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entitled-fangirl · 3 months ago

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Fatherhood. P2

Single dad!Cregan Stark x reader

Summary: The reader follows through with her marriage proposal. (I literally cannot say more without spoiling stuff)

Part 1

Masterlist

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"Father?" Her voice carried through the hall.

Bolton turned to give his daughter his entire attention.

"The carriage outside. Have we a visitor?" She asked meekly.

He sighed. "Afraid not."

Her head tilted. "An empty carriage? Who would ever send such-" She found herself stopping at the realization. "It's for me, isn't it?"

Bolton's lip tightened. "It is."

"Ah," she noted wearily. "I'll… I'll collect my things, I suppose."

He nodded, though his heart ached somewhere deep inside to see her go. "Best that you do. Can't have ya forgetting yer lavender, eh?"

She managed a smile. "No. I couldn't bare it."

"Go on, then."

She gave one last look before retreating up to her room.

…

She thanked the driver earnestly as she stepped in, watching the door shut behind her.

This was nicer than she anticipated it being.

She leaned back when the carriage began to move and started to close her eyes before pausing at the sight of a small sealed letter.

She picked it up.

The Stark sigil.

Her fingers shook as she opened it.

My dear lady, I do hope you'll excuse the manner in which you've received this letter. Your father seems to be a man of pageantry and show, keeping you in the dark. I implore you to stop the carriage for a surprise of sorts. - An eager father

She reread the letter a few times before daring to do as it said.

Tap.Tap.Tap. against the ceiling of the carriage.

It came to an abrupt halt.

She paused with her hand still raised at the ceiling. Her ears listened intently for any noise at all.

The door soon opened and light poured further into the carriage. A hand shot out and she took it, stepping out.

When she stepped out and her eyes adjusted, the sight of her hand in Lord Stark's threw her off. "Lord Stark…?"

Cregan's bright smile filled her sight. "Hello, sweet girl."

She looked around, noticing that Cregan's horse stood behind the carriage. "What is this? A-Are you trying to save me?" She asked with a confused brow.

"Am I- what?" His grip on her hand tightened. "No. No. Of course not."

She frowned. "Excuse my bluntness, my lord. Why are you here then?"

He took a step back to collect himself, and a bright smile came over his face. "Y/n." He took her other hand as well. "Who do you imagine wished for your hand so ardently?"

It clicked then and her eyes widened. "You-"

"-Indeed," he beamed.

Her mouth laid agape. "W-Why did you not tell me?"

He rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles. "I had thought your father would, but alas."

"I fear I've embarrassed myself then-"

"-anything but." He persisted, "You've proven to me just how loyal you are. That's a trait that is not easily learned."

"You truly wish for my hand?" She asked.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Of course. Now come, Rickon awaits us in Winterfell."

Her eyes lit up. "Then we must go." She moved to the carriage, then paused when she noticed Cregan's lack of movement. "You are not traveling with me?"

He frowned. "A northman does not fair well in carts and carriages. We're made for horses."

She hummed. "Very well." She turned on her heel and began to walk to the horse.

He shifted his weight to his other foot. "What're you doing?"

She looked over her shoulder. "What? Think I can't manage one horse ride?"

An amused smile came over his face and he shook his head in acceptance as he strode over to her.

Did he have to lift her onto the horse? Yes. Did he have the reigns the entire time? Yes. Did she know a single thing about horses? No.

Did he point it out or complain once? Never.

…

The young woman had spent more time with Rickon than it seemed with Cregan for the time being.

Sure, their wedding was still a few weeks out, but it was a strange thing to see a woman so infatuated with a son that was not of her blood.

"A horse? Yes," she grinned as she tapped the wooden horse on the ground as if it was galloping. "It's a mighty horse, isn't it? Very strong. Much like your papa's."

Rickon moved to his small chest of toys and pulled out another wooden thing, quickly moving to sit by her and do the same thing with his toy as hers.

