a reminder of that tragedy in the mine, so it's unlikely that he will decide to cancel it, even with you.

• But the next night, he'll just decide to spend romantic time with you. The man will cook some simple but delicious dinner, and then offer to watch a movie. You will be sitting on the couch in the living room and cuddling. His arm is around your waist, your head is on his shoulder. This is a moment filled with pleasant silence and tenderness.

• A few hours earlier, Harry gave you a beautiful piece of jewelry, a box of your favorite candies (not in a heart box, no) and a neat bouquet of beautiful flowers. It's his own way of apologizing to you for ruining the holiday.

• You will also sleep in an embrace. Harry always falls asleep much later than you, but today it was especially noticeable. You were already snuffling in his arms, while Harry held you protectively in his arms and stroked your hair. His gaze is entirely focused on you and only you. He's just surprised how your wonderful angel agreed to be his soulmate. Harry is so happy. The man leans closer and kisses you briefly on the lips. "Sweet dreams, my love."

[i-arch-my-backula]

Slashers when you succumb to Stockholm syndrome part three

So part one and two are really popular so I thought I would make a third part with more characters. These are kind of shorter because there's more characters but I still hope y'all like them.

Includes: Bubba Sawyer, Harry Warden, Asa Emory/The Collector, Lester Sinclair, and Danny Johnson/Ghostface

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation kind of, possessive language, Asa compares reader to a butterfly, petnames used

Bubba Sawyer

It's time for breakfast and Bubba gets up out of bed. He looks down at you with a smile. You've been staying with the Sawyers for almost a month and you've given up on fighting and screaming and trying to run away a week ago. But today when you stretch and wake up you look at Bubba with a smile.

"Good morning Bubba. I hope you slept well," You tell him. Bubba smiles and goes back over to his bed. You sit up and he pulls you into a hug, and you hug him back much to his delight, "I'm hoping there's something I can do to help out today, I haven't been pulling my weight around here very much."

Bubba doesn't understand your change but he's so happy you love him that he's able to look past it. He presses a kiss to your forehead and goes back to getting ready for the day. Your smile stays wide on your face as you get ready with him. He's also happy that you're comfortable changing in front of him.

"I'm really grateful that you've been taking care of me like this. I honestly needed this for awhile. I love you Bubba, I really do." Your smile stays genuine and you hug him again. He hugs you back with a delighted squeal.

When you're both done Bubba takes your hand in his and walks with you downstairs. He can't wait to tell his brothers that you're officially in love with him.

Harry Warden

Harry was stalking you for weeks before he finally professed his love for you on Valentines day. When you rejected him and tried to run away he had no choice but to take you back to his house and keep you there where you'll be safe with him.

It's been a few weeks since then and Harry's coming back home early in the morning. He gets in the house and goes into the room he keeps you in. He finds you sleeping on the mattress he gave you. He walks over and lays down next to you. You sleepily turn over and wrap your arms around him with a sigh.

Harry is caught off guard but he soon returns your affection. You run your hands over the material of his coveralls and rest your head against his chest.

"You know I was so scared of you before. But I know that you never meant to hurt me. You just love me, and I love you too." You tell him. Harry is overjoyed to hear this news. He holds you tighter against him and runs a hand over your hair. He has a suspicion that you're experiencing Stockholm syndrome, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is that you finally love him back.

He starts to think about the life the two of you can live together now that you're in love with him. It doesn't matter if it's manipulated or not, you're his and that's all that he wants from you.

Asa Emory/The Collector

It's eight pm and it's time for Asa to check in on you again. He's been keeping you at the hotel for a month at this point. You stopped trying to escape and scream for help your first week here. Asa also gave you a journal to write in. Of course he checks it every day. Today the check in started normally.

Asa unlocks and opens your door. He steps in and finds you sitting on your bed like he's told you to do when he comes to check on you. He spends a few minutes looking around the room and gives you a pat on the shoulder when he sees that you've kept it clean and haven't tried to hide anything from him.

He picks up your journal and flips to today's page, where he finds you outright admitting your love for him. He saw the beginning of your Stockholm syndrome developing in your journal entries and actions a week ago but now he sees that you're fully in it now. He slightly smiles as he reads your entry and shuts your journal. He sets it back on your dresser and walks over to you. He looks down at you and caresses your cheek with a gloved hand.

"I hope you know I'm keeping you here because you're like a beautiful, rare creature. You're my prized possession, the rarest butterfly in my collection. I'm happy to see you've accepted your place here with me." You smile up and him.

"I'm happy you think I'm so worthy of being yours." Asa lets out a soft chuckle and pats your head. This is going to be a very fun experiment for him.

Lester Sinclair

Today is the first day that you've had free roam of the house while Lester was out. He has his ways of making sure you stay at the house. He's been out all day but he's periodically had Vincent check in on you. When he got back home and smelled something cooking concern grew in his body. He made his way to the kitchen and found you peacefully cooking.

It hits him that you've reached Stockholm syndrome after he puts together your recent affectionate behavior and now you're cooking like nothing is wrong. He can't deny the guilt he feels in his gut. You look over at him and smile. You set down your wooden spoon and walk over to him, giving him a hug.

"Welcome home Lester. I hope you're hungry. I'm making dinner tonight." You walk back over to your bowl and look down at an old cook book you found. Lester can't help but smile at your affection. That part of him that feels guilty starts to shrink as he watches you happily cook.

"Well I'm glad you're happy here peaches," He says with a smile of his own "If you keep acting like this I won't have to keep you locked up all the time ya know?" He walks over to you and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you and looking over your shoulder.

"Really? I'd love that Lester. I feel like I need to start pulling my weight around here. Since you've been taking care of me for so long." He nods and presses a kiss on your cheek.

"Of course peaches, of course."

Danny Johnson/ Ghostface

After stalking you for weeks Danny finally took you to his cabin. He had to spend the first few days watching you and proving to you that there's no escaping him, no matter what you do. After a few weeks of living with him you started to exhibit signs of Stockholm syndrome. He recognized this and kept track of it.

It's early morning when he gets back to the cabin. He walks into your room and watches you tossing and turning in your sleep. A few moments later you sit up in bed panicking. Tears fall down your cheeks and you rush over to hug him. He hesitates briefly before he hugs you back.

"I was having an awful nightmare and I couldn't wake up! I was so scared I felt like I was going to die!" You sob to him. He can't help but smile to himself as you hold him for comfort.

"It's alright, it's alright. I'm here now, don't worry Y/N I'm here for you now," He runs a hand over your hair and looks down at you through the mask, "I'd never let anything bad happen to you doll. I promise." You sniffle and look up at him while you're still holding onto him.

"You promise? Do you love me as much as I love you?" You ask him. Danny smiles and nods his head. He knows you're not really in love with him. That this is just Stockholm syndrome. But why should he care? You don't know the difference at this point.

"Of course doll. I love you too."

[6lostgirl6]

Miss.coffin sorry I’m new here and sorry about my bad text. I’ve been made fun of in the past because of it I’m mentally disabled to an extent and I have a shy personality. I’ll get straight to the point, my favorite horror film is my bloody valentine 3d next to it is the 2009 f13 movie. There’s a huge debate I seen when it comes to the movie is it a split personality? Is Harry possessing Tom Hanniger? Personally I believe he’s possessed, but that’s just my belief. believe whatever you wanna believe. I always had the unpopular opinion the remake is better than the original. Anyway, I’ll get to my request. Can you do a 2009 Harry warden sfw or sfw Alphabet relating to my favorite character/miner? Thank you so much for your time miss.coffin.  I’m just glad some people are doing 2009 Harry warden because he’s better than his 1981 counterpart. Sorry I didn’t saying anything sooner. I didn’t know if you were open at the time like I know you are now and my shy personality sometimes gets in the way of things. just thank you miss.coffin.

SFW Alphabet - Harry Warden

TW: Slight Yandere Behavior, DID Terms, Mentions of killing, Possessive Behavior, My Bloody Valentine 2009 Spoilers,

A/N: Hello, my dear! You were just in time to send in a request! Personally, I believe it was a split personality, but that is a very good theory that Tom is actually possessed by Harry, I can see that! I went ahead and did SFW and I hope that's okay! I agree, I like the remake a lot better than the original! Thank you for this lovely request! I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Reblogs are appreciated!!

Affection: [How affectionate are they? How do they show affection? Do they enjoy PDA?]

Harry is more reserved than his counterpart, Tom, and it would take a while before he would show affection towards you. Once he knows you don't mean harm towards Tom, he'll be more open towards you. Silent and gentle strokes against your cheek with his gloved knuckles, ruffling your hair, and firm grips on your hand. He's more possessive than Tom, so he isn't against PDA.

Beauty: [What is their favorite part of their partner. Body part, trait, anything?]

His favorite part about his partner, is their personality. He tends to like people that are kind and understanding and his partner being sweet like Valentine's candy is perfect. His favorite body part of his partner is their eyes.

Comfort: [How do they comfort their partner? Ex. after a panic attack or bad dream?]

Harry is a very protective alter and your needs and safety are very important to him. He's not great with words but he will hold you close if you allow him, soothing you in some capacity. If someone would hurt you though, they would meet an ultimate demise.

Devoted: [How devoted are they in a relationship?]

Harry would be very devoted in a relationship, he's not a people person and very withdrawn. He only fronts when he is comfortable with the person or killing. You would literally be the only one for him.

Ending: [If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?]

The only reason he would break up with you would be if it were to protect you in some way and only for a short term until the problem was resolved or if you upset Tom extremely. At that rate, he would just kill you.

Future: [What is their ideal future with an s/o? Marriage? How would they be domesticly?]

He's inexperienced with domestic affairs, but he would try with you. He could see himself marrying his significant other, and he would be a very devoted partner. Tom would have to teach him a few things of course, since Tom was in a relationship before.

Gentle: [How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?]

Harry is not a gentle person and he had to learn how to be careful with you. In the beginning, he was rougher, grabbing your hand tightly or pulling you around when he wanted you close. However, he would eventually learn that he's stronger and needs to mind his strength. He's emotions are very strong and he feels strongly.

