#cregan stark oneshot

[pogueprincess]

Thawed Out

summary: Frustrated after losing a game to your brothers’ team, you let Cregan take his frustration out on you.

pairing: Modern!Cregan x Targtower!Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: Explicit smut, semi-public/rough sex, spit, p in v, creampie, 18+ MDNI

note: Sorry it’s been a month since I’ve posted!! Watch this flop asdfghkl

Your eyelids flutter as Sara lightly dabs glittery eyeshadow onto them with her ring finger.

“Try to hold still,” she tells you, just as your reflection catches her eye in the mirror that hangs on the back of her closet door.

“Oh no,” she frowns, making note of the jersey you’re wearing, “Cregan is not going to like that.”

The jersey — all black, has no distinctive feature of any team, but it does have the name “Targaryen” etched onto the back, and 01 on the front, which is your brother Aemond’s hockey number.

Cregan is number 13.

“Targaryen is my last name,” you remind her, “and besides, Cregan is the one who wants to hide me. If he wants me to wear his jersey to games, he will have to make me more than just a fuck buddy,” you shrug.

Her lips turn downward into a frown, but she nods her head in agreement with you.

Very few people are aware of your relationship with Cregan. He’s a good guy with a big heart, the complete opposite of a fuckboy or a player. The main, if not only, reason why the two of you decided to keep things a secret was so you wouldn’t have to deal with the backlash from your brothers.

Cool air whips against your face, and tensions are high with only a few minutes left remaining of the game.

You watch on eagerly as Aegon pulls a move that is supposedly illegal, but the ref’s don’t seem to count it. Resulting in your brothers’ team winning the game.

You can’t help but wince as you watch Cregan rip his helmet off and make a beeline toward Aegon on the ice.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Aww,” your eldest brother frowns in response, “Run home with your tail between your legs!” he calls. Cregan grunts in response while the rest of Aegon’s teammates, Aemond included, howl maniacally like wolves. Making a mockery of Cregan and the rest of his team.

You roll your eyes at the scene and push your way out of the stands and through the crowd.

You pick at your fingernails nervously as you wait outside the locker room, refusing to enter until the remainder of Cregan’s teammates pass you by.

The smell of sweat fills your senses as you enter the abandoned locker room.

“Cregan,” you call, “baby?”

The locker room is quiet and dim. The only audible sound in the room is the faint buzzing of one of the poorly lit fluorescent lights.

Cregan is sat on one of the benches, his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. You reach your arms around him.

“Hey,” you offer, “for what it’s worth, you did great.”

“I’m just so fucking pissed off!”

Cregan’s deep voice echoes through the locker room as he throws his stick to the floor. As mentioned earlier, Cregan’s a stand up guy, but his temper is a force to be reckoned with; and nothing sets it off quite like losing a hockey game.

“I know you’re upset baby,” you state empathetically as you dig the pads of your fingers into his shoulders. An attempt to massage the tense tissue, he all but grunts in response.

“You wanna take it out on me?”

“What?” He asks in a deadpan.

“Your frustration … you should just take it out on me.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows at this but he takes no time to react. He stands up quickly, his thick frame hovering over yours before he shoves you against the lockers abruptly. Gripping at your chin with force, he demands you to open your mouth. You oblige and he spits directly down your throat, you swallow obediently with a content mewl as wetness pools at your center.

A pathetic “please” is all you’re able to muster out to him as he stares at you hungrily.

He takes a seat on the bench, tugging his uniform pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles in one swift motion, exposing his cock.

His calloused hands lift you onto his lap with haste. A shiver runs through your body as he yanks down your leggings and underwear in a quick swoop, causing you to hiss as cool air fans your cunt. It isn’t long before Cregan’s warm hand is cupping you, his fingers playing in your slick.

You want to cry out when he removes his hand from you but once his hands are at your thighs again, spreading you open, you feel the throbbing head of his cock prodding against you.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, egging him on, “come on, I said, take it out on me.”

A growl erupts from his chest as he forcefully spears you down onto his cock, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes flutter shut and you try your best to suppress a moan as he begins to split you open.

He continues with unrelenting thrusts while his grip on your hips only tightens, taking full control.

“Fuckin. Targaryen’s,” he says through gritted teeth, harshly slapping the swell of your ass. Your head snaps up as you glare at him disapprovingly.

“Obviously not you baby,” he coo’s reassuringly, running his fingers along the red handprint that’s forming, soothing the pain before kneading at the tender flesh.

“It’s just— Gods, do they fuckin’ rile me up,” he mumbles as both his hands make their way to your waist again, helping him thrust into you even harder.

“I know, baby, I know” you whimper, pressing your forehead to his as he continues to fuck into you at an unrelenting pace.

“But you know just how to make me feel better, don’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out as he perfectly angles his cock against your cervix.

“Yeah you do, this sweet little pussy is all I need.”

You can feel the tension building in your body at his words, your breath coming out in short gasps as he expertly moves inside of you.

His fingers trail down from your hips to your cunt again, sending hot waves of electricity through you.

His intense, grey, gaze never leaves yours. With each thrust, you feel yourself on the brink of insanity. Each drag of his length has you closer and closer to the edge.

Cregan moves with determination, his body pressed hard against yours as he takes you to new heights of pleasure. His digits finally find the apex of your thighs and pinch at your throbbing bud, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

Urging him on as he expertly works his fingers over your most sensitive spot. Each touch sends waves of pleasure through you. With one final pinch and a flick of his thumb, you’re cumming around him — gasping and trembling as the walls of your cunt tighten around his length.

His breathing comes labored and heavy, his eyes squeezed shut as he chases his own release. His own hips stuttered as he felt you continue to pulse around him. Unable to keep his composure any longer, he lets out a loud groan and spills himself inside of you, painting your walls with his seed.

“Fuckin’ Targaryen’s,” he drawls, this time his tone is filled with appreciation.

[gtgbabie0]

how do you think a marriage between cregan and a lannister daughter would go?

love ur writing! keep up the good work <33

-Cregan Stark x LannisterWife!Reader

Synopsis: {Your Lord husband seems to be the only one who can calm you}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

This is an old request but thank you nonetheless// hope you enjoy my lovelies💕

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You were a comely girl, always have been so it was no surprise that the Lord Stark had taken an interest in you during his time in the Red Keep- in which you were sent by members of your house to try and get your family back into the good books of the people in the court.

A feat you weren’t so successful in, having been turned away by numerous people or called horrid things behind your back sometimes plainly to your face. Every day spent at court was a blow to your pride, and gods did it make you a bitter person.

Cregan Stark found entertainment in your company, through his blunt banter and snarky remarks the way in which you would come back at him with all your might. Before he knew it he was completely infatuated with you and made an offer you simply couldn’t refuse, leaving Kings Landing.

Sometimes you regret ever accepting the damn deal.

“Get any closer and you’ll set that pretty blonde hair of yours on fire.” His rough voice breaks through the silence from his place at the desk where he had been reading through a couple of letters.

You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to the flames that crackle and snap within the hearth just in spite at the sound of his chuckle. He watches you closely, marvelling at how the warm orangey light of the flames splay across your face making your hair glow like fine threads of golden silk.

“Perhaps if it weren’t so cold then I wouldn’t have to sit this close.” You huff, pulling his furs that you had stolen over your shoulders.

“Winterfell is built upon a hot spring, the castle is plenty warm you’re just looking for an excuse to whine.” He says and you can practically hear the smirk that tugs on his handsome face.

You don’t answer him, instead letting silence and the soft sounds of the fireplace overtake your shared bedchambers however your lack of response doesn’t deter Cregan from continuing.

“You should wear something warmer than silks and airy dresses, my sweet.” The words are laced with amusement, he leans forward on his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, searching your unimpressed expression with his dark eyes.

“And wear dull shades greys?… no thank you.” You tell him, not wanting to accept the fact that perhaps there was slight truth to his words, still not meeting his gaze.

“So you’d rather freeze for the sake of what? Fashion? Very smart of you.” He replies sarcastically. “Especially for a Lannister, quite impressive my love.”

Your head snaps over to his direction, glaring up at him with narrowed eyes as he all but smirks back at you. He never failed to rile you up, bringing you to a burning point only to leave you all frustrated or worse— when he touches you in such a reverent way that makes you feel like a goddess, you couldn’t help but completely bend to his will. You swear he takes joy in bruising your pride.

He reaches over, brushing a curl of your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that he’s only ever shown to you and somehow just like that your anger ebbs away like snow underneath a summer's sun.

But you wouldn’t succumb that quickly and so you shrug off his hand, turning back to the fireplace with a small huff and he laughs because he knows- despite your little show- that he has you right where he wants you.

Cregan stands up from his chair, making his way over to a much more comfortable one that sits in front of the grand fireplace— closer to you. Despite how much you both clash at times he loves you, ever so dearly. He had defended you countless times back in Kings Landing and Winterfell, against anyone who dared try to speak poorly upon your name. Not just because of his marriage vows or honour, but because he sees you as you are not the hardened women the years had made of you.

There was a warmth to you, he’d seen it in glimpses. The way you care for his son as if he were your own, how you have your maids bring two cups of tea- one for him and one for you- to sate his sweet tooth.

You push yourself up from the floor, trying to distance yourself from him but he’s quick to catch your hips in his big hands. With a wolfish grin, he tugs you onto his lap and you accept defeat, it was too tiring to fight a man so headstrong.

“I’ll warm you up if you’re still cold.” He mumbles gruffly, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest.

The warmth from his study body melts away the tension between your shoulder blades and you can’t help but sigh in contentment, leaning against him as he tugs you impossibly closer to him.

His hands caress the curve of your hips, looking up at you with a lazy smile. “I am still a little cold, I wouldn’t mind.” You reply playfully, trailing your fingertips along his cheek in small patterns.

“Ah, there she is…” Cregan whispers, relishing at the sight of your smile that you try so hard to fight off.

“Yes, yes, marvel whilst you can, it won’t last long.” The words make Cregan chuckle, his hands mapping out the outline of your body, caressing along your ribcage.

“Then I shall marvel with all my heart.” He promises, pressing a kiss against your shoulder, then another to your jaw. The wispy hairs of his beard tickle your skin as he nuzzles against you on purpose.

A pleasured hum escapes you by accident and by the way he smirks against your neck you can tell he’s holding back some sort of snarky comment, instead choosing to savour this moment and the way you lean into his touch.

He takes his time, showering your shoulders in kisses- trailing his lips up to the soft curve of your jaw and pushing the furs that drape over your shoulders off until they’re sitting on the floor leaving you in just a thin silky dress.

“What’s gotten you in such a mood, huh?” Cregan asks, leaning back against the cushioned sofa to really drink in the sight of you perched upon his lap.

You shrug your shoulders, lacing your fingers with his own. “I feel out of place, more so than often.” The words send an ache through his chest, his brows immediately furrowing at the confession.

It wasn’t a new thing for him to hear, however, that never made it any easier. Cregan remembers the first night you arrived in the North, the tears— gods, you were inconsolable. He understood why, the place was far from home and the people were hardened by the cold weather and then there was you… the complete opposite in every way, that’s why he spent all night whispering words of comfort and holding you.

“Silly girl, come here.” He says, coaxing you to lay against his chest and without hesitation, you curl up into him, your head resting on his shoulder as his fingers brush through your silken hair. “I’d have no one else by my side except you, my girl, understand?” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your hairline.

You nod against his shoulder, melting against him with a small sigh. “Mhm, of course, I do.” Your words are muffled against the soft fabric of his tunic, the smell of firewood and leather clinging to him- it was comforting, like home.

Cregan tilts your head upwards slightly, his gaze softening as he admires your face. “Don’t doubt the place you have in my heart… ever.” He tells you with a loving tone, so soft and caring, before leaning down to steal a delicate kiss from your lips.

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[astrxq]

cregan stark x wife!reader — prompt list 1.19 from my autumn party!

words: 3.1k

notes: ahhh first time writing "smut"… not sure how i did but let me know! requested

The soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Winterfell's lord's chambers, casting a warm glow on the sleeping forms nestled beneath the furs. For once, the ever-vigilant Cregan Stark slumbered peacefully, his usually tense features relaxed in repose. You stirred beside him, your eyes fluttering open to take in the rare sight of your husband still abed at this hour.

A smile tugged at your lips as you remembered his return the previous evening. Cregan had been gone for nearly a fortnight, leading a hunting party deep into the Wolfswood. When he'd finally ridden through Winterfell's gates, you'd barely contained your relief and joy at seeing him safe and whole. Now, as you gazed upon his sleeping face, the worry that had gnawed at you during his absence melted away.

Cregan's arm was draped heavily across your waist, holding you close even in sleep. You shifted slightly, pressing yourself more firmly against his broad chest, relishing the warmth of his body after so many cold nights alone. As if sensing your movement, Cregan's grip tightened reflexively, drawing you even nearer.

You couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between this tender moment and the stern, unyielding man the rest of the world saw. The Lord of Winterfell, the Wolf of the North – titles that spoke of duty and strength, but revealed nothing of the gentle heart that beat beneath that gruff exterior. A heart you'd slowly come to know over the course of your marriage.

It hadn't been an easy path. When you'd first arrived at Winterfell as Cregan's bride, you'd found him distant and taciturn. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to leave little room for warmth or affection. But you were no shrinking violet, and you'd been determined to forge a true partnership with your new husband.

Memories of those early days flitted through your mind as you nestled against Cregan. The awkward silences at meals, the stilted conversations as you tried to find common ground. But there had been moments of connection too – a shared laugh over some courtly mishap, the quiet pride in his eyes when you'd handled a delicate diplomatic situation with grace.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the ice had begun to thaw between you. You'd discovered Cregan's dry wit, hidden beneath layers of Northern stoicism. He'd come to appreciate your quick mind and steady presence at his side. Trust had grown, tentative at first, then stronger with each passing moon.

And now, after moons of patience and perseverance, you found yourself here – wrapped in the arms of a man who had become more than just your lord husband. Cregan Stark had become your partner, your confidant, and yes, your love.

You nuzzled your face against his chest, inhaling deeply. The scent of pine and leather clung to him still, mingled with something uniquely Cregan that never failed to make your heart quicken. Your movement must have finally roused him, for you felt his chest rumble with a low groan as he began to stir.

"Good morrow, my lord," you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice. "The sun is high in the sky. Have the fearsome Lord of Winterfell's habits grown lax in his old age?"

Cregan's eyes cracked open, still heavy with sleep. He regarded you for a long moment before a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Watch who you're calling old, wife," he grumbled, but there was no heat in his words. His hand, calloused from years of wielding sword and bow, came up to cup your cheek. "The hunt was long, and the furs are warm. Can you blame a man for savoring a moment's peace?"

You leaned into his touch, your own hand coming to rest over his. "Never, my love. You've more than earned your rest." Your tone grew more serious as you added, "I've missed you, Cregan. These past days have been... long."

Something softened in Cregan's gaze at your words. He knew well the toll his absences took on you, just as you understood the duties that often called him away. It was a delicate balance you both strove to maintain – the needs of the North weighed against the needs of your own hearts.

"As have I, my dear," Cregan admitted, his voice rough with more than just sleep. "Each night in that cursed forest, I found myself longing for the warmth of our bed... and the even sweeter warmth of your embrace."

Such open declarations of feeling were still rare from your taciturn husband, and you treasured each one. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you surged forward, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that spoke volumes of your own longing.

Cregan responded immediately, one hand tangling in your hair as the other pulled you flush against him. The kiss deepened, months of practice allowing you to fit together perfectly. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, you couldn't help but grin.

"I fear I've grown quite spoiled, my lord," you said, affecting a dramatic tone. "A mere fortnight without you, and I've become positively needy. Whatever shall we do about this dreadful affliction?"

A low chuckle rumbled through Cregan's chest. "Is that so?" he asked, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "And what would my lady suggest as a cure for this... neediness?"

You pretended to consider the question, tapping your chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Well, I suppose there are ways for a husband to please his wife."

"Is that an order from my lady wife?" Cregan's voice had dropped to a husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

"It is," you declared imperiously, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the breathless quality of your own voice. "Your lord wife demands attentio–"

Your words were cut off as Cregan's lips claimed yours once more. This kiss was deeper, hungrier, filled with all the longing of your time apart. His hands roamed your body, relearning curves and planes he knew as well as his own. You melted into his touch, your own fingers tracing the strong lines of his back and shoulders.

When you parted again, both panting slightly, you saw a familiar heat kindling in Cregan's grey eyes. "I believe," he growled, "that I have been remiss in my husbandly duties. Allow me to make amends, my lady."

Cregan's lips moved to your neck, kissing, biting and sucking every inch they could reach, his hand sneaking past the soft material of your sleep gown to explore the warmth of your skin beneath. A gasp escaped your lips as his mouth found the sensitive curve just beneath your ear, the sensation sending delightful shivers coursing through your body. You tilted your head back, allowing him more access, every gentle caress igniting a longing that had been stifled for far too long.

"Cregan," you breathed, your voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. "The day awaits us. We have responsibilities–"

His kisses trailed lower, warm and demanding, brushing against the soft fabric of your gown. "Let the day wait," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "This is our moment. I’ve missed you, and I intend to make every second count."

You couldn't suppress the way your heart raced, his touch igniting a fire within you that only he could kindle. His fingers traced shaped on your waist as he hungrily licked a pack down to your chest. 

He groaned once he made contact with the clothing that separated him from your breasts, as if annoyed by it, he moved his hands to move the straps of the gown down, revealing what he'd been waiting for for so long. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, heightening your awareness of his every touch.

“By the gods,” he breathed, his voice laced with reverence as he gazed at you. The look in his eyes made your cheeks flush, a mix of shyness and desire. It was a rare thing to see Cregan Stark so openly captivated, and the sight fueled a boldness within you.