"A direwolf? Horses gallop. See?" She replicated her motion. "But direwolves run. Here." She held her hand over his and lightly moved it to tap at a smoother and lighter rhythm. "Horses move with their mind. Wolves move with their hearts. That's what makes them predators."

Rickon tries to replicate the motion she made. It was sloppy, but it was clear that he got the idea.

"That's wonderful. You're a clever boy," she preened at him.

"Clever as his father?" Cregan grinned from the doorway.

She gasped and turned, not expecting to see him while she was seated on the cold stone floor. "Cregan-"

He walked further in and knelt on the other side of them. "What have we here? A hungry wolf? Or is he friendly?"

She laughed. "All of our animals are friendly. Aren't they, Rickon?" When he nodded, she continued. "Wolves aren't hungry within these walls, Cregan."

His eyes were glued to hers, an obvious heat moving through his body. "Perhaps there is one."

Her head shot up and met his gaze, a pink hue coming to her cheeks. "I-"

Rickon's eyes had watered, and the boy let out a sniffle.

The tension was quickly broken, for both now focused on the boy.

"My boy," Cregan hummed. "No need for tears. I didn't mean that. There's no wolf besides Dark Watch. And she's no evil thing, is she?"

The boy finally let out a real cry, clearly terrified at the thought of a hungry wolf in Winterfell.

Cregan held his arms out, ready to receive the boy's wet cheek upon his chest. But it never came.

He heard her soft gasp as Rickon launched himself against her chest in desperation. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and began to rock him. "Your father didn't mean it, my little Rickon. It was only a jest."

Cregan wanted to be mad. He felt that maybe he should be. But there was no angry bone in his body.

His son had found a comfort besides him.

He believed he found himself falling further for her, if that was even possible.

…

"CREGAN!"

His head shot up from the letters sprawled across the council table. "Excuse me."

He didn't wait for permission from the council members before he ran out of the room and a fast pace.

The man pushed himself to run down the stairs, through the corridors that felt like forever, until he came upon his son's room.

"Cre-Oh. Oh, you missed the most wonderful thing," his betrothed beamed.

Relief filled him. "I thought you dead from the sounds."

"My heart is very much alive," she claimed. She held Rickon on her hip and Cregan couldn't help but imagine her doing so with his seed growing inside her.

He had to physically shake the thought away.

"W-What is it?"

She pulled Rickon closer to focus and her voice lowered. "Pa-pa," she enunciated. "P-ah p-uh."

She looked expectantly at the boy who only stared back.

"Oh, Cregan. I promise he said it. I truly do!"

He shook his head with a sigh. "I believe you. I do. But I've not heard him speak. If it wasn't for his cries, I'd fear he had no voice at all."

"Be easy on him. He's learning."

"He should have already," Cregan sighed. "I fear it's my fault."

Her head tilted and she shifted the boy. "I don't see how it could be."

Cregan fully sat at that point, crossing his legs lazily. "His mother died on the birthing bed, you know."

She nodded. "I remember."

"I was in shambles after that. Couldn't dare to look at him." He ran a hand through his hair as if brushing the memory away. "Took some time to get over it. And by then, well, the damage was done."

Her heart ached at his honesty. "There were wet nurses and servants to help though, surely?"

"Yes, but none are the same as a father's touch."

Her body grew warm, and not just from the child in her arms. "Indeed."

Cregan leaned forward and brushed his hand over the back of the boy's head. "He's a good child. I'm glad he has you."

She looked up at the man and admired the genuine smile that was over his face.

…

The weeks following were easy. Breaking fast with Cregan, followed by a walk through the halls to help her grow confidence in her home. Then hours in the library where she read or stitched. A servant brought small foods to tide her over to supper. Then supper with both Cregan and Rickon. The poor boy had to sit on his knees to even see over the table.

"No, no," Cregan laughed heartily. "You were terrified, my love!"

