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mirukkuvanilla · 5 months ago

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𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

✧.* 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: female reader/description, canon divergent, arguments, fluff

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: lord stark's wife refuses to take any part in the war. (based off THIS request)

✧.* 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 548

blog masterlist | cregan stark masterlist

A YEAR BEFORE THE START OF THE TARGARYEN CIVIL WAR, THE DAUGHTER OF THE LATE LADY ROYCE AND PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN WED LORD CREGAN STARK. Y/n was every bit her parents' child, temperamental and headstrong. But her fire fit well with the cool ice of her husband, and together they found love. She was happy in the North. Their only worries were the lands beyond the Wall, and even then, little was heard about it.

Her father sent her a letter the moment the news of Aegon's crowning reached them. It arrived in a matter of days after the raven was sent . A servant passed it to Cregan, who showed it to his wife. Her face stilled when she read the words and her fingers caused creases into the page. She put it away and left the courtyard, calling for her Cannibal and soaring away to calm her various emotions. The cold winds in her face and the exhilaration could often soothe her.

When she returned, the skies were dark and the torches and lanterns had been lit. She let the beast retreat to the forest and she returned to her chambers.

Her husband had yet to come back, presumably consumed by his lordly duties. She took a bath whilst he was gone and he saw her as she was slipping into bed.

"You missed supper," he said.

"I know," she replied.

"I'd wager we should discuss this," he began. Cregan was always straight to the point, never one to wriggle around topics of discomfort.

"What is there to discuss?" her nonchalance disappeared from her voice. "It is clear."

"Join your father?"

Y/n frowned. "No."

His eyebrows raised. "You would break the oaths my father swore?"

"I will break no oaths," she defended. "Rickon Stark never swore to fight a war. He swore to accept her as heir. I accept Rhaenyra as heir. I do not fight her war."

"And why is that?"

"My father is likely acting as some puppeteer," she looked aside. "He will pull his strings and lay his schemes of blood and chaos. I cannot trust him, I will not risk myself or you for him. And the North— when our armies land in the south the war will be over and done with. And either victor will persecute us for that. We will be chastised for our lack of participation or beheaded for our support of the queen. It is unnecessary preparation for the winter and I refuse to leave this place remaining defenceless when the men are gone."

When her words were finished her sight was met with Cregan's smile. He looked proud almost, and yet her warring mind and high emotion took it as something else. "What?"

"Nothing," he sat beside her, the bed dipping when he put down his weight. "The North claims more of your character each day."

She rolled her eyes. "I meant what I said."

"I know," he shifted closer. His cold lips pressed against her forehead, and her stubbornness unwillingly bent to it. She leaned on his shoulder and he slung his large arm around her shoulders. "I will not declare."

Y/n grinned now. They would keep their peace here, and only should the time come, then their defences would be put forward.

Tags: @mirukkuvanilla @literishdegree99 @jacaerysgf

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mirukkuvanilla · 5 months ago

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THIS IS SO SWEET AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA😩❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

✧.* 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: female reader/description, canon divergent, targaryen description, mentions of bedding ceremonies, valyrian weddings (blood), fluff, use of Y/n

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: it takes two to make a marriage. (based on THIS REQUEST and THIS REQUEST)

✧.* 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2,260

blog masterlist | cregan stark masterlist

A/N: First time writing for my skibidi alpha (I'm sorry)

LONG AGO DID Y/N MAKE HER PEACE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF HER BETROTHAL. She was set to marry Lord Cregan Stark since she turned seven and ten, the current Warden of the North. She'd heard he was somewhat of a stiff boy, especially after the passing of his father, and that he showed no mercy, even to those with whom he shared blood. But they'd met a moon after the engagement was set and she discovered him to be a little softer than the ice that encrusted his outer character.

That time, she did not arrive upon her dragon, instead taking a gruelling month long journey in a carriage in order to display her family's amity, but now of course she refused to undergo the same travels. She took her necessities with her and wrote a letter ahead in hopes her future husband would provide her with clothes and belongings before the rest would arrive.