“Do you like what you see, my lord?” you teased, your voice low and playful, though the way your heart raced betrayed the calm you tried to project.

Cregan’s gaze darkened with a mix of hunger and admiration. “More than you can imagine,” he replied, his fingers gliding over your skin, exploring every curve with a deliberate slowness that made you ache for more.

“Cregan…” The name slipped from your lips like a prayer, and you could see the way it affected him – his breath catching, his hands freezing in place. It was a heady power to know that you had such an effect on him.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your collarbone, sending a delightful shiver racing down your spine. “Every moment without you has been torture,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. “I swore to myself that I wouldn’t return to you empty-handed… that I’d come back bearing gifts worthy of my lady wife.”

You lifted your chin slightly, meeting his intense gaze. “And what gift do you bring me, my lord?” You smiled, a playful glint sparking in your eyes, hoping to tease him further.

“Let me show you,” he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. 

His hands moved the cloth down your body, seeing his hungry eyes as if he was admiring every detail. Finally, the gown left your body, his hands tightening on your hips. He pulled, then, making you move down the bed so you were laid completely.

Eyes locking with yours, he grazed his body back, until his chin hit your thigh, he laid a soft kiss there, then another and another, each one trailing higher, awakening every nerve beneath his lips. 

You gasped, a tremor running through you at the unexpected sensation. Cregan’s warm breath danced across your skin, teasing and tantalizing, and you felt as if he was drawing out all the longing that had been buried deep within you during his absence.

“Every part of you deserves to be worshiped,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he continued his slow ascent. Your body responded instinctively, arching toward him, seeking more of his touch, more of the heat radiating from him.

His hands explored the delicate curves of your thighs, fingers brushing against the soft skin, sending delightful shivers through your body. “You’re exquisite,” he breathed, his gaze never wavering from yours, filled with a mix of admiration and hunger that made your heart race faster.

His hair had gone messy, from the sleeping and the kissing. You moved your hand to gently move it out of his face as he kissed your thighs, hands still holding onto your hips. At the feeling of your hand in his hair, he hitched up your knee, your leg now resting on his shoulder.

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, the intimacy of the moment electrifying. Cregan looked up at you from his place between your thighs, his eyes alight with mischief and desire, as if he relished every second spent worshiping you. The way he gazed at you made your heart flutter, igniting a yearning that had been building like a wildfire in your chest.

“Cregan…” you breathed, the sound barely above a whisper, an invitation and a plea all at once.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, he pressed his lips to the soft skin of your thigh, his warm breath sending tingling sensations coursing through you. You gripped the furs beneath you, fighting the urge to arch your back as he continued his tantalizing path, leaving a trail of kisses that made you dizzy with anticipation.

The world outside the chamber faded away, the responsibilities and duties of Winterfell slipping from your mind as you surrendered to the moment. Cregan’s hands were firm and confident, his thumbs tracing gentle patterns along your hips as he inched closer to your center, teasing you with his slow, deliberate movements.

“Do you know how long I dreamed of this?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, the warmth of his breath against your skin causing you to shiver in response. “Each night in the forest, all I could think about was coming back to you.”

You could feel your pulse quicken at his words, the raw honesty behind them igniting a fire deep within you. “I wished for you every day, husband,” you confessed, your voice trembling with longing. “Every moment apart felt like an eternity.”

You tightened your hold on his hair when he reached your heat, the soft kiss placed on you made you shiver in pleasure, a sigh leaving your lips. Then, a slow lick of a stripe, he hummed as he tasted you.

The sensation rippled through you, sending a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. Cregan's mouth was warm and inviting, and as he savored your essence, you felt an exquisite blend of vulnerability and power in this intimate act. Every flick of his tongue ignited your senses, drawing forth soft gasps and shudders from your lips that filled the otherwise quiet chamber. You couldn't help but wonder how one man could wield such mastery over your body, and the thought alone sent a thrill of delight coursing through you.

“Cregan,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, the name tasting sweet on your tongue as you surrendered to the blissful sensations he was drawing from you. He paused for a brief moment, looking up at you, those grey eyes smoldering with heat and intent, and you could see the raw need etched in the lines of his face.

“Let me hear you,” he urged, his voice low and gravelly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “Please.”

You nodded, emboldened by the warmth in his gaze, as his mouth resumed its heavenly ministrations. He teased you with lingering kisses, his warm breath contrasting deliciously against the coolness of the room, drawing you ever closer to the edge.

The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the warmth of the furs beneath you, the heady scent of pine, leather, and Cregan’s unique musk swirling around you. Every soft brush of his lips and each firm flick of his tongue was perfectly attuned to your body, as if he had learned your every secret through those long nights apart. He knew how to coax the sensations from you, his skilled movements igniting a fire that blazed brighter with every passing second.

“Please, don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice filled with urgency as you felt the building pressure within you, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to unravel at any moment. “I–”

He took your words as a challenge, redoubling his efforts. Instinctively, his hand moved up to hold yours, fingers linked together as he used the other hand to pull you closer to his mouth. Cregan’s lips moved with fervor, the sounds of your pleasure spilling from your lips mixing with the soft sighs of his own desire. He consumed you, wholly and completely, until all you could focus on was the heat building between your legs and the way his hands gripped you possessively.

“More, Cregan,” you whimpered, your body arching instinctively toward him, seeking more of the ecstasy he was so expertly delivering. It was as if he was the sun, and you were drawn into his orbit, helplessly caught in the warmth of his desire.

“Your wish is my command,” he murmured against your skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. He shifted his focus, his movements becoming more deliberate and focused as he traced delicate circles, pushing you higher and higher toward the precipice of bliss.

With each tantalizing stroke, you could feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. Your fingers clenched in his hair, urging him on, and Cregan obliged with a growl of delight that sent a rush of pleasure coursing through you.

“I need you,” you breathed, the words escaping before you could think better of them. You knew it was true; your body craved him, and the aching longing that had been stifled during his absence ignited into an all-consuming desire.

He lifted his head momentarily, the flush on his cheeks matching yours as he gazed at you, an intensity burning in his eyes. “You have me,” he promised, his voice low and thick with desire. “You will always have me.” And then he returned to his feast, working you higher, his focus unwavering.

With each teasing caress and each gentle suckle, you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, the world outside fading further as you surrendered completely to the sensations he was igniting within you. The exquisite pressure tightened and tightened until it finally burst, sending you spiraling over the edge into a world of blinding pleasure.

You cried out his name, the sound reverberating in the chamber as wave after wave of bliss washed over you. It was a moment of pure euphoria, your body trembling as you rode the heights of pleasure, feeling as if you could float away on the sheer intensity of it all.

Cregan held you close, his hands steady against your hips as he guided you through the peaks and valleys of your climax, whispering sweet nothings that only deepened your connection. He worshiped you even in the throes of your release, kissing away your cries as he drew you back down gently, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

As the tremors of pleasure subsided, you gazed down at him, breathless and glowing, the room still echoing with the remnants of your bliss. Cregan's face radiated a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness, his lips curled into a smirk that made your heart flutter.

Afterwards, catching your breaths, you lay tangled together, a sheen of sweat cooling on your skin as you basked in the afterglow.

"I should go hunting more often," Cregan mused, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder, "if this is the welcome I can expect upon my return."

You swatted his chest playfully. "Don't you dare," you warned. "Or I shall be forced to accompany you on every expedition, propriety be damned."

Cregan's laugh was full and rich, a sound that never failed to warm your heart. "Now there's a terrifying thought. The great lords of the North, cowering before the fierce Lady Stark as she stalks through the Wolfswood."

You propped yourself up on one elbow, fixing him with a mock glare. "And why shouldn't they cower? I've tamed the fiercest wolf of all, have I not?"

Something shifted in Cregan's expression then, the mirth fading into something deeper, more intense. He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. "Aye," he said softly. "That you have, my love. That you have."

You settled back against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. The rest of the world could wait, you decided. For now, this moment was yours alone – you and Cregan, wrapped in the cocoon of your shared love, savoring a peace that had been long in the making.

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter one]

summary: Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, has always prepared you to marry and you have always resisted, terrified that you will only ever be seen as a wife. But your heart is torn when love catches you by surprise.

contains: mentions of self-harm, aged-up characters (Jace is ~19 idk)

a/n: wow i have not posted on this blog in YEARS but i lurk in tumblr reader insert oneshots like it's my part-time job, and i wrote this on AO3 so i decided to post here and hopefully get some love. i really love posting my writing even if it is not perfect, it's just a passion. let me know if i should post the second chapter and my asks are always open! xx - pearl🦪

Beauty is power, my mother used to tell me, stroking my silver hair as if it were made of golden thread. She loved my hair. Use your beauty to set yourself free. I had no idea if she meant for her words to bring some kind of comfort to me - they did not. 

Sometimes, I hated her for bringing me into the world altogether. While Jace and Luke envied my resemblance to our mother, I detested sharing her light hair and lilac eyes. It seemed to me a symbol of my imprisonment - it became clear to me, hearing all this talk of my beauty and nothing else, that I was never to be loved or seen for anything else.

In my youth, the abstract concept of my fertility and status made me a formidable form of currency within the royal family. Jacaerys, older by one year, made his way as heir by training in combat and dragonriding and studying the history of Westeros and Old Valeria - I, however, was confined to studying the family trees of the realm's powerful houses, to perform the perfect Velaryon princess and eventually be bred like a cow.

I hated my life. 

Many attempts were made to rebel against my predetermined future. At ten and two I sliced all the hair from my head, leaving a shaggy, uneven mess of shimmering half-bald patches that took years to grow back. I had never seen my mother so angry until at ten and four I began slicing patterns into my arms and legs to scar the perfect pale skin everyone complimented me on. Soon she required a chaperone with me at all times, which only made me more furious, and I began picking fights with my cuntish uncles and coming back from dragon rides inexplicably soaking or covered in soot. I waited for my mother to attempt to put together the puzzle I had laid out in front of her; to figure me out and decide that her daughter - the strong-willed, intelligent, adventurous one - matters more than the empty shell of a married woman that I will surely become. 

At the very least, my mother allowed me the power to turn away whomever I wished. It seemed she hoped I would find someone who struck my fancy. But as time passed and my antics worsened, her grip on me tightened, and I began to fear the wost: an impending betrothal. 

She frequently asked me to rack my brain and think of any previous men she had introduced me to who I may want to explore further. But I was stubborn. I maintained that no one had caught my eye, and I insisted that I would never marry. Whenever I said such things, my mother would frown at me in a way that hurt my heart. She was my greatest antagonist, but I loved her, and I knew that it saddened her to put me through such pain. 

Even if there was one man who never left an impression on me, whose memory kept me awake in the darkness of night, I would never tell my mother. It was too humiliating after so many years of fighting marriage to be seduced by love.

Every so often I allowed myself to think about him before I went to sleep, to be swept up in the beautiful dream of someone's arms around me. I could imagine him saying to me, I choose you. That was what I always dreamt of hearing. I choose you, as you are. Just you. 

Jacaerys tried to sympathize with me but he would never truly understand. He did allow me to partake in his own pastimes to grant me a change of scenery from the walls of King's Landing. 

"It infuriates me that she herself is allowed to break barriers as heir to the Iron Throne and I must remain shackled to tradition," I complained to Jace as we sparred in a remote corner of the keep. "She gets to be immortalized as the first of her name while subjecting me to a loveless marriage."

"She was in an arranged marriage with our father." Jace pointed out, sending a particularly hard offensive move my way. I easily thwarted it. 

"Well..." I trailed off. There was nothing to say, not in words, about our parents, or our parentage. It was an unspoken issue, even between Jacaerys and I who were nearly as close as twins. We supposed it would always be shrouded in mystery. We were prepared to always wonder. It seemed unthinkable to ask our mother any questions, nor our father, nor... 

Strong boys, they said. 

Perhaps Jace and I wouldn't speak of it because our difference in hair color had always been a sore subject. I was broken out of my thoughts by another offensive move, this one catching me by surprise. I stumbled back but recovered, moving around the side of my brother as he laughed at me in the way only an older brother would. 

"I'll get you back for that," I snapped at him, but grinned. He smiled back, shrugging cockily. Bring it on, his eyes told me. 

We sparred a bit more until our breaths were heavy in our throats and our swings became more jests than challenges. Eventually, he tossed his sword on the ground and fell upon a sack of grain. I sat next to him and for a moment we were not prince nor princess. We were just two siblings. I sighed, knowing it wouldn't last for long. 

Jace seemed to decide to bank on the moment as well because he looked to me and spoke. "Was there really never anyone who caught your eye? Not in all those years of meeting suitors?" He thought for a moment. "There were some good ones."

"Some good ones?" I scoffed. "Who, pray tell?" 

After a few moments of consideration, he began to chuckle and I rolled my eyes. The chuckle became a cackle and at this joke, I did not laugh along. We both knew that most of the options I had been presented with were vapid, shortsighted, insecure children, as were most men.

I was about to hit him to shut him up when he stopped suddenly and his face brightened with realization. 

"I know a good one," Jace said, "Cregan Stark."

A flush crossed my face at the name.

Usually, I only allowed that name to cross my mind in the darkness of night, but Jace had disrupted that routine. "What about him?" I tried to ask innocently. This time my brother was the one to roll his eyes at me. 

"Don't play the fool, sister," he teased, "when he came to visit those years ago everyone could see that you both took a liking to each other. Even you couldn't fight him." He nudged me playfully with his elbow. "He fights like a Northerner, and he wanted to fight for you."

"Oh, hush."

"Why did you ever turn him away anyways?"

His question silenced me. It was a painful memory. Cregan had come to treat with my grandsire and pledge his support as Warden of the North, and in those two moons he stayed at King's Landing we came to know each other well. Perhaps the reason why I had opened myself to getting to know him was because he had not come for the intention of courting me. In fact, I found him wonderfully ignorant about the social politics of the royal family, and he did not know of my existence upon his arrival. 

The day we met, I was in the Godswood with a book and a porcelain cup of candied almonds. A midnight blue veil covered my thigh-length silver hair. I hated my hair, and I hated that my mother would not let me cut it. I refused to have it braided and let it fall unbrushed and wild down my back.

He had come into the courtyard without noticing me tangled in the roots of the tree. He came closer to examine the trunk thoughtfully, allowing me a glimpse of his face through the branches. I had heard of his arrival and listened from behind closed doors at their meeting, intrigued by his deep voice and foreign accent. I listened intently as he spoke a prayer in a hushed tone. All of a sudden, his gaze shifted to meet mine between the leaves as if he had known I was there the whole time. 

"Apologies, my lady," he bowed his head slightly. "I did not know the Godswood was occupied."

"There is room enough for two," I said shyly. I was not accustomed to being pleasant towards men. I was known for being a beautiful devil, a menace with a sour tongue. It made me self-conscious to think that I was changing my behavior for a man. But I was merely matching his politeness; and he had no reason to falsify his kindness, since he had no idea who I was. 

Luckily for me, I had no reason to overthink my words because he went silent for a long while, lost in a wordless prayer. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he came closer to me, and gestured to the root beside me. 

"Do you mind if I sit?" He had asked.

I shook my head and he moved his thick cloak to drop down beside me. 

"Pardon my intrusion, my lady, I find myself feeling lonely when I come to the South. The Godswood calms me."

"I understand, Lord Stark."

His eyebrow quirked. "You know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I do." I smiled. I loved having the upper hand. I decided I wouldn't tell him who I was. 

"What is your role here in the castle, my lady?" 

"To please lords like you." I jested. Cregan leaned back slightly, taken aback. I quickly realized the suggestive wording of my joke. "Not like that," I quickly corrected, "I was just... I mean-"

"I know who you are, princess." He chuckled at me. I was glad to be rescued from the embarrassment of my failed joke. I gazed at him questioningly. He leaned forward and gently removed the veil from my head. "Unfortunately your appearance does not allow you anonymity." 

I blushed. "What have you heard about me?" 

"Nothing, I admit, until your grandsire told me about you today. He told me of your age, not many years my junior, and I supposed-"

"- That I might make a fine breeder for you?" I snapped. There went the illusion of politeness. This was where they usually ran, when I became a beast instead of a beauty. A piece of work not worth the effort. 

Instead, Cregan merely chuckled. "Actually, I sought a companion. A friend. Being here is lonely for me, and I thought you might show me what life in King's Landing is like. If I am to swear fealty to your family, I seek to know your customs. Your mother has told me that you are the most well-acquainted with the keep of her children." 

You smiled. Had your mother truly said that? It was true, since you spent so much time darting around the palace avoiding her orders. 

"Would you mind giving me a tour?" He asked. His tone was so gentle, so uncomplicated. It was like no man had ever spoken to me before. With respect, as if he were speaking to a friend. It was refreshing.

For the next few weeks, Cregan and I formed a friendship based on mutual respect. He informed me of Northern politics and asked for my opinions on complicated political matters through a Southern perspective. I introduced him to my dragon, Vermithor. Afternoons were spent in the Godswood picnicking for the purpose of introducing him to local cuisine, and evenings were spent in the library discussing literature. The relationship felt as easy as breathing to me, and I could tell he felt the same. After close to two moons, it had begun to frighten me how much I longed for his presence when we separated at the end of the day. 

There had always been a tangible tension between us that toed the line between friendship and romance. Lingering gazes, intentional touches, and meaningful words kept me up at night. He opened up to me about the unique grief of losing his wife in childbirth and having to leave his infant son at home so soon afterward. I showed him the scars littered across my body, and explained to him how I hated my beauty.

He had taken my head in his hands and looked through my soul with those gray eyes. 

"Your beauty... It is just a fraction of you. What is truly incredible is your kind heart, your wit, your intelligence, your soul..."