"I was n-" She couldn't help but brake into a smile. "Well, you're an intimidating man at first sight!"

"Am I still?" He asked as a tease, but it was mixed with something else. "Do I frighten you?"

Her breath escaped in a short pant, overcome with the thought of what being his wife would truly entail.

He was frightening to everyone. Firm and strong, not easily swayed. Cold and forbidding.

"No."

"No?"

"Not at all."

He gained a smirk. "How so?"

Her eyes shifted between him and his son. "You're softer than you wish to seem."

A fire was lit behind his eyes, and she knew that if Rickon wasn't there, they may have been doing something entirely different.

"Smart girl."

She preened at his praise.

…

"What about-"

"-I have it handled."

Her head tilted. "Fine. And th-"

"-It's been done. You worry too much."

"One last thing. T-"

"You intelligently foolish woman," he sighed as he took her shoulders in his large hands. "I have done it all. You need only do your part."

She forced herself to take a deep breath. "You wonderful man."

"And you, Lady Bolton? Are you not a wonder as well?" He grinned.

"Lady Stark," she corrected him.

…

She fit into the role of lady with grace and ease.

As if there was never such a prefect fit.

"Come," she beckoned Rickon along. "Your father is expecting us, and we shan't keep him waiting."

Upon seeing them enter the council room, Cregan's gloomy demeanor was instantly lightened. He stood up. "You're late."

She hums. "Do excuse us. Lord Rickon was practicing his jumping and who am I to stop him?" She teased

"Ah," he acknowledged when they got close enough. He bent down and picked up the boy. Once Rickon was held firmly against him, Cregan tilted his head down and kissed his wife deeply.

She pulled away with a fond giggle and red cheeks.

Cregan was an unashamed man, kissing his wife in such a manner in front of his councilmen. "Sit," he gestured to her chair. "Let us begin."

…

"I'll never know how to thank you," Cregan remarked quietly one day.

The three had managed to get away from Winterfell for an afternoon. Seated on the dead grass, she watched Rickon spend his time chasing a bird that was so far in the air, he'd never have a chance, even if he could fly behind it.

"Thank me? For what?"

"For this. For being able to live in such ease," he said as he gestured out to the field.

"I should be thanking you," she hummed as she reached out to their basket and ripped of a small piece of bread, eating it.

He leaned to her and placed a sweet kiss to her cheek. "Never."

She giggled and ripped another, now turning to him. "Fatherhood suits you, my love." Her hand came up to his lips.

He opened his mouth, smirking as his wife's hand pushed the bread between his lips. Her fingers rest there as a look comes into her eyes.

Cregan chewed the bread then kissed at her fingers. "And you, you wonderful mother."

"PAPA!"

Their heads shot up at the sound.

"Rickon?" Cregan's eyes widened. "RICKON?" He stood in a hurry and his eyes scanned the field.

He ran out when he saw where his son sat in the dirt. "Son, what are you doing? Gods, are you well?"

Rickon looked over his shoulder. In his hand was a flower. He held it up.

"Oh." Cregan bent down. "You scared me, boy. Yes, yes, that's a lovely flower."

Rickon stood up on his still pudgy legs and moved passed his father.

Y/n had been watching and had slowly starting walking to them. When Rickon neared, she bent down. "Did you speak?" She asked softly.

Rickon held the flower out to her.

"For me? Oh, you sweet, sweet boy!" She picked him up and spun him around. "I've never been more proud."

Cregan had joined them at that point. He pulled his wife into his hold. He kissed the crown of her head and whispered in her hair, "Thank you for this. Thank you, my girl."

The family stood there in the field, enjoying every bit of their lives together.

