#a song of ice and fire preference

[llonelygoddess]

Yandere House Stark Headcanons

A/N: I ended up not doing Bran and Rickon only because I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later and they were a little difficult to write for. If you'd like to see headcanons for them I can definitely make another post for them, just let me know.

Let's say you are a low born person looking for refuge in Winterfell after your village was sacked by Wildlings. You had hoped to find some tavern to hold up in or even a brothel, but unbeknownst to you the Stark family kept an eye on newcomers. When they received news of your arrival, they requested your presence. It was only to talk about the possibility of nearby Wildlings, but when YOU showed up beaten and scared for your life- how could they not offer their Stark hospitality?

This is where the yandere tendencies begin.

Ned Stark, as a yandere, is protective and definitely has a savior complex. He's an honorable and just man that can't help but bring home strays, so when he sees you it's like finding Jon all over again. A deep sense of responsibility comes over him and he knows in that moment that you are just as much his as any of his kids. From that day forward he assigns a room for you in the castle and a handmaiden to keep you company, not that you'll be needing it. The family of course is shocked at his sudden interest, but they all love to see him happy and nothing makes him more happy than seeing you taken care of.

Now Catelyn is initially worried that Ned has taken a romantic interest in you, but when she sees the way you both interact she understands the fatherly bond he is trying to create very similar to his own kids. It didn't take long for her to fall into her own yandere tendencies; checking in on you in the mornings, making prayer wheels even when you're not sick, helping in the kitchen to make sure your food was perfect ( and not poisoned). She takes her role as your surrogate mother very seriously,sometimes to the extent of watching you sleep or ordering guards to discreetly watch over you and report back. Her biggest worry is that you'll be taken away from them so she takes extra precautions to keep you safe.

Robb is head over heels for you instantly. Man is down bad. Much like his father, Robb has a savior complex and finds himself wanting to be YOUR savior always. He does this by training extra hard with Jon, keeping an eye on you at all times, and giving threatening looks to any man or woman who gets too close to you. He doesn’t mean to scare away any potential friends but he does mean to scare away potential lovers. He couldn’t bear to see you with anyone outside the family, and even then he has a sword up his butt about it. 

On the other hand, Jon takes a while to warm up to you. He loves his family and is vicious to outsiders who could harm them. Eventually, seeing how you interact with everyone makes him a tad jealous. Not of you, but of his family and how easily they can approach you. I definitely see Jon as an overprotective/stalker yandere with strong jealous tendencies that make him beg for your approval. He finds himself wherever you are, lurking in the background, waiting for the right moment to catch you alone. Jon feels like himself around you and the more time you spend together the more addicted to your presence he becomes. 

Theon is hands down THE worshiper of the group. It's a hot take for sure but as a yandere, I see Theon's insecurities and fears taking over, slightly similar to reek!Theon. He sees you as a deity, above the Lords and Ladies, even above the King/Queen themself. If it were up to him he'd be the one giving you your meals, running your baths, standing by your side as guard. He cherishes your very presence and hopes one day you'll see his never ending loyalty to you and only you. 

Sansa is very quiet about her obsession, you almost couldn't tell. She's the perfect friend, always sitting next to you at meals, gossiping about the Lords and Lady's of court, and helping you stock your wardrobe. Whatever hobby you choose to pick up, she's always there to praise you in your efforts and guide you in whatever way she can. She especially loves teaching you how to embroider as it's her specialty. It was all but normal until you came upon her private journal filled with both your names in beautiful cursive surrounded by hearts. You begin to notice the closeness she silently demands, eyeing everyone else to stay away. You see the way she longingly watches you from afar when you choose to spend time with anyone else. And your dresses, that you both so carefully picked out, seem to have a little embroidered "SS" on the nape of your neck.

Arya sees you as her golden older sibling, the one who can do no wrong. She is constantly dragging you around Winterfell - riding horses and trying to shoot arrows (and failing lol). She finds comfort within you, the only person who doesn't expect anything of her except to be herself. And for that she will never leave your side. Most nights you'll find her trying to sneak into your room to share a bed, but whether she can get past the guards Ned and Catelyn have posted outside your door is another story.

