#please ask me about my wardens

[hydelovessparkles]

With Dragon Age: The Veilguard coming closer I wanna do those like, character asks about my ocs and stuff from the past games. But like, my main oc is NOT the Warden, Hawke, or the Inquisitor and even out of those three it’s been so long I don’t remember them that well. My Inquisitor I probably know best and I know bits about my Warden and Hawke but I don’t have like a current world state. If anyone is interested in learning about these characters tho (including my non main character oc!) let me know! Same if you know of any character ask games that you’d suggest or liked to see me do!

[sickeningradiances]

YAY finished my canon worldstate with this template <3

just in time even tho i will not be playing da:v on release lmao i just wanted to have an excuse to draw portraits for them...

here they are individually

Dragon Age: Origins

Dragon Age II

Dragon Age: Inquisition

[patriamrealm]

Today was a good day. Nobori kept his eye on the boy running around with his cloak while he hooked a cooking pot to to the upper support of the newly built yurt. The other wardens were busy with their own duties finalizing their work on the yurt outside. It had only been one week since Lian’s Warden ceremony. Per custom all the older wardens aided in creating the boy’s home in in the Heartwoods.

They were nearly done but it was his duty to both ensure the inside of the yurt had everything it needed in its proper place as well as keep the newest warden from going outside. He was not to see the painting the others were doing until they were finished. Pulling on the hanging metal he insured that it was not about to fall anytime soon. Once satisfied he settled down near the unlit hearth.

Grey eyes watched Lian spin about making the old damaged cloak flair. He couldn’t help a small crackling chuckle at how the boy was drowning in the fabric. Brown eyes snapped to him

“What? What’s so funny?” Lian asked and plopped down before him head slightly tilted with a grin.

“Oh nothing, just thinking about how only 5 years ago you were causing everyone so much trouble.” The boy gasped dramatically in false offense.

“I did not cause trouble!” He leaned back with his exclamation.

Nobori laughed loudly and took the hat from his own head to tug it down Lian’s head, happy with the laughter it got out of the 10 year old.

“Oh you were such a troublemaker, I seem to recall finding you out in freezing temperatures completely alone harassing the Pokémon. However, I am proud of how far you have come and I am excited to see what heights you reach next.” His voice undercurrent with a proud rolling chime.

Lian pulled the hat down further over his eyes and groaned, Nobori could see the tips of his ears turn a rosy red.

“You’re such a grandpa” and Nobori couldn’t help but laugh loudly. He couldn’t remember the age he must have died at, couldn’t even recall his own name still. Many assumed he had been an elder of 60 at the youngest and he didn’t know enough to refute it. He didn’t mind being called grandfather, all familial honorifics made his soul fire twist and burn warmer in his chest. Each time patching up the hole left behind from people he loved and lost but could not remember.

It reminded him that he not only had a community but a family. Reaching over he straightened the hat so it sat somewhat properly on Lian’s head, perhaps he should see about getting the child a hat of his own? But that was a thought for another day.

Palina chose that moment to poke her head in. A bright smile on the young woman’s face, paint splattered on her hands and face.

“Lian you can come out now, it’s time to claim your new space and duty” She stood aside as the boy jumped up and rushed out, the oversized cloak left behind in his rush. Nobori took his time, thanking Palina when she offered her assistance.

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting” he chimed happily while draping the worn clothing apparel over an arm. Palina nodded and hooked an arm around one of his to lead him out. Yes today was a very good day indeed.

[felisfern]

Blood in the River is a universe in a post apocalyptic world five hundred years after the war.

Humans are gone and only animals remain, the story focuses on six colonies of cats trying to find a weapon to end a threat to the colonies existence as a whole.

The colonist cats have special powers called Mutations which show within a few months of life, from ram horns to telekinesis. The mutations occur as a blessing from the two creators of the colonies, The Patron and the Founder, and also as a result due to radiation left over form the war.

Ranking scars are essentially a way of showing rank through scars! There are six colonies in total, but they all bare the same scars for their respective rank. This is a way for other cats to instantly recognize rank and be able to react accordingly. The process of these scars existing is done through a religious ceremony involving moon and/or sun blessed water (depending on the colony) and a sacred stone from the first colonists.

Each rank has a very important role to a colony as they all take a responsibility to uphold their society.

Kits are just.. well they’re kits! Their responsibility is to have fun and listen to the Veterans about colony history and other colonists educating them about their code and way of life. Their mutations manifest by 3-4 months and ALL colonists have some form of mutation. They have no scars.

Neophytes are essentially students, they are assigned an Advisor by a Shepherd, the highest rank of the colony. The Shepherd starts scouting for a suitable Advisor during a cat’s kithood to guide them to their future rank in their colony. Neophytes gain a scar across the bridge of their muzzle by their Advisor with the guidance of a Shepherd.

Rangers are the most populous and common rank within the colonies, they are essential workers that do day to day duties like hunting, patrolling, and gathering supplies. Since being such a popular rank, they have a lot of free time to focus on hobbies like weaving and craftsmanship. Rangers are trained to swim, fight, and hunt. They gain a scar on their right cheek.

Couriers are essentially messengers, the colonies have huge territories and they need a reliable way to communicate to one another about trouble or needs of assistance. The colonies do meet once a month during the new moon, but they’d like to discuss matters more frequently than this. Couriers are typically the fastest cats in the colonies and usually mutations including flight, teleportation, or speed end up becoming Couriers. They are often mediators too due to having a well rounded sense of each colony and having little bias. They gain a second nose bridge scar.

Wardens are guards that are stationed outside the base within their colony, the base being where the colonists sleep and live. They also are required to escort patrols and are the first line of attack in any fight. If not out on a patrol or guarding a colonist, they’re usually found outside the base. They’re typically the strongest cats within their colony, but isn’t required. They gain a scar on their right eyebrow.

Sitters have the important role of educating kits on the colony life and code. Sitters can take the place of parents if a kit’s mother is required to return to their duty or just wishes to leave their nursing stages early. Sitters have to know about all of the kits needs and wants and assist in helping the Shepherd find a proper Advisor for them when they graduate to Neophyte. They’re almost always in the base and only ever leave to guide the kits around the territory. They gain a scar on their chin.

Medics are the doctors within the colony and they take care of sick/injured cats. It is in the Colony Code that Medics are not to be harmed in battle or any facet. Medics are not fighters and are rarely trained to do so, focusing more on herbal medicine and cat anatomy. Medics are especially important with pregnant cats, ensuring proper nutrition and birthing. They gain a lip scar on the left side of their face.

Vices are the second highest rank in the colonies, they serve directly to the Shepherd and are second in charge. A Vice also will take the role of Shepherd if a Shepherd passes or passes away. Usually a Shepherd has multiple Vices and if this is the case, the colony as a whole votes on who they wish to be Shepherd and that Vice then gets elected. Vices are in charge of managing the patrols and keeping a headcount on prey and herbs. They assist the Shepherd in trade deals as well as overall decision making. It is stated a good Shepherd has multiple Vices to get multiple opinions. They gain a cheek scar on the left side of their face.

Shepherds are the highest rank in a colony, they run the colony as a whole and are in charge of the biggest decisions. They are in charge of interpreting omens from their Deities and each rank ceremony. They also represent their colony as a whole and during these New Moon Assemblies, they speak for their colony as a whole. Shepherds are to be highly respected, regardless of colony affiliation. Depending on how religious the Shepherd is, their word can be on the same level as if a Deity themselves was speaking through them, this takes a lot of trust to ensure from the colonists of their colony to believe though. A Shepherd is blessed by the Founder or Patron (depending on colony) and they lose all their ranking scars and are blessed with a star marking on their forehead. They are also granted an extra life to ensure their prosperity and their colony’s.

Veterans are retired colonists who are either too old to continue their responsibilities or too injured. They’re highly respected and are responsible for giving a lack education about colony history, everything being spread of word of mouth. Their mutations grow weaker as they get older, but that doesn’t mean they’re helpless, some Veterans will help Rangers in fixing the base up or Medics with organization, really anything to keep themselves busy.