Hugs: [Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?]

In the beginning, Harry wasn't too interested in hugging. Again, he needed to feel more comfortable with his partner first. Once he is, he loves receiving affection from his partner. He rarely initiates it, but he would never deny a hug from you.

Intune: [How intune are they with their s/o's emotions? Can they read their s/o well?]

Again, he's inexperienced with relationships and previously only had to worry about Tom's feelings before meeting you. At the same time, Harry is very observant and he will learn in no time. Soon, he'll practically be able to read your mind on a few occasions.

Jealous: [How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?]

As mentioned previously, he feels strongly and at times, they're not healthy. He can be very jealous and pissed off when someone openly flirts with his partner in front of him. He's reserved, not speaking when you two arrive home and you think it's over. Until you see the same person on the news after he was supposedly hanged on a flag pole in front of the whole town.

Kisses: [Good kisser? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?]

He is a very good kisser, but can be very sloppy. His kisses are deep and passionate, stealing your breath easily. He likes kissing your forehead and neck, he's a very possessive man. He secretly likes being kissed on his temple or cheekbone, it causes his heart to melt a little.

Love Language: [What is their love language? Gift giving? Quality time?]

His love language is gift giving and physical touch. He's not very expressive with words so he likes to make it up with affectionate touches and bringing you chocolates. Don't ask why the case was bloody, he won't answer.

Memories: [What are their favorite memories with their s/o or family?]

His favorite memory with his significant other is their first kiss together.

Nicknames: [What do they call their partner?]

His voice is more gruff compared to Tom's and his nicknames sound so sweet when they slip from his lips. He likes calling you sweetheart, and darling.

Open: [When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?]

Patience: [How easily angered are they?]

He can be easily angered and has less patience than Tom. He doesn't tolerate bullshit or things not going the way they are supposed to be.

Quality Time: [How would they spend time with a partner? What are dates like?]

Harry enjoys dates that don't involve being around other people. For example, he would feel more comfortable stargazing, or spend time with you at home. However, if you insist on going into town, he co-fronts with Tom to feel more at ease. Dates are very attentive, Harry enjoys alone time with you and learning more things about you.

Random Headcanon:

Harry enjoys the sound of your voice and would enjoy you reading to him when he needs to unwind. He finds comfort with your voice and eyes and feel the tension wash away.

Security: [How protective are they?]

Oh, he's very protective and will go to extreme lengths to secure your safety. Even if it's through the means of killing. For example, not only did Harry kill the people involved with the mines, but he also killed people that upset/harmed Tom. Both Tom and you are very important to him and he would do the same with you. Your life matters more than the idiotic people in town.

Tiny Ones: [How do they feel about kids? How would they act with kids?]

He doesn't exactly have an opinion on children, very indifferent towards them. Tom is more into having a family than he is, however if you wanted children, he wouldn't be opposed. Anything for you after all.

Upset: [How do they act after a fight? Would they be the first to apologize?]

He's a very stubborn man and would take a while before he can apologize, especially when it was his fault. He'll avoid you for a while, not really talking during this phase. Sometimes, Tom has to tell him to reel it in. Soon, Harry would feel guilty about what happened and seek you out.

Value: [How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?]

He may be inexperienced, but his relationship would be incredibly important to him. Nothing else could compare to how much you mean to him.

Whole: [Would they feel incomplete without you? What is their worst fear, what causes a hole in their heart?]

Absolutely, if something were to happen, Harry would be more reserved and withdrawn, unable to communicate with even Tom. The killings would get worse, much worse. He would be relentless since he's releasing his inner turmoil and anger towards his victims. His worst fear would be losing you, someone taking you away from him.

Xenos: [What is something about them that is strange? Something that most wouldn't like]

His killing habits lol!

Yank: [What do they do that makes their partner mad? That makes one wanna yank they ass?]

He would leave blood trails and footprints around the house after killing, setting his bloody pickaxe against the wall and staining the wallpaper. You've scolded him plenty of times but he always forgets.

ZzZ: [What are their sleeping habits? Do they snore? Is the schedule fucked up?]

When he fronts, his sleeping habits are different compared to Tom. He sleeps on his back and his snores are light. His face tends to scrunch like he's scowling and you've taken a picture of it before. He's not a deep sleeper and will feel you trying to move or get out of bed. He likes having you cuddling against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He tends to sleep later than Tom, since he walks out in the middle of the night for his killings.

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @ghoulgeousimmaculate @rottent33th @slaasherslut @strrvnge @repostingmyfavs @azzy-ozborn

[yourlocalcryingcryptid]

EVERYONE shut up!!!111!!1

It's his day

❤❤happy valentines🖤🖤

[jesse-cromeans-sugarbaby]

(Y/n sitting in bed)

Y/n: hmmm…I feel the sudden urge to do 50 squats…

(Slasher with a pillow over their face):…please go to sleep..

Y/n: fine how bout 40

Slasher:…deal…now hurry up

(Slasher sitting up in bed 20 mins later watching y/n do squats…)

[entitled-fangirl]

The next one.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan returns home after months away, reuniting with his wife and children.

Warnings: innuendos and sexual comments between a husband and wife.

Masterlist

............................................

"My lady, Lord Stark has returned. He is leading the men through the gates now."

She nearly dropped everything in her hand. 

Cregan had been gone for far too long it seemed, and finally the North was getting their Warden back. 

More importantly, she was getting her husband back.

She ran past the servant, practically sprinting through to the main doors. 

When she saw Cregan proudly leading his men, she didn't stop to let him come to her. 

Cregan's face lit up in joy at the sight of his wife running to him. Before she even neared, he was throwing his leg over his horse to dismount. 

He braced himself and caught her, the feeling of her against him relighting the spark that had begun to fade in his heart from such a long time away from home. The smell of her hair calmed him. 

The men that chuckled were few, understanding the feeling of returning to a wife. 

Cregan had to practically pry her away to even get to look her in the eye. "How I've longed for you, woman."

She all but melted in his hold, her face held between his two large hands. "Cregan, you must know-"

"-Whatever it is, it can wait," he smiled. "For now, I reunite with my one." He looked over his shoulder to his men. "The war is won. Now reclaim your homes and your wives!"

There was a loud cheer that washed over the men like waves. They all slowly dissipated, each going to their respected homes.

Her fingers brushed up and down Cregan's wrist, awaiting his next words as if he commanded her to breathe. 

"Tell me, pretty girl. Did you miss your lord?"

"Dreadfully," she admitted with a pitiful whine.

"Aye. Thought so." He spun her, her back now pressed firmly against his chest. He let his hands explore her as he spoke in her ear. "Tell me how dreadfully my beautiful girl missed me. Tell me how you managed along without me. How much this cunt missed me. My mere touch runs your breath ragged." His hand grazed over her most intimate parts through her skirt, causing a red to come over her face. "And my children, how you've raised them s-"

"PAPA!"

Cregan's hand fell to a more appropriate area on her waist, but his attention on his wife was lost once he recognized the voice.

His little Arya.

She ran with a wobble to her step still, only being four. But the brightness in her eyes at the sight of her father's return made his heart soar. 

How she had grown in his few months away. 

He scooped her up, tossing her into the air and catching her with ease. The two giggled together as they connected, a scratchy kiss placed on her cheek from the burly man. "My perfect girl! Have you been good for your mother?"

Her big bright eyes held the Stark mischief to them, and she shook her head with a knowing cheeky grin.

He feigned dropping her, catching her with ease with one hand and beginning to tickle her with the other. Loud shrieks of laughter came from the small girl.

Prompting Rickon to join them.

Rickon was older, going on five. Despite only being a year older, he held himself with high esteem, carrying the Stark name with the same pride as his father.

He faked the stern face, but all knew deep inside that he was just as excited to see Cregan. 

He came to Y/n's awaiting arms, leaning his head against her stomach as the two watched Cregan finish his reunion with Arya. He held her up with one hand and acknowledged his boy. "Rickon." The once joyous tone with Arya dissipated to a firm one. He bent down to Rickon's level, putting a heavy hand to his shoulders. "You have kept them safe. My little lord of Winterfell. Well done." His hand affectionately patted the boy's cheek.

Arya squirmed and pulled from Cregan's arms, now hiding in her mother's skirt.

Cregan stood with a small groan to his aching muscles. "But I have missed you most," he clarified to his wife, now giving his full attention back to her.

"More than Jonnel?" Arya asked with a peek around the skirt.

Cregan's brows came together, looking to his wife for clarification.

"Cregan, we must talk," Y/n tried again.

"Wh-" He felt a small anger in him rise.

"You left me all those moons ago with child!" She clarified. "A boy."

His face dropped and soon a disbelieving smile replaced it. "A-A boy? Another boy?"

She nodded. "He's perfect."

"You've given me another?" He still asked in shock.

"Now two moons old." A smile grin plastered to her face, "I don't think I've seen a more northern babe in all my days."

Cregan stared at his wife like she'd said the most profound thing that even the greatest philosophers could not think of. 

Then a large smile took over his features. "Let us see this babe!" He scooped up Arya and guided Rickon by his shoulder, Y/n following behind them.

As he walked through the Winterfell halls, she took notes of the small differences in him. His hair was now much longer than before, his beard grown in some- signs that he may have tried to keep it trimmed at the beginning of the journey then gave up. Most noticeable was his stance.

Cregan Stark had now seen war, and the very essence of him screamed it.

How tired he must be. And still, he finds the energy for his little family.

He almost busted down the door to the nursery, forgetting himself and frightening the maid within. She excused herself under her breath.

Y/n watched Cregan bring his children to the side of the small crib. His eyes practically glowed as he took in the sight of little babe.

"Jonnel," he whispered. "It suits him."

"I liked Torrhen," Y/n mentioned from behind him, now approaching and wrapping her arms around him. "But he's more of a Jonnel."

"There's always the next one," he chirped, smirking when he knew his wife turned a bright shade of red.

"Rickon, Arya, off you go," she waved them off, "Your papa will see you at dinner." When Arya opened her mouth to complain, a small look from her mother made her go.