[castieltrash1]

hiii since you're taking got requests and i saw sandor is one of your faves: there's this post that's like "submissive like a guard dog is submissive" (i hope this makes sense even if you don't know what i'm talking about) and it always makes me think of him bc he's. you know. the hound. so what i'm saying is anything sandor-related with a dom reader would be very appreciated since i've never really seen anyone write him like this before :] if that's not your thing, that's totally fine though !

oh dw anon u came to the right place <3

sandor clegane x gn!reader; smut, dom/sub dynamics, dog motif, the hound is ur beaten and battered guard dog <3 mentions of violence, strong language, etc.

it doesn’t matter how you meet. maybe he serves your family. maybe he’s kidnapped you. maybe you’re just some lowborn whore whose face he pushes into the mattress to avoid looking at when he’s fucking out his anger. at some point, regardless of the roots of your relationship, the hound begins to heel. it’s not always obvious -- especially if you’re not some little lady/lord he’d be beheaded for lifting a finger to -- but it’s there. he’s already spent most of his life like this, and being with you is no different. you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

once he (somewhat) lets you in, the dynamic shifts. you’re not just his liege, his captive, the prettiest face at littlefinger’s silk street brothel -- you’re his. and that makes him yours, he thinks. it means taking care of you, giving you as much comfort and safety that he can offer in this hellish life. it’s the least you deserve for picking him, since now he’ll never let you leave. you’ve resigned yourself to a cruel, cold, and crass beast; who cares if he has to behead a man or two to keep you fed or hold an entire inn hostage just so you can sleep on a featherbed for the night? he’ll never say please or thank you, but he’ll always stand in front of you. he’ll always lean against the door in case someone tries to break in.

he’s not gentle. he’ll growl when you tug his hair, a makeshift collar threaded between your fingers, urging him between your legs or bringing him back up to your mouth. he’ll bark about breaking you in, splitting you in half, vulgar words foaming at his mouth the longer it goes on. and when you lock eyes with him, he’ll always crumble under the weight of your gaze, lowering his head in some twisted form of obedience. he’ll eat out of your palm and you’ll know there are mutts in volantis better fed than him.

“sandor?”

you could hear the resulting sigh from a mile away, the sound of his armor clanking as he heeds your call. when your eyes lock on his figure, he rolls his shoulders back, masking the way he bows his head as if it were nothing more than loosening a crick in his neck. it’s hard to tell when he’s blushing, but you swear there’s a hint of flush blooming down his neck. you think if you asked him to kneel right now, he might even do it.

“i’m hungry,” you say instead, making your way toward him with a small, knowing smile. “let’s go eat.”

+ you’d be better off never mentioning it, but the similarities between sandor and your average dog aren’t too far off. he sleeps like one, always either curled into a ball or sprawled halfway out of bed; huffing and kicking with night terrors. he slurps out of bowls and licks his plates clean. he’s good at sniffing out enemies, even better at finding their scent on you, teeth bared as he asks where you’ve been and who with. he loves being pet and, if you catch him in a good mood, he'll sometimes nuzzle against your hand. and when he’s got you on all fours, clawing at the sheets or floor while you scream his name, it’s not hard to see he's always been more animal than man.

game of thrones weekend (reqs open!)

[witchlingcirce]

Tbh, I think the writers kind of fumbled by making so many of these characters not be adamant for the side there supporting! 😭😭

WHYYY is Aemond the only team green member team green??? Whyyyy is Jace the only team black member locking in (won the north, vale and the freys)

Can y’all get up or something ?? 😭😭😭

[grandmaestershibe]

do you guys think jaime was disappointed that joffrey liked to use crossbows?

[lovelyllamasblog]

GOD I love Braime!!

It's the same story with my Galladay family tree find!!! Except I originally found this on Pinterest so go show some love to the OG artist @ayofandomthings!!

Thank you @the-sun-is-often-out for that 🙏🏻☺️

[dearsnow]

Hello!

Could I request a Jon Snow x female reader, where she is a seamstress for the Stark family and they become friends and talk during her visits to Winterfell and slowly become lovers?

A PATCHWORK OF BLOOD AND BATTLES

- you are a fighter, and so seems to be the needle stuck in your thumb. and, of course, the man that unintentionally put it there (jon snow x fem!seamstress!reader ⚠️ mentions of blood and a needle-based injury).

word count: 1058

a/n - this took absolutely forever to finish i’m so sorry 😭 i think this request was from literal months ago, but here you are!! i love this concept so much, i hope you don’t mind my artistic liberties :)

You have fought for everything in your life. For your right to simply exist in the same world as the nobles, for your trade, and most importantly, you have fought for yourself. You have climbed the ranks of peasantry with chipped nails and a needle, asking for more and getting less. Now, you have won. At least, you have won as much as the earth beneath your feet will allow you to win. You are a seamstress for one of the most prominent families in Westeros, and as you patch a hole in a fancy evening dress, you can’t help but smile.