[thedastrash]

OC Tag Game!

Ooo thanks for tagging me @kittynomsdeplume & @cleverblackcat!! This took a while to get to but it was very fun!

Favorite OC: Evil question to start. I can't possibly choose unless I set some limits for myself so I'm going to cheat and say my most popular OC. I have the most art of her by no fault of my own. Velaneth Surana is my canon HoF and Warden Commander. Vela is a very open person: never lies, has no body shame, and loves to learn about other people and where they’ve come from. She walks into every hostile situation with her best foot forward trying to make friends and allies.

Newest OC: I’m slowly congealing my ideas about Orlagh Trevelyan because I’ve been imagining what the different cultures of the Freemarches look like - especially on the coast where trade is frequent. She’s from Ostwick of course and trained as a Templar as a youth but spent summers at a monastery with her aunt in Wycome which I imagine a bit like Morocco. I’ve been staring at my Pinterest boards imagining her lonely days growing up and what it means for her to leave her walls behind and be thrust into this new organization with all these people and their differing ideals. I'm particularly interested in exploring her being a templar but having some latent magic that has been tied up in her templar abilities so long she didn't realize it was ever there.

Oldest OC: In DA my oldest OC is Topaz Brosca from my original run of origins. The one where my save got deleted right before the Landsmeet lol rip. I've recently revisited her and I'm falling in love with her again. She's a hot trans girl and stabby rogue and she falls in love with the surface world immediately. My oldest OC ever though... might be a self insert hobbit character I made for myself as a child before I knew what fandom or fanfiction was lol! I think her name was Charlie? my memory is BAD but I know that's a name I loved as a kid.

Meanest OC: Szadrine Aeducan is my final origin from DAO to get an OC and I'm slowly growing deeply obsessed. She’s involved in (literal) cutthroat Orzammar politics and ends up skipping the warden bit after the whole betrayal and exile thing. She simply deserts at Ostagar. I think she should end up kicking ass in Orlais because she would be so good at the Game.

Softest OC: Bearnard Cousland is a soft, sweet, bookish baby-gay who would rather bury himself in his research in a library than seek glory or fight battles or do politics. Bearn is the second son so he’s gotten away with avoiding some of that but of course he has to attend his lessons and participate in the tourneys. His scholarly work lends him some political savvy since he’s intimately familiar with Ferelden’s history, but he’s most interested in lost texts and translating ancient works. He never had good gay role models growing up and thinks of himself as homely and forgettable, so he never felt like that was an option for him, but Maker does he ever pine lol!

Most Aloof/Standoffish OC: Gotta be Irene Amell. She's a real bitch with resting murder face. Incredibly unapproachable, intimidating Domme energy. Tends to default dislike people and keep to herself, prefering to slink around and eavesdrop than talk to people for info. She’s very protective and loving toward her close friends and lovers, but it’s hard to get close in the first place.

Dumbest OC: Myrna Hawke is a smart woman, she's an accomplished mage, enjoys reading, quick witted, but she has zero self-awareness and has a very hard time even understanding how she feels, much less how other people feel about her. She’s absolutely clueless and fully blindsided by anyone’s interest & gets tongue tied and stupid when she’s horny. She’s also very impulsive and acts before she thinks things through which leads to getting into a lot of dumb shit.

Smartest OC: There are excellent contenders here: Bearn with his book smarts and Topaz with her street smarts, but I want to say Ithadhea Mahariel because even though they are incredibly dense when it comes to interpersonal relations, their wealth of traditional knowledge from their clan is incredible. They are not really a people person, usually quiet and solitary, but they took to hunting like they were born for it and eagerly learned everything in the realm of woodcraft and survival. They know all their clan's stories by heart and and know resources by seasons in a way that is part of their internal clock. I think this kind of generational knowledge probably outstrips the scope of any of my other OC's knowledge.

OC I’d Be Friends With: Edric Cadash is so laid back and friendly I think he’d be one of the easiest to make friends with. I want to have tea and gossip with him and have that turn into late night drinking and telling stories by the fire. Vela would be an instant friend as well; she wants to befriend everyone and she'd have an easy time with me!

no pressure tagging some of my DA OC enjoying friends: @sinquisition, @highwayphantoms, @lets-get-brave, @sandalinbohemia, @dismalzelenka and anyone else who wants to share! Feel free to @ me so I can see your post! <3

[attractthecrows]

retconning stroud out of the deep roads so i can shove laure amell and the hawke siblings and varric and anders all into the same little camp. they would all have such a bad time

[themournwatcher]

I’m chewing on so many thoughts for Naoise. One of my mutuals informed me that Eleanor Cousland has the sexiest backstory ever and intentionally kept it from her children so we don’t even get to KNOW in game that Cousland has a pirate grandpa and that Eleanor once pushed Bryce from a cliff because he mistook her for the help.

Naoise might not have grown up knowing this his mother “might have dallied as a battle maiden once”, and not the fact that she sailed up and down the Storm Coast to prohibit the feasibility of moving Orlesian soldiers into Ferelden, but he CERTAINLY resembles her in his looks and in his mannerisms that I think people who know her history do a double-take when they cross paths with him.

Eleanor and Bryce’s son? The youngest? The one who rarely left Highever and who reportedly is Eleanor’s spitting image in facade and spirit? Well, I do think I shall get right out of your way now, Ser…

Naoise is cunning and clever and wily, and everyone who says he doesn’t have any diplomacy or tact is wrong; he does, and he gets his way quite a lot, but he’s unafraid to ruffle feathers to do it. He’s not APPEASING, is the difference Arl Howe makes when he remarks on how fierce Bryce’s boy has become.

Naoise is the spoiled second child, quick to brattiness and indignation, and his stubbornness means that he refuses to yield when he doesn’t get his way—but is that such a bad thing, when you can read people like a book with a few quick quips? Sure, he might be annoying to travel with and hearing him bemoan the loss of his house can be tiresome (if sympathetic, as the grief is fresh), but it’s that same rigidity that pushes him on. If he desires his vengeance, he will receive it.

[salsa-di-pomodoro]

I think i just had a really cool idea for an Ingo + Arceus roadtrip back to the right time and space does anyone want to hear about it. There's no villain here just a bunch of ppl doing their best btw

[reblogs are VERY ENCOURAGED!!!! I want to share this but i will need to be actively asked about it or else executive dysfunction will take over. Reblogging will get this post to more people and help me get more asks about it!]

[there is a small exposition in the original tags; i've also put them in the reblogs if you don't feel like going all the way back]

[todayisafridaynight]

i think i would have gone loco if jo and aoki got to meet up just once after ichi breaks through to him like. the damage to my psyche id have wouldve been immeasurable, irreparable even

[entitled-fangirl]

Stubborn man.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan returns from a hunt, eager to see his wife. But he's hiding something from her.

Warnings: blood, making out, pain, talks about sex, I think that's it?

A/n: Based on an ask!!! Also... I need more Tom Taylor gifs RIGHT NOW or I'll cry. So fancast Cregan might make a comeback in the gifs

Masterlist

...............................................

She felt herself flinch when strong hands gripped her waist from behind and a kiss was placed on the back of her neck. 

"Did you miss me, my heart?" A deep voice whispered in her ear.

She relaxed at the sound, her body instinctively giving in to the hands that held her, "Quite terribly."

He grinned and playfully nipped at her ear, "Good, because I have as well."

She spun in his hold, now facing him. She ran her hands over his clothed chest and fiddled with his cloak, "The hunt was successful, I assume?"

"Three elks and a boar," he said with a hint of pride, "Should last Winterfell a while enough."

"You're very brave, my lord," she smiled with a teasing tone. "Facing a boar is quite a formidable task."

"Aye," he agrees. "But so is facing the Warden of the North, wouldn't you agree?"

"You're right," She said as he tugged on his cloak to pull his face closer to hers. "The boar didn't stand a chance."