"You didn't notice the changes in me?" Y/n finally asked as the two lovers stared over the child. "You always used to say you knew my body better than I."

"I noticed," he admitted. "The way your breasts have swollen in my absence, yes, I noticed." He reached down, brushing a finger over the child's cheek. "Though I did not know if it was from a child and I would not embarrass you in that way."

Warmth moved from her cheeks down to her stomach. Her husband's words had a deep effect on her. She stood on the tips of her toes, nipping at the northman's ear. "The next one, you said?"

A deep rumble of a chuckle came from him and he finally spun to look at her. "Aye." He brushed hair from her face. "I plan to fill you with children until you tell me to stop."

She giggled and feigned offense as Cregan kissed at her jaw. "Am I just a broodmare to you?"

He pulled away, grabbing her jaw and pulling her in. "You're my wife. I will love you until you tell me to stop. In all the ways a man loves a woman."

"And if I don't want you to stop?" She tested, a whisper across his lips.

His gaze flickered down to her lips and back. "Then I won't."

She looked down at the babe, "I don't feed him for another hour or so-"

She could barely finish her sentence before Cregan picked her up and took her to their chamber.

Cregan Stark had seen war, but he didn't let it seep into the walls of his home.

........................................

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[justmymindandstuff]

Hello, how you doing ?

Could i request Cregan Stark x Daemon's first daughter, born from Rhea Royce ?

She is a Targaryen and has a dragon, but she is very shy and tends to keep to herself, so she doesn't tell Cregan about being bullied by Arra Norrey's maids, who think she is not good enough for their lord.

He figures it out when he finds her letters to Rhaenyra and sees her trying to put her bags on her dragon to flee in the middle of the night.

Feel free to ignore this if you don't like it, have a lovely day ☺

Shadows of the past - Cregan Stark x TargaryenReader

summary: Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, is forced to remarry after the death of his first wife and childhood sweetheart. His new bride is the eldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce. Cregan fears the worst. But his wife is sweet, gentle, beautiful, kind. Everything he could wish for. He starts thinking you are slowly building a life together in the north, however he realizes that it is not as idyllic for you as he thought.

words: 7.244

warnings: angst, mention of bullying, mention of sex (not explicit), slow burn

a/n: I love writing for Cregan soo much its not normall anymore. Thank you anon for your request🧡. I hope you like it. Sorry that it took me so long.

no use of Y/N, and as always: English is not my first language, no beta, AO3.

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

When the offer of your hand from Dragonstone came, Cregan was skeptical. The eldest daughter of the rough prince as a wife. But he needs a new wife. It is his duty as the Warden of the North. And an offer from the Targaryens is not something you simply refuse. So he agrees.

Cregan had expected you to be a spoiled, arrogant, selfish princess.

The girl who arrived in Winterfell on her dragon is exactly the opposite.

You are shy, reserved, calm.

Outwardly, you are entirely Targaryen, with long blonde hair, deep lilac eyes, gentle facial features, beautiful.

Internally, there is none of the infamous Targaryen temperament in you.

When you speak, your voice sounds like a melody, always soft and gentle.

If it weren't for your dragon, Silverwing, Cregan would never think you are Daemon Targaryen's daughter.

The first few weeks, you were very closed off. Never speak unless you are spoken to. Spent most of your time in your chambers, with work or with your dragon.

So he tries everything to make you feel comfortable in Winterfell. He walks with you through the Goodswood, has your favorite food prepared, makes sure you have enough warm cloaks and dresses. When he introduces you to his son Rickon, he is more nervous than he should be, but your eyes begin to shine as the heir of Winterfell greets you politely, just like Cregan has practiced with him.

On your wedding night he swore to you he would never take you if you didn't want to, he gave you all the power in your marital bed. That night you allowed him to lie with you, he was careful, always aware of your fragility, making sure that you also felt pleasure. After that night you didn't invite him into your bed again. Cregan longs for you, but he would never pressure you.

In your first weeks as Lady Stark you spend a lot of time with Winterfells Measter, ask a lot of questions, slowly working your way into your duties as Lady Stark. Cregan quickly notices that you are well prepared for the role of a Lady of a Great House in Westeros, but Winterfell is unlike other castles. You surprise him by quickly get used to it.

The moon hasn´t passed fully since your wedding, when he finds you one day in Rickon's chambers. You are sitting on the floor with his son and play with wooden soldiers, Rickon is telling a fantasy story and you are encouraging him. Cregan's heart swells slightly at the sight.

He clears his throat to get your attention, you flinch violently, when you look up at him you look like a deer.

You get to your feet immediately, surprisingly elegant despite your hectic behavior. "My Lord." you say and lower your head in front of him. A gesture that he couldn't drive out of you.

"My Lady. What are you doing here?"

"We're playing papa." Rickon intervenes without being asked. "Are you playing with us?"

"Unfortunately, I can't today, I have duties to attend to. I just wanted to check on you, my boy."

"I'm fine, father. We're playing great. I have so much fun." he holds up his favorite woodknight.

"Then I don't want to disturb you any further." he smiles at his son, nods to you and then leaves the children's cambers again. His Lords are already waiting for him.

In the evening you come to his chambers, standing uncertainly in his room. Cregan was not expecting you anymore, he has already changed for the night. He offers you a mug of warm beer and a place by the fireplace. As you sit down your cloak slips and the white of your nightgown flashes through. Cregan has to concentrate not to let his gaze wander.

"What brings you to me so late, my wife?" he asks curiously, sitting next to you at the fire.

"I'm sorry." you don´t look him in the eyes.

Cregan has to blink a few times, doesn't understand what you mean. But you don't say anything else, avoid his gaze so that he has to ask. "What are you sorry about?"

"I didn't mean to upset you." your hands play with the fabric of your cloak.

"You didn't upset me, wife. What makes you think that?" he asks, confused. Did he behave differently? Did he speak in a too harsh tone with you?

"Today with Rickon. It upset you that I played with him. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I have no intention of replacing his mother, your late wife."

Cregan has to suppress a laugh. How wrong you are. "It didn't upset me, sweet wife." his voice is soft and you finally look him in the eyes. Your eyes are wide, surprised, your lips open slightly. Cregan wants to lean forward and kiss you, but he doesn't. "I'm glad that you're spending time with Rickon. Maybe you can be a mother figure to him someday." he expresses his wish hesitantly.

"I intend to love him as if he were mine." you say, a smile creeping onto your lips. Cregan is brave and reaches for your warm hand, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You don't pull away and continue speaking. "But he shouldn't forget his mother."

"Don't worry about this, Lady Selina, Lady Darcy and Lady Alys will keep the memory alive."

"The Nursemaids. What does that mean?" you tilt your head slightly, examining him closely. The soft light of the fire catches in your hair and makes your skin glow warmly. Gods you are beautiful. Cregan has to swallow before he can answer.

"They were my late wife's friends, her Ladies. After Arra died, I asked them to stay in the household to look after Rickon." remembering how overwhelmed Cregan suddenly was by everything, and how much the loss of his first wife hurt him, he needs a moment to ground himself before he can continue speaking. "If that bothers you, then of course I can dismiss them and send them away from Winterfell."

He knows that this loss will hurt Rickon, he has been surrounded by the three Ladies his whole life, Selina was Arra's best friend. However he would do it for you, he wants you to feel comfortable and Rickon would get over the loss of his nannies, he is a Starkman after all, one day he will be as tough as winter. He has to be.

"No. No, please don't send them away." you squeeze his hand a little. "It is important that her friends are here. They need to tell him what his mother was like. I mean his real mother. My mother also died when I was young. I hardly remember her and I have nobody how can told me something about her." you suddenly sound sad. Cregan is surprised by your words. Additional to the Ladies, he regularly speaks to Rickon about his mother, takes him to her grave, tells stories, has a portrait of her hung in Rickon's room.

"Your father doesn't talk about her?"

You sigh, a narrow smile on your lips. You look into the flames again before speaking quietly. "No, never." you bite your lower lip and then whisper. "I was told he killed her." Cregan doesn't doubt for a second that it is true. He squeezes your hand gently. You look at him again, a sad smile on your lips. "It hurts when you don't know your mother. It's like half of yourself is missing. And my other half is a monster. I'm glad Rickon is learning about his mother and that his father isn't a monster."

A lump forms in Cregan's throat, he doesn't know what to say. Your words touch him, but at the same time make him angry at your father and he feels sorry for you. Your life doesn't seem to have been particularly bright.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Thank you. But I don't need your pity." for the first time, Cregan feels like he sees the dragon blood in your eyes. "My stepmothers both treated me as if I were their own blood. I didn't grow up without love."

"I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't." your gentle smile is back on your lips. "So I can take care of Rickon?" you avoid his gaze again, your cheeks are slightly red.

"Of course. I'm glad you're getting along well."

"He's great. A good boy." you smile and then get up elegantly from your chair. "I'm retiring now. Good night husband."

"Good night sweet wife." he sinks into a slight curtsy before leaving his chambers. Cregan takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair. He's happy that you want to take care of Rickon. That you want to be a part of his family. This is something he wanted for this marriage, that you can be a family.

Cregans efforts take fruits. He has the feeling that you are slowly thawing and starting to trust him.

A light summer snow falls down and gets caught in the fur of your hood. Cregan has take you for a ride through the Wolfswood today. Cregan is surprised how well you can hold yourself in the saddle. In the next moment, he doubts his sanity. You are riding a dragon. Such a horse is of course easy for you. You look around with wide eyes and a gentle smile on your face. Cregan can't help but stare at you, captivated by your beauty.

"I missed that at Dragonstone." you say, looking over to him. Cregan flinches slightly, doesn't quite understand what you mean.

"Forests?" he guesses. He has no idea about Dragonstone's vegetation.

"No. To see something new. Dragonstone is an island, if you live there long enough, you've seen everything." you shrug your shoulders.

Cregan has to chuckle slightly. "You have a dragon, sweet Wife. You could have seen the whole world."

"I would never have left my family." you say firmly. Are you angry?