The night is dark, but you are not unfamiliar with the flicker of a candle flame. Snow falls lightly outside, and the wind rustles your hair as it sneaks through your open window. As you thread your needle through the lacy fabric, your door slams open.

Your eyes widen as the needle between your fingers is driven straight into your thumb, sending a shooting pain through your entire hand. You let out a sharp yelp, clutching your injury. Who in the gods’ good name was slamming doors at this hour? And why the hell didn’t they warn you?

The thumb clenched between your hand is throbbing and dripping red around the needle still stuck in the middle of it. You look up at the man who startled you, eyes burning with distaste.

It’s him. Lord Stark’s bastard child, the one that sits alone at feasts. And the one that comes to you with sword slashes in his vests.

“May I help you?” You ask. Your finger is still in burning hot pain.

In truth, you have grown to like him. He is also someone who has fought for his status, though his came with a lot more cushion. You recognize the burn in him, the drive that your own eyes carry. He will do great things someday; you’re sure of it.

He looks at you like your hand is made of dragonfire. “Sorry.”

You press your lips into a thin line. You need to keep him on your good side if you wish to keep your job.

You tuck your hand behind your back, hoping he just drops off whatever garment he needs repaired and leaves you to nurse your sores. Unluckily for you, he is a gentleman.

He moves to kneel beside you, dark curls almost glowing in the dim lighting. He looks positively angelic as he reaches for your hand.

“My lord?”

“Allow me to help.” He utters, voice as soft as the wind. He is an honorable man, you cannot deny it. You have seen him in the courtyards during your visits to the castle. He is always improving and always helping others do the same. He gets it from his father, you assume.

You comply with his urges, slightly in fear that you will lose your position if you do not. That worry is always in the back of your head. Will sewing this neckline a millimeter too short cost you your life? Is this cuff good enough for Lady Stark? Are you up to the task? Your thoughts almost consume you long enough to not notice Jon Snow pulling the needle out of your finger.

Almost. You feel a sharp sting of pain, but you bite your tongue. He swiftly wraps the undershirt in his hand around yours. For a brief moment, his rough hands brush the tip of your pinky finger. You have never felt anything so electrifying.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up like the angels have come for your body at long last. When he pulls away, your thumb shouts with new pain, but all you can focus on is the memory of his hand. You shake your head.

“Shall I call the maester?” He asks, ever the responsible one. You wave your good hand.

“I will be alright, my lord. I will wash and patch your shirt, if you wish.” You don’t exactly love the idea of taking the pressure off of your wound, but you must be willing to sacrifice your own comfort in this moment to assure your future.

He stands, and an owl outside hoots. His eyes flicker to the window, then back down to you. “Don’t worry about it. Keep the thing.”

This shocks you. It shouldn’t, but it does. He is being kind to you. For the first time in a long while, someone is being kind to you.

“I mustn’t, my lord.” You speak, hesitantly standing up next to him.

“It’s no trouble. I insist.” His voice is smooth, and the sound tickles your ears. You think you could hear him speak all night if you ever had the opportunity. Something in you wishes you did.

You nod slowly. It would be rude to further refuse it. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. You hope it is not the fact that you suddenly hope your finger never stops bleeding.

Jon turns to leave, exiting just as swiftly as he had come. You clutch his shirt, heart beating wildly in disbelief of what just happened. In that moment, you suddenly decide that you have another thing to fight for.

Gods, did you fight for it. You took every opportunity to see him, and it worked like a well-oiled hinge. From patching more sword slashes to custom-tailoring a pair of riding pants, you were able to take any of his sewing work off of your coworkers’ hands. And through that, you began to learn why exactly he was fighting.

He often sat in your quarters while you worked, and you were beyond glad for the company. Eventually, he began to open up as beautifully as a flower in spring.

He was neglected and outright hated by Lady Stark, as he was the bane of her married life. He wishes to take the black and become a watcher of the wall. Most importantly, he does everything possible to maintain what little honor he has in his family.

Like you, he is a fighter.