A confident aura overcame the lord and he leaned further down and connected their lips.

She let out a soft groan, savoring the feeling of him after such a long absence.

His arms moved up and around her back to pull her to him.

Her chest collided with his and only then did Cregan falter.

She pulled away, disconnecting their lips as she gave him a small frown. "Cregan?"

His breath had quickened and his face paled, but he was eagerly changing the subject, "I've only missed you is all." He leaned in again.

As his lips brushed hers, she pulled away again as her worry doubled, "Stop. Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Something is clearly bothering you," she pointed out. "Tell me."

His hands wandered up to her biceps, gripping her earnestly, as if trying to convince her, "I am just fine. I only wish to spend time with my wife. Is that a crime?"

"You and I both know it's not, but there's something you're not telling me."

They stared at one another, seeing who would break first. Finally, he did with a sigh. "It is nothing, I assure you."

"You're sure?" She asked in worry.

"I am." 

She stared at him for a while before nodding, deciding to believe him. "Very well. I dare say I would enjoy some time with my lord husband as well."

He grinned, "I can arrange that." 

She leaned forward and met his lips, hands beginning to wander. 

He led her backwards to the bed, careful to not lead her astray. She blindly let him, too caught him in his touch to care where he took her.

She fell onto the bed and Cregan leaned down and began to kiss down her clothed stomach.

"Will you let me indulge in what I've missed?" He asked softly.

She let out a breath at his admission. 

Watching her reaction closely, he pulled the skirt of her dress up.

As his fingers grazed her bare thigh, she moaned out, "I don't think I can wait. I need you."

He chuckled, "So eager for me."

She sat up to entice him to loom over her, but she noticed that the color still hadn't returned to his cheeks. "Are you cold?"

He frowned, clearly confused at the question, "What? No."

"You're pale. Cregan, please." She reached under his cloak to his chest. 

He reached out to grip her wrists, but it was too late.

Her hands pulled back with red staining her palms. Her eyes widened in horror. "W…What-"

"-Look at me." He grabbed her face with both hands. "I am fine."

"You're hardly-"

His eyes showed the purely determined tone to his voice, "I am fine."

Her breath began to become shorter and her voice softened, "You… you've seen the maester?"

"I don't need the maester. I just need you," he said as he leaned in again.

She turned her head as she denied his wishes. "You're injured."

He sighed and pulled away from her. "It… it is just a scratch."

She stared down at her hands that now had his blood on them. Her fingers were shaky, and her voice was soft, "…you're injured."

He panicked when she began to only repeat her worry. "Dear wife-"

She stood and smoothed her dress out in a rush, "I'll get the maester."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. His face twisted in a wince when the movement caused pain to shoot through his body.

She paused. "Cregan."

He forced himself to overcome the pain. Determination ran through his eyes as he looked up at her. "I. Am Fine."

She looked at his hand on her wrist, then back to him. "Even wolves show weakness on occasion."

It was clear that he took her words to heart because his eyes softened and his grip on her loosened. 

She slowly pulled her hand away and moved to the cabinet, pulling out bandages and cloths

Cregan watched in silence.

She set them onto the bed softly before leaving the room. She returned with a small basin of water. "Undress."

His head tilted. "Alright."

He pulled his cloak off, and only then did she notice how badly he was injured. 

His tunic was soaked in blood across his chest. 

It felt as if she had been dunked in cold water. Panic settled into her gut.

Cregan reached down to the bottom of the tunic, beginning to slowly peel it away from the injury. It clearly hurt him. His jaw was clenched to the point she worried for his teeth.

"Let me," she offered, pulling it the rest of the way off of him and throwing it to the side. 

A long cut ran down his chest, blood staining his skin. Cregan didn't bother to look at it. He kept his eyes on her and her alone.

She forced him to sit on the bed and sat down as well, reaching down to the cut. Her fingers grazed it lightly, earning a hiss from him. "Sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head as he studied her face, "'s fine."

"Get comfortable, my love," she finally forced.

He grunted in acknowledgement and pushed himself against the headboard.

She stood and grabbed the basin, setting it on the nightstand. The woman got up on the bed, throwing her leg over him to straddle him. 

If he wasn't in such pain, the night would've went much differently.

She leaned over and wet a cloth, beginning to gently run it over the cut to clean it. 

Cregan rested his head back against the headboard. His gaze stayed on her face.

"I don't understand why you didn't say something sooner," she whispered as she focused on healing her husband.

His eyes moved down to her lips, "I've had worse."

"How did it happen?" She pressed down unintentionally, and he hissed again. She muttered an apology.

"The boar," was all he said. He tried to read her expression, but it was hard when she wasn't looking at him. One of his hands moved to her waist.

"Did you face it yourself?" She asked incredulously.

"It caught us off guard is all."

She hummed as she grabbed a new cloth and continued to clean him with gentle hands.

His thumb rubbed across her waist comfortingly. "You're angry."

"Not angry," she sighed. "Only worried." Once the cut was clean, she began to slowly rub the cloth across his shoulders and up his neck, cleaning the dirt from the rest of him. 

The feeling made him close his eyes, "I do hope you'll forgive me then."

She shook her head, "You haven't asked for it yet."

He reached up with his free hand and stopped her motions. "Forgive me." His eyes studied her intensely, his voice serious.

She finally let out a sigh and a hint of a smile came to her. "You're a foolish man."

"I am," he admitted.

She took the cloth with one hand and held his chin with the other, cleaning the dirt off of his face. Their proximity brought a soft blush to her cheeks. "I don't know what I would do without you."

His eyes moved to her lips again and he began to slowly lean in. "You don't have to."

"Promise me something," she whispered.

He nodded, "Anything."

"You'll not put your health aside to appear strong to me."

"I am the Warden of the North-"

She leaned away and held his chin in a tight grip. "Not here. You're my husband, Cregan."

A little grin came across his lips. "I promise."

She leaned forward and connected their lips. 

His hands found her waist, holding her in a vice grip as he pulled her as close as possible. She was careful to avoid the cut on his chest as her hands wandered over him. 

He pulled away and began to trail kisses down her neck, "I'm a blessed man."

She let out a content hum. "Are you? You have a gash in your chest. I hardly see-"

"-I have you." His teeth nipped at a sensitive spot, soothing it with his tongue. 

Her eyes began to close in bliss as she gave in to his touch. She caught herself, and forced her eyes open. "I haven't finished bandaging you."

He continued his movements, "You'll have time later."

"If you want anything from me, you must let me finish, you stubborn man."

He pulled away at that to look up and her. "Fierce girl."

She grinned and reached over to the bandages she had gathered. She wrapped them around him, "I forgive you."

His large hand came up to grab her jaw gently and force her to look him in the eye. "I will not take it for granted. Thank you."

"Do this again and I'll gut you myself."

A chuckle came from his throat. "I have no doubts of that." He pulled her face to his and his voice lowered, "I'll have to be extra cautious, won't I?"

"Or perhaps… don't leave at all," her soft voice suggested.

"Oh, my girl," he grinned. "When you finish this bandage, we are not leaving this room for a long while."

A bright red hue came to her cheeks.

............................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

@cookielovesbook-akie

[aurumalatus]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.6k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), slight angst, they are pining as fuck

summary.

on the edge of war, you and kinich face your unresolved tension and forge new promises for the path ahead.

author's note. the new aq quest had me fucking screaming. i feel my kinich love renewed. he will never leave my blood (i hate him but i love him), unedited for now. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

As the Night Warden Wars loom, you find Kinich in the armory in the late hours of the night.

He’s been avoiding you, you know; when you happen to meet in the castle halls, he bows his head as you walk past, unwilling to meet your gaze. The other guards get assigned to you more often now in his stead, pity in their wandering eyes—they’re fully aware of the tension between you and your personal guard. You try your best to ignore it, even when the maids pull you into hugs without explanation and your mother grows more overbearing, always asking if you’re feeling alright.

