#i want bran to be happy

[hyacinthecanard]

"Brandon the Knight" , they called him. At first, it was to mock him. Behind his back, of course, as he was still a son of house Stark even if his legs didn't work. But then it was just a fact, as nothing could stop Bran at achieving his dream, and no one could say that a direwolf at a tourney or in battle wasn't impressive.

Alternate Universe : Winterfell isn't taken, or maybe it is just Bran's escapist dream as he waits in that cavern.

I didn't think too much about the saddle as I know nothing of riding, even less of medieval riding. I tried to make somthing that could hold him enough, but he doesn't really need something to direct his direwolf as he is a very competent warg.

Note that he dresses in some very southern clothes (although in Stark colors) because Knighthood is still a pretty southern concept.

Forgive me I traced the wolf and the lettering, I was lazy.

[melrosing]

If the kingdoms at the end go all independent. Who ends up king in the north? I assume Sansa is queen in the vale with Harold hardying but is bran really ok for king in the north? Will it go to Rickon?

talked about this a little before but basically I don't really see the seven kingdoms each becoming independent: I think whatever becomes of the Targaryen legacy, Aegon's ice & fire dream (or whatever it was called lol) was clear that there was strength in unity and I think that echoes throughout asoiaf generally.

I think it's likely Sansa will govern the North (I agree that her arc in preparing her for that role is incomplete, but at least she has that arc where compared to Rickon). Arya's a charismatic character and a strong leader besides, you could certainly say she'd be as good at governing as Sansa. but I just don't really feel like a governing role resonates in her story regardless, so that does leave Sansa (who I personally really doubt will just marry Harold Hardyng and settle down in the Vale for all of time)

and I fully buy into the Bran as a fisher king theory - I don't think he'll govern exactly but will become a figurehead of westeros, uniting the people and the land. doubt he'll be based in King's Landing as that's likely to be a pile of ash and in any case was always very much part of the political plot, divorced from the supernatural and the struggles of the rest of Westeros. you constantly get a sense of KL as a corrupted seat where the monarchs and their court are entirely removed from the smallfolk on their very doorstep, so I don't see it having a place in Bran's reign, whatever that ends up looking like

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[lemon-grey]

Free to follow our hearts 💙

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

AGoT was absolutely making some big statementsᵀᴹ re deconstructing unrealistic fantasies and how they make tragedies out of children, with Jon, Bran, and Sansa being the main vehicles for this commentary. They are basically three different versions of GRRM’s critique on the genre. All three had built life expectations based on the songs fed to them as children, but had to have those dreams and aspirations (very) violently shattered as they were thrust into a world that didn’t care how it made corpses out of them. They have all been made victims of fantasy’s violence in a tragic process that is believed to be the natural order.

Sansa realizes in time that the songs didn’t paint the full picture. The singers neglected to warn her that not all handsome princes are kind, and not all knights actually understand the contradictions in the vows they swore; some don’t really care to in the first place. She learns that the handsome prince she loves can brutalize her through the very knights who should protect her (an innocent maiden). Though he doesn’t know it yet, it was Bran’s very ideal that almost killed him. He wanted to be Barristan the Bold, a valiant knight of the kingsguard. But it was a member of this “noble” order that tried to murder him (and thus made his hopes and dreams impossible) because he witnessed him betraying the man and institution he swore allegiance to. And Jon, like Bran, wanted to be the valiant hero. He banked on the songs which propagandized the Night’s Watch and their noble exploits. Then he actually joined the watch and came to learn that this “noble” order is an oppressive xenophobic force; and the contradictions presented when the oppressed (a bastard boy with little social status) unwittingly becomes an oppressor (him initially buying into the propaganda that the wildlings shouldn’t be a protected class).

Once all is said and done, all three children are forced to take on roles that couldn’t be farther from what they envisioned. Sansa is a princess hopping from one tower to the other, forced to cater to the whims of abusive men. Bran is a crippled boy who unlocks a magical power that he doesn’t really care for; he wanted to be a knight not a magician for crying out loud! And Jon does become Lord Commander as he wished, but he is utterly depressed and lonely when he’s made to foreswear family ties and drive his friends away once he gains power over them.

But the cool thing is, in the very same way that fantasy is deconstructed through them, it is also reconstructed and given new meaning as they find a place for themselves in the world in spite of their tragedies. Sansa is still a pretty princess in a tower, but she is learning to be her own rescuer and she has managed to retain empathy and kindness in an environment that tried to tell her how futile it would all be. Bran may be crippled and incapable of becoming Brandon the Bold, but he has reinvented what it means to go on the hero’s adventure and he is beginning to build a role as the Prince of the North. And Jon may be a bastard, yet he has somehow become the living embodiment of what it is to be the valiant prince that little children love to dream about.

[ridasart]

today’s leah/bran thoughts: one of my big worries with the a&o series is that the reason patricia briggs is (finally) focusing more on leah, both as a character and her relationship with bran, is because she plans on killing off leah eventually 😭 she keeps teasing an inevitable bran vs charles showdown, and the only situation i can see that happening is if leah dies, bran goes berserk and becomes a danger to everyone, so charles then has no choice but to stop him

[hell-heron]

hello! on the theon bringing hostages to harlaw thing... while rickon feels more appropriate (mouldability plus rodrickon feelings) i feel a preference for bran being brought there, mostly because of my interest in the ghosts in winterfell trio that bran, jon, and theon form... his age being sinilar theon when he was taken hostage to winterfell is another interesting one for me, since i really love theon's line in acok about him and bran both being princes of winterfell and it does insane things to me in vein of roleswapping (i also have a history of being weird about this with like reek ii and prince theon into ramsay bolton and reek iii) . beefing with eight year olds escalating to like. FINE you be me take all this tragedy on your own back do you still hate me? come see my mother come see this lacuna you and yours left and you fill that gap. don't you like that? you can be theon greyjoy before it all and i'll be your prince of winterfell

Anon you have broken me

[simonsaysletsgo]

Insane thought of the day: Leah/Bran kind of have Kate/Anthony vibes

[slushycoookie]

What's That Smell? ~ Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

✩ Word Count: 3.1k

✩ Content: Worst!Logan and Hairdresser! Reader. Wade acts like he's innocent in this, but he's not. Pheromone perfume. Logan doesn't go feral, but he gets there. P in V. Vaginal Fingering. Squirting. MINORS DNI!!

✩ A/N: I had to write about my man reacting to pheromone perfume. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Commissions

“Happy birthday!”

Wade hands you a pink gift bag stuffed with sparkly tissue paper. “It's not my birthday.”

“You're so silly.” He waves you away with a sensible chuckle. “It's someone's birthday somewhere. Anyway, I saw this and thought of you.”