When she was fourteen did she claim her dragon, the Bronze Fury Vermithor. He was the largest in the world exempting ancient Vhagar, and he was a sight to behold. Vermithor seemed reluctant toward the chilly weather, though he shook the snow off his back as he landed just outside the gates of Winterfell.

On the way to the fort, she'd spied some wild animals that he could hunt and regain his energy, so she sent him off, reminding him to return at her call.

Cregan was not expecting her at first, which she did not take to offence. It was hard to determine at which time would a dragon arrive, and he absolved any insult he might've unknowingly inflicted when he came to greet her minutes after she strode into the courtyard. He was exactly how she remembered him. She unfortunately had not caught up to him in height, and she doubt she ever would now. He towered over her with the intensity of the Starks, his grey eyes piercing and half his brown hair tied back. He was clad in grey fabric and a hefty fur coat, the silver direwolf symbol shining on his belt.

She stepped forward and her knees bent ever so slightly. She even released a small smile, despite the shivers that were now creeping into her bones. "My lord."

His stone face seemed to warm, returning her smile with a subtle grin of his own. "Princess."

He took hold of her hand in his gloved fingers, raising it to him to kiss. His lips were cold.

"I hope your travels were safe, princess," he said, in his deep Northern cadence.

"Very much so, my lord," she nodded.

"Good," he nodded back. "Come. It is warmer inside."

True to his words, the walls of Winterfell managed to capture a pleasant heat, stopping the chatters of her teeth. It was not as grand as the Red Keep, that was certain, but she could sense a certain sense of home to it, and she found herself thinking it would not be so bad to live here.

He led her all the way to one of the rooms, a decently sized bedroom made up of stone bricks and wooden pillars. Her bed was in the middle against the back wall, plusher than she was expecting with black and red sheets. The colours of her house. It could be a coincidence, though she would rather it was based upon his own volition that they were those colours. There was a small fireplace a few paces from the door and a rug in front of it. She spied a sturdy wardrobe and a chest.

"This is where you will stay," he announced softly. "That is... until we are wed, of course. You will move to my chambers."

"Thank you," Y/n said. She swore she caught a speckle of pink on his face. She hung the strap of her satchel to one of the posts on the bed, tucking a loose strand of her white hair behind her ear.

"Get some rest, princess," he whispered. He was already halfway out the door. It shut with a creak and left her alone.

She took a seat on the mattress. What would usually sink down remained right up. Apparently, the Northerners liked it stiff when they slept.

She sighed, another draft managing to sneak beneath the door and the wooden design atop the window. It was not what she had in mind for the rest of her life, but she was sure she would be able to make something of it soon.

"MY LORD!" Y/N CALLED OUT.

It had been a fortnight since she arrived to Winterfell, her wedding fast approaching. Cregan had been unavailable most of the time, entwined in hunts and meetings of importance. They'd met only twice to discuss the details of their day, and the interactions were short-lived. She wanted to make an attempt of bonding with the man to be her husband, yet it was impossible to find time. She found him on the way to his chambers, and desperately ran forward.

"Princess?" he frowned, halting before he reached his doors.

"Do not sleep just yet," she panted, her running taking out the air from her lungs. "Stay in your coat, please."

"What is the matter?" the neutrality in his tone was replaced with concern. She saw his hand reach for the hilt of his sword.

She shook her head. "Nothing of that sort. I... well I haven't seen much of you. And... I suppose I wish to spend time with you before we marry. I uh, thought you might like to meet Vermithor."

"And that is your dragon?"

"Yes," she answered. Her heart thudded in her chest. Maybe this was a mistake, and he'd seen her as a foolish princess with her unsuccessful events of connection-

"I'd like to," he interrupted her storm of thoughts.

She smiled, her hands fidgeting together. Her heart was still speeding, though not from her trepidation as before.

They made their way out of the castle, their footsteps echoing and sliding against the stone floors.

"I must admit I am nervous," he confessed.

"You?" her eyes went wide. The Stark lord? Nervous?

"Every man has his fears, princess," Cregan said solemnly. "Some are merely better at hiding them."

