Hello! If your 1K celebration is still going, can I please ask for spell casting with the below prompt for our Wolf in the North, Cregan Stark?
"Am I too close?" - "No, no! You're fine.."
I like to think that Cregan is quite tall and when trying to court the reader (maybe a younger sister of Black Aly?) he uses his size to grab a book from a shelf for her, or an apple from a tree...
Thanks so much, I love your work <3
hi, thank u for requesting!!
16. “am i too close?” “no, no! you’re fine..”
ʚ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ
“Seven hells…”
you breathed out a curse, trying & failing to reach the book you’re after for what seemed like the hundredth time.
it wasn’t your fault, really. you're not the tallest, as alys had gotten all the tall genes, but winterfell seemed to be made for giants. the books on history in winterfells library were always on the highest shelf, as if the lord of winterfell themselves were only ever the ones to need them. in rooms, furs are kept on racks so high it’s a wonder nobody’s broken an ankle trying to reach them. and gods, the stables — you’d think the Father himself was riding these horses.
of course, these were just one woman’s complaints, as the men in winterfell were unlike most down south. bigger, tougher, thicker — more respectful, yes. you much liked the northmen, but sometimes, you would curse them and their ancestors aloud. like right now.
“You’d think, after giants being gone for— what?” you jumped to try and reach the book again, failing once more. “—a few years, I’d say, that one might…” you jumped in a final, but fatal attempt, missing the book by inches. “stop building castles as if expecting to host an army of them at any possible time, gods-!” you said, craning your neck upwards, looking at the book you would never crack the spine of.
you groaned, mindful of your noise, but aware that no one was in the library this time of day. “Men,” you said, to nobody but yourself. you smoothed your skirts, turning to leave and sulk on your loss. instead, you’re met with the hulking figure of the warden of the north. your potential husband.
“Lord Stark.” you say, caught by surprise. caught, most certainly — for you were just speaking in a manner most improper. he seems to know this, has to have heard you, for a small smile plays on his lips as he nods toward you in acknowledgment.
“I’ve told you when we’re alone, it’s Cregan.”
you huff out a sigh, and it amuses cregan greatly. could being called by his name be such the inconvenience? “Lord Stark is…” you start, trying to search for an excuse. cregan is your lord, his name is far too personal — even if he is courting you. “… proper.” you decide.
he begins to step closer, gaze momentarily flicking to the bookcase behind you. “My lady didn’t sound very proper a moment ago.”
your cheeks begin to pink. “I was — unaware of your presence,” you defend. “And you know my name.” you add defiantly, as an afterthought.
you think you may have overstepped, but the warmth doesn’t leave cregans face. he only licks his lips. “My lady is proper.”
you hold back your eye roll with great effort, and cregan seems to notice, deciding to take pity. “What troubles you so?” he asks, now stood in front of you. closely. you can feel the heat radiating from him, even through his layers.
you cross your arms, turning to face your mortal enemy. “A certain book eludes me..”
cregan hums. “I’ve heard this place was built to accommodate giants.”
you know he jests, but you nod anyways. “Whomever told you that must have been quite the intelligent.”
and to your surprise, the reserved lord stark of winterfell huffs out a laugh. he moves to walk forward, and this time, means to bring you with him — a hand on the small of your back guiding you along. he stops in front of the bookshelf, looking at the highest row, then at you.
“Which?”
the question is simple, yet makes warmth flood your veins all the same. you swallow your nerves, “The one with the green spine. Towards you.”
cregan stretches an arm toward the book, as per your instruction, large frame reaching it with ease. the hand on your back is warm, big; firmer as he leans forward to get what you desire.
he hands it to you, and you mutter a soft murmur of thanks. his hand is on your back, he’s just done the kindest (most attractive) gesture in the history of gestures, and he’s leaned down into your space to hand you the book. you can’t breathe.
after a few seconds, when you’ve done nothing but look at him, he seems to register the proximity. and he’s tentative, aware of his size & power, ever respectful.
“Am I too close?”
“No,” you say, much too quickly. you recognize your mistake, but it’s too late to take it back. you can only hope to correct it. “No, you’re fine.”
he catches it as soon as it leaves your mouth, and he only tilts his head, actively trying to suppress his smile. he decides you embracing oxygen is important, and straightens to his full height. that only makes your eyes go wide, and cregan might be worried if he couldn’t see the want dancing in them.
ʚ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ
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