You pull out a small bottle of perfume decorated in a crystal clear color. The design looked oddly familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint where you saw it. “Oh, thanks. I've been meaning to get some more perfume.”

“Well, the gods answered, and as your friend, I am known for reading my friend’s minds.”

You're pretty sure Logan brought it up to him one day, but you didn’t question it. You thanked him with a hug, and he mentioned something about doing a fashion show for Mary Puppins when he left your apartment.

It was nice of Wade to give you a gift. He's always been generous towards you since you were with Logan, but you didn’t expect something like this.

You even mentioned Wade's generosity to Logan later on, who gave a questionable raise of an eyebrow.

“Really? He bought you perfume?”

“Yeah.” You pull out the bag and show him the bottle. “Wasn't that sweet of him?”

Logan squints at the bottle, still not convinced. “I guess so.”

“You guess so.” You rolled your eyes. “Can’t you believe that he wanted to be nice? He doesn't seem like the type to play a cruel joke.”

“Cruel isn't the word I'd use.” He grumbles.

You place the pink gift bag back on your dresser, reminding yourself to use it the next time you go out.

That next time was for running errands. You had to restock the kitchen, enough to last you and your superhero boyfriend, who loves to eat and drink, for a couple of weeks. Plus, you needed to get more supplies for the salon. Logan would meet up with you at the store since he spent the night back at Wade's to prep for Mary Puppin's first day at doggy school. You could tell from the brief phone call last night that he was worn out.

You throw on an oversized t-shirt, leggings, and sneakers. Not the most attractive outfit. Before you left, your eyes landed on the gift bag. Harmlessly, you sprayed Wade's perfume behind your ears and the space between your bicep and forearm.

Running errands was serious for you. You weren't the biggest fan of spending hours at the store, wasting time grabbing groceries. Logan agreed with you on that front, as he didn’t want to waste time either.

Once you stepped foot inside the store, you were ready. With a list in hand, you were filled with total concentration. A few minutes later, there was a shift.

You received a lot more attention.

Many people coming up to you to tell you smell good. You just started in the produce aisle, and four people approached you. It surprised you the multitude of compliments you were getting despite having the appearance of a bum. Others were making conversation while you were trying to shop, asking you simple questions about good salad dressing brands. Or how many spices you have in your home. Trying to get closer to you.

One man didn't seem to get the hint that you were busy. He offered to help you with your groceries while you were in the cereal aisle. Logan's favorite brand of raisin bran was on a high shelf, causing said man to grab it for you. You were polite, but maybe you shouldn't have been, as he constantly hovered around you. Drawn to you for reasons you can't explain. Talking your ear off about whatever he could think of.

“You probably have your own shopping to do. I don't want to distract you.” You say, hoping politely declining him would make him take the hint.

“No, no, it's alright. I don't want to leave a defenseless person like you.”

You hold back at getting annoyed, “…it's a grocery store.”

“Still, I just think-”

“You got cotton in your fucking ears?” In a blink, Logan grabs the intruding guy by his shoulder, effortlessly pushing him away. “She didn't need any fucking help, bub.”

The guy scoffs, rolling his hips to make himself look more arduous, “And who are you?”

“Her boyfriend, who isn't afraid to make you a pathetic stain on the ground.”

You knew he meant it, but you also didn’t want to get banned as you really liked this store. The guy took the hint, leaving the cereal aisle like a defeated puppy.

“My hero.” You kiss Logan's cheek and see him sniff the air. He turns towards you, pupils almost blown. Before you can ask if he's alright, he grabs your wrist, smelling the space between your bicep and forearm. The action makes you laugh a little.

“What's that smell?” Logan takes a few more sniffs, and you feel blood rush to your cheeks. “It's sweet. Really fucking sweet.”

“O-Oh, I put on perfume today.” You didn't need to ask if he liked it as he was glued to your form, sniffing behind your ears, his breath fanning your neck.

“Is this new? I've never smelled this before.”

“Yeah, it's the one from Wade.”

Logan lets out a groan that sends straight to your core. Goosebumps coat your flesh, and you shudder when his hands creep under your shirt to feel your bare skin. His touch was hot, almost making your back arch. You had to remember you were in a grocery store. There were eyes on you two, and you had to regain some control, or else there'd be two new names on the sex offender list.

“Baby, we got things to do.”

You pull away from him, trying to ignore Logan's dejected face at the fact they had errands to run. He hardly said anything else after that. He delegated his role to being the silent shopper, pushing the cart and responding briefly whenever you talked to him. To anyone else, he gave off the appearance of a man not wanting to go grocery shopping. You knew it was something else when you noticed his knuckles turning white from gripping the cart. Everything in your body warned you not to get close to him until the errands were done.

An unsettled feeling arose inside your stomach when the two of you were outside, a cart filled with groceries. Logan mentioned he brought Althea's car, which is one of the few words he's said since then.

He told you to wait in the car while he put the groceries in the trunk. You wanted to help, but he pushed you to go inside, almost gritting his teeth. There, you sat on the passenger side while waiting for him to finish. Logan was taking his time and acting completely different from your usual outings. At one point, you saw him with his head towards the sky, taking heavy breaths, hands on his hips.

You had a feeling this was your fault somehow.

When Logan got inside, you ask, “You okay?”

“No.” He doesn't start the car yet. You could see the veins across his hands when he gripped the steering wheel. “You don't know how fucking good you smell right now. It's everywhere. My nose, my head, my thoughts. You don't know bad I'm trying not to rip your clothes off and fuck you in the backseat. ”

You didn't know what to say, but you liked it. Your thighs squeezed together at how a couple of spritzes of perfume were affecting him.

“Is it that bad? Do you wanna go home instead?”

Logan shakes his head, “You still have to go to the beauty store.”

“I can get those things another day-”

“No, sugar. I'm not ruining your plans because of a damn perfume.”

Butterflies tangle in your stomach. This man still had ways to make you shiver. You just needed to be a responsible adult for a bit longer.

The beauty store was five minutes away, but being in the car with Logan felt like an eternity. His large hand rested on your thigh, creating heat through his palm. Your thoughts wanted him to go higher, near your sex, to feel how horny you were getting. The car started getting warmer too, sweat forming on your brow. If Logan hadn't smelled you earlier, he would probably have smelled you now.

“I'll go in with ya.” He offers when pulling into a parking spot.

“No need! I'll probably be a bit anyway.”

You rush out of the car before he can say anything else. Practically running inside the store so you can get your mind straight. Your boyfriend's words were hovering in your mind, and you resisted the urge to turn back around and have him go by his word.

You needed to calm your mind. Hopefully shopping for more supplies would help and Logan staying in the car.