I had been unable in that moment to keep myself from kissing him, so I let my mind empty and I surged forward to connect our lips. He responded with fervor, bringing me close, the pads of his thumbs barely grazing the peach fuzz on my cheek. I could not even bring myself to feel ashamed about grabbing his tunic underneath his cloak, my fingers unknowing but desperate. He had taken my hands and pulled back, only to kiss my nose, then brow, then the corners of each eyes, and then my knuckles. 

Suddenly I came too. I saw in front of me the path that had been laid for me - a wife, be it to a good man or a bad one. I was still determined not to let that happen. 

As I often did, I had fled. I had avoided him until he went back to Winterfell. Two moons later, a raven came from him. I didn't dare open it, too afraid to face my actions. Even if I felt that I knew what the contents were, Cregan was not like other men I knew - thus I had always wondered what the letter said. I wondered if it was true that he truly cared for me and saw who I was inside. The thought made me realize that even I myself did not know what path may be laid in front of me. My feelings confused me, and I decided to shut the Lord of Winterfell out of my mind forever.

Except on some dark nights. 

And except for now, when Jacaerys prods my arm and awaits the answer to his question. I realized I must have been silent for a long time as his voice began to register in my head. 

"Lost in thought?" 

"Ha-ha," I shoved him back. "Sort of." 

Jace's face became serious. "I was only jesting, but perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. I know you truly did care for him."

"How could you tell?" I asked, genuine curiosity lacing my tone. It was past the point where it was worth feeling awkward about the truth of my feelings. I was only human, after all. 

"He was kind to everybody, but especially to you." Jace pursed his lips in thought. "Although at the same time, he does not treat you like you're soft. It was like he loved hearing you speak. Like your word was God."

I smiled. 

Jace nudged me. "And... he looked at you like you hung the damn sun in the sky."

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. I knew it was true, but I was used to people looking at me in awe. As if I were a ball of light floating in front of them, ethereal, untouchable. Cregan was not afraid to see through me, to touch me. He made me feel held.

Emotion overcame me in that moment. I quickly scrambled up from the bag of grain Jace and I were lounging on, grasping my sword and tossing my hair over my shoulder. 

"Well, it's too late now," I quickly said, "He's in Winterfell and it does not matter if he cares for me or not, I do not want the life of a housewife."

Jace stood. "Who says that getting married means you'll become a housewife? You'll be a lady, you could do whatever you please." 

"It isn't just the marriage, it's the principle of it!" I cried, moving away from him towards the main training yard. "As soon as I take those vows, it means my purpose is only to bear children." As we entered the larger courtyard and grew closer to other people, he grasped my arm and spoke to me in a lowered voice. 

"I know you think I do not understand, but I am soon to be betrothed as well, likely to someone I will never love."

"Well, at the end of the line, you have a throne." I spit at him, spinning on my heel and leaving him staring helplessly after me. 

[sarahisslytherin]

on the kingsroad.

cregan stark x reader

summary: you try not to let your feelings for lord stark show as you travel to king's landing together.

contains: forced proximity, fluff.

a/n: there was only one bed!!

word count: 1.2k

You struggled to keep your heavy eyes open as your mare clopped down the dirt road. You trotted alongside Cregan, whose gaze was now fixed on the inn that grew closer with each passing moment. “Almost there, my Lady.” The young lord of Winterfell addressed you gently. He was as weary as you were, and longed just as much for the warmth of a bed. You tugged feebly on the fur lining your cloak as you neared the inn. It had been a few days on the Kingsroad in the company of Cregan Stark. 

You both had business to attend to down in King’s Landing and the noble lord deemed it necessary that you be accompanied. Though you were merely a lady of his court, you had never been able to deny the part of you that longed for something more than polite manners from Cregan. The look in his icy blue eyes as he strode down the halls of Winterfell had put you in a trance more times than you cared to admit. Equally culpable for this were the stolen glances during feasts, the electricity you felt at his touch when he would help you out of a carriage. These small moments provided you with enough warmth to survive the longest of winters. 

Soon enough, you were at the inn’s doors. Cregan dismounted first before aiding you as you did the same, his strong, leather-covered hands holding your weight as your boots hit the snowy ground. You thanked him for the help as he led the way inside. The innkeeper marveled at the sight of him. Tall, wide, commanding; a young wolf.

“Forgive me, Lord Stark.” the man stuttered. “But there are simply not enough rooms left to accommodate both yourself and the young lady.” At this, Cregan looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze. Something in your expression must have given away that you didn’t mind sharing chambers for the night, because he swiftly turned to the innkeeper and paid for the remaining room.

You tried to suppress the churning feeling in your stomach at the thought of such proximity to Cregan, thankful you could blame the pink hue of your cheeks on the biting northern cold. You followed Cregan up the stairs, the wooden boards creaking under his steps. The hallway was lit by torches, the warm light leading you to your chambers. “After you.” Cregan bowed his head ever so slightly as you stepped into the room, the stone and wooden walls encapsulating the heat from the fireplace. 

“Gods, how I’ve longed for the comfort of a bed.” you chuckled as you shrugged off your furs, leaving you in your gown. You felt Cregan’s heavy gaze as you undid your simple braid and let your hair cascade down your shoulders. “You must know your company has been a great comfort to me, Lord Stark.” you confessed, offering him a sheepish smile as your eyes met his. He too was in the process of removing his cloak, his thinner garments capturing your attention more than could be deemed fitting of a proper young lady. 

“I am glad to hear it. I must admit that when I heard you would be traveling to the capital on your own, I couldn’t help but worry for your safety. I shall stay close to you at King’s Landing as well. It is truly a viper’s nest, no place for an innocent lady.”

“My Lord, you underestimate me.” you smirked as you stood up from your place by the crackling fire. “Surely the vicious men of King’s Landing cannot be much worse than the brutes back home.”

Cregan laughed at that, a good hearty laugh. “Is your opinion of Northmen truly so low?”

You felt heat begin to creep into your face once again. “I- I meant no offense, my Lord. The men I speak of are nothing like you.” You were too nervous to be sure, but you were quite certain it was a look of amusement now on Cregan’s face.

“Are they not? I am a man of the North, born and raised. What could possibly save me from your damning opinion?” he teased, but you sensed he truly wished to hear the answer.

“Well,” you sighed as you fiddled with tendrils of your hair, “They are not nearly as handsome, and not one of them has ever made me laugh the way your jests have. And they are unkind, inhumane. They regard me as no more than an object, something to be enjoyed as one enjoys a feast. But you-” you cut yourself off, looking up to meet Cregan’s gaze. The look in his eyes was soft, hopeful even. 

“But I?” he insisted.

“But you are kind. Not only to me, but to your people. You are a rare man of honor, true honor. A man I feel safe with.” you finally said. If Cregan was moved by your confession he tried his best not to show it, his gaze fixed on the ground as if lost in thought. You decided to make yourself busy with the fur covers on the bed. Cregan stood up to help. 

“My Lady, please have the bed.” he said, his voice scratchy from the cool winter air. “I will arrange my furs on the floor.” Your eyes widened at that, your hand reaching up to clutch your heart incredulously.

“Nonsense, I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor when there is a perfectly fine bed large enough for the two of us!” 

Cregan made an effort to suppress his smile, but it was not enough. “Are you absolutely sure? I only wish for you to be comfortable.” he insisted.

“Certainly.” you assured him, allowing your hand to rest gently on his chest. You tried not to focus on the beat of his heart beneath your icy palm. He wasted no time in taking it in his own hands and bringing it to his lips, the gesture awakening butterflies in your stomach. 

You gently stepped away to your side of the bed, slipping in and doing your best to stay on the edge of the bed. You felt the mattress dip where Cregan did the same on the other end. You ensured you were both back to back with room to spare between you. You tried to drown out the thoughts you were having about the Lord of Winterfell as you drifted off to sleep.

It wasn’t until the first rays of dawn began to pour into the chambers that your eyes began to flutter. You were so accustomed to sleeping alone, you didn’t know what to make of the presence you sensed so close to you. Only then did the memories of last night come back to you, and you looked down to your abdomen to find Cregan Stark’s large paw of a hand resting there. You glanced over your shoulder, feeling the warmth of his breath hit the back of your neck. He had pulled you flush against him in his sleep, and it seemed you had done little in protest. The butterflies in your stomach returned as you let your eyes close again and leaned into Lord Stark’s embrace, impatient to continue your journey on the Kingsroad.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @lovemesomevesey @shemisseshome @themissgreen24-blog @siriusement @kindgomzeldaquest @gayfordabae @slayis4ever

[justanoasisimagines]

Blurb #1

Requests are open! Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner and the divider

Cregan searched through the crowds, weaving through people, and exchanging rushed pleasantries. Eyes scanning through the crowd attempting to locate you.

Where were you? He'd searched everywhere. The castle, the God'swood, even the market and yet you were no one where to be seen. Cregan had questioned several people and yet no one seemed to know where you were.

Cregan ran his hand through his hair; rattling his mind for any more locations. You had to be somewhere, you couldn't have gone far. Turning his head to the left, Cregan's mind sparked. The stables.

With a quickened pace, Cregan walked in that direction. A sigh of relief when he witnessed you taking care of one of the horses.

"There you are love. I've been searching everywhere for you." Cregan's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The tension in his shoulders slowly released as he rested his chin on top of your head.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I simply got bored of the patchwork I was working on," you replied.

Cregan scoffed. "I was not scared. I was merely concerned for your well-being that's all."

"Then why are your palms sweating?" Cregan created enough space so he could examine your face.

"I've been searching Winterfell for you woman, of course, I'm going to sweat." Cregan saw the disbelief in your eyes, alongside the subtle hint of mischief, but you didn't press him about it.

"Now come inside, let's get you warm, so you don't catch a cold." Cregan was prepared for an argument, yet nothing came much to his surprise. With his mind made up, Cregan knew he was going to build you a stable. Somewhere closer to the castle, with your own horses.

He'd gladly build you a stables inside; if he believed you would allow him.

[skyrigel]

“Fire on Fire”

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x sister!reader

Benjicot blackwood masterlist

˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑ You are betrothed to Cregan Stark and it's your wedding day, but your brother wants to give you a wedding gift, somthing lovely — something you carry with you and what's better than a child.

˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑ Targcest, incest, justifying infidelity( not married yet but still ) also be read as twin!reader, kissing and making out, suggestive themes so 18+ rated, pouty and cute Aemond, some jealousy and possesivness, choking ( blink and miss), mentions of hickey. [ Wc: 2k ]

Reblogs and thoughts are always welcome <3 credits to @cafekitsune for text dividor and title from Sam Smith song, “fire on fire”

“Mother, I want to see Aemond.” You saw your reflection in the mirror, the gown was adored with scales and a cloak of fur, a close resemblance to your marriage to Cregan Stark.

“I would see that.” She rubbed her hands on your shoulder, leaning to kiss your head.

“You're the most beautiful bride.”

You tried to smile through your misery.

“Haelena is the most beautiful bride.” You raised your chin, she sniffed through her tears, her throat constricted with words she never managed to say.

“You are doing great, child.” She said, and that was all.

~~~

Everything was getting on your nerves or it was just how wedding days were supposed to be, your skin itched with the furs that tickled your collar bones.

“Martha...fix it.” You tisked when someone moved behind you, it was only a moment before you knew him by scent alone, the way his feet struck the earth.

“Aemond ! ” You jumped back at him and he straightened up like he wasn't just about to ‘boo’ you.

“How did you know ? ” He said, sitting next to you and plucking the furry fabric out that got folded while wearing, releasing you from your torment, like he always did.

“Because I know you.” you told him, sucking in a breath as his finger traced your collar bone, cold against your skin.

“Yes, you do.” He smiled, his jaw hard and eyes glinting like sapphire in moonlight.

You looked away, feeling your insides clench in a sensation that aroused you very much lately.

“I was waiting for you, where were you ?” You said instead, showing forward the bracelet mother gave you with Targaryen sigil, green diamonds circling it's frame.

“Very beautiful.” He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing each knuckle tenderly, looking up and stealing glances from you every time.

“I was actually thinking about your wedding present.” He whispered it low, his voice deep and you frowned, “For me ? ”

He cocked his eyebrow, ofcourse he wasn't going to give Cregan Stark a wedding gift because now that would be ridiculous — He hated Cregan the day your match with him was announced, his loathing only blazed by each day that passed by.

“Ofcourse you, sister.” His mouth tugged at corners, he was admiring you, not surprised because you were always so beautiful, there was this very sad ache in his eyes.

“Then give it to me.” you chirped at him, eyes going wide with the way Aemond flushed.

“I wanted it to be—” He drew closer to you, taking your chin in his hand, “—something you could remember me by.”

You could faint at the intensity, sure Aemond's touch was fire but for the very first time you saw yourself bursting into ashes.

“I wouldn't forget you.” You swallowed, he traced the side of your face, halting at your lips and continued admiring you.

“Shhh.” Aemond hushed, his gaze dropping to your lips as his thumb smeared across your rose tint.

“Something you can carry with you... something that would remind you of me, always.” He whispered, face leaning down and down until his nose was touching yours.

“You will always love me, won't you sister ? ”

He asked it so tenderly, so sweetly that your heart ached, how would you live in the north, despite all the wonders Cregan told you about, it would always be less endearing, less lovely, less yours without him.

“Always, Aemond.” You smiled as his lips pressed on the corner of your mouth, his hands cupping your face and then he pulled back, too soon.

“What happened ? ” You asked him, startled, Aemond grabbed your wrist and brought it to the back of his head and you understood what, you giggled softly, removing his eye patch.

“God, i would miss you so much Aem.” You ran a hand through his hair, soft and silky as you touched them.

“Really ? ” He asked, tilting his head sideways and you nodded, smiling your brightest.

“Very much.” You told him, Aemond took your hand, urging you to follow so you did.

Aemond pulled you towards the mirror, resting his face on your shoulder as he stood behind you, your joined hands crossing your heart.

He teased the crook of your neck with his nose, making you laugh at his mischiefs.

A pause.

“Do you love Cregan ? ”

You looked unsettled at the question, almost shooting him a glare, why would he ask that ?

“I...a wife should love his husband.” You laughed, it was hollow and Aemond's mouth curted.

“That's not what I asked, Do you love him ? ”

“I would happen to.” you would right ? Someday you will happen to love your husband, Haelena and mother and every one does, wouldn't you do just the same ?

You looked away from the reality that was staring back at you, the future that awaited you, duty towards your family.

“Do you love me ? ”

“Yes, I love you.” You said, in a heartbeat, turning back to him and watching how his smile faded to desire.

“I love you so much.” He cupped your face, eyes softening as he pulled you closer to him, grabbing you by your hips and that was okay, He's your brother, half your soul.

“You were telling me about your gift.” You gasped a little, his whole body was pressed against you, heating up.

“I was.” He caressed you, his touch sipping through your bones, mouth clamped, you liked his mouth—soft, warm and sweet, and the way he spoke to you, like honey dripping from his to tongue, your brother, your soul.

“What is it ? ”

“Close you eyes.” He hummed, side glancing at your reflections, so perfect together.

“Okay.” you closed them, He tutted, and you stiffled the smile, finally closing them perfectly blind.

“Good Little bird.”

And your smile was claimed by him, his soft sweet mouth pressing against yours, in slow music that echoed through your body.

“Oh—” You snapped open your eyes, pulling back and touching your lips where his were just few moments ago, his warmth lingering like a tattooed kiss.

“Sister—” He started but you were already kissing him again, pulling him to you by the back of his neck and he was just a starving man.

His mouth was every bit honey that he spoke of, lovely as he was to you, his sweetness melting on your tongue and you were breathless with the way he kissed you.

“I love you.” He muttered breathlessly on the your lips, pulling you to embrace him completely and divinely.

You heard his heartbeats, the heart that grew along with you, with same womb nourishing your veins and plumbing your chambers.

“Aemond, we..we can't..” you saw no reason why you can't, perhaps if times were different it could have been Aemond waiting on the altar for you, a dream so beautiful.

“Do you want me to stop ? ” He was placing soft kisses at the side of your face, keeping his hands off the furs of your gown and instead wrapping around your waist line.

“No.”

He smiled, taking you by your shoulder and helping you sit on your bed, where he had snuggled in countless times, when he couldn't sleep, when he lost his eye and cried with the one that was left, and that one time when he came buzzing after Vhagar chose him, that night you were both looking at the ceiling as if there were stars— but then again, everything was beautiful with him.

Aemond smiled wickedly the way you were glowing crimson, a bride was usually blushing but for their husband-to-be, your hands fisted the silk sheets when his tongue started to work his magic in your mouth.

It wasn't a sin, it wasn't infidelity or cheating, Aemond and you soul were connected and for seven heaven's sake —just the same.

The way he smiled and your heart bloomed, the way he talked and you felt heard, and all those ways he completed you.

“He can never love you like me...” He tore away the fur cloak, kissing your bare skin in a wave of heat.

“Aemond—” But he was far too gone.

His hands were everywhere, grasping your throat and driving your wild with the way he nibbed at your collar bone.

“Aemond...oh dear...” You let your head bliss back into time and space, heart too heavy so you let go.

“I am marking you mine sister.” Aemond purred beside you, his breath teasing the newly purplish mark and you gasped at the angry brusie forming on your neck.

“ Oh god, oh fuck— what have you done ? ”

Aemond smiled, following your gaze in the mirror and basking in his brilliance work, his mouth curved in a smirky pout.

“Cregan can't know Aem ! ” You glared at him, north wasn't common to incest.

“So are you going to make love with him ? ” He turned back to you, almost bored, “ Is that how you love me ? ”

Your face brunt red, aching with the your lips throbbed at the swolleness, you tried to speak but no words came out.

“He'll consummate the marriage someday.” You said, tears spilling through the edges, face crumbling under the sadness of being parted with him.

“ Oh no, sweet love.” He shushed away, standing beside you and pulling your head to his chest, kissing your braided hair softly.

“I just can't see you with him...with anyone who's not me...yes I am jealous but—” His voice broke, “ I want you to know that your heart is mine sister, that your soul belongs to me and mine belongs to you.”

You sniffed as his words hanged heavy in air, his soft sweet nothings were soothing the pain that swirled in your chest.

“ You'll have to sleep with him.” He said, “there's no other choice.”

Aemond then tipped a finger under your chin, raising your face to him — He shaked his head at the tears that ran down the side of your cheek and smeared them away with the pad of his thumb.

“ But you'll have a choice to love, will you make love with me sister ? ”

A small smile broke between the grief and he kissed you down, massaging the back of your neck.

“I will give you something you can always take with you, something small and lovely.”

You looked at the glint in his eye, the same when he was about to do something awfully stupid or brave.

“And what could be better than our child my lovely sister.”

And whatever souls were made of, his and yours were just the same.

A beat, a pause — the mist cleared and you can see him and you, tangled with bodies and soul, with each other's blood and breath lingering like one soul two bodies.

“I want our child to have your eyes.” you blushed, the way Aemond smiled was worth every star.