"I didn't mean to offend you." he tries to circle back. He is always a bit unsure when he talks to you. He wants you to feel comfortable, that you are doing well, and he wants you to like him. Maybe someday you will love him. He finds it hard to be patient. If he is honest with himself, you had him from the very first moment. Your beauty overwhelmed him, your kindness and gentleness captivated him, and your smile. Gods, your smile makes his heart beat faster.

He knows that he loves you. Even if he can't tell you. Not yet. He is afraid of scaring you. So he holds back. He tries to give you space so you can get used to your new role, your new home, and him.

He would love to scream his feelings for you from the wall so that the whole world hears it.

But it is not the right time for that yet.

A soft smile is on your lips again. "You didn´t husband."

He is relieved and returns your smile. "Do you want to go back? It's a little cold today."

"I'm not cold. I'm from the blodd of the Dragon. The cold doesn't bother me. It´s almost like I belong in the north." in the next moment your eyes widen and you look down. A blush spreads across your cheeks and Cregan has to swallow, his heart skips a beat.

"You are Lady Stark. You belong to Winterfell now." he says, trying to take away your insecurity. You don't look at him again, but he sees a smile on your lips. Maybe you'll even belong to him someday. He hopes so.

Back in Winterfell, you let him help you off your horse. His hands stay on your hips for a moment too long, but you don't seem to mind. You look up at him, your cheeks turn slightly red but you manage to hold his gaze. Cregan drowns into your beautiful, violet eyes. He leans forward slightly, wanting to feel your lips on his even if it's only for a moment. You don't back away.

"Papa." Rickon's voice echoes across the courtyard. Cregan and you flinch apart. He lets go of you and turns to his son. Anger flares up in him briefly at the disturbance, but when his boy jumps into his arms with a broad laugh, it immediately disappears.

"Rickon! Don't be so wild." Lady Darcy comes running out of the castle after him. Cregan notices you shifting your weight from one foot to the other next to him, out of the corner of his eye he sees you turning to your horse. A strange feeling spreads through him. At that moment Lady Darcy comes to him, opens her arms to take Rickon. "My Lord Stark, welcome back," she greets him and curtsies slightly.

"Papa, can I visit the dragon? Darcy says it's too dangerous alone, but you're back now," his son calls excitedly. Cregan's stomach tighten, he keeps himself as far away from Silverwing as possible. He is not comfortable with the monster. Even if there have been no problems so far, your dragon only hunts prey, stays away from people and the farmers' livestock. She usually flies further north, you told him that she has a cave there.

"I think that's a bad idea." Dracy interjects. "The monster is unpredictable, far too dangerous."

Cregan thinks for a moment, of course the nursemaid is right, Silverwing is dangerous. But you know your dragon better. You will certainly be able to judge whether your dragon poses a danger to Rickon or not. He turns to you to ask if it's okay for you to go visit your dragon with him and Rickon, but you are no longer standing next to your horse. His gaze searches the yard, but there is no trace of you. You sneaked away quietly and secretly. Cregan's eyebrows furrow.

"Papa, please, please. I promise I won't pet the dragon either. Just a quick look."

"My lady wife must go with you, Rickon. But she seems to have other things to do today. Another time."

Rickon's lower lip trembles slightly, but he knows better and doesn't burst into tears. The heir of Winterfell doesn't cry over such little things as a denied wish.

"What important things Lady Stark must have to do." Cregan is surprised by Dracy's bitter tone, but he pushes the thought away; perhaps he simply misunderstood her.

The Maester warned him that summer could soon be over. It has been summer for four years now. That means more work for Cregan as Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, he has to make sure that his people survive this winter, at least most of them. Winter demands his victims, every damn time. Cregan can only keep the losses as small as possible. So he sinks into paperwork and negotiations with the Lords of the North. Nobody wants to share supplies, everyone is afraid that there won't be enough for themselves. Cregan's tasks is it to find compromises. He would much rather spend his time with you, he longs for you, for your gentle smile, your kind words, the time you have spend together. He wonders if you miss him too?

He only ever gets brief glimpses of you, when you meet in the hallway you give him a smile, when he makes it to the hall for dinner you are usually already sitting there with Rickon, greet him friendly and assure him that you are happy to see him.

Cregan is on his way to a meeting with the carpenter. The houses in Winter Town need to be made winterproof and the villagers need his help. As he walks across the gallery that spans one of the courtyards of Winterfell, your laughter pulls him out of his stride. He stops immediately and turns his head towards the noise.

You and Rickon run across the courtyard, playing catch. His little boy jumps back and forth in front of you, laughing loudly. You let him win, pretending you have trouble catching him.

Lady Selina steps beside him. Her lips are drawn into a thin line.

"My Lord." she slightly bows her head before him and Cregan smiles faintly, he finds it hard to take his eyes off you and Rickon.

"What can I do for you?" he asks and hopes that it's nothing urgent. He's considering canceling the meeting and taking you and Rickon to the Goodswood instead, where you can spend time together as a family without being disturbed.

"I am worried, My Lord." now she has his full attention. His shoulders tense up.

"What happened?" Unrest among the lords, a fight? The servants usually know this things before he does.

Selina gives him a smile. "Nothing happen, My Lord."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "What troubles you then?" Cregan tries not to sound as annoyed as he is. Selina knows that he has a lot to do at the moment. Neverless for the sake of the love he had for his first wife, he always tries to be friendly, even though Selina can often be irritating. Sometimes she takes herself more important than she is, behaves like the Lady of Winterfell, and Cregan has had to remind her of her position more than once.

"It's your new wife, My Lord." she starts, her smile is friendly, doesn't really fit her tone. At the mention of you his heart beats faster, he just has to think of you and he feels like a little boy with a crush. Seeing you makes him float on cloud nine. Cregan turns back to the side and looks down at you again. The broad smile on his lips is unusual for the young Lord.

"We can be glad that she is here with us." his voice is gentle. He has to clear his throat and straightens his shoulders. He quickly slips back into his role as Lord Stark, not the lovesick idiot.

"Can we?" the sharp tone makes Cregans skin crawl. He furrows his eyebrows, turns around. Lady Selina does not flinch from his gaze, but straightens her shoulders. She is a northern woman, intimidation does not work on her. She is like him, hard as winter, unyielding as the wind.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Lady Selina?"

"No, my Lord. It's just that I… we think that a southern girl might be too weak for the important task of being Lady of Winterfell." she chooses her words carefully, smiling. "I´m only thinking about Rickon and his upbringing. I want the best for him, you know that."

The mention of his son causes his anger at Lady Selina to evaporate. Of course she is only thinking of his son, she wants the best for him. Loves him like her own child.

"My wife is a princess, a Targaryen. She does her job well. Or have you heard something else?"

"No, of course not." Lady Selina lowers her head slightly, no longer looking at Cregan. "I'm just worried about Rickon."

"I really appreciate your concern and care for my son. But your doubts are unfounded. Now if you would excuse me."

"Of course, my Lord." She clenches her jaw and sinks into a curtsy. Cregan walks past her to finally meet the carpenter, he is already too late.

Negotiations with the lords are going badly, Cregan is buried in work and doesn't know what to do. The sun has long set but sleep does not come to him. Instead he sits by the fireplace in his chambers, the taste of beer on his lips and stares into the flames. He sighs. He needs help. Could you give him some advice? That would kill two birds with one stone, he could finally spend some time with you again and maybe find a solution. Without thinking twice he calls for his servant and sends for you.

It doesn't take long before you enter his chambers. You look around uncertainly, you have thrown a cloak over your nightgown, your long blonde hair falls loosely over your shoulders. You are sight for sore eyes.

"My Lord husband," you whisper, curtsying deeper than usual. You slowly take a few steps into the room and stop in the middle. You tremble slightly, your breathing is faster than usual and your hands fumble with the hem of your nightgown. "You ordered me into your bed." your voice trembles as you take a step towards his bed.

Cregans heart sinks, he is on his feet in a heartbeat. You flinch. "My sweet wife, no. I told you I would never do that." he says quickly. It was stupid of him, of course you would think he was ordering you into the marital bed.

"Oh I just thought. Because some time has passed since our wedding night. I thought you might be impatient."

"No. I just wanted to discuss something with you. Please sit down next to me." he points to the chair in front of the fireplace. The fire gives off pleasant heat, sweat forms on Cregan's forehead. However, you are shaking slightly. Cregan reaches for his cloak and puts it around your shoulders before sitting down himself again.

You smile. "Thank you husband." you whisper.

"I'm sorry about the misunderstanding. I just thought you might be able to offer me some advice."

You smile again and Cregan is happy about it. "I don't know if my advice is really useful."

He has to suppress a snort at your modesty. You handle your duties as Lady Stark flawlessly.

"I'm sure it is. And besides that, well." he interrupts himself, noticing the blush rising in his cheeks. "I've hardly had any time for you in the last few days. I'm sorry about that too. I wanted to spend time with you."

Your smile widens. "I've missed the time with you too." you whisper and Cregan's heart starts racing. You missed him. You shift back and forth, making yourself comfortable. "How can I help?"

He starts to describe the problems to you, the stubbornness of his lords, the lying about their supplies even though he knows full well that they have more than they admit. The arguments among themselves.

"Can't you force them to give up some of their stock?" you ask after listening carefully.

This time Cregan snorts, leans back a little in his chair. "And how am I supposed to do that?" Inciting Bannerman against Bannerman would only make things worse.

"Silverwing could help."

"No!" his tone is sharp, his voice too loud for the pleasant atmosphere. You flinch in shock, look at him with wide eyes before avoiding his gaze again.

You swallow. "I'm sorry. It was just an idea. My father always uses Caraxes to get his way." you whisper. Cregan leans forward, reaches for your hand. His heart stops while he waits to see if you pull your hand away. You don't, his fingers carefully wrap around yours.

"Using your Dragon would fulfill the purpose, but I don't want to intimidate my men with her. I don't want to rule with fire and blood."

You nod. "I understand. It was stupid of me."

"No." he shakes his head and gently strokes the back of your hand. "I just hope for a peaceful solution."

You straighten up a little. "Then let's look for a peaceful solution." You both start to brainstorm, but your conversation quickly drifts off. You talk about your childhood in Pentos, your days on Dragonstone and your siblings. Cregan manages to open up about his uncle, how he had to fight for his inheritance and for his rule.