“Now, what kind of man would I be if I let my lady go in alone?” Logan's gruff tone sent chills across your spine and his arm around your waist to press against your back. No words escaped you as he sniffed behind your head. “Say something.”

“Logan…” You let out a shaky breath, trying not to falter at the proximity. He couldn’t resist copping a feel on your breast, which made you bite your lip. “There are cameras.”

He grunts, burying his face in your neck as you two stand awkwardly in the shampoo aisle. Thank goodness there was no one nearby to witness it.

“I'm behaving.”

“Barely.”

When you were usually out to restock, you were quick, decisive, a separate list on hand to make sure you had everything you needed for the salon. This time, you were slower and more distracted as Logan was glued to your hip. Giving you extra hugs after picking up an item you need on your list. A gentle kiss to your neck. His arm possessively around your waist. The man wasn't even a massive fan of pda either. Whatever this perfume was had him forgo his usual self.

When people were nearby, he didn't leave your side. His large pupils were on them as if they were a threat as if they were going to take you away from him.

If you had any more errands to run, that would have to wait another day. Once you two checked out from the store, your man was about to snap.

Logan was dead silent when he started the car, his knuckles almost turning white again. The apartment was only fifteen minutes away, and you weren't sure if he would be able to hold on that long. You only noticed deep, heavy breaths that overshadowed the radio you turned on to distract yourself. You weren't sure if you wanted to ask if he was okay again. You had a feeling he was going to go true to his word to fuck you in the backseat.

Once pulling up to your apartment, you were ready to get out, but his hand held yours to stop you.

“I'll get the bags.”

“There's a lot of them, I can help-”

“No.” He cuts you off, bringing your wrist up to his face and taking a long sniff. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight. A whimper almost escaped your lips. “Go wait in our room.”

You had nothing else to say after that.

You did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the bed while holding your hands. Your heart pounding in your chest as you heard Logan bring the bags inside. You weren't sure why you were nervous. You were doing what you were told.

Maybe he told you to wait because the scent was becoming unbearable. That he couldn’t focus, or your scent was dampening his enhanced abilities. Did you mess up? All you did was put on perfume. Or did Wade mess up? Did he accidentally bring you something that affected mutants? You should’ve thought twice before accepting a gift from him.

Slow and heavy footsteps made it's way into the room. You watched Logan close the door and lock it as if there was anyone around to disturb you.

“Take off your clothes.” He starts pulling off his own shirt.

You did so, albeit a bit slower than him. Your thighs clenched as you knew your cunt was wet from all of the waiting, the touches, and kisses from the stores, his filthy words. Logan's eyes scanned your naked body when he got closer. You tried not to focus on his hard cock, red around the tip, cum leaking from it. You wondered how long he was holding that in.

“You got some type of power I don't know about?” He doesn't give you a chance to answer when he presses against your naked body. Heat coming from his chest that was making you flustered. “You secretly a mutant, and you decided not to tell me?”

“No! No, I'm not a mutant. I swear all I did was just put on some perfume-”

Logan silences you with a kiss. Hands on your sides while groaning between your lips. You thought he was mad at you, yet he was sticking his tongue down your throat. His rough hands on your sides. You hold on to him for dear life when he parts, sniffing the air, and you feel yourself getting wetter.

“Motherfucking perfume should not make you smell this good, Jesus fucking Christ.” Logan swears while he's buried against your neck again, licking and sucking along your skin. You whine at how rough he's getting, as if he needs more of you. “I won't get mad if you tell me you are a mutant right now because fuck…”

Logan picks you up and tosses you on the bed. You barely have time to recover when he flips you over on your stomach. A hand presses on your back, keeping you firmly against the mattress. His lips kiss behind your earlobe before giving it a gentle nibble. That makes you shift underneath him, causing him to shush in your ear.

“Hold still.”

You do as you're told, whimpering at the touch of his lips against your nape. A light kiss, one that makes you want to put your head back, which is followed up by a nibble. Logan does the same while trailing down your back. You feel his hands palm the globes of your ass while he does so, creating tiny circles with his thumbs.

You moan into your pillow, and you know you're embarrassingly wet now. Your cunt is pulsing with the need to have him inside you already. His fingers dip inside you, and you gasp in surprise. Logan's able to pump his thick digits into your aching hole while leaning over you again, taking another whiff of your perfume.

“Lift your hips up for me, baby.”

You struggle to move your hips as he’s still two fingers inside you, but he helps you, a firm hand on your hip. When he does so, he moves down to your clit. The two fingers coated with your wetness parted your folds, rubbing that sensitive bud. It was getting harder to do as you were told. Keeping still as he played with your pussy. Taking in how delicious you smelled with the perfume.

“Logan.” You murmured against your pillow, “Please…”

“Please? My lady's begging for me?” Logan lets out a short laugh, not stopping his fingers. “You want me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours, huh?”

“Please…” You were on the brink of tears, that familiar feeling in your stomach about to tip over. Logan didn't show you any mercy, making you sob against your sheets. His fingers rubbed your sensitive clit until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You ached for him to be inside, cunt pulsing for him to slip his cock in. Once again, the tip of his nose brushed against your ear lobe as well as his cock in your sex. Your body quivered as his chest was on your back, hovering over you for complete control.

“Think you can give me another?”

You didn't have time to answer as he started pounding into you. Sticky, wet sounds in your ears as you were pinned. Not having a single thought every time Logan's hips met with yours, mouth wide open as you were being fucked dumb. A hint of your drool staining the sheets.

The headboard banging against the wall, mattress squeaking as Logan kept going. Grunting in your ear, saying that your scent was even better after your orgasm. That he wasn't going to come until you squeezed around his thick cock. And he meant it when he rubbed against your pulsing clit. You shook, moaning at his touch and how his cock pistoned into you.

Logan was angled perfectly to where he started hitting your G-spot, causing your vision to get blurry. Still not stopping on the assault on your clit.

“Lo…Logan…” Your body was getting hotter, another climax on the horizon.

“You almost there, princess?” Your answer was only a whine, and that was good enough for him. “That’s it, that's it. Do it for me, baby.”

This orgasm was different. As you came undone, wetness coated Logan's cock, some dripping down your thighs and his own.

“Oh fuck-” Without warning, he shot up inside you. Grunting in your ear while his seed filled your cunt, mixing with your own arousal and trailing down your thighs as well. Logan lazily pumped into you to make sure you got it all while groping your ass.

You could hardly move with Logan on top of you. Thank goodness he didn't rest his total weight on you, or you'd be crushed. He waited a few moments before pulling out, leaving you to lie on your side, completely docile.

