Gwayne Hightower On My Screen In Real Life?? I Used To Pray For Times Like This

Gwayne Hightower on my screen… in real life?? I used to pray for times like this…

My half written Gwayne Hightower fic sitting in my drafts is looking at me… calling my name even…

Disappointed but not surprised… brb while I go cry into my pillows 💔

Would you still be interested in a fic though??? We could just use him as a fancast…. Thoughts??

I think Benjicot Blackwood might just drag me out of my hole (writers block) because there is just something about him… I literally cannot wait for tonights episode ((hopefully it is actually Ben because word on the street says otherwise))

I am also working on requests and a couple of other works, they just need to be proofread, so sorry for the long wait life has been extremely busy :3 💕

Hello! May i request another cute moment with Cregan Stark and his son? Maybe Cregan was starting to teach his son how to use the sword. Idk if this is a good idea.

-Cregan Stark x Reader

I love this!! thank you for requesting, enjoy my lovelies💕

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Summer in the North was not so different from the winter, save for the slightest change in the air and the fact that the sun made an appearance every now and again. The people also seemed happier too, lighter without the weight of worry that sat heavily upon their shoulders.

This meant that Cregan had more free time, the afternoons now spent with his son, Rickon, out in the training yard. The echos of their laughter filled Winterfell with a warmth, it was infectious.

You stand underneath the stony overhang, watching the pair of them with a content expression. Cregan shows him how to hold the wooden sword, giving him pointers on how to stand correctly and how to swing the sword without hurting himself.

“There we go son, getting the hang of it.” He beams proudly, watching Rickon swing the sword against the hay-filled man before ruffling his brown hair with a chuckle. He was so patient with him, never once rushing him.

The sound of your clapping makes the pair of them turn around, each of them wearing the same love-filled expression and dark messy hair.

“Momma!” Rickon giggles, dropping his sword before rushing over to you with a toothy grin and bright eyes. It still makes your heart leap with joy whenever he calls you ‘momma’ despite the fact he isn’t yours you still love him like he is, he’s practically your other half.

You reach down to brush the snowflakes from his hair, your hand brushing against his rosy cheek as hugs you sideways. “Are you not too cold my sweet?” You ask softly, watching as he shakes his head.

“No… but did you see me, did you? I’ll be using real swords soon!” He exclaims excitedly, jumping up and down in pure joy as Cregan joins the pair of you, resting his hand against the small of your back.

“I did, you’re a natural.” Your words only make his smile brighten, his hands clasping together with a giggle. The sight causes Cregan's heart to melt, tenderness blooming through his chest.

It fills him with adoration, the way you treat his son with such kindness, how you’ve learned all about his interests and the way you read to him nightly. The love he harbours for the pair of you was stronger than the winds of the North.

Rickon rushes off back to the training yard, shouting for you to watch him before picking the wooden sword back up.

“Here… you look cold, my love.” Cregan notes, taking off one of his furs before draping them gently over your shoulders to protect you from the chill that lingers in the air. He takes your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles in hopes of warming them up.

You look up at him with a warm smile, watching as he guides your hands to his mouth, his lips peppering gentle kisses along your knuckles and the back of your hands. “Thank you, always so attentive.” You whisper, your tone carrying a certain twinge of playfulness.

“Of course, you’re carrying my child now, you deserve only the best.” He says firmly, pressing another kiss against your temple, his hand caressing your back comfortingly.

You hum in acknowledgement, leaning against his sturdy frame as he holds you close to his chest. The pair of you watch Rickon as he swings the wooden sword into the straw man with vigour.

“Do you think he’ll be excited?” You ask, tilting your head to look up at him, his hair half tied up to keep it out of his eyes.

“Oh, he’ll be over the moon.” His words soothe the worry in your heart, suddenly replaced by excitement as he continues with a chuckle, “I can already picture him, as soon as they can walk he’ll be dragging them out here.”

You giggle at the thought of Rickon teaching his younger sibling to sword fight, your hand falling to the slight swell of your stomach. The idea of the Winterfell castle being filled with a litter of mini Starks, their laughter and bickering, it brought a giddiness to the both of you.

Rickon continues to practice for a few more minutes, running towards the straw man with the sword grasped tightly in his hands only to slip, falling against the gravel on his knees, you gasp softly in worry as Cregan goes to walk over to him.

“I’m okay!” He calls out to the pair of you, standing up with a bright smile, brushing off his knees before running back over to you.