It's good to be able to tell you all this, to have someone to confide in. Only when you yawn after every word and Cregan has trouble opening his eyes again after blinking do you decide to end the evening.

"I'm going back to my chambers then." you say and pull his cloak off your shoulders.

"I'll call a guard for you."

"No, please don't wake anyone up. I'll find the way myself," you say, but your look is uncertain. Cregan also has a bad feeling about letting you walk through half of Winterfell at night.

"Then I'll accompany you."

"Please, husband, don't make yourself so much trouble because of me. You're exhausted yourself and it's an unnecessary journey for you." you object.

Cregan looks at his bed, it's big enough for both of you. Arra has also spent most of her nights here.

"You could sleep here?" he suggests quietly. Your eyes dart to the bed and then to him. You swallow. "Not to fulfill your marital duties, just to sleep." Cregan quickly clarifies.

"What will people think?"

He has to suppress a laugh. "You're my wife, my lady. The people won't think anything."

Your cheeks turn slightly red again. "Right." you think for a moment and then pull your own cloak from your shoulders. Cregan has to look into the flames so that his gaze doesn't get stuck on the curves of your cleavage and he stares like an iron born. Only after you get comfortably under the furs and blankets of the bed he slips off his own clothes and lies down next to you, keeping a safe distance.

"Sleep well, sweet wife."

"Sleep well, husband."

When Cregan wakes up the next morning, you've already disappeared, but your side of the bed is still warm. He turns to the side, buries his face in your pillow and inhales your scent deeply. Cregan knows that you prefer to fly with Silverwing in the morning, so he doesn't worry.

He's tired, but he still throws himself into work.When he returns to his chambers late that evening, you are already sitting in the chair by the fireplace. You turn to him, your cheeks red, but you look him in the eyes. Your hands shake slightly as you hand him a cup of wine.

"I got it from Pentos. I told you about it yesterday." He nods. He's still surprised that you're sitting here, he can hardly believe it. Warmth flows through him and he can't wipe the smile from his lips. He slowly takes your wine and sits down opposite you. "We didn't find a solution to our problem with the Lords yesterday." if you plan to come to him in the evening until you've found a solution, he wish there wasn't one.

Three evenings later you are sleeping in his bed again, two weeks later you snuggle up in his arms before you go to sleep and in the morning you kiss his cheek before you set off to see your dragon. Cregan can hardly believe his luck. You open up a little more every day, now you reach for his hand yourself, brush strands of hair from his face, kiss his cheek, lean into his embrace.

But suddenly you start to close yourself off again. It started with you not waiting for him in his chambers one evening, you send a servant to excuse you for that night. He thought you might be sick. But you don't come the next day either, he doesn't see you all day. In the morning he sees Silverwing flying over Winterfell towards the south, the sun is already hanging low on the horizon in the evening when the dragon lands again in front of the castle gates. Cregan feels like you're slipping away from him again. His heart aches at the thought. Did he do something wrong? Was he rude to you without realizing it? Was the longed-for closeness you built up just in his head?

Neverless Cregan was able, or rather you were able, to settle the arguments between the Lords a little. From your place at the high table, you reminded them in a gentel voice that everyone only wanted the best for the North and how wonderful it is that the Northern Lords were fighting the winter together. A little lie that you told, a smile and even Lord Bolton's tense features softened. It's a step in the right direction.

You hardly give him a smile anymore. Cregan doesn't know what's wrong. He is frustrated and sad. In his mind he goes through every moment, looking to see if he has done something wrong. He doesn´t find an answer.

His steps lead him through the corridors of Winterfell, he wants to go to Rickon. Because of all the work and his spiraling thoughts about you, he hasn't visited his son much in the last few days.

He hears laughter from the nursery, recognizes Lady Selina and Lady Aly's voices. Without knocking, he opens the door. The two ladies flinch at their place in front of the fireplace, the conversation falls silent. They both jump up, curtsy briefly and greet him with a "My Lord Stark." Both Ladys exchange a nervous look, Creggan's stomach tightens. He has the feeling that something is wrong but he doesn´t know what it is.

"Papa." Rickon jumps up from the carpet, his toy dragon falls to the floor and he runs to him. Cregan bends down to his son and takes him in his arms.

"Leave us alone," he dismisses the ladies. He wants to spend a little time with his son, show him that he is important to him despite all the stress. Rickon should never think that his father doesn't love him. Alys and Selina leave the nursery. Cregan puts Rickon down again and sits down on the floor next to him. Rickon immediately has his toy figures in his hand again.

"Are you coming to play?" he asks and holds out the dragon figure to him, big eyes sparkle at him and a radiant smile is on his lips.

"Yes." Cregan answers and takes the dragon, it looks small in his hand.

"That's my favorite toy."

"Not the knight anymore?" Cregan laughs quietly.

"No, no." says Rickon in a serious voice, as if it were the most important thing in the world. "The dragon. It was a gift from my princess."

Now Cregan can't hold back his laughter. "Your princess?"

"Yes." Rickon nods.

"You mean my wife, my dear. You really like her a lot, don't you?"

"Yes, I like her a lot." suddenly his eyes turn sad and he rips the toy out of his father's hand, pressing it to his chest. Cregan frowns, wants to scold Rickon, but he is already speaking again. "But she doesn't like me anymore." his voice trembles. Cregan has to swallow at the sight, puts a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Why do you think that? She likes you a lot."

"But why doesn't she play with me anymore? She hardly ever comes to visit me. Only when the teacher is there. She doesn't want to play with me at all, she just wants to supervise my lessons." he sounds defiant, as only children can, and Cregan has to sigh. He doesn´t have a answer for his son.

Why are you behaving like this? You wanted to take care of him and you enjoyed it. You often told him how much you enjoyed spending time with his son, what a good boy he is. That you love him like he is your son. Cregan has a bad feeling. He knows that something is wrong, even if he can't quite put his finger on it.

The door opens and you step uncertainly into the room, your gaze wanders around the room and then stops at Cregan and Rickon. A radiant smile appears on your face.

"My Lord husband." you say and nod slightly. Cregan is glad that you have finally stopped curtsying to him. "I didn't know you were here." Is he imagining it or do you sound relieved? Cregan doesn't know how to react to you now. Lately you have been acting absent and distant, shy like at the beginning. At other times you grab his hand, lean on his arm or smile at him with sparkling eyes when he speaks. He can't figure you out. "Can I sit with you?" you whisper, tearing him out of his thoughts. He nods and you sink down onto the carpet next to him and Rickon. His son immediately demands your attention, happy that you want to spend time with him.

It takes a few moments, but then Cregan lets himself be lulled by the warm, happy atmosphere. In these moments he completely forgets the thought of you withdrawing from him again. The time with his family is good for him, that is exactly what he always wanted. A happy family, safe behind the walls of Winterfell.

However his little bubble of family happiness bursts just a few hours later when Lady Darcy enters.

"My Lord Stark." she curtsies to him. "I'm here to pick up Rickon for his bath."

"No, I don't want to!" Rickon calls out. A single stern look from Cregan is enough to silence him. He stands up and takes a few steps towards Darcy. "Can my princess take me to my bath?" he asks quietly. Darcy rolls his eyes, looks at you, just like Cregan. You look at Dracy and then shake your head.

"Go with Lady Darcy." you say quietly, is your voice shaking? Rickon doesn't contradict and follows the nursemaid out of the room. Cregan turns to you with a smile, maybe you two can finally spend a little time toghether again, but you don't meet his gaze. When he reaches for your hand, you pull it away and jump up.

"Excuse me." your voice is quiet and you storm out of the room. Were those tears in your eyes? Cregan shakes his head, no, that can't be. The light was probably just reflected. He sighs and tries to fight down his anger and hurt because of your rejection.

He paces back and forth in his chambers. You haven't shown up for your evening meeting again. What's keeping you away? He just has to talk to you, he wants to find out what is bothering you. Did he make a mistake? Worry spreads through him and he sets off to look for you. His steps quickly lead him up the many stairs to Lady Stark's chambers.

Your chambers lie deserted before him. Cregans heart sinks. Where are you? It's almost midnight. You should be here. Did something happen to you? He is looking around your chambers. The chambers of Lady Stark are traditionally located at the top of the North Tower. They are the warmest chambers in the castle. Perfect for a dragon like you. Sweat beads on Cregan's forehead, yet he searches the chambers for a clue.

He feels guilty about looking at your private things, but he has no choice. Maybe you are in danger. Nothing seems unusual. To be honest, he can't be sure, he is hardly ever in your chambers. It is your private area, but it seems as if you only have a few things here. That surprises Cregan a little.

He goes to your desk, it is covered with papers, scrolls and letters. He knows that you write a lot to your family, and that you receive a letter from at least one of your family members almost every week. Only your father doesn't write to you, you told him that.

His gaze flicks over the first line of the letter you had started.

Mother, please. It's so terrible here.

He reads the first words and his heart aches painfully. Is it his fault? Do you hate him?

My husband Cregan is everything I could wish for, kind, tender, and warm; he has such a big heart. I love him. But the problem are the maids of the late Lady Stak. I wrote to you that it doesn't seem like they like me. But now it's getting worse.

I tried to take care of Rickon. Just like you always took care of Baela, Rhena, and me. He is such a sweet boy. But the Ladies are so terribly mean. I know they were Lady Norrey's friends, but I don't understand how they can be so horrible. What did I do wrong? I don't understand how I could have upset them so much that they hate me.

They say terrible things to me, I don't want to repeat them. Even bad things about our family. The insults hurt so much. The worst thing is when they laugh at me. I feel so stupid when they do that.

I don't want Rickon to find out about this, so I stay away from him. It breaks my heart. I'm afraid to talk to Cregan. I don't want them to lose their last connection to Lady Arra.

Please, I can't take it anymore. I want to go home. Please let me come home.

On the pages, there are small dark spots where your tears have dripped onto the paper and smudged the ink.

Why didn't you tell him anything? Guilt overcomes him. He should have known, he should have noticed something.