No words were said when he cleaned you up, towel between your legs as he kissed your forehead. You started getting coherent enough to realize the groceries were still out, but Logan said he already put them away for you.

With a sigh of relief, you glanced over at the perfume before reaching for your phone to look up the label. That's when your eyes went wide at the reveal.

Wade gifted you pheromone perfume.

No wonder Logan was acting unhinged all day. With his heightened sense of smell, of course something like this would affect him. That is definitely the last time you take a gift from Wade.

As you showed Logan what the perfume was, his brows furrowed in slight annoyance, calling him an asshole.

“But,” Logan folded his arms, glancing away from you. “I wouldn't mind if you wear this more often…”

[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.

[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

[ladystoneboobs]

idt we talk enough about how a song of ice and fire is also the song of incest and cannibalism. i mean, sure, obviously both of those subjects are noted as present, but the saga feels much more known for its incest, which idt is fair or accurate to the later materiel. iirc, jaime fucking cersei next to their dead firstborn is the last instance of onpage incest happening in present tl, and after that it's all about the cannibals, baby.

(disclaimer: cw/tw sa, cw/tw rape, and i'm not counting cousincest as that's normal in-world even for non-targaryens and also still legal in many places in our world today, nor counting the faux-incestuous freudian mess that is littlefinger/alayne(sansa)/sweetrobin, nor any dark humor jokes and/or unfulfilled threats wrt forced cannibalism)

in fact pretty much all the active incest during the present tl happens in those first 3 books:

the twincest as a major plot point ofc, kicking action off when bran saw them fucking in a tower

and viserys creeping on dany and twisting her nipple

tyrion relating his backstory to bronn wherein he and tysha were both raped by proxy by his father, tywin (tho tyrion does not use that terminology)

craster still being alive to rape and impregnate his own daughters (resulting in dozens of forced incestuous relationships)

and theon unknowingly groping his own sister while she (knowingly) groped him in return

jaime's early pov recalled how he shut up cersei with kissing when they fought after bran refused to die

bella of stoney sept trying and failing to seduce gendry who is (unbeknownst to them both) her half-brother as both were sired by robert baratheon (only example in these 3 books where incest was averted before any sexual activity or incestuous contact occurred)

the aforementioned sept twincest next to joffrey's corpse

tyrion learning from oberyn about cersei twisting his penis when he was a baby

cersei's failed attempt to seduce jaime in wst, pulling out his dick for either a bj or hj until her talk of tyrion's death made him lose his boner

while incest is not exactly absent from the text after that, it seems to exist in the feastdance only in hypotheticals or past memories:

aeron's trauma flashbacks of his (implied only in published text) csa by euron

jaime still feeling lust when seeing cersei nude

and her fond reminiscing about them fucking behind robert's back/brief dream of them as a married couple before her walk of shame

and cersei remembering another she twisted tyrion's baby penis

victarion misinterpreting asha's offer of partnership as a marriage proposal and suddenly looking at his niece in a new way with "his manhood beginning to stiffen"

jaime's recollection of fucking cersei at darry next to robert as he was passed out drunk before cersei sent him to hunt arya (which would have happened back in agot and the point of this scene is more his failed hunt for a child just to make cersei happy)

arianne's "uneasy" memory of a past fantasy about being seduced by a man whose description is suspiciously similar to her late uncle oberyn

the aborted marital match of aegon/young griff to his purported aunt dany

illyrio saying (the now dead) viserys tried to rape dany the night before her wedding to drogo (another event from agot concerning a guy we already knew was into incest)

and tyrion once saying he wanted to rape as well as murder cersei

conversely, the cannibalism in the earlier books is most often only unproven hypotheticals alluded to as possible cannibalism:

old nan saying the others fed their dead servants the flesh of human children (which we have not yet seen with any wights so far, whether or not one counts walking undead eating human flesh as straight-up cannibalism)

the mystery meat in flea bottom's bowls o' brown which may or may not contain symon silver tongue after tyrion had him killed

renly's recollection that cressen kept stannis from catapulting their old master-at-arms by saying they may need to eat him later (which did not come to pass thanks to davos)

joffrey telling his people to eat their own dead (with no way of knowing if any actually did)

lady hornwood eating her own fingers (though bran's pov only notes them being chewed on, not swallowed. it's only in adwd that people talk of her eating the fingers.)

the mentions of the ice river clans being the cannibals beyond the wall (who are def not among the free folk jon snow gets to know onpage, making it just background detail)

bran's (possibly mythical) story of the rat cook

and biter chewing on people he attacked and other corpses (which seems to be just a side hobby connected to his killing method moreso constituting a snack than a full meal from a person butchered for meat. this tendancy of his is just background detail in acok, with biter chewing a corpse in the background after the weasel soup operation, and the hindsight implication that it could well have been him rather than dogs or wolves who had "been at" the corpses after the skirmish where yoren was killed)

while the feastdance feels much more in your face with cannibalism, having not only more total mentions of the practice but also more confirmed, actual cannibalism (as opposed to the ambiguity of each and every bowl o' brown), for those who know how to look at the evidence:

jaime learned that his father's mad dog aka the mountain fed parts of vargo hoat to all his prisoners (including vargo himself) after recapturing harrenhal

and euron bragged about pulling a similar trick with the warlocks he captured (the only twist being that the warlocks knew what they were being forced to eat, which vargo hoat and wylis manderly etc at harrenhal likely didn't)

the elder brother of the quiet isle told of biter eating all of a woman's breasts at saltpans after she'd been raped and killed (prob the largest amount of flesh biter's confirmed to have eaten from one corpse)

bran and co. ate "pig" supplied by coldhands which had to be long pig aka human meat

brienne felt her face being eaten by biter in her own pov (which is so much worse than him chewing others in the background of the weasel soup scene)

theon was told that two ironmen at moat cailin were found eating their dead comrades

the astapori were said to eat their own dead while under siege by the yunkishmen

and then were said to do so again in refugee camps outside meereen

sam and davos sailed past skagos and remembered stories of skagosi cannibalism

khrazz the pit fighter cut the hearts from his defeated foes to eat them

cotter pyke's last letter to jon snow said the wildlings were eating their own dead at hardhome

4 of stannis's men were executed by burning for butchering and eating other men (with asha wondering how many others had done so without being caught)

and ofc the frey pies with wyman manderly having his 3 former guests killed and serving their meat to their own kin and the other guests at ramsay's wedding while eating some himself too

two of these examples (involving gregor clegane and euron greyjoy) must have actually happened during the course of asos, but grrm chose to give us the gruesome details in affc, which was brand new information about men we already knew were villains but did not know were into that fucked-up shit specifically, unlike being reminded that agot-era jaime and viserys wanted to fuck their sisters. (and not unlike how adwd has the clarification of multiple characters saying lady hornwood ate her own fingers as opposed to bran's acok pov just saying she chewed on them.) it's as if after craster was killed and jc effectively broke up grrm decided cannibalism was the taboo subject matter he would fill the later books with, so we'd really feel the increasing danger of starvation-induced cannibalism with winter's arrival (and have no trouble believing rickon's new home of skagos really is a cannibal island). however, in-universe it feels like there's some sort of environmental balance connection so that the decrease in one formerly common behaviorial abomination just allows another such abomination to fill in the gap with a sharp increase in activity, like deer overpopulation resulting from lack of predators as if all the active incest somehow stopped more people from eating themselves or other people.