And, truth be told, you’re not.

Kinich’s insistence to participate in the war worries you to no end. He’s been more reckless lately, taking duties overnight, eyebags growing heavy with exhaustion. He’s trying to distract himself, but from what, you don’t know.

 It’s not that you don’t trust his strength, or even that you want him home to protect you. It’s because you want him to come home to you—period. 

He looks you over, gaze pausing over the bandages wrapping your arm. It seems to pain him, even now—his jaw tightens at the sight. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Neither should you.”

The air feels thick in your lungs. It’s a far cry from your typical interaction, when you’re giggling and he’s rolling his eyes, lighthearted. Now, a frost crawls through your chest when he turns away.

He sets about sharpening his sword with careful strokes.

“Kinich,” you approach, gentle. The muscle of his back grows taut at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please, please reconsider. Or else, I’m coming with you.”

You’re not sure at what point he started to feel so out of reach. Since the last attack, Abyssal forces have grown ever closer. Still, even when he’s only a few feet in front of you, it feels like there’s several walls between you.

He scoffs. “This isn’t just about what you want, Princess, as much as you might think so.”

It comes out bitter, venomous, and so unlike him—the Kinich you know is far gentler, far kinder. As annoying as you can be sometimes, he’s never expressed any irritation whatsoever. Still, he seems genuinely angry with you at the moment.

“What happened to ‘no one fights alone’? That’s what you always say, isn’t it?!”

It’s the motto emblazoned across the Natlan flags, the ones that line the town squares and peek from the top of the castle, proud. You’ve heard Kinich say it many times, as Guard Captain. He sighs.

“That doesn’t include you.”

A fire sparks in your chest, angry; anything that involves your nation certainly involves you. The thought has you advancing toward him, eyes blazing.

“I don’t think that’s up to you, Kinich.” You return your own poison, flinging words off your tongue like blades. “This isn’t just about what you want, as much as you might think so.”

Kinich puts down his greatsword and turns to you, barely concealed rage evident in the way his hands tremble.

“You’re not coming, Princess.” The stress is palpable in his expression, the knit of his brows and the twitch of his lip. “I’ll do whatever I have to. But you’re not taking a damn step toward that battlefield.”

The sheen in his amber eyes reflects something unfamiliar—something ugly and writhing. 

Fear.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kinich look that way before.

“What are you so afraid of?” you ask, desperate. “What are you running from?”

“What am I so afraid of?” His disposition turns fierce—his canines flash in the light, and you flinch. The action has him deflating immediately, unfamiliar with your panic.

Sighing, he leans back against the wall, sliding down until he comes to a stop on the ground. His head falls into his hands.

It’s quiet. Outside, people are whispering, preparing for the impending battle. In the next few days, people are going to die—your people. The thought is difficult to contend with. The tension weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch your knight.

He’s still hunched over, looking overwhelmingly…small. Child-like. You wonder if you’ve ever seen him look this vulnerable before. It feels like you’re seeing the Kinich from a completely different time, one where he wasn’t the Guard Captain, one where he was all alone.

“Feeling you go limp in my arms?” he finally whispers, barely audible. “Feeling your heart slow to a stop?”

You freeze. His voice is thin, like glass—it feels like he’ll break any second. You take another step toward him, careful.

“Kinich.”

“I can’t—”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then gathers himself to face you again.

“I won’t lose you like that. Not now. Not ever.”

The prior attack seemed to have affected him more than you thought. You’d noticed it, maybe briefly, in his daily routines. More often, he seemed hesitant to leave your side. He was stricter with the guard patrols, and with your safety in general. Sometimes, you found him looking at the Capital square with a hardened gaze, perhaps remembering that day.

Then, one day, he began to avoid you completely.

His words bare the truth for you to hear: Kinich is afraid that you will die.

And it is eating him alive.

He pushes himself to his feet, taking another step to meet you in the middle.

“I exist to protect you, Princess,” he says, almost begging, a hand pressed to his chest. “That is why I am here. If I must die doing it, then that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

A horror creeps through your veins at his detached attitude.

“That’s what you think this is?” you ask, in disbelief. “That you’re just some sort of object for me to use? That it doesn’t matter what happens to you?”

For as long as you’ve known him, Kinich has been selfless, always placing your needs before his own. Yet, you hadn’t realized that he was never considering his own needs at all.

He looks away. “That is my duty—”

“It’s not!” 

You cup at his face, pulling him to face you. A thin, crystalline fissure cracks through your heart at his expression—he looks hopelessly, overwhelmingly lost. When a tear slips out of the corner of his eye, you nearly sob.

“You matter to me, Kinich,” you whisper, thumbing it away. “And your life is not a risk I’m willing to take.”

His mouth opens, then closes, struggling for uncertain words. You wonder if he’s ever been told this in his life—how much he’s wanted, how much he’s needed. Despite how much you complain, you know that you’ve needed him since you met him, and that won’t change anytime soon. The thought of his injury—or even worse, his death—leaves you reeling.

He clears the lump in his throat, finding himself.

“I still have to go,” he manages, quiet. His fingers curl around your wrist, rooting you there—rooting you to him.

You press your forehead to his, his bangs and headband warm against your skin. A life still pulses there, in his ribcage, and that’s all you need to know.

“I know. But don’t be reckless.”

It’s a plea. That despite the danger and the terror, he’ll think of you on the battlefield, and the promises you’ve made. That he’ll think about returning home, always.

You look up at him through your lashes, and he looks back.

“Come back to me, Kinich,” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “That’s an order.”

The sight seems to sober him—Kinich swallows before nodding firmly.

“As you wish, Princess.”

/

The next day, you meet Kinich in the castle chapel, along with the rest of the elite guards. Your mother and father sit behind you, quiet and regal on their thrones. The mood feels overwhelmingly somber.

You’ve never had to perform this rite, this blessing, for as long as you’ve lived. But then again, you’ve never experienced war to this extent. 

Kinich advances down the center of the aisle, flanked by his fellow knights—the skylight casts a gentle shine over him. You vaguely think he looks like a prince.

He’s in his ceremonial armor, glowing paint lining his cheeks and arms. A hunter green cape flutters behind him as he approaches, greatsword flashing proud over his back. You nod in acknowledgement as he falls to one knee before you.

“Malipo Kinich,” you say, voice echoing throughout the chapel. Kinich’s gaze is meaningful as he looks up at you—it reminds you of when he was first knighted so many years ago. “Go forth and bring pride and protection to our nation.”

You outstretch a hand, and he takes it—his thumb runs comfortingly across your palm, a promise.

This won’t be the last time.

He presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, eyes fluttering shut.

“May the Abyss take my soul if I ever abandon you,” he murmurs, hushed. His breath is warm, pooling over your skin and running hot up your arm. It’s a message for you and you alone. “May my skin tear from bone if you ever suffer.”

When he rises to his feet, turning to leave, you grasp at his shoulder. The action has him flinching, glancing at you over his shoulder. Everyone in the chapel holds their breath, watchful.

You pull the ribbon from your hair, golden silk wrapping smoothly around your hand. His eyes widen. 

“Come back to me, Kinich.”

Gently, you tie it around the grip of his greatsword, just under the ridge of the one you’d given to him before. He hisses in a breath when you brush over his cheek as you withdraw your hand, before thumbing over your new gift, thoughtful.

When he looks at you again, a certain fondness sits in his stare.

“As you wish, your Highness.”

[misswynters]

Winter’s Embrace — Chapter One

Cregan Stark x targaryen fem!reader

[synopsis: You arrive at winterfell, you feel unwelcomed and like an outsider. You weren’t used to not customs of the north.

[a/n: i know, it’s always a targaryen princess switch it up! (pls this is my first time ever writing) and there’s barely any cregan x readers.

[word count: 2.5k?