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#fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #game of thrones imagine #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark imagine #game of thrones x reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon

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doomdoomofdoom · 2 months ago

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Running the mild risk of reblogging something related to the show I am trying so hard to be unspoiled for until I binge season 2

But genuinely this. So much this. These two shows are what I consider some of the best shows and overall pieces of media ever made. And that's because they got to be made on the creator's terms. They had their story to tell and a vision to follow, and they got exactly the time needed to create it. No more and no less. (they share the title of "best media" with Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, where I admittedly don't know a lot about production, followed by the Extended Version of Lord of the Rings, which gets blemished by the franchise carrying on to print money.)

We have a lot of negative examples of shows that got cut too short, especially in modern day animation (Steven Univers and The Owl House come to mind. I am also forever mad about Inside Job, which didn't even get to wrap up. Or unfold in the first place!) And we have the other side of the coin, too, most prominently in mid-2000s TV dramas. There's obviously Supernatural, which I don't think I have to explain to anyone on this helled site, and Lost, whose creators had to fight for their right to end the show.

Both result in endings that are either unsatisfying or outright insulting.

I am on my knees begging networks to let their creators just... create.

I was talking to my coworker today about my deep belief that more media should be finite. Some of the most disappointing endings in TV happen because there wasn’t an end goal that the plot was working toward all along. Ironically this came up because I was lamenting Arcane only being two seasons, a decision I admire, respect, and mourn.

I was juxtaposing How I Met Your Mother with The Office. The whole conceit of HIMYM is that the story is supposed to be leading toward this woman who haunts the narrative with her absence but because they set out with no end goal the finale is ultimately so unsatisfying. Nine seasons of build up for someone who could never have lived up to the hype because she wasn’t chosen beforehand or included early on.

Contrasted the The Office which was nine seasons that only ever claimed to be about the daily lives of office workers. Things get a bit looney tunes at times but ultimately the finale feels correct because there wasn’t some stated goal they’d been working toward narratively all along.

I then stated that the best and most elegant storytelling for TV was on The Good Place, in which every episode furthered the understanding of moral philosophy, advanced the plot, and was funny. It set out with a clear story and wrapped up exactly where it intended in one of the most satisfying conclusions ever that makes me cry every time.

My coworker then said, “What’s The Good Place?”

I froze. I frantically ran back everything I’d said thus far for spoilers and concluded that I had not ruined the plot. “You haven’t seen it?”

“No, it’s pretty good?”

“It’s. Really good.”

He mused about watching it with his partner or alone. I know he doesn’t like to rewatch media but I still suggested, “Watch it alone first, and then rewatch it with her. Trust me. The twist at the end of the first season will recontextualize everything and you’ll get to watch her reaction.”

I hope I get to hear him talk about it when I work with him next. I’m excited.

#ramble #media #the good place #i am not tagging the other show. i am not even naming the other show. like the m-word. i do not want to see a single post about it.#if you haven't seen any of the good examples i am imploring you to do so. also Nimona. watch Nimona.#if you havent seen any of the bad examples... dont sweat it #now im mad about inside job again. it was SO GOOD.#not to get all conspiratorial on the conspiracy show. but the lead being a bisexual asian-american woman 1000% factored into it #who do i have to sacrifice to renew inside job #ill do it.

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luveline · 3 months ago

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Hi love your work. I was wondering if you could do a role reversal of the bombshell!reader under anesthesia? One where Aaron woke up and has forgotten he's married to reader so is shocked at her affection (not in a bad way), he just can't believe this beautiful woman is flirting with snd comforting him?

thank you for requesting! fem

Aaron is woken by a soft, displeased hum.

He pries sticky eyes apart to peek at the source, a woman his junior with a tray table wheeled in front of her. You have neat hands, clipped nails painted softest pink, a ring on your marriage finger, and a little pearl necklace that’s fallen free of your collar to swing as you pen a letter. No, not a letter. A case file.

You’re a police officer?

He turns the other way, hoping for a more familiar face, but the only inhabitants of the room are you, him, and his pounding headache. A groan slips past his lips unbidden, Aaron watching in real time as you look up like he’s shocked you. You turn sympathetic and softer, somehow, your face plucking a weird string in his chest. It’s almost like deja vu, but Aaron would remember being looked at like this.