~~~

“Do you take this man ? ” Aegon asked, you looked at Cregan, he was almost smiling in his big furry cloak and wolfish-ness.

Your eyes flickered to Aemond who was standing by Alicent — your mother was sniffing with her eyes beaming at the sight.

He was looking at you, a smile crossed his lips, a small nod that anyone would've missed but not you, you would know him anywhere.

“ Yes.”

You would take this man, again and again—over and over, after all he's half your soul as the poets said.

Navigation

[korkiekenobiconfirmed]

hilarious and severely underutilized jacegan modern au dynamic is when jace starts out the fic like "ooh perhaps a night of casual fun with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable?" but then by the end it's not-so-casual and he's fully acquired an entire toddler son

[lunafreya24]

Modern au: When the Storm Breaks

Pairings: Jacaerys Targaryen/Cregan Stark, Rhaenyra Targaryen/Harwin Strong, Rhaenys Targaryen/Corlys Velaryon

Cregan and Jace have been married for a couple years when tragedy strikes. Jace's brother, Luke, is killed in a car accident. From the moment they got the news, Jace barely cries. He buries himself into being strong for his family and planning Luke's funeral. Cregan stays by his side the whole time, trying his best to help. Everyone is worried Jace is carrying too much on his shoulders and that he's going to explode soon. Their fears become reality when Jace has a full-blown mental breakdown at the funeral. Jace's family and his husband rally around him. Afterwards he apologizes for making a scene. Everyone tells him that he has every right to upset and that he doesn't have to be strong all the time.

(cw: character death, graphic language, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms)

Notes: This takes place in modern day New York. Rhaenyra and Harwin are married. Aegon III and Viserys II are Harwin's sons, but they get their looks from Rhaenyra. All the age gaps are closed in this story. Cregan and Jace are the same age, Rhaenyra and Harwin are only like 3 or 4 years apart. Laena is Rhaenyra's best friend here not Alicent, because I didn't want to touch that situation. Helaena is the only green that makes an appearance because I love her. Laenor and Daemon also aren't mentioned in this story. Do with that what you will.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacaerys Targaryen and Cregan Stark had built a life together that was rooted in love, trust, and mutual support. They met in college, when Jace was getting his MBA and Cregan was getting a bachelor’s degree in architecture. Until then, neither of them had believed in love at first sight, but in that moment, love was the only thing that came to mind. They dated all throughout college, receiving their respective degrees with honors. Jace’s parents, Rhaenyra and Harwin, threw a grand graduation party at their home. However, Jace was the only one unaware that this party was also an engagement party. Once everyone important to them had arrived, Cregan got down on one knee and asked Jace to make him the happiest man in the world. Jace accepted with tears in his eyes. Their wedding was a sight to behold, a perfect blend of extravagance and sentiment. They vowed to be there for each other for every moment of their lives, no matter how painful. After four years of marriage, they had faced their share of challenges, but none had been as shattering as the phone call that came one quiet evening.

Jace was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while Cregan relaxed on the couch, engrossed in a book. The shrill ring of Jace's phone broke the silence. It was from Baela, Jace's favorite cousin. Jace and Baela were very close, but they hadn’t spoken in a while, feeling they didn’t have much to share with each other. When she called out of nowhere, Jace thought she had something exciting to tell him. 

“Hey Baela, how are you?” He answered cheerfully. 

“Hi Jace.” Baela said, her voice shaking, barely above whisper.

“Is everything okay?” There was silence on the other end. 

Cregan could sense the tension and looked from his book. “Who’s that baby?”

Jace moved the food off the stove and walked over. “It’s Baela,” he whispered. 

“Is that Cregan?” She asked in an abrupt manner.

“Yeah.” Jace said.

“Can you put the phone on speaker, you both need to hear this.”

Jace did as he was asked, placing his phone on the coffee table, “Okay, Baela what going on, you’re kind of scaring me now.” 

Baela took a deep breath before continuing, "Jace, it's about Luke.” 

“What about Luke?” Jace asked, fear washing over him. 

They could hear Baela start to cry on the other end, “There…There’s been….. an accident. I’m so sorry Jace. He's... he's gone."

Jace’s breath hitched. He and his husband sat there frozen, Baela’s soft cries coming from below them. 

“What? What happened?” Jace questioned. The room seemed to close in around them as the reality of the situation sunk in.

“He… he was driving home for a visit when .... a truck sideswiped him. He hit a wall and…. first responders couldn’t get to him in time.” 

Jace could hear Baela talking to them. He could feel his husband grab his hand. But all of that seemed to fade away with the thoughts whirling through his mind. 

"I'm so sorry, Jace," Cregan whispered, his heart aching for his husband.

Jace sat frozen once again, his eyes were unfocused. He didn't cry, didn't scream. He just nodded and took a deep breath. 

"What about my parents? Do they know yet?"

“We’re at their house right now. My mom was with yours when she got the call. They didn’t know how to tell you so I offered to do it. They’re…. heartbroken, but we’re here to help them.”

“Thank you.” Jace muttered.

“That goes for you too, if you need anything, please come to us Jace.”

“Okay. Goodbye Baela.”

“Bye.” 

Crega pulled Jace into a tight hold. “I’m so sorry baby.” He offered. But Jace shifted in his arms, pulling back. He looked as if he were in some sort of trance. 

“I need to get home.” He announced. “My family needs me.” 

The days that followed were a blur of grief and responsibility. From the moment they got the news, Jace seemed to switch into autopilot. He threw himself into planning Luke's funeral, his focus solely on being the pillar of strength his family needed. He promised his parents that they didn’t have to worry about anything while he was there. He coordinated with funeral directors, arranged flowers, and meticulously chose every detail, ensuring that his brother would be honored in the best way possible.

Cregan watched his husband with growing concern. Jace was handling everything with a stoic determination that bordered on obsessiveness. He knew Jace was hurting, but he seemed unwilling or unable to express his grief. Every time Cregan tried to talk to him about it, Jace would deflect, insisting that there was too much to do.

"Jace, honey, you need to slow down and let yourself grieve, let yourself feel something," Cregan urged one evening, gently touching his arm. "It's okay to cry, to be upset."

Jace shook his head, his expression resolute. "I don't have time for that, Cregan. My family needs me." That phrase had become Jace’s mantra over the last week. At night, he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, while Cregan held him, hoping that the physical closeness would provide some sort of comfort.

Jace's family was just as worried. At first, Rhaenyra was eternally grateful for her son's strength at this terrible time. But she quickly realized what was happening to her son, her whole body flooded with guilt. She and Harwin both expressed their concerns to Cregan privately. "He's carrying too much," Rhaenyra said one evening, her voice thick with worry. "I'm afraid he's going to break."

The day of the funeral arrived, a gray, overcast morning that seemed to mirror the heavy hearts of all who gathered. Jace was impeccably dressed in a black suit, his expression set in a mask of calm control. Cregan stood by his side, offering silent support.

The service was beautiful and heart-wrenching. Friends and family spoke of Luke's kindness, his bright smile, and the joy he brought to their lives. Jace delivered the eulogy with a steady voice, recounting fond memories and expressing the depth of his love for his younger brother. When he finished, sobs and sniffles could be heard throughout the whole church, but Jace’s face still didn’t falter. 

As the service drew to a close, Jace stood by the casket, greeting mourners and accepting their condolences. He was the picture of strength and composure, but Cregan could see the cracks beneath the surface. Each handshake, each hug seemed to chip away at the veneer of control Jace had built around himself.

When everyone proceeded to the burial site, Luke's body was placed over the area where it would be buried and lay forever. As the priest gave final blessing, Jace’s frame stiffened, his breaths shallowed slightly. Cregan was at his side, sensing the shift. He grabbed his husband's hand and started rubbing small circles on his back. He had seen this coming from the beginning. He only hoped now that he could soften the blow, if only a little bit. 

It was during the final moments of the burial, as the casket was lowered into the ground, that the storm finally broke. Jace stared at the graveside, the finality of it all crashing down on him. His breathing quickened even more, and he felt a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

“No.” Jace shook his head, pleading with every higher power he could think of. “Please, no!” he whimpered, not caring about what people thought about him. The pressure inside him had built up to an unbearable level. "I can't... I can't do this," he gasped, his voice breaking. "He's gone, Cregan! No....please! He can’t be gone!"

The tears finally came then, a torrent of grief and anguish that he had held back for far too long. He lurched forward, falling to the ground, sobs wracking his body. Cregan knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around Jace, holding him as he wailed. 

The mourners looked on with a mix of sympathy and understanding. Rhaenys and Corlys took it upon themselves to start herding the funeral guests toward the reception, knowing the best thing for the family was to be alone with each other right now. Rhaenyra and Harwin rushed to Jace's side, their own tears falling freely as they tried to comfort their son. For the first time since the accident, Jace allowed himself to truly feel the depth of his loss. Jace clung to Cregan, his cries growing softer, his screams turning into broken whispers, “Come back…. Luke I’m sorry…. Please come back.” 

The four of them sat like that for a while. Everyone else had gone, Laena had taken Jace’s other brothers to the reception, giving them time to just worry about Jace. Thirty minutes felt like a lifetime. Jace felt like he had cried away all the tears he had left, a terrible headache was brewing in the back of his skull. He picked up his head and looked around, realizing they were alone. “We should go to the reception now. They’re probably waiting for us.” He groaned, rubbing his burning eyes. 

Rhaenyra cupped her son's face gently, "Jace, you don't have to go. Everyone will understand."

Harwin nodded in agreement, "We're all hurting, son. And you’ve already done so much. If you just want to go home, it’s alright.” 

Jace looked to his husband for the answer. Cregan looked at him lovingly, saying, “I’ll do whatever you want, baby.” 

Jace thought for a moment, “I think we should go.” He decided.

“Are you sure?” Cregan asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

The reception was a blur for Jace. He felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Many people came to him again, offering even more condolences and asking if he was alright. He assured everyone that he was feeling much better now, but the ache in his heart and the pounding in his head were creeping up on him again. He wondered why he even bothered coming. Just then Helaena came up to him with a gentle smile.  

“Hi Jace.” She spoke softly

“Hi Helaena.” 

She looked at him as if she was trying to speak a language she didn’t know. She quickly gave up on words and held her arms out to him. He took them gratefully. After a full day of words and tears, her silent comfort somehow surpassed it all. Helaena often struggled with words, but in her touch was a power no one else in that room possessed. In that moment, Jace felt all of his pain melt away. For a split second, he felt whole again. He felt the one thing that had been missing since Baela called him that night, hope. They stayed like that for a little while. Jace breathed in her soothing herbal scent, finally feeling a sense of healing take fold. 

“Thank you so much Helaena.”

“For what”

“For being exactly what I need right now.”

Helaena smiled kindly and then left. Eventually everyone cleared out, leaving just the family. As they sat on the couch together, Jace struggled to come to terms with his outburst at the funeral. In hindsight, he felt embarrassed and ashamed for breaking down in front of everyone. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't mean to make a scene."

Rhaenyra held him in her arms, her eyes filled with compassion. "Jace, you have nothing to apologize for. You lost your brother, not even a month ago. You have every right to grieve. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I never should have let you take on all that by yourself."

Harwin nodded in agreement. "Neither of us should have, Jace. We're a family, and we should support each other. You don't always have to be strong for everyone."

Cregan held his hand, his voice gentle but firm. "You've been carrying so much, sweetheart. It's time to let others carry some of that weight with you. We're all here for you now." He pressed a feather-light kiss to Jace’s temple. 

Jace looked around at his family, seeing the love and support in their eyes. He realized then that he didn't have to bear his grief alone. He didn't have to be the pillar of strength all the time. It was okay to lean on those who loved him. He felt tears come to his eyes again, but this time he let them flow freely. He grabbed on to his mother’s waist and cried slow, soft tears. Rhaenyra did the same until they both fell asleep in that position, their pain and exhaustion finally ceasing for the time being. 

Harwin and Cregan shared a knowing look before carefully unraveling the two and picking them up bridal style. Harwin couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the last time he held his wife this way. She had gotten too tipsy at a party and passed out in the car on the ride home. They were so young then, before the children, before their lives had truly begun. 

Cregan thought about the last time he held his husband this way. They had just gotten married. Jace was about to open the door to their apartment, when Cregan scooped him up and carried him across the threshold. It was a silly moment filled with laughter and so much love. They were still young, but Cregan knew from the moment they met, that he was going to spend the rest of his time on Earth and then some with the man sleeping in his arms. 

They carried their spouses up the stairs and laid them down on their respective beds. With the softest touch they remove as much of their uncomfortable funeral attire as they could before laying down next to them. They knew in the morning the pain would hit all over again, but for now they enjoyed this moment of peace in the eye of the storm. 

[theothermaidoftarth]

World on Fire

Chapter 1 (of 3)

M/16+ | Nettles x Cregan Stark

Full list of cw on ao3

Excerpt:

One of the Northmen closest to her breaks her concentration, hefting a broad two-headed axe with ease in his large hand. “What was that!”

She leaves the cocoon of the roots to stand before the man, her back to where Sheepstealer shall appear. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” He’d take it as a threat to her, since she can’t turn him away.

The grizzled old lord scowls at Nettles speaking to him as if he were a boy reaching out to touch a hot pot. “And who are you?”

She circles closer slowly, near enough so his horse sidles away from her, away from the smell of dragon. For every step forward she takes, the horse trots back. A wicked amusement tickles her at the flash of unease upon the rider’s craggly face. Such a rush this power is, potent as mead on an empty stomach. And her stomach has been empty more oft than not. “You ain’t heard o’ me?” She locks eyes with the quiet lord she can now see wears a pale cloak trimmed with grey. Ah, of course. He is still; watchful… Almost as if — “He knows who I am.” She tips her head to him in ironic imitation of a bow. “Lord Stark.” This had not been how Nettles planned on making the Lord of Winterfell’s acquaintance but the gods did so laugh at the plans of mortals. She might as well laugh with them.

Read on ao3

@richardsthirdnipple, @witheredoffherwitch, @snowprincesa1, @arcielee, @emilykaldwen, @hieronymph, @zae5 @tremendouswolfsaladranch, @lawolfe, @gwenllian-in-the-abbey, @aifsaath @pebblume @strangedragonqueen, @acrossthesestars

[jacaeryslover]

hello, this is for my next (and first) fanfic that i will upload on my wattpad, but im still unsure about the main love interest...

[pogueprincess]

Out Of The Woods

summary: The war is over and Rhaenyra’s daughter gets a fresh start in The North.

pairing: Cregan x Targaryen!Reader

word count: 842

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, grief, RIP Jace <\3

note: Sooo……. It appears that I’m in Cregan Simp Mode

It is a brighter day than usual when your labors start. The sun even begins to peak behind the clouds, casting a gorgeous gleam over Winterfell. It has been six months since the civil war between your family has ended and it seems as though the smoke-like grief that clouds your mind is finally beginning to clear. After all of your pain and suffering, you are now far away from Dragonstone and even farther away from King’s Landing. As your younger brother sits the Iron Throne, you have a hope for a peaceful realm. As well as hope that you and Cregan will finally be able to start anew.

Things are different in Winterfell, especially now that the dance has ended. There is no pressure for your babe to have silver hair or violet eyes. No pressure for it to be born with a cock. All that matters is that the babe is healthy. Your child will not suffer the same hardships as you and your siblings once did.

You can hear heavy footsteps outside of the chamber as Cregan paces restlessly. While you endure another hour of labor, you try to keep your mind elsewhere. Your gaze is fixed on the flicker of the candle that sits in the chandelier above your head.

One of your earlier memories is your mother being in labor with Joffrey. You remember wincing at her screams and placing judgement on the names she called her midwives. Now you don’t blame her. You even admire her for going through this so many times. You miss her terribly.

Your hand grips tightly onto the wooden headboard as you try your hardest to listen to the instructions of your midwife.

“Push into the pain,” she advises you, “when the pain is at its worst, that’s when you will want to push the hardest, my lady.”

Your knees are at your chest, a thin layer of sweat covers your entire body, and your once white nightgown is now stained red. You inhale deeply as you brace yourself for another painful contraction.

And just like that, it’s happening again. It begins as a dull ache in your spine that eventually overtakes you completely. It feels as if you were being torn to shreds. Your muscles begin to spasm and each wave of pain is worse than the last.

A particularly loud scream echoes out into the hallway and it has Cregan bursting through the door into the room, his auburn brows furrowed.

“This is not the place for men, my Lord,” your midwife sternly warns him.

“I do not care! What’s happened?”

“Nothing!” you bark at him, your teeth gritted. This is a pain he is unable to comprehend.

“I’m fine, we’re fine. It just hurts. That’s all.”

Cregan frowns at you as he comes to stand at your side.

“My lord—” your midwife tries to interject once again.