“Gods be good.” Your husband sighs, shaking his head with a small twinge of amusement flickering through his eyes. “Let’s get you both inside, hey…”

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- He is kind

-Kindness is a quality I found lacking in his brothers.

Daeron mention but at what cost!! This family has me sobbing every Sunday, it isn’t even funny.

Hi! I’ve got a request please for Aegon after he’s injured at Rook’s Rest where wife!reader won’t leave his bedside just watching him rest and helping care for him and soothing him when he’s able to wake up 🥺

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{The days following Rooks Rest were spent by Aegon’s side and no where else}

Thank you for the request!! Enjoy my lovelies 💕

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It was a day just like the last, the morning sun was blocked behind the thick tapestry that hangs over the huge windows. It casts a hazy light through the chambers, the smoke from the candles dances through the soft rays of sun that peak between the gaps.

The chair beside Aegon’s sick bed was your new home, you slept and ate there- well what little you could stomach. The Maesters had advised you to get proper rest, urging you out of the room whenever they had to tend to him. However, all their complaints went in one ear and out the other.

You were adamant and so they all soon gave in, the desperation in your eyes must’ve spoken to something deep in Grand Maester Orwyle.

The sound of Aegon’s shallow breaths is the only sound that breaks through the silence, along with the faint crackle of candle flames that were starting to die out. You were almost on the cusp of sleep, your head tipping to the side as you try to fight off the heavy weight of exhaustion.

Although your attempts are futile, there was a restlessness that had coiled itself around your body holding you from finding peace ever since they had brought your husband back to the Red Keep in that wooden box, the memory still stirs your stomach unpleasantly.

Shaking the thought off you lean forward slightly, reaching over to brush his hair away from his face, your knuckles grazing over his unburned cheek. His skin is warm to the touch, hot with the leftover remnants of a fever he had not long broken.

You stare at him, watching him sleep so soundly that he almost looks at peace. If it weren’t for his pained expression and the way he weakly fists at the bedsheets then perhaps you might’ve tricked yourself into believing he was fine… just resting as the Maesters put it.

You dip a cotton cloth into the basin, wringing the water out before gently dabbing it against the untouched areas of his skin, the last parts of him that weren’t scorched. His body tenses up, and then a broken sigh passes through his chapped lips, the coolness brought him some relief if only for a few fleeting moments.

He sinks back into the comfort of the pillows as you bring the cloth over his chest, avoiding the marred skin. “… you’re still here?” He whispers, disbelief twinging through his broken tone, watching you through his bleary eye. He knows it’s you, despite the daze he is in. He can tell by the way you tend to him with a certain care that the Maesters didn’t have.

His voice sends a pang of hurt through your chest, hitting your heart. “Of course… I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, going back over to the basin to fold the cloth back in its place before walking over to him once more.

He had been in out of consciousness since this morning when you had witnessed him speak vaguely to Orwyle, his words then were slurred almost incoherent.

“You don’t have to.” He rasps, his actions betraying his words as his fingers twitch weakly in a desperate attempt to hold your hand. You meet him halfway, clasping your fingers around his palm.

“No, I want to. I’m not leaving you Aegon.” You tell him, more of a reassurance than anything. To soothe him whilst he remains in this almost delirious state. He nods feebly, a smile ghosting over his features, the feeling of your thumb caressing the inside of his wrist brings him peace of mind.

Your gaze casts along his body slowly, the dragon fire had caused a web of marred flesh over his chest and arm, across his face. An unsettling sight of pinks and reds, darker in some places and lighter in others as they blended into a violent purple in some areas, it was all extremely sensitive that even the bedsheets seemed to cause him a great deal of agony.

He watches the way your eyes study him, taking in the horrid sight that has become of him. He hates it more than anything, the look of grief in your eyes for a life that he was no longer able to live, long lost within the very same flames that had nearly claimed him. He hates it, such a solemn emotion doesn’t suit you.

Aegon looks up at you as if it was his first time really seeing you since he was first brought home. He seemed much more aware than he did yesterday. His purple eye brimming with tears that he has no control over, not right now in this condition.

“You look exhausted.” He states the obvious, looking at the deep bags underneath your eyes, although you are well aware of the fact. It was his shallow breaths that kept you from sleeping, far too scared that he might pass whilst you were unconscious.

You hum in acknowledgement, not trusting your voice to carry your words without breaking into a sob. His fingers squeeze your own, a wordless understanding, so softly that you barely even notice it.

You collect yourself, clearing your throat. “I’m okay, shall I get the Maesters?” Your words immediately make him shake his head, a desperate noise of protest slipping past his lips.