“You okay?” you ask quietly.

He clears his throat. “What happened?” he asks hoarsely. Clearing his throat a second time proves more successful. “What happened?”

“You were struck hard in the back of the head with a rifle. A few times, actually. Luckily nothing broke, but you have a cut and a bruise like nobody’s business. Try not to touch.”

“What about the team?”

He realises with a start that he can’t remember who he means. Were the team actually with him? Dave had been there, right? Derek?

“Reid sprained his wrist. Everyone else is fine.”

Reid, you said, and not Dr. Reid. Aaron frowns deeply, the headache a full, eye-deep pain that worsens when he props himself up on his elbows.

You watch him carefully. After a moment, you push the table away from you and get up, turning to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let his eyes widen, not even as you place your hand on his stomach, imploring in your gentleness, leaning in to see him better. In that moment, you might be the most beautiful woman Aaron has ever seen; his heart does a great whirl, picking up its pace. He has just enough capacity to recognise how lucky he is to be detached from any observational tech.

“What’s worrying you, Aaron?” you ask, thumb rubbing a line into the skin just below his stomach. A butterfly like a hawk beats behind your touch. “You have that strange pinch between your eyebrows.” You draw a line up his stomach, showing him how they’re pulled up. He must look near tears as you go. “You only get that when you’re scared, but everyone’s fine, I promise.”

He must know you. You clearly know him, your tone alone settling his heart while his mind races.

“You won’t be out of the field long, and you know I can do it for you while you’re gone. I’m capable,” you say.

“You are,” he says. He’s telling the truth, though he doesn’t know how.

You shuffle further up the bed. Aaron sits properly, forcing your hand to fall. You clasp his thigh on instinct, and that tumultuous zing of deja vu washes over him again.

“You have the worst luck, handsome,” you murmur, rubbing at his leg, soothing him without thinking.

“I…” He trails off as he catches sight of your wedding band. Silver-gold, a pear-shaped 3.00ct diamond. He chose it on a whim. Aaron nearly swallows his own tongue as he looks up, the memory of it not quite connecting to you. You.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re being so quiet,” he asks.

“Well, you gave me a bad scare,” you say, leaning in further, unafraid to breathe his air. “I thought I lost you. It was terrifying.”

The breathlessness in your confession is a barb. He grabs your hand where it lays and squeezes accordingly. “That won’t happen,” he promises.

You turn your hand into his, slotting your fingers together deftly. “Do you remember me now, Hotchner?” you ask.

He looks you straight in the eye. He doesn’t remember you, not really. But he remembers the size of your fingers threaded through his, and he remembers how nervous he’d tried not to be when he bought that ring, and he remembers your hand warming his thigh in the car every morning.

“Almost,” he says. His breath catches. “You’re beautiful,” he says.

“You said something similar the first time you woke up. I blamed the morphine for your puppy-eyes, but…” You smile at him fondly. “I don’t think you’re drugged enough to say it and not mean it, now.”

“I mean it,” he says, nodding. “Of course I mean it.”

“I know.” You kiss his cheek.

“Will you tell me your name?” he asks.

You do, and Aaron falls in love with you all over again.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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eternity-death · 11 months ago

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Penacony Reactions to you spanking them

No TW’s I think. Just sillies being silly. Established relationship with Reader in all these hc’s.

—————

Hanabi

Head snaps 180° at you and you scream.

She’s traumatized you and now you will never do it again.

This doesn’t stop her from getting you back, though. And she’ll do it in public to make it worse. It’s not a one-and-done deal either, it becomes a regular thing.

You’ve just sentenced yourself to a life of sore-booty and humiliation. Was it really worth it?

Black Swan

Stares at you.

Her expression is a little hard to read and the longer she looks at you the more you feel implored to apologize.

She’s not mad though, she’s actually rather amused. And she’s getting even more entertainment by watching you squirm.