“I’m staying.”

He keeps true to his word and remains at your side for the rest of your labor, despite your midwife’s wishes — earning him many dirty looks.

Another painful contraction comes and the pain is mind blowing. But it seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel. You bring your chin down to your chest and push with all of your might. You push as if your life depends on it, because it does.

“That’s it, my lady! Perfect. I can see the babe already, a full head of hair,” she states.

Just when you swear you cannot push anymore, you feel sudden relief and loud cries fill the room.

“It’s a boy,” your midwife declares, and Cregan squeezes onto your hand tightly.

“And he is one healthy pup! With quite the set of lungs!” she adds.

About an hour later, once you are moved from the birthing bed and all cleaned up, you sit in your large bed that you and Cregan share. Your babe is cozily bundled up and suckling at your breast, his tiny gums gnawing at your flesh.

“Do we have a name for him?” Cregan asks you as he comes to take solace beside you, peering down at the tiny babe.

“I’m not quite sure yet,” you reply, your mind still hazy, your heart full, “did you have something in mind?”

“I was thinking… he holds a striking resemblance to your brother. What do you think?”

You glance down at your newborn son. An angelic face matched with tiny wisps of dark hair that threaten to grow into a thick head of curls.

“Oh,” you coo, “yeah… yeah, he does, doesn’t he?”

Cregan smiles widely at you, in a way that makes your heart want to burst right out of your chest.

You and Cregan both held great love for Jacaerys. It was something you bonded over when you were first getting to know one another. After spending so much time with him at the beginning of the dance, Cregan began to care for Jace as if he was a brother of his own.

“So it’s settled then,” he states with pride, “we’ll call him Jacaerys.”

“Jacaerys,” you breathe out in agreement as your husband places as gentle kiss on your forehead.

[gtgbabie0]

hi, may i please have some cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader (aka black reader) with cregan helping her take care of her really curly hair when she's tired after a long day?? thank you so much in advance <33333

-Cregan Stark x Velaryon!Reader

{Cregan takes care of you after a long day}

Of course my love! Hope you enjoy 💕

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You are half asleep, lying down on the sofa as you bathe in the warmth that bleeds from the fireplace. Exhaustion creeps upon you sitting heavy against your chest and despite your best efforts to fight it off you can’t help but close your eyes leaning further against the soft furs that draped over the couch.

Cregan had left just seconds ago to ask one of the maids to prepare you a bath, telling you to try and stay awake before leaving, something you were currently failing horribly at.

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of the old heavy wooden door as it creaks open. “Keep them eyes open pretty girl” Cregan smiles as he walks over you, joining you on the sofa and without missing a beat you shuffle closer to him.

“M’awake” you mumble, nuzzling closer to him as he wraps a strong arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he whispers a gentle ‘good girl’ against you as you continue to try and stay awake.

It had taken several weeks to convince Cregan to allow you to go hunting with him, trying to soothe his worry about you getting hurt so when he finally agreed you had to jump at the opportunity, and you don’t regret a second of it even if your curly hair was now dirty and frizzy and all your muscles were aching.

You smile gently to yourself as you start to recall the ways Cregans hands settled against your waist, pulling you closer to him as he guided you to shoot the arrows despite the fact you knew exactly what to do. He’d find any excuse to touch you.

“Come on Sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up” He whispers in his gravelly voice, pressing his lips against your shoulder as he helps you up from the couch

Exhaustion sits heavy against you and the warmth of the fire certainly doesn’t help. You lean against Cregan, his strong arm wrapped around your waist as he guides you to the bath.

“Here I’ve got you” his fingertips graze against your skin as he begins to undress you, peeling the dirty fabric off of your body before helping you into the wooden tub, the water is pleasantly hot against your skin that it causes a sigh to fall from your lips as you lean in further.

Cregan smiles as he admires you and the way your eyes flutter close, how your soft lips curl up into a gentle smile. The lights of the candles only add to your beauty, how the warm light dusts over your skin making you glow.

“You’re beautiful” he whispers through his rough voice, hand slipping into your own beneath the hot water. You glance over at him, heart blooming with warmth at the sight of his lovesick eyes.

You pull his hand up to your mouth pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “As you often remind me dear husband” You grin against the back of his hand before he pulls away, reaching over to the small wooden bowls that lay beside the tub, full with different ointments for your hair.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever stop” he adds, leaning slightly over the edge of the tub, peppering your shoulders with kisses, lips trailing along your dewy skin. “Can I wash your hair, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice is so tender as he gently holds your chin between his thumb.

His offer makes your chest bloom with a sudden admiration, it melts your heart and you can't help but lean into his touch. “Of course… I’d love that” you admit, and you can’t help but close your eyes at the comforting atmosphere.

Cregan never fails to take your breath away, in fact, he takes pride in the way he can render you wordless with just a simple gesture. “Lean back for me dear” he whispers, as he carefully pours the warm water over your curly hair before gently working the oils into your scalp.

He remembers the night you told him the many steps you take to look after your hair, the prideful look in your eyes made him realise just how important it was to you. He paid extra attention to you and now he knows your routine like the back of his hand.

You lean back into his warm touch as he continues to wash your hair, pressing gentle kisses as he does so. The water soon turns tepid, and Cregan helps you out of the bath quickly wrapping a towel around you securely.

You dry yourself off before changing, sitting down on the bed as Cregan sits behind gently tying your hair wrap around your head, so it doesn’t dry frizzy. “Is it too tight?” He whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, the stubble from his beard tickles your skin, as you lean back against him.

“No it’s perfect, thank you my love” you whisper, smiling as his hands wrap around your waist hands settling against your lap. It doesn’t take too long for you to find sleep, wrapped up in the safety of Cregan's arms.

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[astrxq]

HERE ME OUT PLEASE Spider-Man!cregan x reader. Cregan bump into reader at school when he is not in disguise and they became from then on, maybe? and meet reader again when he is in disguise (he could save her from being rob or save her while fighting villain.) which they also form a bond. They both sort of develop a crush on each other from then on Cregan is just smitten and reader is just like “I like this Spider-Man dude but I also like this Cregan guy”. Then one day spider!Cregan is injured and come to reader for help and reveal himself as Cregan. He confess to her that he just inlove with her since day one. Overall just fluff and cliché stuff.

(I’m srsly sorry if I made no sense at all😭🙏)

Between Masks and Moments

spider-man!cregan x reader

words: 13.5k

notes: this was longer than i intended it to be 😭 i thought i was about 6k words in and when i checked the word count it was already at 12k… but i hope you like it!

The first time you truly noticed Cregan Stark, it was because he nearly knocked you off your feet.

As you rounded the corner of the science building, lost in thought about the upcoming lecture, you collided with something solid. No, not something – someone. Your books tumbled to the ground, pages fluttering in the damp breeze, and you stumbled backward, nearly losing your footing.

"Oh, shit," a deep voice muttered. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up, ready to brush off the apology with a quick 'no problem,' but the words died in your throat. Standing before you was Cregan Stark, the quiet, brooding guy from your biochemistry class. He was already crouching down, gathering your scattered belongings with large, careful hands.

You'd never been this close to him before. Sure, you'd stolen glances during lectures, admiring his strong jawline and the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he took notes. But now, mere inches away, you could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the slight stubble on his chin that gave him a rugged appearance.

"It's okay," you finally managed to say, kneeling down to help him. "I wasn't really paying attention either."

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before quickly darting away. Was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks? No, it had to be the chill in the air.

"Here," he said, handing you your books. His voice was gruff, almost annoyed, but there was a gentleness in the way he handled your things that contradicted his tone. "Sorry again."

You took the books from him, your fingers accidentally brushing against his. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, and you quickly pulled your hand back. "Thanks," you murmured.

Cregan stood up, and you couldn't help but notice how he towered over you. You'd always known he was tall, but up close, his presence was almost overwhelming. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the entire world behind him.

You straightened up, clutching your books to your chest, and for a moment, you were both frozen in the narrow hallway, caught in a strange, tense silence. Cregan shifted his weight, his brow furrowing even more, as if he was trying to decide whether to say something else or just walk away.

He settled on the former.

"You're in my biochem class, right?" His tone was still a bit gruff, but there was an underlying softness.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up. "Yeah, I am. You're Cregan, right?"

He gave a short, almost reluctant nod. "Yeah."

There was another pause, and you felt the awkwardness creeping in. But before it could fully take hold, Cregan surprised you by speaking again.

"Do you need help with that stuff?" He glanced at the stack of books in your arms, his expression hard to read. 

You hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. "I mean, if you're not in a hurry, I wouldn't mind."

Cregan exhaled a short breath, almost like a sigh, but he reached out anyway, taking half the books from your arms. His hands were warm and strong, and for a moment, you wondered what it would be like to hold them longer, to feel that warmth without the excuse of fallen books.

"Where to?" he asked, his voice softer now, less annoyed. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, something almost shy, though you'd never describe Cregan Stark as shy.

"The library," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was going to study before the next class."

Cregan gave another one of those short nods and started walking beside you, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace. As you walked together, the silence between you wasn't as awkward as you'd expected. In fact, it was almost comfortable, as if Cregan's brooding presence somehow grounded you, made the chaotic noise of the school fade into the background.

When you reached the library, you stopped by one of the tables near the back, where it was quiet and the light was softer. Cregan set your books down, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at them, then at you, like he was debating something in his head.

"Thanks for helping me out," you said, breaking the silence.

Cregan's eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was that flicker of something again – a hint of warmth beneath the gruff exterior. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "See you in class."

You watched as he turned to leave, his broad back disappearing into the rows of bookshelves. It was only after he was gone that you realized you were still holding your breath. There was something about Cregan Stark that made your heart beat just a little faster, something that lingered in your thoughts long after he'd walked away.

As you sat down to study, you found it hard to focus. Your mind kept drifting back to the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you, the way his voice had gentled, just for a moment. 

For Cregan, that collision in the hallway was both a dream come true and his worst nightmare.

He'd noticed you on the first day of class, drawn to your quiet intelligence and the way your eyes lit up when you understood a particularly difficult concept. Over the weeks, he'd found himself stealing glances at you during lectures, admiring the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating, or how you'd bite your lip when you were deep in thought.

But Cregan had never allowed himself to entertain the possibility of actually talking to you. His life was complicated enough without adding romantic entanglements to the mix. Between his duties as Spider-Man, his studies, and the constant struggle to make ends meet, he'd convinced himself that he didn't have time for a relationship. Besides, he reasoned, what could he possibly offer someone like you?

So he'd contented himself with admiring you from afar, treasuring those small moments of connection when you'd make eye contact across the lecture hall or exchange polite nods in the hallway. He told himself it was enough, that his crush was just a harmless distraction from the weight of his responsibilities.

But now, as he walked away from the library, his heart was pounding in a way that had nothing to do with his spider-enhanced physiology. The memory of your touch, brief as it was, sent electricity coursing through his veins. The scent of your shampoo lingered in his nostrils, and he couldn't shake the image of your eyes looking up at him, wide with surprise and something else... interest, maybe?

Cregan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. There was a chemistry lab to prepare for, and after that, he had to patrol the city. The weight of his responsibilities settled back onto his shoulders, and he felt his expression harden into its usual brooding mask.

But as he pushed open the door to the science building, he couldn't help but glance back towards the library. For the first time in a long while, Cregan allowed himself to wonder: what if?

_________

The next few days passed in a blur of lectures, lab work, and late-night patrols. You found yourself paying more attention to Cregan in class, noticing things you'd overlooked before. The way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating, the slight twitch of his lips when the professor made a particularly bad science pun, the graceful strength in his hands as he manipulated lab equipment.

Sometimes, you caught him looking at you too. His gaze would quickly dart away, but not before you noticed a softness in his eyes that contrasted sharply with his usual gruff demeanor. It made you wonder what was going on behind that brooding exterior.

You'd exchanged a few more words since your collision – a quiet "hey" as you took your seats, a muttered "thanks" when he held the door for you. Each time, you felt a little thrill of... something. Anticipation? Curiosity? You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

It was Friday evening when everything changed. 

The streets were unusually quiet for a Friday night. Most people were already indoors, safe from the impending downpour. You turned down a narrow alley, a familiar shortcut you often took when in a hurry. The light from the streetlamps barely penetrated the shadows here, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You told yourself it was just your imagination, that the looming storm and the empty streets were playing tricks on your mind.

But as you reached the halfway point of the alley, you heard it – a soft rustling, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickened your pace, your breath catching in your throat.

"Hey, where are you heading so fast?" a voice called out. You didn’t dare look back, your instincts screaming at you to keep moving.

The footsteps grew closer, the tension wrapping around you like a vice. You were almost at the end of the alley when a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead, blocking your path. He was tall, with a lean, wiry build and a predatory grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

"What's the rush?" he asked, his voice mockingly sweet. The way he stood, arms loose at his sides, suggested a confidence that chilled you to the bone. You were trapped.

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but the options were grim. You could scream, but who would hear you? Your phone was buried in your bag, useless in the face of such immediate danger.

As the man stepped closer, you took a shaky step back, only to feel a solid wall of muscle behind you. Another one, you realized with a sinking heart. You were cornered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for whatever was to come. But before the situation could escalate, a sound split the air – a sharp, almost imperceptible *thwip*. 

And then, everything happened at once.

A blur of red and blue dropped down from above, moving with a speed and precision that left you breathless. The man behind you was yanked away, a startled yelp escaping his lips as he was thrown against the wall, his hands and feet bound by sticky webbing. The other barely had time to react before he too was disarmed and pinned to the ground, a web cocoon forming around him in seconds.

You stood frozen, eyes wide with shock, as Spider-Man – the Spider-Man – landed lightly in front of you. His eyes, hidden behind those iconic white lenses, seemed to scan you for any sign of injury. The air around you crackled with tension, but now it was a different kind – the kind that came with knowing you were safe, even if only for the moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice muffled but unmistakably concerned.

You nodded numbly, unable to find your voice. Up close, Spider-Man was even more imposing than you’d imagined, but there was something comforting in his presence, something that made the terror of the last few minutes begin to ebb away.

"Good," he said, his tone gentle now. He hesitated, moving to place a hand on your arm but not quite reaching you before he pulled back. “Do you need water or something?”

You glanced at the two thugs, now securely webbed to the walls, and couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with disbelief. You’d been saved by Spider-Man – a hero who was as much a myth as he was a reality in your mind. Unable to find your voice, you shook your head. 

"Thank you," you finally managed to say, your voice shaky but sincere.

He tilted his head slightly, as if studying you. "It’s no problem. But it’s not safe to be out here alone, especially this late. Do you need a lift home?"

The offer caught you off guard. A lift home? With Spider-Man?

You hesitated, then nodded. "That...that would be great."

Without another word, Spider-Man stepped closer, slipping an arm around your waist with surprising ease, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Your heart raced – not from fear, but from the sudden closeness, the way his presence seemed to envelop you.

"Hold on tight," he instructed, his voice calm and reassuring.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he shot a web into the night sky and the ground disappeared beneath you. You clung to him instinctively, your eyes squeezing shut as the wind rushed past your face, cool and refreshing in the humid night air.

All too soon, after you’d instructed him the way to your home, the flight ended as Spider-Man landed gracefully on the fire escape outside your apartment window. He set you down gently, his arm lingering around your waist for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away.

"Home sweet home," he quipped, his tone light.

You took a step back, trying to steady your breath. "Thank you," you said again, your voice softer this time. "Really, I don’t know how to repay you."

Spider-Man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he seemed to hesitate, as if debating something internally. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Mind if I hang out here for a bit? The view’s not bad."

You blinked in surprise. Was Spider-Man asking to stay? With you? The night was full of surprises, it seemed.

"Sure," you said, moving towards the window and gesturing for him to follow. "I’ve never had a guest on my fire escape before."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a strange warmth through you. "First time for everything."

You both settled onto the metal platform, the city spread out before you like a living, breathing canvas. The air was cool now, the storm holding off for just a little longer, and for a moment, you simply sat there in silence, letting the night speak for itself.

"You live here alone?" he asked after a while, his voice quieter now, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing over at him. His mask hid his expression, but there was a certain softness in the way he held himself, a relaxation you hadn’t expected. "It’s not much, but it’s home."

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "It must get lonely sometimes."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You weren’t sure if he was talking about you or himself, but either way, you felt an odd connection in that moment, a shared understanding of what it meant to be alone in a city full of people.

"Sometimes," you admitted, your gaze drifting back to the city skyline. "But I guess that’s just part of life, right?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the breeze. "Part of life."

For a while longer, you both sat there, the city a quiet hum in the background. And in that silence, there was a comfort, a sense of companionship that neither of you had expected but both seemed to need.

“Do you want pizza?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. At the mention of food, his head shot up. 

“You’ve got pizza?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “Yeah, I do. It’s leftover from earlier. It’s probably cold by now, but–”

Spider-Man’s enthusiasm seemed to overflow. “Cold pizza is fine! In fact, it’s the best kind of pizza!”

You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the night air. It felt strange, yet oddly comforting, to share such a simple moment with someone who seemed so larger-than-life.

“Alright then, let me grab it,” you said, moving toward the window. As you opened it and stepped inside, you could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you.

You retrieved the pizza from the fridge, the box still warm from its earlier stint in the oven. Returning to the fire escape, you offered it to Spider-Man with a shy, almost playful grin.

“Here you go,” you said, handing over the box. “Cold pizza and all.”

He took it eagerly, setting it down beside him on the metal ledge. 

You took a seat next to him, the cool metal beneath you grounding you after the adrenaline of the earlier encounter. The city lights below twinkled like stars, and for a moment, the chaos of the evening seemed to fade away.

Spider-Man popped open the pizza box, revealing a slightly congealed but still appetizing array of toppings. He pulled out a slice with deft movements and took a large bite, pulling up his mask just enough for you to not be able to make out his identity, his mask making the act look both humorous and oddly endearing.