Sometimes, in the quiet night, words spill from his mouth like he has never held them back. You do the same. And every once in a while, very softly, he takes your hands in his larger ones and whispers that he will fight only for you.

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist: @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy @cecespizza01

[selkiewife]

“I wish...”

A Song of Ice and Fire: A Storm of Swords, Tyrion X by George R.R. Martin | Peter Dinklage as Tyrion Lannister in GAME OF THRONES: “The Laws of Gods and Men,” Season 4, Episode 6 | Alice in “Vinegar Tom,” by Caryl Churchill.

[porcelaintoybox23]

Sladick: Who are you?

Jonmund: You but medieval and healthier

[silly-litttle-writer]

This dress is hated far more than it frankly deserves

[spectrum-color]

Tagged by @cryptidlark

@tragediegh @mellowthorn @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly @lordgolden

[hewantshisbrideback]

After years of living on the run under assumed identities and burying her past deep down where it couldn't be weaponized against her or her loved ones, her own name has grown near foreign to her. On the bright side, seeing as the press can't keep the name Princess Arya Stark out of their fucking mouths and off their fucking cover pages, the novelty will probably wear off in no time, she's sure.

A SONG OF INTERVIEWS AND FAKE NEWS: ARYA'S RETURN

[castieltrash1]

Can I request Jon Snow x Lady!Reader. Arranged marriage that becomes real love?

this is so sweet ty for the req :')

jon snow x afab!reader; arranged marriage, slow burn, vague mentions of sex, mutual pining-ish i think

when you’re finally brought to the godswood, gaze averted and flecks of snow glinting between strands of hair, jon finds himself relieved. he’d known his duties from a young age so when the time to wed arrived -- a wife already chosen on his behalf -- he didn’t fight it. he tried not to imagine your appearance, but it proved difficult, and many late nights at winterfell were spent concocting an image of you in his head. not nearly as beautiful or rich as robb’s future wife, surely, but you’d be worthy of a stark bastard at least… right?

it’s odd. you’re different, but somehow more beautiful. jon can’t really explain it and he doesn’t try, not wanting to offend you. the first night is painfully awkward regardless, and he’s relieved when you both agree to take it slow for now. everything happens eventually, of course, but your patience pays off. jon considers himself lucky -- he could’ve been stuck with anyone for the rest of his life, but he had you; you, with your kind words and pretty face, practically handed to him on a silver platter. he kept waiting for you to act monstrous, assuming your beauty had to be compounded by something, anything, but it’s not. your marriage isn’t perfect, but jon enjoys figuring things out with you by his side. he likes being a united front with someone. he likes the warmth you leave on the other half of the bed, sheets smelling like the oil from your baths. he enjoys keeping you happy, noticeably fulfilled when he’s seen as a good husband and dutiful partner.

the more you go through together, the deeper jon’s feelings grow. he knows it’s happening, despite his initial attempts to ignore it. you have a lifetime together ahead of you - there’s no need for him to rush things. but the affection gnaws at him, and he can’t deny himself any longer. he loves you. by the old gods and the new, he really, truly, loves you. he hadn’t expected it, thinking any romantic dedication to you would take years to build -- if it ever even came to fruition -- but now it’s here and he almost isn’t sure what to do.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue all day. he’d nearly said it in bed the night before, limbs tangled in sheets as he stared down at you, but the words were caught in his throat. now, every time he speaks to you, the declaration begs for release, desperate for you to know the depth of his feelings. three more opportunities arise before midday, but he lasts until after dinner, when he finds you overlooking the courtyard below and feels his heart skip a beat. you turn to face him and, somehow, his gentle expression tells you everything.

“i love you.”

+ after he says it for the first time, it takes him a while to work up the courage again, even if you happily return the sentiment. it felt like a reward and he doesn’t want to spoil it. the words aren’t careless to him and he wants them to mean something, not be taken for granted. soon enough, you’ll hear it five times a day, gruffly murmured in every free moment alone. and, despite its newfound frequency, it only seems to be more genuine each time.

game of thrones weekend (reqs open!)

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: mentions of self-harm & self-harm scars, how reader got self harm scars, gets dark at some points, I do go into detail about self harm (kinda). Please don’t read if it will upset you xx

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

𝐉𝐨𝐧

・Stiffened when you showed him.