Hot anger towards the Ladies rises within him. He would love to have them all executed.

A growl catches his attention. With two steps, he is at the window. The full moon illuminates the night outside, the snow reflects the light. He sees a slender figure walking across the fields outside the Keep. Silverswing's massive body rises from the snow as you run towards your dragon.

Cregan whirls around and sprints down the stairs. Fear and worry burn in his heart. He pushes the door outward a little too hard. The wood creaks as it slams against the stone walls. Every breath burns in his lungs as he inhales the cold air. Nevertheless, his steps do not slow down.

Silverwing whirls her head around before you notice him. At the sudden movement, you slip and one of the bags you were just about to attach to the saddle falls from your hand. A few of your clothes fall into the snow. Cregan realizes that you really were about to run away. Run away from him. His heart hurts by this thought. The next moment he remembers himself that you are not running away because of him.

He calls your name. You whirl around, your look like a startled deer.

"Cregan." you whisper. He recognizes tears in your eyes, tear stains on your cheeks, your eyes are slightly red

"What are you doing?" he asks, while he tries to catch his breath. Cregan tries to let his voice sound as soft as possible, you already look like you will faint for fear every moment.

"I wanted to visit Silverwing," you lie, your hands cramps around the leather of the saddle. Silverwing lets out a growl. Cregan needs all his strength not to jump back in fright.

"Please come down." he almost begs, he stands much too close to the dragon for his liking. Silverwing is very gentle. You once told him that. Nevertheless, the hundred-year-old monster can swallow him in one gulp.

You hesitate. "Go back inside," you say then, but you don't look at him.

"No." his voice is firm now. "Either you come down voluntarily or I'll come up and get you." it's not a bluff, if he has to he'll climb on that dragon to get you down. Even if Silverwing will probably tear him into pieces before he even gets close to you.

Silverwing stretches out her wing, the claws on her forefoot digging into the snow just a few steps in front of him. Is that a threat? You look at your dragon, then swing to the side and slide down the wing. Without thinking, Cregan moves closer and catches you. You wrap your arms around him and he pulls you closer to him. Warm tears drip onto the skin at the crook of his neck. You sob, take a breath and try to say something, but only another desperate sound comes from your throat.

"I found your letter to the Queen." he admits. You tense up, wanting to pull away from him, but Cregan holds you tight. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want you to be angry."

Oh he is angry, but not at you. He would love to cut off the ladies' heads, but women are not executed in the North. The North is still a place of honor.

Now he lets go of you, pushes away slightly to look you in the face. He carefully wipes the tears from your cheek. You lean into his touch, sighs quietly and closes your eyes. Cregan leans forward and kisses your forehead.

"What did they say to you?" he then whispers.

You swallow, open your eyes before you start to speak. "At first it was just little taunts. But over time it got worse and worse. They said I would ruin the North, that many people would die next winter because of my stupidity." the tears come back to you eyes and you have to sob. Cregan pulls you into his arms again, strokes your hair as you bury your face in his chest.

"Those are lies. You did nothing wrong. On the contrary, you are a great Lady Stark."

"But that wasn't even the worst part. They also said that I am not good enough for you. That you only put up with me because you were forced to marry me. They said that you will never love me and that there is only room in your heart for Lady Arra, that she is your first and only love and I am just an intruder."

Cregan's heart breaks, he knows that you took the Nursemaids at their word. Again he pushes you away, carefully puts his hand under your chin and forces you to look at him.

"Those are lies too. Yes, I loved Arra. But that doesn't mean that I can't love you. You are not an intruder. I want you here with me."

Tears well up in your eyes again. "What about the Ladies?" you ask quietly, but keep eye contact.

"I will throw all three of them out first thing tomorrow morning. Let the Others get them, I don't care. Maybe Silverwing wants a little snack."

The dragon lowers its head to you, looks at Cregan as if she agrees.

"Rickon needs them."

"No. Rickon only needs me and you, his family." Cregan insists. His son will cope with the loss, he is sure of that.

"I would like to be your family."

Cregan has to smile at your words. "I love you, sweet wife." he whispers. Your lips open slightly as you look at him in surprise. Then you stand on your tiptoes and kiss him gently. His heart almost burst, butterflies explode in his stomach and despite the cold night he feels warm.

You sink back on your feet, your cheeks are red, but you smile. Silverwing blows hot air from her nostrils towards Cregan, he flinches back and you giggle.

"That means she likes you."

"And what about you? Do you like me too?" he asks, his lips twisting into a grin.

"I thought you read my letter to Rhaenyra." you say, also grinning."

Please say it anyway."

"I love you, my sweet husband." Cregan leans down and seals your lips with a kiss.

[pathologicalreid]

prisoner | s.r.

in which you and Spencer conduct a custodial interview with a serial killer - Spencer's first since he was released

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: post prison reid, fwb but also mutual pining, serial killers, prison, panic attack, chiromancy word count: 3.66k a/n: i originally came up with this idea in 2023 😭 😭 it's about time i finished it lol. definitely suffers from exposition overload but i don't caaaaare.

Fourteen times.

You had asked him fourteen times if he thought he was going to be okay doing the custodial interview. No one else was available to do it, but you still had your reservations. Sending Spencer to a prison felt wrong, even if he wasn’t on the inside of the bars anymore.

Without telling him the reason, Emily elected to send you with him to the facility, she said it was because you had never done one before, but you knew it was deeper than that. “How many victims?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the road as you drove to the destination.

“Eight,” Spencer answered, looking through the case file. The killer had asked for the interview, hoping to be transferred to a minimum-security facility. The odds weren’t good, but you needed to oblige the request even if it wouldn’t prove successful.

You hummed, turning down the road, you pulled up to the security station. Presenting your credentials to the guard, he lifted the gate for you, and you found your reserved parking. “Do you want to take the lead?” You asked him, trying to gauge how he was doing.

Nodding, Spencer got out of the SUV. You shut off the engine and followed suit. “Unless it doesn’t seem like he’s responding to me, I’d rather not present him with someone who fits in with his victim pool.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you said sardonically, grabbing your bag from the backseat before locking the car and following Spencer inside.

The two of you went through security, locking up your weapons and going through metal detectors. It wasn’t until you went inside the first gate that you noticed it; Spencer was fiddling with the belt loop of his slacks. “I can feel you staring,” he whispered so only you could hear. You watched his posture relax when the gate buzzed and opened in front of him.

You smiled softly, “I can see you fidgeting,” you responded. At work, the two of you were merely coworkers who knew each other really well, so you couldn’t just reach out and take his hand. Not that you’d want to, in a prison full of serial killers.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, implying that he wasn’t right now. The smile fell off your face as the two of you followed the guard into the warden’s office.

At the sight of you, the warden stood and smiled, “You must be Agents Y/L/N and Reid, thank you for making the trip down here.”

Raising your eyebrows, you reach out your hand for the warden to shake, “He’s Dr. Reid, actually.” You corrected, seeing as Spencer didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Ah, my apologies, Dr. Reid,” he responded kindly, gesturing for the two of you to follow him.

Spencer gently brushed your hand as you followed the warden. It was so subtle that someone else could’ve brushed it off as an accident, but Spencer Reid never did anything without purpose.

“Marshal Lukins is the most prolific killer we’ve had in my time here, we aren’t expecting anything to come of this, but you know as well as I do that we have to humor the psychos,” Warden McCall told you, stopping in front of a gate and calling out for it to be opened.

You raised your eyebrows, deciding against telling the warden that Lukins profiled as a sociopath, not a psychopath. “How’s his behavior been here?”

The warden shrugged, “He won’t be winning any merit badges any time soon, that’s for sure. Spends most of his time in solitary, really.”

“His file said he had gotten into an altercation with another prisoner, what was that about?” Spencer asked.

McCall cleared his throat, “turf war. You know, prison gangs can get rowdy. Especially when they find out the feds are coming.”

You raised your eyebrows, grateful you couldn’t see Spencer’s expression. “Oh, yeah,” he said quietly.

Then you were in front of a serial killer, someone who had been put away years ago, but the way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine. “Marshal Lukins?” You confirmed.

“Why hello, pretty lady,” Lukins responded, rising from the chair. His legs were chained to the ground, but his hands were free.

Behind you, Spencer cleared his throat, “Sit down,” he ordered. Taking a tone of authority that you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him.

Taking your seat across from Lukins, you looked him in the eyes, “You may call me Agent Y/L/N.” 

Your interviewee shrugged, “I’ll call you whatever I want in my mind later.”

Ignoring the hairs that stood up on the back of your neck, you rolled your eyes at the skeevy pervert. “If you want to be transferred, you’re not making a very good first impression,” Spencer intervened, likely aware of your discomfort.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first criminal to make a pass at you, and in your line of work, it likely wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m not much worried about first impressions, people usually have a first opinion about me before they even hear my voice,” he responded, leaning back in the chair.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from responding, yeah, that happens when you murder eight women. “What would you rather our opinion of you be? That you’re misunderstood? Did you find god in prison, Marshal?” You asked him.

He leaned over the table ever so slightly, yellowed teeth flashing beneath the fluorescent light that hung above the interrogation table, “Would you like me to show him to you?”

Raising your eyebrows, you maintained a bored disposition while flipping open your files, “No.”

With custodials like this, you weren’t allowed to have photos in your files. Lukins was a sexual sadist, and the profile that Aaron Hotchner had put together was damning, describing the man in front of you to a T. He even got the age correct, right down to the receding hairline. Even though Lukins was in prison, you’d never provide him with visual aids to relive his crimes.

“Why did you request this interview if you weren’t interested in playing nice?” Spencer asked, setting his own files on the table in front of him, but he refrained from opening them. He managed to memorize their contents on the drive from Quantico, enabling him to weaponize his memory.

Lukins put his hands up in mock surrender, “I was hoping they’d send me someone nice to look at, make a good conversation with, and boy am I glad I took that chance.”

Spencer clasped his hands together and set them on the steel table, “Thank you,” he responded, keeping himself stone-faced in the presence of the killer.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the criminal in front of you snapped, jutting his chin in your direction.