"So," Spider-Man said as he took another bite, "late night at the library?"

You blinked, surprised by the casual conversation. "How did you know?"

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "The stack of textbooks in your bag was a pretty big clue.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the distant rumble of thunder as the storm prepared to make its entrance. "I guess I should have guessed you'd notice something like that."

Spider-Man nodded, a playful glint visible in the sliver of his eyes. "It's kind of my thing to notice details. Helps with the whole hero gig."

You bit into a slice of pizza, the cold cheese and slightly chewy crust a comforting contrast to the evening’s chaos. Spider-Man’s relaxed demeanor made it feel like you were just two friends sharing a late-night snack, not someone in need of rescue and the rescuer himself.

"What's your favorite topping?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation to something light.

He looked at the slice in his hand, contemplating. "Pepperoni. Classic choice, but it’s hard to beat."

You grinned. “Pepperoni?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I have to say, bacon is the superior topping.”

Spider-Man’s eyes widened behind his mask, and he mock-gasped, holding his pizza slice up as if it were a shield. “Bacon? How could you betray the classic pepperoni like that?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the fire escape’s metal railing. 

“You can’t be serious,” Spider-Man said, feigning outrage. “Pepperoni is a staple. Bacon is great, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a well-cooked pepperoni slice.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling at his animated reaction. “Bacon adds a crispy, savory kick that pepperoni just can’t match. And don’t tell me you haven’t had bacon on pizza before. It’s like a flavor explosion.”

“Flavor explosion?” Spider-Man’s voice was incredulous, but there was a hint of laughter in it. “More like a greasy mess. And don’t get me started on how bacon can overshadow the other toppings. Pepperoni complements the cheese, the sauce – it’s harmonious.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Spider-Man’s dramatic reaction. The absurdity of debating pizza toppings with a superhero in the middle of the night struck you as hilariously surreal.

“Oh, come on,” you said, shaking your head. “Bacon doesn’t overshadow. It complements! It’s like having a surprise party on your pizza. You take a bite, and bam! – there’s the crispy, smoky goodness.”

Spider-Man pretended to shudder. “A surprise party?” he chuckled. “Agree to disagree. I’m sticking with my classic.”

You smiled, “I’ll take that as my win.”

You couldn’t quite believe it. There you were, sitting on your fire escape, and locked in a passionate debate about pizza toppings with Spider-Man. Spider-Man. The same superhero who swung through the night, fighting villains and saving lives. And here he was, playfully defending pepperoni against your undying love for bacon.

It felt like a scene plucked from a dream – a surreal interlude where the chaos of the night melted away into a shared moment of absurdity and connection. Inside your tiny apartment, the city was a backdrop, a distant hum of life and noise that barely intruded on this bizarrely intimate conversation.

The superhero was right there, his masked face only partially visible in the dim light, but clearly animated and engaged in a debate over something as trivial as pizza toppings.

"I might have to swing by more often just to change your mind about that pizza."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Oh?" you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Spider-Man tilted his head, and even though you couldn't see his face, you could almost feel the grin behind his mask. "Well," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I could always bring you some properly topped pizza. Show you the error of your bacon-loving ways."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. The thought of Spider-Man swinging by again, just to bring you pizza, seemed both thrilling and strangely domestic.

"I'd like that," you said softly, surprising yourself with your honesty. "Though I think you'll have a hard time converting me."

Spider-Man chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "Challenge accepted," he said, his voice tinged with a playfulness that made your heart race.

For a moment, you both fell silent, the weight of the evening's events settling back over you. The pizza box lay empty between you, a testament to the strange normalcy you'd managed to carve out of this surreal situation.

Finally, Spider-Man stood, stretching as if preparing to leave. "I should get going. There’s always more to do."

You nodded, a pang of disappointment tugging at your heart. "Thanks again, for everything."

He turned to face you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of a smile beneath his mask. "Anytime," he said, his voice warm. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Before you could answer, he gave a final nod, and in a graceful, practiced motion, he leaped off the fire escape. For a moment, you watched as he soared into the night, his silhouette briefly illuminated by the distant streetlights. Then, with a soft whoosh, he was gone, disappearing into the urban tapestry of lights and shadows.

That night, as you laid in bed, your mind raced with thoughts of both Cregan and Spider-Man. The quiet, brooding boy from your class and the witty, heroic figure who had saved you – they couldn't be more different. And yet, there was something about both of them that drew you in, that made you want to know more.

Little did you know, across the city, Cregan was having similar thoughts about you. As he peeled off his Spider-Man suit, wincing at the bruises from his earlier fight, he couldn't shake the memory of holding you close as he swung through the city. He'd been drawn to you for weeks, admiring you from afar in class. But tonight, he'd gotten a taste of what it might be like to be close to you, to talk to you without the awkwardness that always seemed to plague him as Cregan.

As Spider-Man, he could be confident, even flirtatious. He could say the things he'd always wanted to say to you but never had the courage to. It was liberating, but also terrifying. Because now, more than ever, he wanted to know you, to be close to you. But how could he do that without revealing his secret? How could he be both the Cregan you knew from class and the Spider-Man who had saved you tonight?

_________

The week following your encounter with Spider-Man was a strange blend of normalcy and surreal anticipation. You went about your daily routine – attending classes, studying, grabbing coffee with friends – but there was an undercurrent of excitement, a constant awareness that at any moment, you might spot a flash of red and blue swinging between buildings.

For Cregan, the week was a torturous exercise in self-restraint. Every time he saw you in class or passed you in the hallway, his heart rate spiked. He found himself torn between an overwhelming desire to talk to you and a paralyzing fear of giving himself away.

The first few days, he limited himself to small, careful interactions. A wave as you entered the lecture hall. A nod of acknowledgment when your eyes met across the cafeteria. Each time, he felt a surge of warmth at your answering smile, but he always pulled back before he could do or say anything more.

At night, as he patrolled the city, Cregan found his thoughts constantly drifting back to you. He'd catch himself swinging past your apartment building, telling himself he was just checking to make sure you were safe. But deep down, he knew he was hoping for another chance encounter, another opportunity to talk to you as Spider-Man.

By Thursday, the tension was becoming unbearable. Cregan knew he couldn't keep this up indefinitely. He had to make a decision – either find a way to approach you as Cregan Stark or risk losing any chance of a real connection.

It was Friday afternoon when he finally worked up the courage to act. He spotted you entering the library, arms full of books. Taking a deep breath, Cregan followed you inside.

He watched as you settled at a table near the back, the same spot where he'd left you after your collision the week before. For a moment, he hesitated, second-guessing himself. What if you didn't want to be bothered? What if you preferred the quiet, grumpy Cregan from class and were put off by any attempt at friendliness?

But then he remembered the way you'd laughed with Spider-Man, the easy conversation you'd shared over cold pizza. He wanted that – not just as his masked alter ego, but as himself.

Squaring his shoulders, Cregan approached your table. When you didn’t look up, he cleared his throat. 

"Hey," he said softly, mindful of the library's quiet atmosphere. "Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, surprise evident in your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Cregan thought you might say no. But then your expression softened into a smile. "Sure," you replied, gesturing to the empty chair next to you as you cleared the table for him. "There's plenty of room."

Cregan sat down, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest. Up close, he could see the flecks of color in your eyes, the same ones he'd admired from behind his mask. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say.

"Biochem midterm?" he asked, nodding towards the textbook open in front of you.

You nodded, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "Yeah. I'm still struggling with some of the enzyme kinetics concepts."

Cregan felt a flutter of excitement. This, he could handle. Science was his element, a language he spoke fluently even when words failed him in other areas. "I could help, if you want," he offered, his voice gruff but tinged with genuine eagerness. "I've got a pretty good handle on that stuff."

Your eyes lit up, and Cregan felt his breath catch. "Really? That would be amazing. I've been staring at these diagrams for hours, and they're still not making sense."

As Cregan leaned in to look at your textbook, he felt some of his nervousness begin to ebb away. This was familiar territory – explaining scientific concepts, breaking down complex ideas into simpler parts.

You shifted your chair slightly closer to his, your shoulder brushing against his arm as you both peered down at the open textbook. Cregan felt a jolt of electricity at the contact, his skin tingling where you'd touched. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made his heart race even faster. 

He focused on the page, the neatly printed equations and diagrams suddenly feeling more daunting than they'd ever been in his own studies. But you were looking at him expectantly, and Cregan knew he had to push through the nerves that threatened to steal his voice.

"Okay, so," he began, his voice just above a whisper, "enzyme kinetics can be tricky because it’s all about how the enzymes interact with the substrates. Think of it like... a dance. Each enzyme has a specific partner, and the speed of the reaction depends on how well they fit together and move in sync."

You nodded, leaning in closer, your brow furrowed in concentration. Cregan’s eyes flicked to your face, catching the way your lips pursed slightly as you tried to grasp the concept. He found himself lingering on the curve of your mouth, the soft glow of your skin under the library’s dim lighting.

As he explained further, your questions came, your voice soft and inviting, drawing him deeper into the conversation. Each time you spoke, Cregan’s heart would stutter, your words weaving into the atmosphere between you. He would catch himself staring at your hands as they moved across the page, slender fingers tracing the diagrams he described, and wonder what it would feel like to hold them.

The tension from earlier began to melt away, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of you had expected. Cregan leaned in even closer, his shoulder now pressed fully against yours. You didn’t move away – instead, you tilted your head towards him, so close that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his cheek.

The library seemed to fade around you, the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant shuffle of pages and whispers all but disappearing. It was just the two of you, cocooned in a bubble of soft words and shared focus. Cregan felt his guard lowering, the lines between Cregan Stark and Spider-Man blurring as he let himself enjoy this simple, honest moment with you.

Every time you asked a question, Cregan felt a little more of his confidence return. He could see the frustration in your eyes begin to ease, replaced by a spark of understanding that made him want to keep talking, keep sharing this part of himself with you. 

Finally, after what felt like both a brief and endless stretch of time, you smiled – a real, bright smile that made something in Cregan’s chest ache with warmth.

“That actually makes sense now. I don’t know how to thank you, Cregan.” you said, leaning back in your chair, though still close enough that your knees brushed his under the table.

Cregan's breath hitched at the sound of his name on your lips, soft and full of gratitude. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he replied, "I’m glad I could help. It’s, uh, nice to talk about this stuff with someone who gets it." His words trailed off into a nervous laugh, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the textbook.

You laughed softly, a sound that made Cregan’s pulse quicken. "Well, I’m lucky to have found the best tutor around," you teased, the warmth in your tone making his cheeks flush.

Cregan’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all centering on the impossible closeness of you, the way your laughter wrapped around him like a soft blanket. He wanted to say more, to tell you how much he’d been thinking about you, how every time he saw you, he felt a pull he couldn’t explain. But he held back, scared to break the delicate balance of this moment.

Instead, he settled for a simple, "Anytime," the word heavy with everything he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. 

As the silence stretched between you, neither of you moved away. Cregan's hand rested on the edge of the table, fingers inching just a bit closer to where yours lay, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you’d pull away.

But you didn’t. 

“Would you tutor me for biochem? I can pay you,”

Your question hung in the air between you, and Cregan’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected you to ask, and the offer of payment made something in him twist uncomfortably. You were offering him something concrete, something logical – an exchange of services – but that wasn’t what he wanted. Not really.

He hesitated, searching your eyes for any sign that you were asking out of more than just academic need. But all he saw was sincerity, a touch of hopefulness, and maybe, just maybe, something else – a faint flicker of warmth that made him wonder if you felt the same connection he did.

Cregan swallowed hard, feeling the tension rise in his chest. The last thing he wanted was for this to become transactional, something that would reduce your time together to a simple tutor-student dynamic. He didn’t want your money. He wanted your company, your laughter, the way your presence seemed to quiet the rest of the world.

“No, you don’t have to pay me,” he stammered, his voice softer than he intended. “I’d be happy to help. Really. I mean, it’s kind of fun, right? We can just, uh, study together whenever you need. No strings attached.”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, but he meant every one of them. He watched you carefully, nervous about how you’d react. For a split second, he worried that maybe you’d misunderstand – that you’d think he wasn’t taking you seriously, or that he was brushing off your offer.

But then you smiled, a slow, warm curve of your lips that made Cregan’s pulse quicken again. “Are you sure?” you asked, though there was a lightness in your tone now, as if you’d already guessed his answer. “I don’t want to take up your time for nothing.”

Cregan shook his head, his own smile starting to form. “It’s not nothing,” he said, feeling a bit of his confidence return. “Besides, I could use the review too. Biochem’s always easier with someone else to bounce ideas off of.”

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. But I owe you a coffee at least. No arguments. That’s non-negotiable.”

Cregan’s heart soared at the thought of spending more time with you, of sharing something as simple and normal as a cup of coffee. It wasn’t a date – not exactly – but it felt like a step closer to something more, something real. He nodded quickly, eager to accept any excuse to see you outside of class, outside of these quiet, studious moments.

“Deal,” he said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, though he knew he was failing miserably. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck, his nerves returning in full force.

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, charged with an unspoken understanding that went beyond the words you’d exchanged. Cregan’s hand was still on the edge of the table, close to yours, and he wondered if you’d noticed just how near they were.

But before he could overthink it, you shifted slightly, your fingers brushing against his as you adjusted your textbook. It was the smallest of touches, but it sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his skin buzzing with the sensation.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, your voice soft but steady. “For the coffee? We can meet after class.”

Cregan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Tomorrow,” he echoed, feeling like it couldn’t come fast enough. The thought of seeing you again, of sitting across from you with a cup of coffee, made everything else fade into the background. 

As he watched you disappear around the corner of a bookshelf, Cregan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow, to the coffee shop, to the prospect of spending more time with you outside of the confines of the classroom or library.

But as the initial rush of excitement began to fade, a familiar anxiety started to creep in. How was he going to balance this? His life as Cregan Stark, college student and potential friend (maybe more?) to you, with his responsibilities as Spider-Man? What if there was an emergency during their coffee... not-date? What if you started to notice his frequent disappearances, his unexplained bruises?

You found yourself replaying your conversation in your mind, smiling at the memory of his shy smiles and the way his eyes lit up when he talked. There was something about Cregan Stark that intrigued you, a depth that you were eager to explore further.

But as much as Cregan occupied your thoughts, you couldn't shake the memory of your encounter with Spider-Man. The masked hero's wit and charm had left an impression, and you often found yourself glancing up at the sky, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of red and blue swinging between buildings.

It was a week after your encounter when your path crossed with Spider-Man again. You were walking home late, having stayed at the library longer than intended, your mind still buzzing with biochemistry formulas and the lingering warmth of your interactions with Cregan.

The street was quiet, the air cool and crisp with the promise of autumn. You were so lost in thought that you almost missed the soft thud behind you. Almost.

"You know, it's dangerous to walk alone at night," a familiar voice called out, playful but with an undercurrent of concern. "Even in this neighborhood."

You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat. There, perched on a nearby lamppost, was Spider-Man, his masked face tilted towards you in a way that suggested he was smiling.

"Are you following me?" a mix of surprise and excitement coloring your voice. 

He chuckled, the sound sending a small shiver down your spine. "Just keeping an eye on the city," he replied, his tone light. "But I have to admit, I'm glad I ran into you again. How've you been?"

You couldn't help but smile, the tension in your shoulders easing. "I've been good," you said, taking a step closer to the lamppost. "No more late-night alley adventures, if that's what you're asking."

Spider-Man laughed again, dropping down from the lamppost to stand in front of you. Even with the mask, you could sense his amusement. "Good to hear. Though I have to say, I was hoping for an excuse to swoop in and save the day again."

There was something in his voice, a hint of flirtation that made your pulse quicken. You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh? And here I thought you had plenty of other damsels in distress to rescue."

"Ah, but none quite as intriguing as you," he quipped, his head tilting in a way that made you wonder what expression he was wearing beneath the mask.

You felt a blush creep up your neck, thankful for the dim streetlight that probably hid it. "Intriguing, huh? I'm not sure whether to be flattered or worried."

Spider-Man took a step closer, and you were suddenly very aware of his presence, the way he seemed to radiate a mix of confidence and nervous energy. "Definitely flattered," he said, his voice softer now. "Trust me, it takes a lot to catch a spider's attention."

You laughed, the sound slightly breathless. "Well, consider me honored then," you replied, surprised by your own boldness. "Though I have to say, you're pretty intriguing yourself, Spider-Man."

He seemed to stand a little straighter at that, and you could almost imagine the grin behind his mask. "Oh yeah? Care to elaborate on that?"

You pretended to consider for a moment, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "I hear you have excellent taste in pizza toppings."

Spider-Man laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Ah, so my reputation precedes me. Though I still maintain that pepperoni is superior to bacon."

You gasped in mock offense. "And here I thought we were getting along so well. Clearly, I was mistaken."

"Maybe I could change your mind," he said, his tone playful but with an undercurrent of something more. You didn’t know how you hadn’t seen the pizza box he was hiding behind his back until he held it up. “Might just change your mind.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the pizza box. "You brought pizza? Were you planning this encounter, Spider-Man?" you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice.

He shrugged, the movement oddly graceful. "Let's just say I had a hunch I might run into you. And I never pass up an opportunity to prove the superiority of pepperoni."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, far be it from me to turn down free pizza. But where exactly are we going to eat it? I don't think the sidewalk is the most romantic spot for a pizza date."

The word 'date' slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. Spider-Man seemed to pause for a moment, and you wondered if he was blushing too, beneath that mask.

"Date, huh?" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and pleasure. "Well, if it's romance you're after, I think I know just the spot. Do you trust me?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm not sure if I should trust a man in a mask, but..."

Spider-Man stepped closer, and your breath caught in your throat. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice low and warm.