"Ah," she wetted her lips. "Well Vermithor is of kind temperament. He is tolerant of those he does not know. And he listens to me, should anything happen to you."

"The dragon is one thing," he stated. "But... I am more afraid of displeasing you, princess."

"I doubt you could displease me, my lord," she grinned. "If you do, you should start fearing the dragon more."

They chuckled, a comfortable silence swarming the rest of their short journey.

"OPEN THE GATE!" Cregan barked, a high contrast between the soft voice he'd used with her just moments ago.

They took a step outside. The nights were far worse than the days, and she swallowed and tried to ignore the biting chill again.

"Vermithor!" she sang, her Valyrian accent now taking hold of her words. Cregan marvelled at it. She sounded like music. "Vermithor!"

The quiet of dusk was gone, instead interrupted by a groan and the sound of the flap of wings. Vermithor descended into the sky, his large body casting more shadow upon them. He flew down slowly, the weight of him causing a rumble when his feet landed.

"Bisa māzīlare valzȳrys ñuha issa," she cooed, taking a step to the beast. "Kostilus nykē syt manda sas, zaldrizes ñuhys." (This is my future husband. Please be nice for me, my dragon.)

She placed her hand on his cheek, the warmth of his bronze scales taking the frozen feeling in her fingers. She beamed, pressing her forehead against him.

"Come," she said to Cregan.

The lord approached her and the dragon tentatively. "How do I...?"

She grasped his large hand, sparks flying within her at the contact of their skin. She placed it right where she'd formerly touched Vermithor.

Cregan looked on with awe, slowly beginning to stroke him. Vermithor let out a low rumble, which startled the lord. He began to step back but she reassured him it was okay.

He took her back to her chambers. Before he could leave, she rose to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you on the morrow, my lord. At the altar."

"At the altar," he repeated.

She shut the door and walked to bed, the curve of her mouth evident and unwavering.

SURPRISINGLY, LORD CREGAN HAD AGREED TO NOT ONLY A WEDDING OF THE OLD GODS, BUT ONE OF OLD VALYRIA. They'd decided to do it before the traditional Northern wedding, with her family as witnesses in Winterfell's courtyard. The second would be in front of the masses.

She tried to stifle the giggles that escaped her upon seeing his unfamiliarity with the Valyrian robes. It suited her, with her features, yet seeing them on a Stark was quite the sight. But Cregan smiled at her amusement, and readied himself for the ceremony.

Her mother, Rhaenyra, presented him with the blade of dragonglass. Cregan took it nervously, though a supportive nod from the princess was enough to soothe him. He lifted the blade to her lower lip and cut a neat line in the middle. The sting was considerable, and she blinked hard to hold in the pain. He reached out, his thumb collecting the blood at her lip to press the shape onto her forehead.

She did the same to him, impressed that he showed no sign of discomfort.

Then, Cregan cut a line into his palm. He passed the dragonglass to Y/n who quickly sliced at herself. They joined hands, their blood intermingling and dripping down into the cup below. They both drank from it, wincing at the metallic taste.

She held her breath, knowing what was to come now. He leaned down and kissed her. Her stomach did a flip. The kiss wasn't the amorous and wet things her mother and Daemon shared. Still, it managed to steal her thoughts and warmed her cheeks. She was deaf to all other things, and only heard the snickers of her brothers and sisters when they pulled apart.

After cleaning up and redressing, Cregan waited for her at Winterfell's weirwood tree. There were so many people whose faces she did not recognise, only her family's once more who stood at the front. Her maiden's cloak was draped over her shoulders, a long black thing printed with the scarlet dragon of House Targaryen.

She and the Stark lord were addressed, then she was asked to accept him. She looked at him affectionately and spoke the words. Their hands joined and they knelt before the tree, heads bowing. Prayers were said silently. She was not sure who she was permitted to pray to, considering where she was, but she said brief words to the gods of her house and to the gods of her husband. They rose, and Cregan removed her maiden's cloak and placed down the bride's cloak.

"Forgive me," he chuckled. One of his arms slid under her knees whilst the other was put beneath her back. He lifted her easily. Her siblings snickered again.