“No, stay. I need you.” He tells you, leaning into your palm with a shaky sigh.

His hand reaches for the soft velvet of your dress, trying to urge you closer to him, keeping you there with a small pained whimper. You wrap your fingers around his hands softly, looking down at him, trying to stop him with worry in your eyes as he tries to sit up.

“Stop it Aegon, you’re going to hurt yourself. I’m not leaving just lay back.” You promise, urging him to rest back down against the pillows. He mumbles something that sounds more like a jumble of pained blusters, letting you guide him back to the comfort of the pillows.

“Sit down with me,” he whispers in a strained tone, noting the hesitation in your eyes as you look across his burned skin.

You do ask he asks, perching yourself down on the edge of his bed. Your eyes search his expression for any signs of discomfort, but you are met with only a weak smile as his hand rests against your lap.

He looks over to the chair beside his bed, the blankets and pillows that were placed over the cushions, the small tray of food on the table nearby that had been untouched… you really hadn’t left his side? The thought chokes him up.

“You’ve been sleeping in that old chair this entire time? Don’t be silly…” He says, working his fingers between your own, his thumb stroking across your wedding ring. “You should be in bed… sleeping.”

“What use am I to you if I’m in bed?” You ask him, looking down at his hand as he caresses the small gemstones on your ring.

It had become some sort of habit of his, over time as he let you into his heart little by little. It brought him comfort to know that you chose to stay with him, for all his faults you still found yourself caring for reasons that Aegon can’t seem to comprehend even now.

Aegon furrowed his eyebrows slightly, a weak scoff escaping his chapped lips. Your selflessness would forever puzzle him. “You are my wife, I won’t have you wasting away.” He spoke with a sternness, he was worried about you. How much sleep have you had- or food for that matter- if any at all.

You sigh, opening your mouth to argue with him but he quickly cuts you off. “You’d be no use to me at all by torturing yourself like this, you silly girl…” The words carry some truth, but you were stubborn.

“You worrying about me whilst you lay here…like this… that is silly Aegon.” You tell him, looking down at your lap to your joined hands as his thumb continues to idly rub over the wedding band.

He grunts, looking up at you with a small frown but he can’t be mad. He missed you far too much to spend these moments arguing. “You are frustratingly stubborn… I missed you.” He whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your ring.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, letting him guide your hand to rest against his cheek. He leans into the warmth of your palm as your thumb caresses him once again.

“I’ve missed you… so much.” You breathe, words coming out hushed as you try to keep the tears from falling down your exhausted eyes.

He watches you with slight confusion as you suddenly scramble over to the tables beside your chair, grabbing something before joining him at his side once more. Before he can ask what you were doing you take his uninjured hand, gently pushing his own wedding ring onto his finger.

His heart stops for a moment, leaping into his stomach at the feeling. The affection, the gentleness, makes his throat close up and he can’t do much, rendered speechless as he stares up at you with disbelief.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up… that you were-” dead… you can’t speak the word, you didn’t dear to, just in case in some sick turn of events it might come to fruition.

The tears fall freely, looking down at your wedding rings. A symbol that meant much more than just duty, you were entwined by the soul and heart, tethered to each other.

He reaches up to brush your tears away, his expression softening. “I’m here… I’m not going anywhere.” He rasps, hating the fact he can do more to soothe you. He’s never felt so useless before then he does right now.

“As am I… I’m not going anywhere.” your teary response makes him chuckle weakly.

“Come here…” he grunts, trying to play off the pain that was still searing through his body in hot flashes.

“No- I don’t want to hurt you.” You whisper, suddenly panicked as he tries to tug you down to him by his good arm.

He beckons you closer, his fingers curling around the back of your head. “You won’t… just please.” He begs meekly.

You steady yourself, pressing the palms of your hands against the mattress- being super vigilant of the burns that tarnish his body- as he lowers you down to kiss him. Your lips meeting his own gently before you pull away.

“No more. Rest before you overexert yourself.” You tell him sternly, getting up from the bed as he grumbles in a mixture of objection and pain, watching you walk back over to the wash basin. His complaints soon die down at the feeling of the cool damp rag pressing against his chest.

“Thank you.” He whispers, moulding back into the pillows. The chill it brings against his flushed skin was very welcomed.

“Shh, just relax.” You coo softly and it isn’t long before he’s drifting back off to sleep. His hand entwined with your own, your rings glistening underneath the soft candlelight, not willing to let go even in his unconscious state.

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