Before you could fully process what was happening, his arm was around your waist, pulling you close against his side. You barely had time to wrap your arms around his neck before he shot a web upwards, and suddenly, you were airborne.

The city rushed by in a blur of lights and shadows, the cool night air whipping past you. You clung tightly to Spider-Man, your heart racing from a mixture of adrenaline and proximity. His body was warm and solid against yours, and even through the suit, you could feel the strength in his arms as he held you securely.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, you landed softly on a rooftop. Spider-Man gently set you down, his hand lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary.

"You okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, slightly breathless. "Yeah, I'm... wow. That was incredible."

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you gasped softly. The rooftop offered a stunning view of the city skyline, lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. It was beautiful, peaceful in a way you'd never experienced the city before.

"This is amazing," you said softly, turning to look at Spider-Man. "How did you find this place?"

He shrugged, setting the pizza box down on a nearby ledge. "I swing by a lot of rooftops. This one's always been a favorite. It's quiet, and the view... well, it speaks for itself."

You nodded in agreement, moving to sit on the ledge next to the pizza box. Spider-Man joined you, his movements fluid and graceful.

"So," he said, opening the box and revealing a steaming pepperoni pizza, "ready to have your mind changed about the ultimate pizza topping?"

You laughed, reaching for a slice. "We'll see about that. I'm not easily swayed."

As you both ate, you fell into easy conversation. Spider-Man was witty and charming, his jokes making you laugh even as you rolled your eyes. But there were moments, brief flashes when his voice would soften or he'd tilt his head in a certain way, that reminded you startlingly of Cregan.

You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the surreal experience of sharing pizza on a rooftop with a superhero. As the night wore on and the pizza dwindled, you found yourself relaxing, leaning slightly closer to Spider-Man.

"Okay," you admitted finally, "I have to say, this pepperoni pizza is pretty good."

Spider-Man pumped his fist in victory. "I knew it! Another convert to the pepperoni side."

You laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Don't get too cocky. I still maintain that bacon has its merits."

He turned to face you, and even though you couldn't see his eyes, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Guess I'll just have to keep trying to convince you," he said softly.

His words hung in the air between you, charged with an energy that made your heart race. You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by the warmth of his presence and the intimacy of the moment.

"Is that a promise?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spider-Man's hand twitched, as if he was about to reach out to you, but he caught himself. "It might be," he replied, his tone a mix of playfulness and something deeper, more sincere. "If you're interested in more rooftop pizza, that is."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I might be," you echoed his words, your eyes never leaving his masked face. "Though I have to warn you, I'm not easily won over. It might take a lot of convincing."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I'm up for the challenge."

For a moment, you both sat in comfortable silence, the city sprawling out beneath you like a living, breathing entity. The cool night air carried the faint sounds of traffic and distant sirens, reminding you of the world beyond this rooftop.

"Can I ask you something?" you said finally, turning to face him fully.

Spider-Man nodded, his posture shifting to give you his full attention. "Shoot."

You hesitated, wondering if you were crossing a line. "What's it like? Being... you? Having all this power, this responsibility?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and you worried you'd overstepped. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "It's... complicated," he said finally. "It's exhilarating, knowing I can make a difference, save lives. But it's also terrifying. There's always the fear of not being fast enough, strong enough. Or, well  –  death."

His honesty caught you off guard. You'd expected a quip, maybe a lighthearted deflection. Instead, you got a glimpse of the person behind the mask, vulnerable and achingly human.

Without thinking, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm. "That sounds incredibly difficult," you said softly. "But for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job. This city is lucky to have you."

Spider-Man looked down at your hand, then back up to your face. Even through the mask, you could sense the intensity of his gaze. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "That... means a lot."

You smiled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before pulling your hand back. As you did, you couldn't help but notice the firm muscles beneath the suit, the strength coiled just beneath the surface.

Clearing your throat, you looked back out at the city, trying to calm your racing heart. "So, um, do you bring all the girls you save up here for pizza, or am I special?" you asked, aiming for a teasing tone to lighten the mood.

Spider-Man laughed, the sound lighter now. "Oh, definitely special," he said, bumping his shoulder against yours playfully. "It's not every day I meet someone who can challenge my pizza topping supremacy."

You grinned, feeling the tension ease. "Well, I'm honored.” 

Before you could dwell on it, a distant siren pierced the night air. Spider-Man's head snapped towards the sound, his body tensing.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning back to you with obvious reluctance. "I have to..."

You nodded, understanding. "Go," you said softly. "It’s okay, I’ll find my way back."

He stood, hesitating for a moment. Then, in a move that surprised you both, he reached out and squeezed your hand gently. "Thanks for... this," he said, gesturing vaguely at the rooftop, the remnants of your pizza dinner. "It was nice to just be... me for a while."

Your heart fluttered at his words, at the warmth of his hand on yours. "Anytime, Spider-Man," you replied, meaning it more than you'd expected to.

With a final nod, he stepped to the edge of the roof. "Hold on tight," he said, and before you could ask what he meant, he had scooped you up in his arms.

The journey back to street level was a blur of exhilaration and barely suppressed laughter. When your feet touched the ground, you felt oddly bereft, missing the warmth of his arms around you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Would you want to do this again? I mean, maybe not the rooftop pizza – " you laughed lightly, “ – but just, you know, hanging out. Talking. I like it. I like… getting to know you."

He seemed to pause, his head tilting slightly as if he was considering something. Then he nodded. "I’d like that," he said, his tone softer, almost hesitant.

You found yourself smiling, a real one that reached your eyes, as you nodded back. "Great. Maybe... Thursday? Same time? We could meet on the fire scape, like last time.”

He mirrored your smile, though his was a little crooked, like he wasn't used to showing it. "Thursday works."

Neither of you moved to leave just yet. There was a comfortable silence that hung between you, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. The cool breeze tousled your hair, and you felt the weight of the evening settle in, a sense of contentment mixing with the anticipation of what was to come.

But eventually, reality seeped back in. He straightened, his hand gripping the railing as if grounding himself before he stepped back.

"Stay safe," Spider-Man said, already preparing to swing away.

"You too," you called after him, watching as he disappeared into the night sky.

As you made your way home, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The quiet, brooding Cregan Stark and the charming, mysterious Spider-Man occupied equal space in your mind, leaving you more confused than ever about your own feelings.

As Cregan swung through the city, responding to the siren's call, he couldn't shake the memory of your smile, the warmth of your hand on his arm, the way you'd spoken about him.

He knew he was walking a dangerous line, but in that moment, with the wind rushing past him and the city spread out below, Cregan couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of the evening he'd just shared with you.

_________

Cregan’s fingers drummed repeatedly on the paper cup in front of him. Your notes were scattered over the table, formulas and equations that had been giving you grief for days now. 

He glanced up from the problem you were stuck on, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Let’s go over it one more time. You’re getting tripped up in the same spot.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the frustration that had been building all week. “I know, it’s just… it doesn’t make sense in my head. I don’t see the connection.”

Cregan paused, his fingers halting their drumming. He leaned in slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a reassuring smile. 

“You’re overthinking it. You’ve got the basics down, you just need to trust yourself. Here,” Cregan pointed to a specific equation on your notes, his fingers brushing lightly against the paper as he spoke. 

"See here? This is where you’re losing the thread. You’re thinking too far ahead instead of focusing on this step. Just break it down."

His voice was calm, steady, almost like a grounding force that pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. You nodded, trying to absorb his advice. There was something about the way he explained things that made it easier to understand, like he knew exactly where you were getting lost and how to guide you back.

You worked through the problem again, this time more slowly, following his guidance. Cregan watched you intently, his gaze unwavering, as if he could tell you would find the answer just by being there. And then, finally, it clicked.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the solution suddenly clear as day. “I get it now. It was just that one step throwing me off.”

A small smile tugged at Cregan’s lips, the kind of smile that was rare from him, but when it appeared, it felt like the sun breaking through clouds. “Told you. You’ve got this.”

You grinned back, the weight of your earlier frustration lifting. “Thanks, Cregan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. “You’d figure it out eventually. I’m just here to make it easier.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence that settled between you as you sipped your coffee. Outside, people bustled by, unaware of the quiet connection forming at your little table in the café.

You glanced at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. “You know, you’re really good at this. Helping people, I mean.”

Cregan looked almost embarrassed by the compliment, his gaze dropping to his cup. “I just… I like helping you. That’s all.”

His words hung in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning. You felt your heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. Instead, you simply smiled, letting the moment stretch out between you, full of unspoken things.

Eventually, Cregan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, uh, you ready for the next problem?”

You nodded, grateful for the distraction but also for the time you had with him, these small moments that seemed to mean more than you could fully understand. 

As you worked through the next set of problems, you found yourself more attuned to Cregan’s presence than the equations in front of you. His focus was sharp, eyes scanning your notes with an intensity that seemed out of place for something as mundane as math. Yet, that intensity was what made him so good at this, at seeing what you missed and guiding you through it.

You started the conversation, your voice warm and inviting. "So, Cregan, what else should I know about you? Besides being a whiz at biochem, that is."

Cregan felt a flush creep up his neck at your teasing tone. "I, uh, not much, really," he mumbled, his eyes darting around the coffee shop before settling back on you. "I'm kind of a boring guy, to be honest."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Somehow, I doubt that," you said, leaning forward slightly. 

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before he looked away, a faint smile breaking his usual reserved expression. “Well,” he started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I guess I’m into photography. It’s more of a hobby, but it helps me clear my head sometimes.”

You leaned in closer, intrigued by this small revelation. “Photography? That’s really cool. What do you like to photograph?”

Cregan shrugged, a little more at ease now that the focus was off the math and on something more personal. “Mostly cityscapes. Sometimes, I’ll catch the sunrise or sunset if I’m up early – or late – enough. I like capturing moments that people usually overlook.”

There was something almost poetic about the way he spoke, as if he saw the world in a different light, a way that made you want to see it through his eyes. “That sounds… peaceful,” you replied, trying to imagine him in those quiet moments, camera in hand.

“Yeah, it is.” Cregan paused, as if considering how much more to share. “It’s… calming.”

You smiled, feeling a new level of connection with him. “I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

His eyes flicked back to you, surprised. “You would?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice earnest. “I think it’d be amazing to see the world through your perspective.”

Cregan hesitated, but there was a softness in his expression, a slight warmth that hadn’t been there before. “Maybe I could show you, then. If you’re really interested.”

“I am,” you assured him, your tone gentle yet firm. “I really am.”

The conversation took on a new rhythm after that, a quieter, more personal tone as you both opened up, bit by bit. Cregan asked about your own interests, your goals, the things that made you tick outside of the classroom. He listened intently, his focus unwavering, and even though his responses were often short and to the point, they were always thoughtful, as if he was carefully choosing each word.

You talked about books you loved, places you wanted to visit, dreams you had for the future. And in turn, Cregan shared more about himself – his love for science, his fascination with how things worked, and the quiet joy he found in those moments when he could just be himself, away from the pressures of school and life.

As the afternoon stretched into early evening, the café started to empty out, the bustle of the day giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. The baristas began their end-of-day routines, but you and Cregan remained, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

At some point, your hands brushed across the table, and though it was brief, it felt like a spark of electricity passed between you. Cregan didn’t pull away, and neither did you. Instead, you both let the touch linger for just a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of the growing bond that was forming.

Finally, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the café floor, you realized it was time to go. You packed up your notes, the weight of the day’s work feeling lighter than it had before.

“Thanks for today,” you said, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I really appreciate it.”

Cregan stood as well, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Anytime,” he said softly. “Same time next week?”

“Definitely,” you replied, smiling at him. “And maybe we can talk more about photography, too.”

Cregan’s smile returned, shy but genuine. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As you walked out of the café together, the evening air cool and refreshing, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between you and Cregan. It was subtle, a quiet deepening of the connection you shared, but it was there, undeniable and strong.

You parted ways after Cregan insisted on walking you home and you refused, he opted for telling you to text him when you were at your door. His cheeks burnt red when he read the screen, with your newly added number and a ‘home ;)’text.

Cregan's phone buzzed again, and his heart leapt, wondering if it was another message from you. But as he looked at the screen, his expression darkened. It was a news alert: a robbery in progress just a few blocks away.

He hesitated, torn between the urge to respond and the desire to hold onto the warmth of the afternoon for just a little longer. But he knew he couldn't ignore it. With a sigh, Cregan ducked into a nearby alley, quickly changing into the suit he always kept with him.

As he swung through the city, the cool night air whipping past him, Cregan couldn't help but think about you. About the way your eyes had lit up when he explained a particularly tricky concept, about the soft brush of your fingers against his as you reached for your coffee cup. He thought about the promise of next week, of more conversations about photography and life and all the things that made you both who you were.

The robbery was dealt with quickly – a couple of petty thieves who were more surprised to see Spider-Man than they were prepared to fight him. As Cregan webbed them up for the police, he found himself wondering what you would think if you could see him now. Would you be impressed? Scared? Would it change the way you looked at him?

By the time Cregan made it back to his apartment, it was late. He collapsed onto his bed, still in his suit, feeling the familiar ache of exertion in his muscles. But as he closed his eyes, it wasn't the faces of the criminals he'd caught that he saw. It was your smile, the way you'd leaned in close as he explained a problem, the warmth in your voice when you'd said goodbye.

His phone buzzed one more time, and Cregan reached for it, his heart racing. It was you.

‘thanks again for today. you really are my hero when it comes to biochem.’

Then another.

‘see you in class!’

Cregan read the message several times, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He wanted to say so much – about how much he'd enjoyed spending time with you, how he was already looking forward to next week, how beautiful you looked, how you made him feel like just Cregan, not Spider-Man or anyone else.

In the end, he settled for something simple: ‘Anytime. I had a great time too. Can't wait for next week.’

He knew it wouldn't be easy. Balancing his life as Cregan Stark with his duties as Spider-Man was already a constant struggle. Adding a potential relationship to the mix would only complicate things further. But as he remembered the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes had met his across the coffee shop table, Cregan found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, patrols, and stolen glances across lecture halls. Every time Cregan saw you, his heart would do a little flip in his chest. Sometimes you'd catch his eye and smile, a small, secret gesture that felt like it was just for him. Other times, you'd be deep in conversation with friends or buried in a textbook, and Cregan would find himself watching you from afar, marveling at the way you moved through the world.

In class, Cregan found himself hyper-aware of your presence. He'd catch himself stealing glances at you, watching the way you chewed on your pen when you were thinking hard about a problem, or the way you'd tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you leaned over your notes. More than once, he nearly missed a question from the professor, too distracted by the simple fact of your nearness.

But it wasn't just in class that you occupied his thoughts. As Spider-Man, swinging through the city at night, Cregan found himself taking routes that would bring him past your apartment building. He told himself it was just to make sure you were safe, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was a way of feeling close to you, even when he couldn't be Cregan Stark.

As Cregan swung away into the night, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had to give. He couldn't keep living these two separate lives, couldn't keep holding you at arm's length while simultaneously yearning to be closer. But what was the alternative? To tell you the truth and risk everything? To walk away and protect you from the dangers that came with being close to Spider-Man?

He didn't have the answers. But as he made his way back to his own apartment, Cregan knew one thing for certain: he was in deeper than he'd ever intended to be, and there was no easy way out.

_________

As the days passed, you found yourself drawn more and more into Cregan Stark's orbit. What had started as simple tutoring sessions began to evolve into something more. You'd catch yourself looking for him in the crowded hallways between classes, your heart skipping a beat when you'd spot that familiar mop of brown hair. 

During your tutoring sessions, you started to linger longer, engaging Cregan in conversations that went far beyond the subject matter at hand. You discovered a shared love of obscure sci-fi movies, and soon found yourself suggesting meetups outside of your usual study time. When you had first asked him to come over to watch a movie, trying to keep your voice casual even as your pulse quickened, Cregan felt like his chest was about to explode.

Cregan seemed both delighted and nervous at these invitations, always accepting with an endearing mix of enthusiasm and awkwardness. You couldn't help but find his slightly fumbling manner charming, so different from the easy confidence you saw in many of your classmates.

But it wasn't just Cregan Stark who was occupying your thoughts. Your encounters with Spider-Man had been increasing in frequency as well. It started innocuously enough - you'd be walking home late from the library and suddenly he'd be there, offering to make sure you got home safely. Or you'd be grabbing a quick bite at a food truck, and he'd swing by, pausing just long enough for a quip and a smile that made your stomach flutter.

These brief encounters slowly became more frequent, more prolonged. Sometimes he'd perch on a nearby rooftop, and you'd find yourself talking for hours, sharing your hopes, your fears, your dreams. There was something freeing about talking to someone whose face you couldn't fully see, whose identity remained a mystery. You found yourself opening up to Spider-Man in ways you never had with anyone else.

As your connection with both Cregan and Spider-Man deepened, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something you were missing, some connection you weren't quite grasping. 

The day had been long, stretched out with a kind of silence that felt unnatural. Usually, Cregan would find some way to pop up – whether it was a quick text about a class assignment or a casual joke that made you smile. But the past three days, there was nothing. The hours ticked by, and with each passing minute, a sense of unease settled in your chest.

You missed Cregan, he’d become a constant presence in your life.

The evening of the third day rolled in, you tried to distract yourself with a book, but the words blurred together, your mind too bored and restless to focus. Every so often, you found yourself glancing at your phone, hoping for a message, some sign of Cregan.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across your apartment. You stood by the window, watching the city come to life with its usual rhythm – the distant hum of traffic, the occasional blare of a car horn, the murmur of voices drifting up from the street below. But something felt off, a tension in the air that you couldn’t quite shake.

You were just about to turn away from the window, resigning yourself to another hour of waiting, when a sudden noise broke through the quiet. A thud. Heavy and sharp, it resonated through the walls and made you jump.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun toward the sound. It had come from the fire escape just outside your window, the metal groaning slightly under the weight of something – or someone.