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

next chapter |

Winterfell loomed on the horizon, its grey stone walls blending seamlessly with the winter landscape. As your carriage approached the gates, you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cold but from the uncertainty of what awaited you within those ancient walls. The North was a world away from the warm sands and fiery skies of King's Landing, where you had spent most of your life. Here, you were not just a stranger but a princess—a dragon in a land of wolves.

The carriage came to a halt, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. The door opened, and a gust of icy wind greeted you. Wrapping your cloak tightly around your shoulders, you stepped out into the courtyard, your breath visible in the frigid air. The guards watched you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, their eyes lingering a bit too long.

Cregan Stark, who’s the Warden of the North, stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, his imposing figure framed by the heavy wooden doors. He was a tall man with dark hair and piercing grey eyes that seemed to see straight through you. As you approached, he stepped forward, his expression one of polite interest.

“Princess,” he greeted you, his voice deep and resonant. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

"Thank you, Lord Stark" you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality."

He nodded, his gaze not wavering. "I hope you find Winterfell to your liking, though I fear it may not be as comfortable as the South."

You forced a smile. "I am sure it will be an adjustment, but nevertheless i will get used to it"

The Great Hall was bustling with activity as servants hurried about, preparing for the evening meal. The warmth of the fire was a welcome contrast to the cold outside, but it did little to dispel the feeling of being an outsider. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the whispered conversations that fell silent as you passed.

Cregan led you to your chambers, a modest but well-appointed room with a large bed and a roaring fire. "If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask," he said, his tone formal.

"Thank you, My lord," you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he simply nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

The days that followed were a blur of introductions and attempts to settle into a routine. The people of Winterfell were polite but distant, their mistrust evident in their eyes. You tried to make yourself useful, helping where you could, but it seemed that no matter what you did, you were always viewed as an dragon in a wolves den.

Cregan was kind but distant, his duties keeping him busy. He checked in on you regularly, making sure you were comfortable, but there was an unspoken tension between you. You sensed that he believed you were ill-suited for the harsh realities of the North, a delicate flower from the South who would wilt in the cold.

One evening, as you sat by the fire in your chambers, lost in thought, there was a knock at the door. “Enter,” you called, expecting one of the servants.

To your surprise, it was Cregan. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I hope I am not disturbing you," he said.

"Not at all," you replied, gesturing for him to sit. "Please, join me."

He took a seat opposite you, the firelight casting shadows on his chiseled features. "I wanted to see how you are adjusting," he said. "I know this must be difficult for you.

You sighed, staring into the flames. "It is. But I am trying to accustomed to the way everything is done here."

He nodded, his gaze intense. "You are stronger than you appear, Princess. I see that."

You looked at him, surprised by his words. "Thank you, Lord Stark. That means a lot."

For a moment, there was a silence between you, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Then, Cregan spoke again, his voice softer. "I understand that you are a dragon dreamer."

Your heart skipped a beat. It was not something you spoke of often, the gift—or curse—that you carried. "Yes," you admitted. "I have dreams of dragons and the future."

He leaned forward, his eyes searching yours. "Do you trust your dreams?"

You hesitated, then nodded. "I do. They have never led me astray."

Cregan seemed to consider this, then leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps, in time, you will find your place here. The North is a harsh land, but it can also be a place of great beauty and strength."

You smiled, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I hope so, Lord Stark. I truly do."

As the days passed, you began to find small ways to integrate yourself into the life of Winterfell. You helped in the kitchens, learning the recipes and customs of the North. You spent time with the children, telling them stories of dragons and far-off lands. Slowly, the walls began to come down, and you felt a sense of belonging start to take root.

Cregan was a constant presence, his support and encouragement a source of strength. He seemed to understand the struggle you faced, the weight of expectations and the challenge of finding your place in a world that was not your own. There were moments when you caught glimpses of the man beneath the lord—the kindness in his eyes, the warmth of his smile.

One day, as you were walking through the courtyard, a group of women approached you. Their leader, an older woman with a stern expression, looked you up and down. "Princess," she said, her tone respectful but cold. "We have heard much about you."

You nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety in your stomach. "I hope it has been good."

The woman shrugged. "Some good, some not. But actions speak louder than words. We will see what kind of woman you truly are."

You smiled, determined to prove yourself. "I hope I can earn your respect."

Cregan watched from a distance, his heart swelling with pride as he saw you stand your ground. He knew the road ahead would not be easy, but he had no doubt that you were strong enough to walk it.

One night, as the storm raged outside, you found yourself unable to sleep. The dreams had been coming more frequently, visions of dragons and fire, of a future shrouded in darkness. You threw on a cloak and made your way to the Great Hall, seeking solace in the warmth of the fire.

To your surprise, Cregan was there, staring into the flames. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

You shook your head, joining him by the hearth. "No. The dreams..."

He nodded, understanding. "Tell me about them."

You hesitated, then began to speak, the words flowing out of you like a river. You told him of the dragons, of the visions of a future both beautiful and terrifying. He listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Those are just visions, what matters is how you act upon them and not let them get to your head” he said in a soft tone.

Tears welled in your eyes, and you squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Cregan."

He smiled, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "You are stronger than you know, Princess. And I am proud to stand by your side."

The days turned into weeks, and the snow outside showed no signs of abating. Within Winterfell, you began to find your place. You helped in the kitchens, worked alongside the maids, and even joined the training sessions in the yard. Slowly, the people began to see you not as an outsider, but as someone willing to share their burdens.

Cregan watched with growing admiration. One evening, as you sat by the hearth, he joined you, his presence a comfort in the cold.

"You've done well," he said, his voice warm.

You looked up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "Thank you. It hasn't been easy."

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. "Nothing worth having ever is."

The thaw began slowly, both outside and within the hearts of Winterfell's people. The Northmen, once so wary, started to see you in a different light. Your actions, your kindness, and your determination had begun to win them over.

One day, as you helped prepare for a feast, one of the older women approached you. "You've done well, lass," she said, her voice gruff but not unkind. "You've proven yourself."

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I’m glad i was able to prove myself." Cregan, watching from across the room, felt a surge of pride.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could u order some Cregan Stark x Velaryon (Strong) wife reader fluff please? I live for Cregan being a big clingy man 😩

I left this one on the back burner didn’t I? Benjicot brainrot has officially taken over so i apologise for the other characters I promised that I’d write for but Benjicot had my heart, mind and soul rn.

If you were to ever tell the realm that your dear husband-Cregan Stark- was the softest soul in existence for a man of his stature, You wouldn’t have been believed and in all honestly you would have preferred it that way as well out of a selfish desire to keep something to yourself. For it had originally came as quite a surprise to you at first to know that Cregan had quite a bit of a clingy and soft side to his stoic stony exterior, but soon you quickly came to love that side of him to the point you had became selfish with withholding it from other people.

Cregan stark, Warden of the North, loved nothing more than to have his hair played with and he would not let you leave your shared chambers until you did just that. You had found out this very riveting bit of information from when you ran your fingers through his hair, almost in a similar way as when you would rub your siblings soothingly on the back when in need of comfort, only to then quickly pull alway upon realising what you were doing and were just about to apologise when Cregan’s hand grasped your tightly and brought your hand back to his head.

‘What?’ You asked in almost disbelief as Cregan hummed in content, shuffling himself closer to you as your hand started to run through his hair once more, he’d almost look cute if you weren’t currently why a man such as him was eager for your touch.

‘I like it when you run your hands through my hair,’ he spoke to you in a sluggish voice as he craned his neck towards your hand like a needy puppy. ‘Its calming effect lulls me to sleep, all I ask is that you continue to do so.’

‘If only it pleases my lord stark then I shall.’ You said as Cregan grabs you the waist and pulls you close to his chest, all the while your hand kept running through his dark hair in a soft and soothing manner. ‘It pleases me and more my dear wife.’ Cregan replies, groaning in content as your nails scratched his head deliberately and deliciously, so much so that had he been born a Direwolf his tail would’ve been wagging with unmatched eagerness in that moment.