[xoxoskai]

NIKOBRAN HEADCANNONS

to keep you going this last week before God of Fury drops<3

Between all his sons-in-law, Brandon is Kyle's favorite.

Levi's is Mia (cousin-fuckers who stole his son and daughter he'll always beef with)

Brandon and Niko are the type of relatives to wear matching clothes on Christmas because Niko would take up any chance to wear matching anything with Brandon.

If and when Brandon bakes, no one gets a chance to even taste what he made before Niko devours it all.

The only place Niko can fall asleep in at record speed is Brandon's arms.

The only reason Niko teaches Brandon how to drive a bike is so he can put his arms around his boyfriend's slutty waist boyfriend.

Remi is terrified on Brandon's behalf.

"Bran, yes, he's hot but mate, look at that guy! He has some skin on those tattoos!"

Astrid shares Remi's concerns but soon comes to find out that Niko is the biggest goofball of sunshine and almost adopts him.

Surprisingly, the one who takes the longest to accept Brandon is Rai. Because it's not her first time meeting the Kings (hello, she's a far relative) and she's worried that her oldest who is actually tender hearted and plagued by demons of his past, might be crushed beyond repair if Brandon hurt him.

Brandon and Landon think they can get away with tricking their in-laws by dressing as each other but they underestimate the Sokolov-Hunters who told them apart the moment they walked in.

Brandon tried it on Niko once when he first divulged about how Maya and Mia used to do it, but Niko could tell Brandon apart from his "psycho" brother in a heartbeat.

"It's your eyes" He had murmured. "Yours sparkle"

Glyndon is weary of Niko but as long as Brandon's happy, she's happy.

Landon is supremely unhappy.

When Landon first opposes their relationship by threatening Niko, Niko flings back "Remember who you're dating and what I mean to them" back at him.

Niko and Landon almost kill each other multiple times.

If there's someone even more unhappy than Landon, it's Crieghton.

Creighton: "Does this mean I can't fight him anymore?" Elsa: "Why were you fighting him before this?!" Creighton: "Is anyone else hearing this buzzing? I should go check."

Niko goes feral whenever he sees Brandon shirtless and vice-versa but

Niko is always shirtless, so Brandon is always suffering.

Unlike Niko, Brandon doesn't carry him into a dark corner to immediately fuck.

If there's no scene of Brandon asking Niko "Who's fucking you?" Rina, you'll hear from my therapist. And if there's not a single, evil, unhinged Brandon moment where Niko is flabbergasted at the change and is accusing him of being two-faced at which Brandon will laugh, lean in and ask tauntingly "What are you going to do? Tell on me?" I will sue.

Brandon's muse is Niko. (Bitch, I said what I said)

Unlike Landon, Brandon doesn't divulge this piece of information to his boyfriend because he does not want to give Niko even more reasons to walk around with lesser clothes.

Brandon gets a tattoo for Niko on his ribs. (cue feral Nikolai)

After which Niko tries to get Brandon's name tattooed on his favorite organ, but Jeremy literally deadlocks the door to his room to keep him inside after Niko asked for opinions in their group chat about his decision.

Niko: You don't think it's romantic? Jeremy, Killian, Gareth, Landon, Eli, Creighton, Remi:

They've definitely rolled around in paint and fucked on a canvas after it. Niko would display it in the entryway of their house if Brandon let him.

They've also joined the mile high club.

After they get engaged, Brandon calls him by his full-name as in "Nikolai Sokolov-Hunter-King" just to piss him off but Nikolai loves being associated to Brandon in every possible way, so it backfires.

Their wedding bands have each other's name inscribed in them.

As does the underside of their ring fingers in the other's handwriting.

Nikolai tries drawing a heart over the i in his name and almost gets smacked.

[catsteeth]

Turn Your Cloak - Pt. 2

Benjicot/Davos Blackwood x reader 

+:✿ Request ✿:+ Original One Shot

Request: “A part 2 of the Benjicot Blackwood one shot. Reader returns to Dragonstone and shows Rhaenyra the letter from Benji, the two of them bond. Benjicot staying at Dragonstone for the remainder of the war. Benji being a huge simp for reader. A little spicy with dry humping, but no actual smut” CW: MDNI, grinding, making out,  afab reader, alcohol consumption, mention of arranged marriage, mention of medieval sexting, mention of violence,  A/N: woof woof Word Count: 9K

It had been a long night at Dragonstone for your Mother Rhaenyra. She had expected you back home late that night, but the sun began to rise and you had yet to return. She spent the night restlessly pacing back and forth. She would have taken Syrax to the Riverlands herself if it weren’t for the Knight whom burst into her chambers to announce, 

“Your Grace, the Princess and Silverwing were spotted approaching over the sea.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Rhaenyra stormed into the gantry, ready to either berate you for causing her such distress or declare war on whomever harmed you. 

As she saw you dismounting Silverwing, unharmed, her concern faded and her anger rose. 

Her steps were heavy and quick, she huffed as she began to shout “Where have you-”

Before she could finish her question, you extended your hand towards your mother. Holding a scrolled piece of parchment, sealed by red wax stamped with the Blackwoods symbol. “An official proposal of marriage from Benjicot Blackwood.” You said with a prideful smile, knowing you had completed your task and accomplished it on your own terms.

Your mother’s angry demeanor dropped, surprised by your words and happiness. “Blackwood?” She questioned with furrowed brows, confused.

You nodded with a smile, “I wish to marry him, mother.” 

Rheanrya looked at your smile with confusion, then looked at the scroll in her hands, “I-” She began, but soon took hold of your hand and pulled you along. “Come here.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As she pulled you into a secluded room, she preyed the wax seal off of the parchment and began to read it in haste. 

You furrowed your brows, unsure of why she would not rejoice with you. She wanted this afterall. “Do you contest it?” You questioned, genuinely confused. 

She shook her head, “No.” She said calmly, looking up from the parchment and back at you. “I am simply surprised.” She said, a small smile creeping its way onto her face. “You left here begging to not wed, no more than a day ago. And here you are, handing me a proposal of marriage with a smile.” She said with an amused smirk as she stepped towards you.