Bored, your partner spoke up again, “Yes, you are,” he corrected. You were unable to communicate with Spencer without tipping off Lukins, so you let him continue, trusting that he knew where he was going with this. “In your trial, you said all of your victims were your sheep,” Spencer recalled from the file, “Is that why you shaved their heads before gutting them?”

Lukins scoffed, bored easily within the confines of the interview, “My sheep were my friends, but every sheep needs a wolf. Isn’t that right, Bo Peep?” He asked you, meeting your gaze despite the fact that Spencer all but told him not to engage with you.

You narrowed your gaze at him, tilting your head innocently, “Would you have let me be one of your sheep?”

He gave you a look that made you feel like you needed a shower, “You would’ve been a nice addition, could’ve rounded out my numbers.”

He reached out a hand, trying to take a piece of your hair between his grimy fingers, but you stood up quickly, stepping back from the table and almost tripping over your chair in response.

A few prison guards came in at the sudden movement, and Spencer had a vice-like grip on Lukins’ wrist, keeping him away from you. Tossing his arm back at him, Spencer glared at the killer, “No touching,” he instructed, looking back at you to check-in. He opened the door to the room, ushering you out before looking at the guards, “I want him in cuffs.”

With a hand on the small of your back, Spencer herded you to the private space that the two of you were expected to inhabit for the day. “Hey,” you spoke to him once the door was shut behind you.

Spencer was filled to the brim with nervous energy, shaking out his hands in an attempt to expel his nerves, “We should just go back to Quantico.” He shook his head, brown curls fanning out around his face, “There’s no way he can tell us anything that will get us to endorse his transfer.”

Watching him like this made your chest ache, and you had no idea what to do with that emotion. Your relationship with Spencer was strictly horizontal—usually—and you found yourself floundering when it came to how to act outside of bed. You wanted to take his hand, desperate to run your fingers over his knuckles and find the familiar callus from where his pencil rests on his finger, but you just couldn’t get yourself to reach out.

You hadn’t known Spencer before he was arrested in Mexico, but you made your mark on him without ever letting him lay his eyes on you. You sent letters to him along with the rest of the team, refraining from talking about cases and instead choosing to use your letters as a personal diary, chronicling your first three months with the Behavioral Analysis Unit with your prison pen pal. Periodically, you put money in his commissary account, despite the rest of the team telling you that you shouldn’t feel inclined to.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, your eyes tracked his pacing in the conference room before you started to voice your concern, “We have to go back in, Reid.” You grabbed a water bottle from the counter and twisted the cap off before handing it to him.

He took the water begrudgingly, glaring at you as he did so, “Why do we have to go back in, exactly?” After taking a sip of the water, he handed it to you so you could have some. You could’ve grabbed your own, but surely this was quicker.

“Lukins said I would’ve rounded out his numbers,” you told him, nervously fiddling with the cap of the water bottle as you waited for him to get it.

Spencer adjusted his tie, pulling the silk fabric further from his neck, “Yeah, I heard him.” It bothered him, the slightest implication that you were endangered in that interview room put him on edge, but all you could do was sit down and watch him.

You sighed, “We only have a record of eight victims. We don’t know what he’s rounding to, but that’s at least two more bodies that we don’t know about.” Lukins could be rounding up to ten, which would be the closest option, or you were looking at the possibility of a considerably higher body count. Your fear was that he would use those additional kills as a bartering tool to get a transfer.

He stopped in his tracks while he processed what you were telling him. Spencer turned to you, lips parted before he nodded, eventually agreeing with you even if it pained him to do so. “We should call Emily and let her know what’s going on,” he told you, taking a seat across from you and placing his head in his hands. “I’m gonna step outside for a second,” he said, getting up just as quickly as he took a seat and swinging the door open, leaving you alone in the conference room.

Holding your tongue, you stopped yourself from voicing your approval, even though you did think some fresh air would be good for him. Instead, you watched the door click shut before fishing your phone out of your pocket, tapping on Emily’s contact before bringing the phone to your ear.

“How’s it going?” Emily asked you as soon as she answered, and you couldn’t help but picture your unit chief waiting by her phone, hoping to hear from you or Spencer.

You sighed, inadvertently cluing her into how the custodial interview was going, “We might have a problem,” you told her. Continuing on to explain what had happened between you and Marshal Lukins, all the way up through your discovery that he might have a higher victim count.

Prentiss clicked her tongue on the other end of the line, “What does Spencer think?”

The question didn’t come as a surprise to you, neither did the fact that her inflection told you that she was sneakily trying to ask you how Spencer was. Wiping your free palm along the fabric of your pants, you leaned against the table, “Reid thinks Lukins is out for blood.” You opened your mouth to continue but were interrupted by an alarm being tripped, your head snapped up as lights started to flash on the walls.

“What’s going on?” Emily questioned you over the phone, but you could barely hear her over the blare of the alarm, a low-pitched buzzing sound that made your brain feel like it was vibrating within your skull.

Clambering to your feet, you grabbed your water bottle and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you looked aimlessly around the prison for someone who could offer you an explanation. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurted into the receiver, stuffing your phone in your pocket and making your way to the front of the prison, ignoring the men who shouted at you from behind bars.

You looked down the walkway, watching as the failsafe on the doors was triggered and they slowly started to shut, triggering you to try and make a run for it. “Y/N,” Spencer called out your name, picking up his own pace from the opposite direction.

It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t going to make it, skidding to a halt as the bars clicked shut in front of you. You weren’t scared until you watched Spencer pull at the door, frantically trying to slide it open, “Reid,” you said his name, trying to get his attention. “Reid,” you shouted that time, trying to make sure he heard you over the alarm.

He didn’t pause to look at you, he simply continued to pull at the bars.

“Spence,” you said desperately, and that time his eyes snapped to yours. Wide brown eyes bore into yours as you placed one of your hands on his, both of them encircling the bar. “It’s not going to open,” you reminded him. A fact he was well aware of but didn’t want to acknowledge.

Silently, he leaned back into the wall, sliding down the side of it and looking up at the ceiling, pulling at his tie again, this time taking it all the way off. “It’s a lockdown,” he panted helplessly, “They’re in a lockdown.”

You nodded softly, having drawn that conclusion on your own, “It’s okay,” you told him softly, reaching through the bars and taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re alright, Spence,” you continued, your tone bordering on a coo.

He pulled his knees to his chest and slung his free arm over his legs, hugging himself.

It broke your heart to watch him like this. You pointed in the direction he came from, “Look. Hey, you could be free to leave, I’m the one who’s locked in,” you told him, highlighting the fact that the bars were blocking you, but Spencer could make his way back to the entryway.

“Not helping,” he told you, his voice almost a gasp as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Your shoulder’s slumped forward slightly, “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

Spencer just shook his head, squeezing your hand in response when you started sweeping your thumb over his knuckles. You ignored the buzzing of your phone in your pocket as you watched him, completely focused on making sure he was okay before you did anything else.

With your free hand, you grabbed the water bottle that you took from the conference room and slipped it through the bars. “Here, take this,” you murmured, setting it on the ground next to him when he didn’t take the bottle from you.

He visibly relaxed when the alarm stopped going off, but the lights were still flashing, which offered somewhat of an explanation as to why the door hadn’t opened yet.

You fiddled with his hand, opening up his palm and tracing the lines on his hand with your index finger, “Have you ever had your palm read?” You asked him, twisting your head to get a better look at it.

He looked at you, the panicked look in his eyes had subsided, promptly replaced with incredulity, “When have I ever struck you as the kind of person who would get my palm read?”

Shrugging, you slowly traced his love line, “You like Halloween, I thought maybe you’d let your curiosity get the best of you.” Although you supposed if Spencer really wanted to have his palm read, he’d just do it yourself. “When I was in college, my summer job was reading palms in a booth at an amusement park,” you informed him.

Spencer chuckled at your revelation, and the sound made your heart sing, “That is… oddly endearing.”

Nodding, you looked at his hand again, “Chiromancy says men were born with their left hand, and their right is what they accumulate throughout life,” you told him softly, sliding your other hand through the bar.

“Actually, I was born with both of my hands,” Spencer responded, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, studying his left hand intently, “You have water hands,” you said, showing him his own palm as if he’d never seen it before.

Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “Well, now you’re just making things up,” he openly teased you that time, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

Humming, you furrowed your brows and pointed at his hand, “This is your head line,” you explained. “See how it’s long and straight? It sort of tapers off before the end of your palm—that means you tend to think realistically.”

“I could’ve told you that,” he challenged, but his eyes were following along as you pointed at his palm.

You shook your head and sighed, “Here’s your life line,” you said, pointing to a different line and tracing it with your fingertip. “It’s straight and goes down to the edge of your palm, which means you’re cautious about relationships,” you continued softly, leaning your head against one of the bars of the door.

He was silent after that one, briefly taking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking down at his hand. You could tell that even though he didn’t quite believe what you were saying, he was perfectly fine with humoring you.

“This is your fate line,” you told him, entirely expecting to lose him the moment you began discussing fate. “It’s broken down the middle and curved in different directions, and that means you’re prone to a lot of changes in life. Changes influenced by external forces.”

Gently, Spencer pulled his hand away from yours, flexing his hand before looking down at it, “You’ve officially lost me.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up, “I’m surprised you lasted this long.” Just long enough apparently, the doors buzzed soon after, and you withdrew your hands from the slots as the bars slid into a hole in the wall.

Spencer got up first, dusting off his hands before he extended a hand to help you up. Your hand lingered in his for just a moment too long, the exchange oddly intimate for the two of you before his arms dropped to his side, “Thank you,” he murmured, a shy smile on his face.

Shrugging, you crossed your arms in front of your stomach, “There’s nothing to thank, Reid.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that it was disappointment that flashed across his face at your reply.

The warden had rather unceremoniously asked the two of you to leave, citing security concerns and letting you know that he’d be in contact with Emily to reschedule. Emily had called you six times during the lockdown, but you’d texted her once everything was clear.