‘Then it is settled.’ You said as you watched the way your husband melted in your hand, evidently relaxing under your touch as you brought him into a peaceful slumber before you yourself joined shortly after, whereas your hand would remain half way through his use until the morning do the next day; yourself now filled with an entirely new perspective on your lord husband of Winterfell who prided himself on duty as though his life depended on it.

From that day forth you would find yourself in a routine where every night just before either you or Cregan fell asleep, you would run your hand through his hair as he laid his head against your chest to hear your heartbeat, all the while the copious layers of furs on your shared bed kept the cold winds of Winterfell at bay from touching your bare skin. Not many words were exchanged during these moments, but there was no need for them as your actions towards the other were loud enough to be heard without the usage of oral communication.

From the constant tugging of Cregan’s rough but strong hands as they were desperate in keeping you close to his chest, scared that you might one day take off in the middle of the night on dragonback back to Dragonstone, to how occupied you were with detangling the stubborn nots within your husbands hair without accidentally hurting him in the process. ‘Where do all these nots keep coming from, I brush your hair thoroughly enough in the morning, but by nightfall it’s as though i hadn’t made an attempt at all.’ You said aloud as you worked on your fifth not in the course of a couple of minutes.

‘Tis but a mystery to us both it seems my love.’ Cregan said against your neck, amused and failing his attempt to hide his smile at your tuts of annoyance and frustration.

You look at him with raised brow. ‘And what is so funny to you my adoring husband? Does my suffering amuse you so greatly?’ You asked rhetorically as you tried to stop yourself from smiling alongside him, not once didn’t you think that you would bore a playful but loving form of banter with your husband so late at night, it was refreshing and exciting that the thought of sleep was long since forgotten.

‘Not at all.’ Cregan replied as he lifted his head to look at you fondly. ‘If I could I’d make your life as easy and comfortable as possible, should the gods ever grant me that ability,’ he lets his eyes wander your features as though taking you in for the first time before continuing, ‘but I fear that you wouldn’t at all allow me to do so in the slightest.’

You smiled at him as you stole a kiss from his lips, making him groan as he reciprocated. ‘You would be correct in that observation my dear husband, I wouldn’t even allow you to tempt such an idea in the first place,’ you rested your forehead against his as you looked deeply into his eyes, ‘for I am my mothers child and i would much rather prove my right to being at your side rather then have it handed to me without the hardship to prove it.’ You tell him as your nails scratch against his scalp, making him let out a noise of satisfaction as he closes his eyes and burrows his face back into your neck.

‘You have more than proved being at my side during these turbulent times in the realm,’ Cregan began as his thumbs caressed your waist as he tugged you closer against his chest. ‘We are on the cusp of being plunged into war and you have been nothing but hands on from strategic plans, to our training sessions in the God’s wood and so on.’ He adds, pressing reassuring kisses to your neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the base of his neck, just where he liked it.

‘You can thank my father for drilling that into my head at a young age, even though I was the one who kept pestering him to teach me until he did.’ You said as you reminisced learning battle tactics from Daemon at the ripe age of thirteen, though before that you were learning the art of the sword at the even younger age of eleven. Daemon was reluctant at first but when you kept hounding him, before threatening that you would learn yourself if he himself wouldn’t, and from then on he taught you everything you would need to fight this upcoming war. Your family had already suffered a great loss in Luke and you weren’t about to loose anyone else if you could help it.

Cregan must’ve felt you tense up at the memory as he was quick to pepper your skin in reassuring kisses across your collar bone, up your neck and across your jawline, causing you to lean into his affection in hopes of forgetting everything. ‘I won’t let any harm come to you my love.’ He whispered against your skin like a vow. ‘But I think it is best that we should get some sleep, we have a meeting to attend to in the morning after all and we must be well rested unless we are suspected to have been awake doing other activities.’ He adds in a sultry tone as you slapped his bicep softly.

‘A honourable man shouldn’t bare a flighty tongue, lord Cregan.’ You scolded him playfully, giving his hair a firm tug as he groaned in response.

‘You wouldn’t mind that being a possibility would you.’ Cregan asked as he held you closer against his chest, your breaths mingling together as one as your hearts beat in unison.

‘Goodnight my dear husband.’ You said teasingly as you pressed a kiss to his lips before getting your self comfortable against him, vaguely feeling Cregan’s lips against your forehead as he wished you a good sleep before sleep overtook you both.

[cdragons]

"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job

[pearl-nouveau]

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

summary: After a sudden betrothal, you consider what a future in Winterfell may look like.

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving durr), referenced baela x jace, slight timeline alterations

a/n: i feel weird writing smut even though i am an adult and i was writing UNGODLY things as a sixteen-year-old virgin half a decade ago. lmk if you enjoy because i don't have anything else written so if i'm going to keep writing i want to know that it's going to be read!

Cregan wasted no time trying to get me accustomed to Winterfell. As we entered the gates, he led me through with a protective hand on my back, steering me towards the stables first. He introduced me to his horse, Stormfighter, and I smiled at his excitement over the creature. It reminded me of my feelings about Vermithor. 

"You shall have as many horses as you wish," he told me, "perhaps a cream-colored one would pair well with mine. But I suppose you already have a dragon."

"Yes, Vermithor is a good form of transportation. I find horses rather slow now."

He laughed. "I shall build a dragonpit for Vermithor, if you wish it."

I smiled gently. He was so eager to please me. "He is much too big, I'm afraid. He will have to find a nest outside like Aemond's dragon, Vhagar."

"Ah. Not as easy as having a small dragon like your brother's, but perhaps more impressive."

"Vermithor's wingspan creates shadows over entire towns." I knew I was boasting, but Cregan's eyes widened with approval nevertheless. 

"Impressive indeed."

He took me within the palace walls, through warm hallways and into a communal dining hall where Stark bannermen laughed together merrily. One of them noticed Cregan enter, and the group regarded him with respectful My Lord's. I observed a few kitchen girls gossiping by the fire, unafraid of their Lord's presence. It pleased me to think that my future husband was a welcome presence to the people who worked beneath him. The tranquility of the scene put my mind at ease.

"I know Winterfell is less grand than you are used to," he admitted wearily, "but I will do anything to ensure your comfort here."

"You are Warden of the North and take care of your people with ease and no complaint," I turned to him, "there is no greater comfort to me than a Lord husband with a gentle heart."

"Lord husband?"

Jacaerys' voice startles you. He has crept up behind the two of you, and you are suddenly aware of the weight of Cregan's hand still on your lower back.

"Jace," I flushed, "we... I..." 

The words were lost in my mouth, but before me stood my brother, and words were not necessary. He smiled at me and I returned the grin knowing that he understood what had come to pass. He brought me in for a hug. 

"Congratulations," he told me, pulling back and kissing my head. He moved to Cregan and, to my surprise, brought him in for a hug as well. "Brother." he said happily. 

"Thank you, my prince." Cregan stood tall in front of him, pride radiating from him. "We will have a celebratory dinner tonight in the great hall."

"I shall send a raven to my mother." Jace said this with a smile and walked off, but I watched Cregan's expression darken. 

"What is it, qēlos?" I touched his face without thinking. He leaned into my fingertips.

"I realized I never asked your mother permission for your hand," he said, "I was so caught up in the thrill of being yours that..."

"It matters not, it was always my choice." I said firmly. I could tell it still bothered him. "What can I do to make it better?" He thought for a moment. 

"Allow me to come with you to Dragonstone, at the appropriate time. Let me meet the queen and pledge myself to her and you in person. And then..." he trailed off, as if afraid to overstep.

"Yes?"

"I hoped we could have a ceremony in the traditions of House Targaryen. Bind ourselves to one another by blood. If it pleases you."

For him to think of my house and my culture and not only his own made me awash with emotion. 

"It does please me." I whispered, placing a sweet kiss to his lips. He pulled back.

"What did that word mean?" My brows furrowed at his question. 

"What word?"

"The one you said earlier, qua, queh..." 

"Qēlos." I told him. "It means star." 

He hummed and repeated the word under his breath. 