You shrugged, “I admit I did not enjoy the men who contended, nor did I enjoy being contended for.” You said with a raised eyebrow and annoyed huff, thinking back to that horrid procession. 

She let out a breath of a laugh, “Well then he must have contended well enough.” She said, rolling up the parchment. 

You smiled to yourself, though you tried to conceal it poorly “He did not contend for my hand.” Your mother looked at you with confusion. “He fought valiantly against a Bracken who defiled our name, and questioned my parentage.” You looked at your mother and smiled warmly, “When I thanked him, that was when he proposed.” You couldn’t contain the blush creeping onto your cheeks as you thought of it,  “Away from prying eyes and ears.” That was true. But you would leave out the bit of that night where his fingers were pleasuring you. You looked at your mother with much more earnest eyes, “I feel I can depend on him, lean on him. And I feel he has humility. And he feels he can lean on me.” You said as you stepped closer to her, placing a hand onto hers.

Your mother smiled, and took your hand that held hers. “Then you have done the crown and your mother the queen a great service. A raven will be sent to the Blackwoods in haste. And we shall invite… Bran?...” She drawed out, attempting to remember the poor boy's name.

“Benjicot-” You corrected,

She immediately interrupted you and corrected herself, “Benjicot Blackwood will be invited warmly to live here at Dragonstone until the end of the war. Once the war has been won, you and he shall wed.” She and you smiled at one another. She, happy her daughter whom was forced to pick a spouse not only did so but found one she loved. And you, happy you found the person you would commit your life to. You mothers eyes, became slightly narrowed, “Gōntan mirros massigon rȳ ao se bisa valonqar?” “Did something happen between you and this boy?” She asked in Valyarian. Not wishing for anyone else to hear. She looked at your look of surprise and confusion, “Ao istan hen ry bantis. Nyke daor, issa hāedar. Nyke sepār- īlon līs sagon. Lo jorrāelagon sagon nyke kostagon syt nykeā sūmar naejot sagon-” “You were gone all night- I am not placing judgment, sweet girl. I just- we must be cautious. If need be I can arrange for a tea to be given-”

You shook your head, “No.” Though your mothers eyes still narrowed you realized that you had not explained why you were gone all night. “We were trapped within the Riverlands from a storm.” 

And with that, she was convinced. Though if the honest truth was told, you wished you were in need of such tea.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

And so the raven was sent, and eagerly Lord Blackwood responded with great enthusiasm as you expected. Benjicott would of course accept the invitation to Dragonstone. You wanted to take Silverwing to the Riverlands and bring him back home yourself. But your mother insisted on a more traditional manner. 

Your grandsire, Corlys and your brother, Jace escorted you to the harbors of the Vale. You stood at the front of your Grandsires ship. The Queen Who Never Was. You watched the land before you came closer and closer with a growing anticipation. It nearly startled you when you felt a strong hand caress your shoulder. You looked over your shoulder to see your Grandsire, Corlys. 

“I was about your age when I was wed to your grandmother.” He said with a comforting smile. “I was more nervous than when I first sailed to battle.” He said with a comforting pat on your back. 

You smiled at him and shook your head, “I am not nervous.” 

He let out a low and dry chuckle, “You never are.” He said as he watched the land approach the ship.

You looked at the party waiting at the harbor. Blackwood's banners flew in the wind. And you could see from such a distance, Lord Willem Blackwood already waving down your ship. You grimaced and then looked towards Corlys, “Grandsire.” 

“Hm?” He hummed.

You looked at him as you scrunched up your face, “I should warn you of his uncle, Willem.” 

He raised an eyebrow and looked at you with confusion, “Warn me?” No one would ever frighten Corlys, much less pose a threat to him. But what he did not know is that you were not speaking of a threat to his safety but to his patience. 

As the ship docked into the harbor, you smiled at Willem and waved back as you leaned into your grandsire, “Just smile at his words and ignore the rest.” you spoke through your teeth. 

As soon as you and your grandsire stepped off the boat, Willem Blackwood stepped forward, embracing you firmly. 

Your eyes went wide, surprised but unwilling to push the man off. Your grandsire debated tearing the man off of you but soon enough he let you go as he announced with great enthusiasm. “The princess!” He said as he patted your arms excitedly, “You’ll be my niece now eh? My niece the princess-” Soon your eyes darted behind him. You saw him, Ben. You watched him approach as he carried a bag of his belongings while scowling at his uncle for embarrassing him and annoying you and your family. Once Willem noticed his nephew coming he then excitedly announced, “And my nephew the prince!” He said with a hard pat to Ben’s back.

“Uncle.” Benjicot said in a deep and annoyed tone. Both a greeting and a warning for him to stop talking.

You smiled, trying to hold back blush as Ben’s eyes fell onto you. You bowed your head slightly as you greeted him. “Lord Blackwood, a pleasure.” You tried to remain formal around your families, for they did not know how intimate you both had become.

Ben’s gaze softened as he looked at you. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, then bringing your hand close to his heart. “My Princess, I am eternally honored and grateful for your hand.” Ben then looked to your Grandsire who stood protectively by your side. “Lord Corlys, an honor to meet you and board your ship.” He said with a respectful bow of his head. 

Corlys’s lips began to curl into a smile, he might have even patted the boy on the shoulder. But he was interrupted by Lord Willems' voice booming once again.

“Suppose that would make Lord Corlys your grandsire by law!” He said with another hard pat to Ben’s back. Benjicot closed his eyes and grimaced from the embarrassment. 

Your grandsire let out a sharp exhale as he placed a hand on your shoulder, “We’d better board.” He said with a put on smile.

Benjicot nodded, “Agreed.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Once you boarded the ship, you found Benjicot standing at the railing of the ship alone.

“Do you like the sea?” You asked as you approached him. Ben’s eyes lit up as he turned to see you.

He smiled softly, turning his body to face you completely leaning against the railing of the ship. He shook his head, “Never seen it before. Only seen the rivers.” He took the sight of you in, “Quite different.” You continued to come closer to him. You stopped as your feet nearly touched his own.

You shook your head, “Not so different. Rivers flow to the sea, and the sea to the rivers.” You looked out to the waves of blue that surrounded the ship, “It’s such a thing of beauty.” you said taking in the sight.

Ben looked at you with loving eyes, “Yes it is.” You blushed, knowing he did not mean the ocean but you. He then finally turned his head to look at the water, “You’ll rule over it all someday.” 

You nodded, “That is true enough though I am unsure how fit I am for it.” you said as you looked down at your fingernails picking at your nail beds nervously.