As it turned out, carrying the bride to the feast was part of the rite. He never told her that, too embarrassed when they'd practiced. He'd forgotten to tell her of it afterwards, so they made the awkward journey with the wedding guests trailing behind them.

She ate and drank her fill that night, dancing with her elder brother. Jacaerys playfully threatened Lord Stark, their friendship evident and ongoing. Cregan promised her there would be no bedding ceremony. Even he thought the practice brutish and dishonourable, and swore to her (with a bright red face) that they need not lay together until she felt it.

After greeting her family a good night, she followed Cregan to their chamber. Each step held the weight of her misgivings.

"Goodnight, my lord," she whispered as she laid down, pulling the furs over her body.

"Goodnight, princess," he replied, doing the same.

He seemed to be already asleep, with the stillness of his body and the evenness of his breathing. Y/n could not.

Her cloth nightgown and the furs were still not enough to battle the Northern chill of the night. Her fingers were the first to freeze, becoming numb quick. Shivers came in torrents to war on her limbs, and she tossed and turned, trying to find a spot of warmth on the bed.

This movement and ruckus caused Cregan's eyes to open. She was cold. He knew it. He'd seen her the night prior and during the ceremonies. He never slept with the fireplace crackling, as she did, and was too used to it to remember to.

He felt bad now. He did not consider that at all, and guilt crept onto him with its claws.

He swallowed. Here he was, a man grown, a seasoned leader since he was thirteen. He'd been under numerous dire circumstances and yet this was the most daunting thing he'd ever thought of doing.

He turned over, observing her shuddering frame. His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her firm to him. He could smell her scent, sweet and girlish. Addicting.

Y/n dared not to make a noise. Her heart pounded speedily again, but the frigidity faded. It could be laughed at, how cold she was as a dragon and how much of a source of heat he was in turn. She cuddled close, warmth surging through her body. Sleep found her quick.

Tags: @mirukkuvanilla

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mirukkuvanilla · 5 months ago

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Lemme cook (i'm the one who get cooked)

#wip

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mirukkuvanilla · 5 months ago

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Uhmmm so i was thinking about opening sketch request after this—

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mirukkuvanilla · 5 months ago

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BENJI FIC OH MY GOD ILY BEARY😩😩😩🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 (been thirsty for this man)

Fighting words

summary: one of the bracken boys has been hitting on you for days now and youre sick of it. He happens to take it too far with you and your best friend shows you a side of himself you’ve never seen. and you like it. a lot.

Benjicot Blackwood x Fem!Cerwyn!reader | 1.3k wrds

c.w: probably very occ as we dont know like anything abt him in the show 😭😭, slightly smutty, takes place before any battles, not proofread

he wouldn’t leave my mind, so take this 😁

masterlist - requests are open!!

tags: @hxtd

“No. Leave me alone bracken.” you try to shove him away from you but the bracken boy just grins at you and leans closer into you.

“Oh come on cerwyn, i see how you look at me~” a scoff escapes your lips as you stare at him with disgust. “In your fucking dreams, seriously. Leave me alone.”

You didn’t even know this guys name but he had been bothering you for the last couple days. It had started out small with him trying to invite you to come drink with him and his friends to him offering to carry around your stuff for you when you were walking around.

“theyre arrows bracken.”

“so what? must be heavy for you youre a girl.”

He grossed you out. But didn’t matter even if he didn’t,

“she said no.”

The two of you turn to look at the new voice and a smile creeps up on your face. The bracken boy rolls his eyes as he glares, “the hell do you want blackwood.”

“she said no. Back off.”

youve been friends with the lord of house blackwood for since you were younger and hes always been so kind to you. It seemed to be obvious to everyone other than him that you were madly in love with the young lord but if he did notice he said nothing about it.

You knew of his, angry? or maybe a better word is his more aggressive behavior. You had never even seen it first hand but multiple people have told you first hand accounts of him losing his temper and blowing up, his normal calm and kind demeanor getting lost to rage and blind madness.