I sought some alone time with Jace so we could talk before my betrothal to Cregan was announced at dinner. I found him in the library of Winterfell, flipping through an old history book. He looked up as I came in. 

"Sister," he greeted, "the Maester suggested I read up on the history of our houses' relationships with one another. That is, the Targaryens and the Starks."

"I hope it's good." 

He smiled. "Even if it wasn't, this marriage would surely do the trick." He stood up, removing his focus from the book below him. "Cregan is a powerful man, little dragon. In many ways. He commands a population that our ancestors have found very hard to control in the past. The North is loyal not to their Warden, but to their Lord Stark. His involvement could mean victory for mother."

I scoffed, suddenly annoyed. I was newly engaged and he could still only talk politics. "Well, what do you suggest I do? Suck his cock every time mother wants a thousand men? I won't be her pawn, I am going to be the Lady of Winterfell."

"I only mean that you now sit beside one of our most important fighters. I... I suppose I don't know what I meant telling you that. I just mean that it pleases me to see you with such an accomplished man. And... I like Cregan. He is good, and you deserve a good man."

"I did worry, at first, that he only asked for my hand because mother sought something from him. But he asked for my hand all those years ago, in a letter he sent me after his time in King's Landing."

"What? Why did you never respond?"

I flushed. "I never opened the letter."

Jace began to cackle. "You're a fool, sister." 

"I know." I snapped at him, slapping his shoulder. I sat down in a chair across the table from him, prompting him to sit as well. "I don't think I would have said yes if I had, though."

"Why not?"

I sighed. "I was not ready, and I knew not what he wanted from me."

"What does he want from you?" Jace was prodding, and I was letting it happen. I looked down at my hands.

"Everything. My heart and soul. I haven't been ready to give it. I have been too afraid that I would give it to the wrong person, or they would capture it and I would never be free again. But I feel free with him. He wants nothing from me, but to love me. And I know if I ask for my soul back, he will give it to me. But I want him to have it. I trust him."

A tear shot down my cheek, taking me by surprise. I didn't realize I had started crying. Jace was still smiling at me. I loved when he smiled, and I had the feeling it would only become more rare. So I returned it, and we were happy together for a moment. 

"When will you wed?" He asked curiously. 

"I have no idea. But Cregan has asked to visit mother in Dragonstone and have a ceremony of her house there."

"That will please her greatly."

I nodded. "Part of me wants it to be slow, so that I can ease into being married. But part of me cannot wait another day. Part of me just wants to be near him, close to him, always." I blushed, realizing what I was insinuating. But Jacaerys was nodding in agreement. 

"You know, you can wait as long as you want. You don't have to wait for the rest, not really."

"What?" I sputtered. He so casually and simply dismantled a norm that had been thrust at us our entire lives. More specifically, me. 

"No one really knows what happens behind closed doors." He shrugged.

"Oh hush, Jace, you only say that because you are a man." I bit.

His face reddened. "Very well, but you have never heard me presume to say that a woman's virtue is ruined alongside her maidenhood."

"Only old men still believe that."

"Exactly. Look, I know how much of a change this is from what you convinced yourself you always wanted. Take a few moons to settle in before you marry him. If anything happens naturally between you two in that period... so be it. You are to be married anyhow."

I was amused by his candor. "My brother, the wildling." I teased. "Tell me, was this enlightened opinion developed when our depraved uncle took you to a brothel when you were ten and three?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know very well I was a child deathly frightened of women, and bedding brothel wenches is different than making love to your betrothed."

It clicked for me. "You mean to tell me that you and Baela..."

He looked at his lap, equally flustered and self-satisfied. As much as it irked me to think of my brother in bed with someone, I found his admission heartwarming. After our grandsire's death, Dragonstone had been dreary and tense. We all walked the halls knowing that our days were numbered. To be unwilling to wait to be with the one you love when each day could be your last - it was romantic. 

"Jace," I grinned at him. I kicked him under the table. "How? I mean, when?"

"Before grandsire died," he admitted, "We just... got caught up in the moment. But I don't regret it. Life is too short."He reached out across the table and playfully pressed his knuckles against my cheek in a faux-punch. "If you are choosing to be free, be free. We may be called into battle on the morrow."

I left our conversation feeling validated in a way I hadn't realized I needed to be. It made me want only one thing: to find my husband-to-be.

I found Cregan in the highest room of a round tower to walk to dinner together. He answered the door and I could tell he had been working from the papers strewn upon his desk. The room was set up as an office, with a small straw mattress in the corner. I guessed that he found himself sleeping here when overwhelmed with work. 

"My beautiful wife," he greeted me, "almost. Come in." 

He brought me in, sitting me in a cushioned chair across from his desk and leaning against that to observe me. I spoke. "I wanted to discuss the wedding. I was not sure how long you wanted our engagement to last, and I wondered how soon before we are married." 

"I had not thought to discuss the details without you," he said, "you are, after all, meant to be in attendance as well."

His words always comforted me, and were always accompanied by a soft smile that I had only seen him give to me. "If it is alright, my Lord, I hoped to wait a few moons before we are wed. I suppose I have not yet come to terms with the reality of saying the vows." 

"We can wait as many moons as you like, little dove. Years, if it is your wish."

I smiled up at him. "You are so easy. You truly have no quarrels?"

"Not if it would go against my Lady's desires." I stood. Our chests were inches apart. I could feel his hot breath on my face.

"There is nothing that you cannot wait for?"

He shuddered. His jaw tightened as if he were in pain. Suddenly, the unbreakable man had a crack running through his thick skin. I ran my fingers up his furs and toyed with the clasp, which carried the Stark sigil. I unclipped it slowly and his cloak fell to the floor. 

"You don't have to wait to touch me," I told him. His eyes were burning holes through mine, darting every other breath to my lips. He bit his lip. 

"I will not sully you, my princess," he said in a low voice. "I am an honorable man."

"And I am an honorable woman," I said firmly. "Therefore we do not dishonor each other."

"Your arithmetic is very confusing, my love."

"But it is correct."

He kissed me with a heat that his kisses had never held before. It was as if now I had given him permission to want me, he could no longer pretend he didn't. His hands roamed up my back, unclasping my cloak and moving to tangle in my hair. Teeth clashed against each other in a dance that we were both leading. One of his large hands came to rest at the base of my throat, then ran lower through the column of my breasts and then he finally moved to cup one. I gasped at the feeling of his fingers kneading at my flesh, slowing down when grazing over my nipple. He stopped kissing me only to flip us and place me on the desk, slotting his hips between my legs. I squealed as he pressed them open, the fabric of my dress falling between my thighs, but he quickly bunched it and moved my dress up past my hips. He smiled at the sight of my smallclothes. 

"I'll have you naked in my bed soon," he grumbled, "but for now, I won't ruin the surprise. I will just give you a taste of the pleasure you shall have for the rest of your life."

His words made me whimper. He kneeled down in front of me, and a surge of embarrassment made me close my eyes as he grasped my undergarments and slid them down my legs. He must have noticed, because no more touches came after I was bare. I opened my eyes to his gaze. 

"I want you to watch me please you," he said gently, more a request than a command. He kissed the inside of my thigh. My hip bone. Slowly, he grew closer to my center, keeping eye contact with me until his mouth connected with my core. 

Oh. 

So this was why people could not wait until after their marriage vows. 

I gasped so loudly that he stopped for a moment until I gently grasped his hair and guided him back to where he was. I could feel him smiling down there and I almost laughed with joy. His tongue danced beautiful choreography against my cunt, expertly drawing pleasure from my body in a way I could never have imagined.

"Cregan... fuck, oh, yes," I could no longer control words from spilling from my mouth. He slowly stroked a finger at my entrance, looking back up at me to ask for permission as he gently prodded at my hole. I nodded and then moaned as his finger intruded me, and if I wasn't mistaken I could have sworn I heard him let out a moan as if it were his own cock that had penetrated me. 