Ben looked at you confused at your statement, “How do you mean?” He crossed his arms and looked at you closely. Wanting to listen to you as intensively as possible.

You looked at him with a slight annoyance. Surely he knew what you meant. The world knew what you meant. You looked over your shoulder to be sure no one was there to hear your words, “You understand what you are marrying?” You asked him with narrowed eyes.

He nodded confidently without hesitation, “A woman, a woman as brave and intelligent as she is beautiful.” His words were earnest.

You sighed, looking at the sea. You debated whether you should say such treasonous truths openly. But you were alone, and he was to be bound to you for life. So you began, softly speaking “My father taught me to fish, sea shanties, the ways of the sea and how to sail a ship through it. He loved me, my grandmother loved me too. So does my grandsire. They are my family, but they are not my blood.” Ben did not look surprised, nor did he look disappointed. That was when you knew he knew it. “You know it. They all know it. So do you, you are not an idiot.” You said, rolling your eyes.

He shook his head and took your hand into his, “I don’t care.” He was not in denial as your grandsire Viserys was. He knew it was the truth, he simply did not care about such pious, hypocritical, and righteous shit.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “You should care. Your children by my womb will-”

“Will be my only children.” He interrupted you, not willing to hear you speak ill of yourself or your future children, “I do not care, if you had the blood of swineherds. I do not care what color your hair is. What I care for is you.” He asserted firmly.

You felt your heart melt. Though you knew the real consequences of your birth, “If the greens win, they’ll kill me.” you said somberly, wanting to prepare him for such a possibility. 

“No one will ever touch you.” He said as if it were a fact. 

“Sister.” Jaceryous’s voice called out startling you. 

“Jace.” You said out of breathe, “This is Benjicot Blackwood-” 

Jace interrupted, “Seven blessings to you both. Sister, I must speak with you alone.” He said, his voice devoid of any earnest happiness. 

You sighed at your brother, “Alright. In a moment.” you said, waving him off dismissively. You waited for him to walk back inside the ship before you turned to Ben, “I am sorry for him.” 

Ben shook his head, “It’s alright, he is distrusting of me for good reason. He does not know me and wants to protect you and your blood.” He trusted Jace more for it, and appreciated him more for it as well. 

You however did not share such sentiments. You held his face in your hands, “You are my blood now.” You said as you kissed him one last time before making your way into the ship to follow after Jace. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As you entered his cabin you huffed, “That was behavior unbefitting a prince.” you sneered at him. 

Jace however did not care of your concerns of how he treated your betrothed. He handed you a piece of parchment, “Read this.” he said quickly. 

As you read the letter it unveiled the plans your mother was planning in you and your brother's absence. To send ships to King's Landing to bring back Targaryen bastards to become dragon riders for her claim. 

Though you were thrilled with the idea, it was better than defeat. “This is good is it not?” You questioned. 

Jace took the parchment from your hand and huffed at you, “How could that be good?” he asked with his ever present attitude. 

You raised a brow at him “Was this idea not of your own doing? You thought of a Tarly on top of a dragon because it is better than death and defeat.” 

“A bastard on a dragon?” He said as if it were ridiculous. 

“It’s not unheard of.” You mumbled to yourself. 

“This is serious.” Jace affirmed, “If she follows through with this plan, she brings more questions to our parentage.” He said as if you were a fool. 

You scoffed at your brother’s vanity. “People need nothing to question it when they’ve eyes.” You looked at him, your eyes softening. “Make your peace with it.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Back on Dragonstone, though the war was not over, preparations for your wedding were underway with haste. It was clear as soon as the war was done, your courtship would be as well. Making good on the promise your family made to the Riverlands. 

You stood in front of a mirror in your wedding gown that was being tailored to you. It was not like a traditional Targaryen gown. It was ivory with thick lace embroidery throughout the fabric, like the way sea foam floats against the surface of the ocean. Adorned with pearls sewn into the fabric sporadically. The sleeves were fitted up to your elbow, where they flared out, flowing freely like the way seaweed flows in the ocean. Underneath these bell sleeves were a second layer of sleeves with a distinct pointed design. Your inner sleeves were more fitted around the wrist as they extend out into a sharp point over the back of the hands. Pearls were sewn into the thick embroidery that lined the pointed cuffs of your sleeves that cascaded over the backs of your hands. The dress was long and flowed behind you like a river.

You’d even worn a pigment on your eyelids. A shining blueish, pinkish, silver, that came from crushed seashells. Your lips and cheeks blushed as the veil was placed onto your head. The veil drapes elegantly over you, slightly covering your forehead, draping against your shoulders before flowing behind you and dragging along the floor. The veil is crafted from lace, with an ornate pattern. The intricate lacework is densely populated with aquatic motifs. Along the edges, the lace appears scalloped. The most eye-catching feature along the veil’s border are teardrop-shaped pearls, hanging like delicate droplets from the edge of the fabric. 

“I never thought I would see you in a veil.” Baela said as she fixed how the veil hung around your shoulders admiring the details of the fabric. 

You smiled at your reflection, and shook your head. “Neither did I.”

You really didn’t. You were content to live your life on dragon back. You were content to die on dragon back, in fire and blood. But now the tides had shifted. You felt more reason to continue, more reason to live, a reason that was not revenge. 

Baela smiled as she looked at you in the mirror, “He certainly seems taken with you.” She’d only seen glimpses of he and you, but even in those moments, the look in his eyes told it all. 

You blushed and looked down, fidgeting with the pearls on your sleeve, “I must admit I am taken with him.”

She breathed a laugh, “I assumed as much. You’d never take a husband if he were not truly exceptional in your eyes.” She said with an amused tone.

You nodded, “Beat a Bracken to a bloody mess in the mudd over an insult against my name.” you said with a girlish smile on your face. 

Her eyes widened slightly, “Exceptional indeed.” she nodded. 

“How beautiful you look.” Your mothers voice chimed in unexpectedly, making you almost flinch. Her voice was soft, and her eyes looked like she just might cry seeing her daughter in a wedding gown. 

Baela looked to Rhaenyra and knew she wanted this moment to be alone with you. She bowed her head to her before leaving the room.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, fidgeting with the fabric, “It is not quite traditional for a Targaryen.” you noted. 

“No.” She said as she approached you. She placed her hands on your shoulders and looked at you in the mirror, smiling at how beautiful you looked. “Traditional for a Valyrian.” 

You did not say anything to the remark, but turned your head to your mother, “Have you met him yet?” You asked softly, “Benjicot?”

She shook her head, “I have not, I intend to do so as soon as I am able. But your grandsire says he seems quite loyal to you.” She said with a soft smile as she ran her hand over your hair that hid behind your veil.