You did not know what to think about the rumors then but seeing the way his eyes twitched and his clenched jaw as he stared at the bracken boy the rumors about him became more and more believable.

The bracken boy stands and gets all up in bens face, “What are you gonna do about it huh?”

Ben tilts his head and a look you’ve never seen crosses his eyes as he glares. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” His voice is hard like youve never heard before and it has you holding your breath, waiting for the straining thread to snap.

And the thread snaps the second bracken pushes bens chest and laughs. “what? you upset this ugly bitch wants me more than you-“ It happens before you know it and suddenly the two guys are on the floor and everyone in the room jumps up to look.

you freeze. What in the hells are you supposed to do? so you merely watch as the two boys beat the fuck out of each other. Ben pulls ahead at some point and manages to get a few more punches in after pinning the guy down until the two are pulled apart.

“never talk about her like that, no. never talk to her again or else ill fucking kill you.” He thrashes around in the arms of the two blackwood lads that hold him back as he continues to spit insults at the bracken boy as he gets dragged off and out of the space.

Your legs move before you can even think and your standing in front of him, he freezes and blinks at you rapidly. Hes covered in blood, you cant tell which is his and which is the other guys but he looks badly hurt.

He had done it for you. In your name. And you could barely take how hot you felt but he needed you. “i have supplies in my tent let me fix you up.” the boys oooo’d and ben barely acknowledges them as he nods and allows you to drag him off to your tent.

The boys call after you two with some unsavory choice words but you just turn and flip them off before you continue to help ben to your tent. You place him on your bed cot and try to ignore the racing of your heart as he stays quiet, merely looking at you.

Hes usually quiet but not around you. Its odd to see him like this. So you shakily rummage around with the stuff in your chest as you nervously begin to talk. “thank you for stepping in i was really nervous he wasn’t going to leave me alone, you didn’t meed to-“ you gasp as your spun around and lips lock onto yours with fever.

One of his hands reach behind you and push all your stuff off your table, lifting up you up to sit on it while he kisses you. You gasp against his lips and he takes the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth.

Your head is spinning. You can taste the metallic taste of his blood seep into your mouth and it laces its way into your kiss. You fear you’re dreaming. You felt asleep on watch shift again and when you wake this will all just be a dream.

Yet when you grip your hand against his waist he pulls away and winces. You are pulled back to reality and try to pull away to grab your medical supplies that now are all spilled all over the floor but he quickly stops you.

“ben you’re hurt.” “i dont care.” He tries to kiss you again but you dodge it and grip his face in your hands. “ben,” His hand slide around your waist and play with the fabric of your tunic, testing the waters and sliding his hands lower and almost under the tunic you wear. “ben.” you say firmer and he pauses to look at you.

“right now i just need to feel your skin, please.” your heart pounds loudly against your chest and your mouth drops open. “ben,” his name shakily passes your lips and he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “How dare he talk to you like that. i should have killed him,” his hands slide under your tunic his hot hands run up and down your bare sides slowly. “he should know i take no disrespect to the future lady of blackwood.”

You kiss him unable to take it anymore and he meets your fever eagerly. arms wrapping around you and pulling you so your chest to chest and you can feel him pressing against your trousers.

His lips trail down your jaw as his hands find your breasts and you let out a moan as he squeezes them in his hands. His lips your neck and he sucks at any skin he can get while he grinds his hips against yours. His hands grow more feverish as he uses his teeth to pull down your tunic to expose more of your collarbone and neck, youre sure to be covered in bruises tomorrow but you cant be bothered with that.

One of his hands trails down your stomach and almost gets to reach under your pants until a horn sounds outside and you both look at each other alarmed.

“ugh fuck me.” “wish i could.” you slap him on the chest as he pulls away and he hisses.

“that hurts.” “if you had let me patch you up it wouldn’t be hurting you idiot.” “you certain didn’t look like you were going to complain. not when i was about to-“ “okay! lets go they need us.” you ignore the sound of his laughter as you flap open your tent and rush out leaving him behind, hoping you look presentable enough your men dont ask questions and pray you can continue what you were doing with ben later.

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