・He thought they were battle scars 

・Jon wasn’t very good at talking about the aftermath of traumatic events - only good at surviving them

・But he knew you were opening up; being vulnerable. And that’s never easy. So he thought you were being really brave - 

・He came and sat beside you on the bed, slipping his hands into yours. 

・You rested your head against his shoulder and he rested his head against yours

      “Whenever you want to talk ... about it. You, we, can.” 

・You huffed out a laugh and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. and ran a thumb over the back of your hand. 

・The fire burned bright in the fireplace, sparks popping here and there

・And even in the silence, you felt comfortable. You knew Jon meant it. He didn’t want you to tell him if you weren’t ready. Because he knew he was spending the rest of his life with you. 

・So there was no rush. No need to feel pressured. 

・When you were ready, you would tell him, but for right now. You just needed to take it slow. 

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐲

・Sympathetic

・Wanted to touch and trace every part of your injuries 

・Asked questions but then apologised if she was being too forward

    “You can tell me whenever you’re ready, I’m sorry if I’m bringing up old memories-” 

   “No, no, it’s okay. I knew you would be curious, it’s fair for you to have questions.” 

・She led you over to the bench in her room that was infront of a large window. The sun was setting and although the view was breathtaking, Dany couldn’t keep her eyes off of you

・She hadn’t heard of self-harm; not in this sense. She knew people took risky behaviours, drank, took poppy of the fields to feel numb. But she didn’t know of this. 

・Dany had judged when she was younger, but now ... she understood that the world was brutal, and unforgiving.

・Her legs wrapped around your waist as yours did the same to hers. 

・You showed her every injury and at first she wanted to know how you did it, but after a while ... it was like she couldn’t stomach it 

・Not you. She had seen horrors, unimaginable horrors, but you... not you. 

     “I will do everything in my power to make sure you never feel like that again.”

・Her words hit hard, and you let your tears slip freely

・She held out her hand and you lent your cheek against it

      “I love you, ñuha prūmia,” (I love you, my heart in High Valyrian)

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫

・Not much for words

・He thought they were scars someone had given you 

・And you thought, ‘fuck it, he’ll have to find out one day.’

・So you explained it to him, trying your best to keep your tone light. 

     “...I did it to myself.” 

・Sandor didn’t really react... he didn’t shake his head, or yell, or berate you. 

・It took him a few minutes to process it, but he actually ... understood. On some level, he identified with that type of pai. 

・ Not that you could see it on his face though. He looked, well, very dazed, but sad

・You were about to explain more about it, when his next actions shocked you. 

・Sandor, the Hound, the man who killed, maimed and slaughtered. Got up, walked over to you and took your head in his hands

・He didn’t say anything, just looked into your eyes. 

・And ever so slowly, he moved his forehead to rest to yours. His nose brushed your own, and then he leant down to wrap his arms around you and shifted his head to your neck. 

・He held you, in this sort of protective cocoon.

・Like he was saying the world can’t get to you now

・That pain will never be felt again

・And you wrapped your arms around his middle and pushed yourself against him. Wanting to melt into his arms. 

𝐀𝐫𝐲𝐚

・Blinked. Once, twice, three times. 

・And then her eyes softened and her head moved to one side

     “The world is cruel, but I wish it had spared you.” 

・You couldn’t meet her eyes, because they had teared up and you couldn’t stop them from falling 

・Shaking your head softly, you slumped to the ground and leaned against the cold wall. 

     Whispering, you said, “It didn’t spare me.” 

・And you started to sob

・With light footsteps, she ran over to you and sank to her knees 

・Looking around she found something you could use to blow your nose and wipe your eyes 

・Then she stayed with you, unmoving, until you were ready to talk

      “I want to know everything. When you’re ready.” 

・You shifted so your head was in her lap and she stroked the hair out of your face. 

・Although she wasn’t the best with physical affection, she remembered what her mother did to her when she was  young. She also remembered how safe, and how loved she felt. 

・So she stroked your hair and gently ran her fingertips over your features. 

・Even if this was how you fell asleep, she would stay in this position until you woke

      𝐉𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞

・Perplexed and had a lot of questions about your scars, but was still supportive. 

    “You never sought any help from the maesters?” 

You scoffed, “and what good could a bunch of old men do? They would ask questions and my mind wasn’t ... it couldn’t handle any questions.” 

・He nodded and sat on the chair, facing opposite you. 

     “I guess we all do some self-damage in one way or another.”