Which left you heading back to the SUV with Spencer, there were prisoners out in the yard, so he walked on the inside, blocking your body from the view of the inmates. “Are you alright?” You asked him, feeling more free to inquire now that you were in the open air.

He nodded, “I’m fine, I just really wasn’t expecting something like that to happen when I asked Emily to send me on this custodial.”

Your footsteps faltered at his words, “You asked to go on this custodial?”

Spencer frowned, “I was on this case originally ten years ago, so I asked Emily to let me go.”

“And she said yes?” You asked incredulously.

Spencer opened the back door for you to place your bag in, “Not initially, but eventually she realized that I’d be her only option if she wanted to get it done today.” He shut the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, “It’s a lot earlier than I thought we’d be getting back, do you want to stop and get lunch on the way back to Quantico?”

Your eyes went wide and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your expression, “Uh, sure. Why not?”

“Perfect,” he said, “Maybe I can get you to tell me why you avoided reading my love line.”

[reveseke]

Goretober blurbs/headcanons for Harry Warden.

— Day 1; Cannibalism.

Warnings; blood, nods to cannibalism.

Also, for future reference I'm mixing both the original and the 09's Harry Warden's characters together for my writing.

I'm using @/anemia's goretober for this. :)

— we already know that Harry has subjected himself to cannibalism in order to survive. Also, we get him ripping out hearts and such so he's got nothing against some gore. However, what if he still continued to eat the victims after taking their hearts out?

— Like, he would still get the urge to eat humans, the taste reminding him of pork. Not that he minds! The idea of just a nibble on the soft skin making his mouth water when it's still fresh.

— Him bringing in some body parts that he cut off, limbs? That he'd cook just for himself in case you wouldn't want to indulge in it with him. (Which, he'd probably really love if you also ate with him what he had brought!)

— Maybe the hearts he brings home for you specifically would get cooked and eaten? As a show of his devotion to you in a way?? Does that sound stupid???

— scrubbing the blood off the clothes is going to be a pain in the ass. But it's worth it to him.

[cregansdingdong]

ɢɪᴠᴇ.

Cregan Stark x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, cregan likes to eat out pretty princesses

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

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"Gods—don't stop!" She mewls, gripping the tapestry behind her head like it was her only lifeline. It was. "Don't you ever stop!" His hand against her stomach keeps her pinned to the wall of her chambers, his head buried somewhere pleasant beneath her nightgown. Her thigh was hitched obediently over his shoulder, trembling by the motions of his eager tongue. It was always like this. Sloppy, carnal, desperate—fueled by a lustful guilt as she broke her illusion of maidenhood again and again. Cregan didn't care much for the pretending of his favorite Princess, so long as he was the only man she broke it for. He grunts wordlessly in response, his mouth unyielding in his assault on her nearly throbbing bud, more of her sweet nectar leaking just for him. Just for him. If she wasn't so close to the edge already, he'd probably give her a good slap on the thigh for that desperate demand, but the Warden of the North was feeling particularly generous.

"Come on." He murmurs, gray eyes flicking up at her face as her pretty pearl was locked dutifully between his plush lips. "Give." The vibrations of his rasp—which had sounded less like a soft urging and more like a beg—sent fire up into her stomach, but it was cold all the while, like snowflakes falling onto a lit hearth, both dousing at her and cracking the flames hotter. His mouth was ruthless, free hand digging into the softness of her hip as he waited for what he really wanted. Her own fingers burrow themselves into his dark tresses by his nape, trying not to pull despite how she was already teetering. "Almost!" She gasps, more of a plea than anything else. Her stomach was tightening under his grip, clenching and releasing as she tried and failed to catch her breath. Cregan's presence was an imposing one even on his knees in front of her, head ducked under her lilac nightgown, the hem bunched up over his crown—it was a sinful sight to witness.

A man starved, Cregan's tongue dips inside of her, eyes fluttering closed as he fucked up into her entrance. The bridge of his nose was equally as merciless, pressing against her bud back and forth like a prayer. He was groaning the more she leaked, all the while incomprehensible mewls of what he could assume were appreciative in nature flooded past her lips as she came for him. The thigh over his shoulder was tense, heel digging into his back—his name became a worship. It only worsened as the sounds of indecorous slurping reverberated off the stone walls of her chambers. The Wolf of Winterfell was a greedy one. Even as the bliss came and left behind a lull of peace, he was still there on his knees to lick her clean.

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[i-arch-my-backula]

Slashers on Valentines day

Happy Valentines day everyone. I'm single so I don't really have anyone to celebrate with but who cares when I still get chocolate and can watch a campy slasher movie centered around the holiday. This is kind of a random selection of slashers including Danny because he's my baby girl and I saw really cute Valentines day themed fan art of him. Anyway I hope y'all enjoy <3

Includes: Hannibal Lecter, Harry Warden, Candyman, The Sinclair brothers, Amanda Young and, Danny Johnson

Warnings: Mentions of murder and gore kind of

Hannibal Lecter

He's obviously cooking for you today. You're not to step foot into the kitchen because he's taking care of all of it himself. You're getting spoiled today and that's final.

He's going to buy you something expensive that you'll love. It might be a ring or a new bag, maybe an entirely new outfit. Whatever he sees fit to give you. He doesn't expect you to get him anything but if you do he's very thankful.

He's probably taking you to the opera with him. Something high brow and fancy for his lovely s/o, nothing but the best for you on a very special day.

I can see him spending the evening drawing you too. You're probably in his study, drinking wine and doing something relaxing while he sketches you and recites love poems.

Harry Warden

He's going to be busy murdering people on Valentines day so he's not going to be able to do much of anything with you.

But he is going to bring you whatever he thinks you'll like. Flowers, chocolate, a card addressed to one of his victims, whatever he finds he's giving you.

He doesn't really enjoy having decorations up for Valentines day. Having pink and red themed decor is fine with him but explicit Valentines day decorations aren't his jam.

While he isn't there on the actual day, he's going to be there after Valentines day and that's when he's going to shower you with love and affection.

Candyman

It's going to a very romantic day overall for you. Lots of your favorite flowers around your house/apartments waiting for you when you wake up. Maybe some chocolate but probably a little honeycomb too.

He's going to steal you all of the gifts he gets you. Mostly expensive jewelry he thinks you'll like or you've pointed out to him.

Oh and he is most definitely writing you a love letter pages long, listing off every detail of why he loves you and what he would do for you.

Of course he's going to be spending the entire day with you. You're not going out but you're going to enjoy time spent with him in your house together.

Vincent Sinclair

He's going to give you whatever gifts he can make/get you for the occasion. He doesn't have access to most traditional things for Valentines day so it might just be a painting or a love letter, but he's trying ok?

He wants to spend the entire day with you. He usually spends a lot of time with you anyway but especially on this special day. He'll keep Bo away so he doesn't make stupid comments about you two, and Lester won't bother you at all.

He might want to try slow dancing with you since he's never done it before and he sees couples do it in romance movies all of the time. He might suck at it but he doesn't really care because it's with you.

He's going to end the day with a nice dinner between the two of you. He pulled out an old cook book to use for this and he did a pretty good job at cooking it too.

Lester Sinclair

He's going to get you all of the stereotypical gifts, chocolate, flowers, a card, etc. He just loves you so much and he wants to spoil you every once and awhile you know?

He's going to take you out to an actual town where the two of you can really be a couple. You're probably just going to be walking/driving around and getting dinner but it's the thought that counts.

Lots of physical affection too. Like he wants to always have a hand on you today. He thinks that he can't fully express how much he loves outside of giving you hugs, kissing you, holding your hand, etc.

He's probably taking pictures of all of this. I can see him being a sentimental person so spending a special day with you is something that he's going to want to document.

Bo Sinclair

He thinks the whole idea of the day is stupid. But that doesn't mean he isn't going to do something special with you for Valentines day. He can be a gentleman when he wants to and today is one of those days.

He'll probably get you flowers. Nothing too special, he'd ask Vincent what flowers to get if he doesn't know your favorite flowers are. I feel like Vincent could go off on a big thing about the different meanings of flowers but he knows Bo doesn't care so he'll just say roses.

I feel like he would maybe get you a ring that matches one of his. Partly to sell the idea that you're married to victims, partly because he's a possessive guy and likes the idea of you always being reminded who you're dating.

He also expects you to be romantic. He knows you can't do much because you can't leave town without him but he still expects you to do something like cook him something special or write him a love letter if you're that kind of person.

Amanda Young

She also thinks Valentines day is stupid. She's never been much of a romantic and probably has never been in a healthy romantic relationship, let alone an actual relationship.

Like Bo she's still getting you something. If you're like her she's getting you a gothic box of chocolate and maybe flowers (They do sell gothic boxes of chocolate and I'm in love with them).

She will happily go out to dinner with you. She somewhat expects you to plan it and pay for at least half of the dinner. I can see her getting dressed up if it's a more fancy restaurant and looking so pretty.

She's also going to rub it in Hoffmans face that she has a partner who loves her and that she got spoiled while he probably sat home alone doing whatever he does.

Danny Johnson

He's going to make a scrap book of all of his favorite pictures of you and share it with you. Pointing out the ones he likes the best or ones with fun stories behind them.

Because he's an obsessive little shit he knows all of your favorite things and he's going to get them for you. Expect to find your favorite flowers, candy, drink, etc on your kitchen table in the morning.

Maybe does a romantic photo shoot with you. He wants to pick out some aspects of it but will let you pick out outfits to wear. He's going to spend half the time actually taking pictures and half posing you so he has an excuse to touch you.

If you're as morbid and crazy as him then he's going to get you an actual heart. It might be human, it might be an animals heart he got at the butcher, ok it's probably a real heart that he says is an animals.

[6lostgirl6]

My Bloody Valentine Masterlist

Info: In my works, Tom Hanniger and Harry Warden are treated as seperate personalities as demonstrated in the movie.

Tom Hanniger

Fics:

Headcanons:

Imagines/Scenarios:

Harry Warden

Fics:

Headcanons:

SFW Alphabet - G/n!Reader

Imagines/Scenarios:

[yourlocalcryingcryptid]

Slasher Showdown

An early gift for my festive fuckers ❤🖤