He continued to eat me like a starved man and with the addition of his finger slowly curling inside of me, I knew that something was about to explode within me. My stomach was tightening, my legs shaking and trying to clamp shut against Cregan's head. He fought against them with ease, pressing me further open and leaning into his meal, lapping it up like a wolf feasting on prey. He could feel my peak approaching and his tongue began to focus on my pearl, suckling and kissing the bud with tender care. 

It was too much. My moans had morphed into screams of pleasure, and my hands were yanking at his hair so hard I had no idea how he wasn't hurt. With a few more well-placed licks against my pussy, I could feel myself at the edge.

"Cregan..." I could barely breathe, barely speak. "I'm-I'm-so, so close," I keened. 

"You're perfect," he mumbled against me, "can't believe this is all mine." He dove back in on a mission and I began to fall.

"Oh, oh, yes..." I could only sigh as the tension snapped and a jolt ran through my body. It was electric, and Cregan held my body tightly as it shuddered. He stood slowly, caressing my legs as he did, and removing a handkerchief from his pocket, which he gently ran through my folds. I gasped, sensitive from my orgasm, grasping at his forearm. He only hushed me and kissed my brow. He moved my dress back down to protect my modesty, and picked my undergarments off the floor. 

"I'll keep these as a reminder of the first of many times I ate my wife's cunt," he said, shoving them into his pocket. He picked me up from the desk and set me down in front of him. "How was that? Are you alright?"

I put my arms around his neck. "I have literally never been better."

“I am glad.” He said. He kissed me slowly, his arms absentmindedly running across every plane of my back, mapping the new terrain. "You are..." He looked at me the way people usually looked at me before calling me beautiful. But he said nothing. He only placed a peck on my forehead and fetched our cloaks from the floor, reclasping mine first and then his own.

"I am what?" I asked, now curious.

Cregan shrugged, leading me towards the door. "There isn't a word to describe it."

The silent walk that we took to the great hall was not awkward, but pensive. I liked the feeling of my arm wrapped around his underneath the cloaks. He always pulled me to his side, so he could feel the fabric of our clothes brushing together as we walked. Every few steps I could see him look down at me out of my peripheral vision. At one such time, I caught his gaze and we smiled at each other. He licked his lips slightly, and it reminded me that those same lips had so recently between my legs, and I blushed, my gaze falling to my feet.

"Thinking of something, dove?" He smirked. 

"Just those lips of yours," I reached up and brushed his bottom one with my fingertip. "You've been blessed with a talented mouth."

"I am at your service, forever." He said seriously.

Forever. It seemed an easy enough thing to imagine with Cregan. He felt safe, he was devoted to me. He said he loved me. Could it be that easy? Just to give in to his love? It was tempting, but I sought clarity. What made him love, and why had he found it with me? What if I suddenly stopped doing the thing he loved? The darkest part of my heart told me that as we aged and my beauty faded, his interest in me would falter. 

"Now you surely aren't thinking of me between your legs," he observed, "because you are frowning."

"Just wondering."

"About?"

I sighed. "Do you believe that love fades?"

"Sometimes." He said. His definitive answer stumped me and I could feel a flare of anger arise from it.

"Well, then," I hummed passive-aggressively. It was unbecoming, I knew, especially since I was trying to ascertain that he would not grow tired of my antics and regret our union. Instead of arguing, he chuckled. 

"Why do you speak in riddles? Ask me what I know you have been wondering. I may be a dull Northerner but I am not dimwitted." 

Even in humbling me he was gentle, his voice laced with amusement, as if any complaint I may have could be fixed as simply as commanding him. 

"Why do you love me? I... I am afraid that whatever it is will fade, and you will grow tired of me. And..."

"And?"

"Forgive me."

"What?"

I felt hot tears behind my eyes but I clenched my teeth until they retreated. "Will I forever be your second wife? Not the mother of your children, either, only a... replacement? I'm sorry, my Lord, I should not target your late wife with my own insecurities."

He had stopped us in the hallway, boxing me against the wall and listening intently. Cregan drank every word I said up like honey. After I finished, his palm found my face and I saw the emotions swimming behind his eyes. I regretted terribly the possibility that I may have reopened past wounds.

"I believe love can fade sometimes, in the way that it has for my late wife." He sighed. "Her name was Arra. We were friends in childhood. When my parents suggested our union, her familiarity comforted me. I think that is what I loved about her. She was like home, like being a boy again. But I am no longer a boy." He took my hands. "I will miss Arra until the day I die because she was my friend and bore me a babe. But I did not choose her, and you have been my only thought since the moment I met you. In years of not hearing from you, not knowing if you would ever allow me to become close to you, I still loved you. Every night memories of your wit and bravery haunted me. Fuck, girl, you ruined me for any other woman. The thought of anyone else, for all those moons, was unthinkable. You could not fade from my heart if I tried to pluck you out with a knife."

I hadn't anything to say. 

So I said, "I love you."

[dipperscavern]

let's talk about warming cregan's cock 😇👫

like you have so keenly established, mf can not sit still. this is the warden of the north we are referring to. the wolf of the north. he is well experienced in battle, a brilliant swordsman and lord of his house. he's used to abstaining during battle and experiencing dire circumstances over patience. surely he'd be able to let his pretty girl warm his cock?

WRONG 🙅‍♀️ someone, please fetch me a comedically large red buzzer to slam. thank you.

he's so restless. your stoic, burly, reserved, and patient man - reduced to ragged breaths and gritting his teeth because he can't sit still. here sits his pretty girl, batting her lashes at him, "cregan, can i please?" and it starts out well enough.

but you're so warm. so sweet. maybe he should be working on something - battle plans or lordy duties that define his bloodline. cregan's got an active mind, ever analyzing and preparing. he's hyperaware of everything in that moment - the way you slightly move your hips, wriggling in his lap. when he makes a comment about it, you just pout, telling him you were "adjusting." 🙄 yeah girl okay you just wanted to feel the godly girth 3000

the way you softly sigh admist the quiet chamber. maybe you do something as simple as sneeze - but when you do, you clench around cregan. and he's losing his shitttt.

can someone please find the meme of the guy sitting at a desk with his blood vessels about to burst as he's sweating? because that is our lord stark.

he tries breathing through it, for your sake. i imagine you would be the one to propose it, for whatever desire and circumstance brought you to the moment. cregan is trying :(( it's just so hard. like him, TEHE. all he wants to do is flip you over and ravage you. just leave little bites and nicks along his pretty girl's flesh :((

this is torture for him.

- 🔄❄️

reverse. elsa. anon. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? BED EMPTY, NO NOTE, WINTER GONE.

okay but seriously i am so so so sorry you got lost in my inbox. please i beg of you, come back!! the ponderer has returned, and we miss u!! REVERSE ELSA ANON IF U CSN HEAR US PLEASE SAVE US i call out to the winds. if you return, you shall never be lost again. this i swear to you 💔✊

ANYWAYS. CREGAN STARK COCKWARMING. here’s your buzzer m’dear 🚨 when you suggest the idea, cregan is a bit perplexed. you don’t want him to make you cum as many times as you want? but you bat your lashes and ask so sweetly, and you don’t ask for much. plus, cregan is a warrior. a hardened, battle surviving lord — he can stay still for his pretty wife.

or so he thinks.

because once you sink down on him, his grip on your hips is like iron. you’re warm and wet and so inviting, and you don’t want cregan to move? gods have mercy. cregan is usually pretty held together, but his breathing turns all ragged and his gaze is glued to where his [REDACTED] meets your [CONTENT DELETED]. and even worse, you’re relishing in his loss of self control.

even so, he tries to be so good for you.

it gets easier over time, and when cregan feels you relax and sigh against him, he thinks it’s not so bad after all. cregan is in control, and things are okay. until a few minutes later, you sneeze. you clench around him, and he grits his teeth, lax grip on your hips tightening once more as he fights the urge to move.

“This is torture,” he breathes, trying with all his might to stay still for you :( <3