Eventually she gives and just chuckles. If you’ll allow her, then she’ll give you a nice tap on the butt too.

Sampo

He does that one goofy (Mickey mouse) scream.

Very animated reaction. Jumps 10 feet off the ground and covers his behind. He looks back at you like a kicked puppy but you know it’s all fake.

Sniffles and says smthn like, “How could you do this to your best bud, Sampo?”

Gets you back when you least expect it. Like you actually scream bloody murder because your guard is down and you can’t hear him sneak up on you bc he’s light on his feet. It doesn’t matter if you’re in public either. Be very afraid.

Aventurine

“Woah! Getting a little frisky, eh?”

If you’ve got something separating you two like a chair or a counter, he will chase you around it to reach you. Spanks you back, harder, with zero hesitation.

He starts tapping your butt as a regular thing afterwards. Almost like a greeting.

“Hey babe.” Then a light slap. When he feels extra mischievous he’ll grab it.

Acheron

You are unable to slap her booty because she catches your hand before it makes contact.

Just kind of looks at you and goes, “What are you doing.”

You explain to her that spanking is a sort of gesture between close companions. She doesn’t quite get it but decides to just go with it.

Later on, when she greets you, she strikes her hand down on your behind so hard that your teeth clatter. She asks if she did it right with such a hopeful tone, that you can’t find it in yourself to tell her that shattering someone’s pelvis is not part of the gesture. (When she does find out that she’s hurt you she apologizes deeply and coddles you)

Dr. Ratio

Lets out a high pitched yelp.

Gives you the most scandalized look and defensively rubs his tush.

“Did you really just do what I think you did?”

Strategizes a way to get you back. He has a blackboard with physics equations for the perfect angle and fall of his hand, pinned papers and calendars with your schedule and his, etc. He’s terrible at hiding his intentions too. When the time comes for his revenge you already anticipate it. What you didn’t anticipate was how strong he was. You guess those biceps aren’t just for show.

Firefly

Why would you ever? What kind of monster are you?

She yelps and just stares at you; hands covering her behind, face flushed, and her mouth agape.

Apologize.

Sam

You have a death wish.

Another one who catches your hand before you can spank. He just puts your hand back in your lap and goes, “No.”

He actually just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. His… butt… isn’t very soft, you see.

If you want him to, he’ll lightly tap yours back.

March 7nth

Gasps and launches herself at you with full intention of getting you back.

It turns into a chase, where you run in circles around the gazebo until she gets too tired and gives up.

You laugh about it but later forget. Little do you know, March has been scheming ever since.

“AHA!” You feel a harsh slap against your behind and yelp. The vendor you were talking to looks at you and your girlfriend as if you’ve both grown an extra head. She laughs victoriously, “See? I told you payback was coming!”

Robin

��Oh!!!” Gasps and covers herself. She’s a little freaked out at first but once she see’s it’s you she giggles.

You don’t really expect her to spank you back but she does. With the same amount of force that you used.

It kinda escalates into a competition where you two see who can land the most spanks in one day. Just don’t do it in front of her brother.

You’re losing btw.

Sunday

Do NOT spank him in public. He will be very crossed with you. Not funny did not laugh.

You may proceed with the spank if you are in private though.

He actually squeaks when you do. Then once the initial shock wears off he laughs, incredibly amused by you. Doesn’t say it but he plans on returning the favor.

When he does get you back you don’t expect it. You’re probably cooking or marking off the calendar when he passes you and goes, “Good morning, my love.” And then he slaps your butt. Moderate strength, enough to make you yelp but not enough to sting.

#hsr x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #Sampo x reader #Hanabi x reader #sparkle x reader #black swan x reader #Robin x reader #dr. ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #Acheron x reader #firefly x reader #Sam x reader #march 7nth x reader #if you’re like ‘hey I’ve seen smthn similar to this before for genshin’ that was probably me on my other acc #aventurine x reader

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