With a shaky breath, you approached the window, your hand trembling as you reached for the latch. You hesitated for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. Then, slowly, you pushed the window open, the cool evening air rushing in.

And there he was.

Spider-Man.

But not the agile, confident hero you’d seen swinging through the city’s skyline. This Spider-Man was slumped against the railing of your fire escape, his red and blue suit torn and stained with dirt and blood. He was breathing heavily, each breath a ragged gasp, his masked head tilted down as if the effort of holding it up was too much.

“Spider-Man?” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of disbelief and fear. 

He didn’t respond at first, his head still bowed, but you could see his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. Panic surged through you as you realized just how badly he was hurt. Without thinking, you climbed out onto the fire escape, the metal cool beneath your hands as you knelt beside him.

“Hey,” you said, louder this time, reaching out to touch his arm. “What happened?”

At your touch, he flinched, his head snapping up. For a moment, you saw the white lenses of his mask narrow, as if he was trying to focus on you through a haze of pain. Then, with a weak, shaky movement, he lifted a gloved hand to his mask, pulling it up just enough to reveal the lower half of his face.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw it – Cregan’s familiar jawline, his lips cracked and dry, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek. His eyes, half-hidden behind the mask, were glazed with exhaustion and pain.

“Cregan,” you breathed, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Fear and worry tangled in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You could barely recognize the boy who’d sat beside you in the library just a few weeks before, explaining enzyme kinetics with a shy smile. Now, he looked so vulnerable, so fragile, it was almost unbearable.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost too quiet to hear. His attempt at a smile faltered, his lips trembling. “Sorry... didn’t mean to drop in unannounced.”

You shook your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Cregan, what happened? You’re hurt – Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

He winced as he tried to shift, his hand tightening on the railing. “Just... ran into some trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Just... just need a minute.”

But it was clear that he needed more than just a minute. His skin was pale beneath the grime, and when he tried to move again, his body sagged against the railing, his strength all but gone.

“Cregan, you need help,” you said, your voice urgent as you scanned his injuries, not knowing where to start. You could see the gash on his side, the dark stain of blood seeping through the fabric of his suit. “You can’t stay out here – come inside, please.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but another wave of pain seemed to wash over him, cutting off his words. You didn’t wait for him to argue. With gentle hands, you slipped your arm around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as you tried to support his weight.

“Come on,” you urged softly, “I’ve got you.”

With a groan, Cregan let you help him to his feet, his body heavy and unsteady against yours. Together, you managed to maneuver him through the window and into your apartment, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

You guided him to the couch, easing him down onto the cushions with as much care as you could manage. He slumped back, his head lolling to the side as he tried to stay conscious. You could see the strain in his face, the way his eyes fluttered open and shut as he fought against the overwhelming exhaustion.

“I’m gonna get some supplies,” you whispered, brushing a hand across his forehead. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Cregan’s hand caught yours as you started to pull away, his grip weak but desperate. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes met yours, filled with a depth of gratitude and vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You squeezed his hand gently, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll be right back.”

As you hurried to gather what you needed – first aid kit, towels, anything that might help – you couldn’t shake the image of Cregan lying there, hurt and vulnerable. This was the same boy who’d laughed with you over coffee, who’d explained complex science with an ease that belied his own brilliance. The same boy who now sat on your couch, barely holding on.

When you returned, Cregan’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow but steady. You knelt beside him, your hands trembling as you began to clean his wounds, doing your best to be gentle. Each time he flinched or winced, your heart clenched, wishing you could take the pain away, even if just a little.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as you worked. 

Cregan didn’t answer right away, his lips pressed together as you dabbed at the cut on his side. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice rough and tired. “Missed you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you paused, meeting his gaze. “Cregan,”

The words seemed to hang in the air between you, thick with emotion. Cregan’s eyes softened, his expression crumbling into something raw and unguarded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to drag you into this... but I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart ached for him, and without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. “You’re not dragging me into anything, Cregan. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if trying to draw strength from your presence. For a long moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled in a web of trust and unspoken feelings, holding on to each other in the quiet safety of your small apartment.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open as he leaned into your touch, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain etched into his features. 

“Hey, don’t look so worried,” he murmured, his voice soft but with a familiar hint of playfulness. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got this whole… accelerated healing thing going on. Perks of the job.”

You tried to smile back, but the worry still lingered in your eyes. “I know, but that doesn’t make seeing you like this any easier.” Your voice wavered slightly, and Cregan’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on, don’t I always bounce back?” he said, trying to inject some of that Spider-Man charm into his voice, though it came out weaker than usual.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured at your silence, his voice a rough whisper, as if he was trying to convince both of you. “I... I heal fast. It just takes some time.”

You frowned, your hand still cradling his face as you studied the cuts and bruises that marred his skin. “Fast or not, you’re hurt, Cregan. Let me help.”

He managed a small, weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was full of appreciation. “You’re already helping.”

You started with the worst of his injuries, cleaning the gash on his side with careful, deliberate movements. He hissed at the sting of the antiseptic, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a shaky breath and tried to relax, his eyes fixed on your face as if drawing strength from your presence.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how you could be so kind, so caring, even after seeing him like this. The world knew Spider-Man as a hero, invincible and strong, but here he was, laid bare and vulnerable, and yet you didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. Instead, you stayed, your hands steady as you patched him up, your heart open and unafraid.

Once you’d finished with the worst of the injuries, you turned your attention to the smaller cuts and bruises, dabbing at the dried blood on his cheek, his neck, his hands. The silence between you was comfortable now, filled with the quiet rustle of bandages and the soft rhythm of your breathing.

Cregan’s eyes drifted shut as you worked, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing gently over a bruise on his temple. “You don’t have to apologize, Cregan. I’m just glad you came here, that you trusted me.”

His eyes opened again, and this time, there was a softness in them that made your heart ache. “Of course, I trust you,” he said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I just... I didn’t want you to see me like this. Didn’t want you to think...”

He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. But you understood what he was trying to say, the fear that had been gnawing at him, the worry that you might see him differently now that you knew the truth.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile, your hand still resting on his cheek. 

He closed his eyes again, leaning into your touch as if it was the only thing keeping him anchored. You could see the exhaustion weighing heavily on him, the way his body sagged against the cushions, his strength nearly spent.

“Get some rest,” you urged softly, your fingers brushing through his hair in a soothing gesture. “I’ll stay right here. You’re safe.”

Cregan nodded, his breathing evening out as he let the exhaustion take over. His hand found yours, his grip weak but steady, and he held on as if afraid to let go.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the tension in Cregan’s body began to ease, his breathing becoming slower, deeper. The silence in the room was peaceful, broken only by the faint sounds of the city beyond the window. You stayed beside him, your hand still holding his, your thumb brushing gently over the back of his knuckles in a soothing rhythm, trying to also calm yourself down.

Then, just as you thought he’d fallen asleep, Cregan’s voice broke the quiet, a soft murmur that tugged at your heart. “I missed you these last few days,” he whispered, his eyes still closed, as if the words were pulled from him in a moment of vulnerability.

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice just as soft, filled with all the things you hadn’t been able to say. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been waiting for this moment, for the chance to be close to him again, until now.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. There was something raw in his gaze, a mix of relief and longing that you hadn’t seen before, something that made the air between you crackle with unspoken emotion.

“I kept thinking about you,” he continued, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung in the air. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made it impossible to ignore, a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the bruises and cuts marring his face.

Cregan’s lips, cracked and dry from days of struggle, curled into a weak but genuine smile. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion but alive with a mix of mischief and longing, met yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, “since you’re already being so kind and caring, maybe… just maybe… a kiss for the wounded hero?” He tried to make light of his condition, the playful tone in his voice belying the pain he was in.

Your lips twitched into a small, incredulous smile despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You could see the effort it took for him to joke, the way he was clinging to his usual charm even when he was at his most vulnerable.

“I suppose I could,” you said, leaning closer, “if you’re sure it won’t make you faint from excitement.”

Cregan’s laughter was a soft, pained exhale, but it was there, and it was real. “I think I can handle it.”

With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment as you took in the rawness of his expression. He looked at you with such intensity that it felt as if he was seeing right into you, beyond the superficial and straight into the heart of what mattered.

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his as you closed the distance. His lips were warm and dry against yours, and the kiss was gentle, almost tentative. 

Cregan’s lips, cracked and trembling from his injuries, felt delicate beneath yours. Despite his pain, there was a surprising gentleness in his kiss, a fragile vulnerability that made you want to hold him closer. The contact was brief, a fleeting brush of warmth and tenderness, but it was charged with unspoken emotions – fear, hope, and the deep relief of finally being close again.

When you pulled back, you barely heard Cregan’s joke about ordering some good pizza, too focused on his cheeky smile and the few strands of hair that had fallen back to his face. 

[sarahisslytherin]

duty and honor.

cregan stark x tyrell!reader

summary: it has been decided. you are to wed the young lord stark. you know little of him or the north but will do your duty. this, however, does not release you from your worry of how the union will go or how you will settle into your role as lady of winterfell. luckily, cregan takes it upon himself to make you feel at home.

contains: fluff, people rooting for a bedding ceremony.

a/n: i am so in love with this man i need to be restrained.

word count: 2k

The carriage rocked on the road to Winterfell, your ocean blue gown ruffling as it did. You tried your best to ignore the wild beat of your heart in your chest, tried focusing instead on the growing pines that passed your window with increasing speed. Your mother sat at your side, a stoic presence that soothed you somehow. You took her hand in your own, and when she looked at you you didn’t have it in you to mask your utter fear. 

“You will be alright, child.” she sighed, bringing that same hand up to cup your cheek. “Lord Stark is a good man. I know you will be far from all that you know, but surely you will grow to love your new home as well as your betrothed.”

When you finally came to a halt outside its gates, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. You clutched your mother’s hand like a frightened babe when they drew open. The courtyard was full of expectant faces you knew you would eventually commit to memory. The townspeople were out and about, young rosy-cheeked girls squealing with delight as they spotted your carriage. Their soon-to-be Lady was within it, and you could only hope when the time came that you would not fall short of their expectations. They watched keenly as you stopped before them one final time, and you prepared to be devoured by hungry, prying eyes. You tugged on the fur lining of your cloak as your mother stepped down from the carriage. You quickly followed suit.

Indeed, you could feel their glares cutting clean through you. You had known enough ladies and lords to know they were searching for faults and virtues to remark upon as soon as you were out of earshot, but there were so many faces you could not focus on a single one. 

Instead your gaze swiftly fell upon the mountain of a man that was the young Lord Stark. His chestnut locks fell in such a manner that they delicately framed a rather rugged face, on which a scowl seemed to be permanently etched. But this was to be expected. It was common knowledge that smiles were rare amongst Northmen. Though winter was still months away, he was already cloaked head to toe in furs, an uncommonly large sword strapped across the broad expanse of his back. 

“Lady Y/N, welcome to Winterfell.” he rasped, his voice quite gravelly and masculine for so young a man. You offered him a small curtsy in return, but couldn’t quite muster up the agreeable smile your mother had asked you to perfect on the way here. You tried your best not to gawk as you took in the ancient castle, trailing behind Lord Stark as he strode through Winterfell’s stony halls. The biting cold of the north left your bones as you approached the hearth in the Great Hall. 

You listened as your mother exchanged pleasantries with members of Lord Stark’s court, though your eyes did not leave the dancing flames and glowing embers.

“You’re a long way from Highgarden.” he said as he came to stand beside you. His accent was harsh, the vowels flat and words clipped, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t find it somewhat pleasant to your ear.

You turned to regard him. Gods, he was beautiful. The fire cast his features in a golden hue, the color returning to his cheeks. He was a sight to behold, powerful and perhaps even fearsome, but in this moment so soft. You wondered what your future with him would look like. Would he take a liking to you? Would he hate you? When you eventually gave him children, would they take after their mother or father? Would it be a life worth living?

“Yes, my Lord.” you sighed, rubbing your hands up and down your arms. “A long way indeed.”

The muted ivory of your gown made you appear one with the snow of the Godswood. Your hair was unbound, save for the intricate braiding around the crown of your head. Only the moon’s and torches’ light showed you the way to the weirwood tree. Your father swiftly came to your side, looping your arm in his. He offered you a gentle caress along your icy cheek, a solemn look about his face as if watching a spring rose being sacrificed to the unforgiving cold of winter. Wordlessly, you began to walk.

Despite the North’s fame for brutal winters and even more brutal people, you couldn’t help but marvel at the quiet beauty of the Godswood. So still was it, that you could have sworn you felt its ancientness in your bones, could feel every ring of age around each tree stump. Snowflakes danced on their way down, coming to land upon strands of your hair. It was then that you saw him before the weirwood, his lips drawn into a thin line. He was covered in dark furs and a cloak, his hands clasped behind his straightened back. 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” The words were spoken by a family ward. 

“Y/N of the House Tyrell.” your father replied. “She comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” 

You watched as Lord Stark approached, towering over you. You hoped you would grow accustomed to it, to him. You held your breath when he spoke. “Cregan of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” 

You dared to look up, to meet his gaze. You found nothing but gentleness in them. “Who gives her?” Your father spoke his name. And now the ward asked you the question. 

“Lady Y/N, will you take this man?”

You could feel the overbearing weight of watchful eyes, of held breaths and keen ears. But Cregan’s eyes hadn’t left yours, determined to hold your gaze. You could have sworn a flicker of joy shone in them when you gasped out. 

“I take this man.”

Cregan offered you a shy curl of his lips, then took your hands in his. You noted that they were far smaller in comparison to his weathered hands as he led you to the trunk of the weirwood tree. Its face provided you with some strange comfort. Perhaps the gods would heed your prayers. Perhaps they were watching over you as you both knelt before the trunk. Silence fell upon the Godswood as the wedding party prayed. No sooner had the moment passed that you and your now husband rose to your feet. Cregan’s large hands reached around you to gingerly remove your cloak, a golden Tyrell rose embroidered upon it by your mother. 

You shivered as the cold crept into your body, but were swiftly covered once again, this time in a Stark cloak, the wolf sigil stitched boldly enough for all to see. And just like that, it was done.

It was the first time you had seen him smile, truly smile, since you had arrived at Winterfell. From where you sat at his side on the dais, the entirety of the Great Hall stretched out before you. Jovial music filled the hall, and you watched the merry faces of Cregan’s men as they helped themselves to the wedding feast. Their chatter echoed on the stone walls, and for the first time since you had left Highgarden, you felt somewhat at home.

“Has Winterfell begun to grow on you, wife?” Cregan’s husky voice came from your left. When you turned to meet him he was wearing a boyish smirk. He was playing. You didn’t suspect the Wolf of the North had it in him.

“Well, it may be a while longer before that happens.” you sheepishly admitted, struggling to hold his intense gaze. “But I know I will come to love it.”

“Aye.” he said. “I know it will never be your true home, but I promise you I will do all in my power to make it the next best thing.” He placed his large hand atop your own, taking your palm and squeezing it gingerly. You were thankful for the gesture, and couldn’t ignore the flush of your cheeks that resulted from it.

“You’re timid.” he observed, only causing you further embarrassment. “It’s quite charming.”

“You may very well be the only person who finds it to be so. Even back home my soft temper has been known to irritate others. Most times people can barely hear me when I speak. I find it easier to keep to myself and observe.” you confessed. “I truly must grow a thicker skin if I am to survive amongst the wolves.”

“You won’t survive.” Cregan stated matter of factly. You whipped your head toward him with wide eyes at that, not prepared for what he would say next. “You will thrive.”

You felt your muscles loosen up once again, offering him an incredulous laugh.

“I am perfectly serious, my Lady.” he went on. “You will rule the North at my side.”

“I hardly think I am equipped to rule such an – unruly people, my Lord.” you tried to mask the nervous tremble of your hand as you brought your wine to your lips.

“Cregan.” he rasped. “Call me Cregan.” You nodded, eyes crinkling above a smile. He leaned in, as if he were about to tell you a most precious secret. “Sometimes all a beast truly needs is the touch of a gentle hand.” 

You backed away to meet his eyes. They held nothing but truth in them. Nothing but honor. But your moment was soon ended by the clamor of the wedding party. The men began to holler, whooping and howling in unison. “Time for the bedding!”

You had anticipated this, and you now braced yourself for the unpleasant experience of being hauled to a bed with Cregan. You had always known your first time would be like this, and though you loathed the idea, you could not alter tradition. It was a surprise to you when Cregan rose from his chair, planting his large hands on the dinner table before he spoke.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, but there will be no bedding ceremony tonight.” he bellowed out through the hall in a voice so commanding it was an effort not to shrink in his presence. “And I won’t hear any complaints about it. It’s too lovely an occasion to taint with a brawl.”

The men did their best to mask their disappointed groans as they returned to their dinner. You weren’t quite sure what had prompted Cregan to make such a decision. Did he not like you the way you had hoped? Perhaps he thought you fit to rule by him, to be a figurehead, but not someone he could ever desire in earnest. He must have read the emotions as they crossed your face, because he quickly took his seat beside you again. 

“Are you well, my Lady?” he asked. You merely nodded in response. He gently took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your gaze towards his. “When you wish it to happen it will be just the two of us, husband and wife. No prying eyes or ears.”

Warmth bloomed in your heart at the words. It was as if he had quieted the growing storm in your mind with only the touch of a hand. A gentle hand.

“You are a man of honor, Cregan.” you said resolutely.

He only smiled in return as he brought you in closer, finally pressing his lips to yours. The touch sent sparks down your spine. It was in that moment you knew that spark would soon fan into a flame a thousand northern winds could not snuff out.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @lovemesomevesey @shemisseshome @themissgreen24-blog @siriusement @kingdomzeldaquest @gayfordabae @slayis4ever

[cxce15]

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