・You were a bit embarrassed in bringing it up. Like you had a secret that could ruin how Jaime saw you

     “I think your way is probably the healthiest...” He said and walked up to you

・Jaime gave you the lightest, most tender kiss, then closed his eyes and lent his head against yours. 

・Wrapping his arms around you, he swayed from side to side (knowing that movement calmed you down)

    “Safe. You’re safe with me. Now and forever.” 

・You nuzzled into his neck and took a deep breath in. 

・He rubbed up and down your spine, while planting a kiss on your cheek

・You knew Jaime brought this warm light with him, wherever he went. Especially when he was with you. 

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚

・Is the most understanding, because during the times in King’s Landing then being sent to the Bolton’s... she did indulge in self harm

・It was in places that no one would see

・So when you opened up about your own self-harm, she immediately went to you, and held you in her arms. 

    “I understand, I understand,” she said over and over, stroking your hair and holding you to her chest

・You could feel her heartbeat; steady and strong. 

・You didn’t notice when the tears started to fall, but they did - and didn’t stop until someone knocked on her door, asking if you wanted dinner 

・She had looked to you and you had shaken your head

     “No thank you,” Sansa called out and you heard the shuffle of feet leaving the corridoor

・That night Sansa had opened up about her own experiences and you both cried in each other’s arms 

・You stroked each other’s faces and cried about the hurt that you both endured. Even at times you held the other as they screamed into a pillow (it’s liberating trust me) 

𝐏𝐨𝐝

・He was so sad 

・But tried his best not to show it, but you caught a glimpse of it. 

・So SO SO SUPPORTIVE

    “Are you still doing it now? Have you got a way to stop doing it? Should we make some sort of ... plan?” 

・Knows exacty how you’re feeling just by looking at you - even when you’re trying to conceal you’re true feelings. He just ... knows. 

・Has a plan for you, even if you can’t think of one

・There’s herbal remedies if you can’t sleep, bandages and salves in case you do self-harm again

・He even learned how to stitch in case ... well ... you know 

・Absolutely no judgement when you told him about the self-harm. He had tears in his eyes, and knelt beside you as you told him everything 

・Didn’t interrupt you, or make you feel as though it was burdening him

      “I want to know everything about you. You mean the world to me.” 

・Is more upset that you had to go through certain experiences / feelings. Wish he could have been there to support you during those times 

・Only asks questions when he gets your consent to do so

・Is so steady with the questions as well

・Holds you tight every night after that, and when he’s away, he’ll write little reminders and notes so he doesn’t feel so far away

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲

・Didn’t fully understand what you meant, because self harm was a foreign thought to her. 

・She always had a plan, or her thoughts were always certain. Her grandmother helped with that, because of how grounded and honest she was with/for Margaery

・It was a bit intimidating telling her but you knew you had to at some point. And in your mind, you thought this would make or break your relationship

・You were honest and told Margaery exactly that - and she was shocked 

     “My dear, my absolute love,” she held your hands in hers and put them to her lips, “I love you. And this is not ... there is nothing wrong with how you expressed yourself. You did what you had to, to survive.” 

・Tears sprung in your eyes when she said that

・Because that’s exactly what these scars were - memories of a time when all you could control was your self harm. 

・Asked when was the last time you did it and if you were still doing it. If you were still, then she would ask to see - in case of infection or if the maester needed to get involved 

・Then she promised you that you would never need to self-harm again

𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐧

・Kissed you, every part of you

     “I am so sorry you felt so ... low, that you felt like you had to do this to yourself.”

・Led you to the bed and brought over the wash bowl, wash cloth, called for food and wine

     “You will never feel like that again, I promise.”

・He kissed the inside of your palms and held them to his face, where he looked you in the eyes and smiled sadly 

・Washed you from head to toe, (every part of you), wiped your face and helped you move into bed

・He held you close, bringing you the cup of wine and making you a plate of food so you didn’t have to get up

   “Tell me whatever you wish to.”

・He was so tender and caring

・Oberyn truly loved you, every part of you, and not just superficially. But the whole of you. Your personality, your thoughts, memories and experiences. Everything that made you, you. 

[ladyculebras]

tagged by @streussal! Thanks for tagging!

make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. see which character is everyone's favorite

I tag @alaynestone, @hearthouses, @vincenzides, @augustmourn, @comebackali! And anyone else who wants to do it.

[lumillsie]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a song of ice & fire masterlist. ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ arianne martell, young griff "aegon", aegon ' the conqueror' targaryen, rhaenys 'the conqueror' targaryen, visenya 'the conqueror' targaryen, maegor targaryen, rhaena targaryen, aemon targaryen, baelon targaryen, aegon 'the younger' targaryen, viserys ii targaryen, aemon 'the dragonknight' targaryen, daemon blackfyre, shiera seastar, daemon blackfyre

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ arianne martell. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ young griff. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ aegon the conqueror targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rhaenys targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ visenya targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ maegor targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rhaena targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ aemon targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ baelon targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ aegon the younger targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ viserys ii targaryen. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ aemon the dragonknight. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ daemon blackfyre. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ shiera seastar. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ daemon blackfyre. ੈ✩‧₊˚

tba.

[dearsnow]

APRICITY

the warmth of sun in winter ; it may be cold outside, but the warmth of his arms is unmatched by any other force. (jon snow x fem!reader, part of the standstill collection)

word count: 652

STANDSTILL: The arrival of the Lannisters and Baratheons in Winterfell has caused the world to quiet for just a moment- a moment long enough to last lifetimes.

a/n - I’M BACKKKKKKK :)) this has been in my drafts forever but i’m glad i got a chance to finish it eventually. this is kinda just a cute comfort fluff, hope y’all enjoy <3

The morning sun beams lazily down on you, casting your face in golden rays. It catches on Jon’s eyelashes, and the sight lights a little burning candle in your cheeks. How could one man look so beautiful? He could be a prince, you think. The sheets covering your bodies shuffle as you scoot closer, closing your eyes once more.

His chest rises and falls above your head. It is winter, but your arms are drowning in warmth and your legs are tangled with his and you don’t think you could be cold with the way he is pressed up against you. You take a shuddering breath when you realize just how relaxed he is.

You rest a palm on his cheek, eyes closed just as softly as they were a minute ago.

“How is it you know my face so well?” He questions, voice quiet and raspy from the slow morning. You open one eye, jolted a little by the surprise of his awakening. The scruffy beard underneath your fingers moves as he turns to kiss your palm.

“I know your face like I know my own.”

“But you don’t,” he says, slipping his hand over yours. “know yours, I mean. If you did, you would think your own face the most beautiful in the world.”

You all but scoff at this. “The most beautiful in the world? I’m not that arrogant, Snow, and you know it.” You cannot imagine yourself as a great beauty, and you know with a solid mind that no one will sing songs about your fairness when you are dead and buried.

“You deserve to be. You deserve the good things, the ones I can only give you in dreams and false promises. You deserve to think yourself pretty and smart and all the things I know you to be.” Though whispered, his tone is firm as ever. Strong like ambrosia wine and the trees unbent in the winter-kissed forest. It makes your heart melt as quickly as an icicle by the fire.

“I didn’t know you thought of me that way.” You snuggle deeper into his warmth, and he accepts you with open arms.

“I think of you in so many ways, my lady. That is but one of them.” You know in your heart that he means it. Jon Snow is a lot of things, but he has never been and never will be a liar. He shifts in your grasp.

“I appreciate that, more than you could ever know.” Your voice wavers just a little bit. Being who you are, with your father as he is, you often do not get the kindness of being thought of positively.

“I’m glad.” He kisses your hand once more before sighing. “To be honest, I don’t feel like leaving this bed.” His words meander through the thick air, just as lazy as you feel.

“Then we do not have to.” He quirks his brow, and you quickly add, “I’m sure no one will miss us for five more minutes. Let us relax.” You kiss his chest through his shirt, an act that sends electricity through his sluggish veins. He always feels like that when you touch him. He doesn’t know why, but your every graze brings his breaths back to life.

“I have duties.” He says, unsure. But the warmth of your body and the plush covers are just so very inviting.

“Am I not one of them?” You question, scrunching your nose. He smiles softly, expression as kind as the gentle clouds in the sky.

“Aye. Let us stay.”

He holds you to him like you could slip from his fingers at any moment, and you hold him like you will. His arms are just so inviting, and the winter sun just shines in a particularly idle way, and you could not escape even if you wanted to.

You stay that way for a long while.

Taglist: @peaked-in-third-grade @hueanhdang @scxrlettlove @cecespizza01 @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @watercolorskyy