You smiled though you tried to hide it, “He is.” you nodded. You looked back at yourself in the mirror, “Do you think it’s too much?” You fussed with the neckline of your dress, “I feel I look silly.”

“No. Not at all.” She said, still smiling as she took your face into her hands, “Skorkydoso biare aōha kepas sagon.” “How proud your fathers would be.” She spoke in High Velaryon. 

Her words though sweet made you feel melancholy, “I wish they could be here. I did not often think of my wedding as a girl. Though when I did, I imagined them, and Luke, Viserys, and Rhaenys. I imagined them all there.”

“My sweet girl.” She tried to comfort you, “You will have your mother, your brothers, your grandsire, your cousins who shall soon be your sisters.”

You shook your head, “Nyke jurnegon hae iā pirtir” “I look like a pretender.” 

Your mother huffed, “Iksā lopor se embar, ānogar se perzys.  Kesan rȳbagon daorun tolī hen bisa. Iksā iā Targārien, konir sagon mirre bona.” “You are salt and sea, blood and fire. I will hear nothing more of this. You are a Targaryen, that is all that matters.” 

You bit your lip, not knowing what to say. But soon your curiosity got the better of you. “Are the smallfolk you summoned arriving today?”

Her eyes softened, having sympathy for your grief, “Yes.” She soon became slightly defensive, “Do you disapprove of this as your brother?”

“No.” You lied. And tore the veil from your head off. “I mislike it. My fathers dragon being passed to someone I do not know. But we need more riders. I want revenge. I want you to win. So, whatever must be done.” You said reluctantly as you began to take off the gown you wore. 

Your mother, feeling guilty, tried to help you. She felt your skin, surprised at how warm you were, “You feel hot.” She said, worried you were ill. 

You shook your head, continuing to take off your gown, “I get angry when I think of it.” 

She did not know if you meant the war or the bastards and did not dare ask. “You should take to Silverwing.” She said, If she could not comfort you, perhaps your beast would. 

“I intend to.” You said stepping out of your gown. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you took to Silverwing in the sky, you and she danced over the sea. You practiced the same commands and movements again and again. You rode her, plunging her down, her feet and tail slashing against the surface of the sea. Just as you would in battle. You would get her low, and say the word… “Dracarys!” Her flames would envelop Criston Cole's armies, though only now they died out as they hit the water. Then you pulled her back up, and up, and up into the skies until you and she met the clouds. You were getting good at navigating through clouds, mist, and fog. You’d not allow Aemond to get any advantage over you.

Though soon again you and she twirled and glided back down. Weaving through the sky as you imagined the battle.

Though what you did not know was that Benjicot was watching your movements in awe of you. He leaned against the stone hedge that surrounded the cliftside of Dragonstone and allowed himself to get lost in you and Silverwings dance. So lost he’d not notice your mother approaching behind him. 

“My daughter is a skilled rider.” She said as she approached him.

Ben startled, turning to your mother and bowing his head, “Your grace.” he said respectfully. She waved her hand for him to relax. He looked back to you in the sky, “She’s magnificent.”

Rheynera nodded, “Silverwing was her great great grandmother's dragon. She is a beautiful and formidable creature, that is sure.” She said as she made her way to Benjicots side watching you in the sky. 

Ben looked at your mother, “I meant your daughter.” 

She looked at him, somewhat surprised “Yes, yes she is. She is also beautiful and formidable.” She said, breathing a laugh, “You and I will share a commonality.” She began, facing him. “I assume you have gathered by now, my daughter- the princess is a woman of strong will.” 

“Yes.” Ben said as he nodded with a smile

“I do not wish for my daughter to see war. I have lost my son, and I will not lose her.” She spoke as if she were giving Ben a mission of his own, “She is steadfast on accomplishing her revenge. That is what she is doing now. Preparing to burn green armies to ash.” She said as she looked towards you in the sky. “I fear her brother wishes to fight for his own pride. But she wishes to fight for revenge.” She looked back to Ben, “I am her mother. My word means little. She will obey my order as her Queen, but it will not settle the rage in her.” She looked at him hopefully, “Perhaps you can.” 

He looked at you for a moment, then back to Rhaenyra, “I am devoted to your daughter's safety. To her happiness. With the greatest of respect to your Grace, I’ll not prevent her from any action she wishes to take.” She felt somewhat surprised that a man of his status would openly disobey the word of the queen. But it made her happy that someone would do such a thing for her daughter. “However, I will try with all my being to ease that anger and bring her some kind of happiness.” He said before leaving. 

Rhaenyra stood there, unsure of what to make of this first encounter. But soon realized she was lucky, you were lucky, to be blessed with a man who’d do anything to please you. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Back in the castle, Jace found his mother in her council chambers. “I am unsure of him.” Jace said, weary of a newcomer to his family. Both in a time of war and treachery as well as the threat that he may only marry you to raise the status of his house. 

Rhaenyra shook her head softly, “He has embraced his role as her husband with great pride, warmth, and passion. A rare thing in political marriage.” She said defending him and you. 

Jace scoffed, “He beat a Bracken senseless. Hardly a marriage to mend ties with the Riverlands.” He argued back

“He defends her name with fierce loyalty, defends my name and yours.” She defended once again, “And we have mended ties with the Riverlands.” 

Jace sighed, “How can we be certain he can be trusted.” 

“He has given us no reason to not.” She shrugged, “He has shown unwavering respect and admiration. And a fierce loyalty to her protection and honor.” She looked to Jace with adoring eyes, “I would say you are simply protective of your sister’s heart, as you should be. Though I believe he may share that same protectiveness.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You sat up on top of a high hill, listening to the crashing of the waves and the loud breathing of Silverwing. You were watching the waves, waiting for the ship of Targaren Bastards to approach. You had a pit in your stomach, you did not want for this. You knew it would only add insult to injury. But you also knew it would be critical to your mother’s success in this war.

Though you could not sulk for very long before you heard the long grass of the hill rustling more than it normally did. As you turned around you looked and saw Benjicot as he pounced upon you. Wrapping his arms around you in a playful attempt to scare you. And it worked. You squealed as he took hold of you. But Silverwing let out a growl that made him let you down gently.

“Men should not sneak up on women!” You said breathlessly as you tried not to giggle. 

He bit his tongue as his hands found your sides again, though moving slowly as to not upset your protective beast, “Don’t act so coy after you sent such letters.” He said with a devious smirk. 

It was true, you and he had exchanged many letters since you returned to Dragonstone. Before you had sailed to get him you and he sent three private letters. Each more explicit than the next. You could not help it. He had given you a taste of mortal pleasure and you longed for so much more.

You smirked back at him, and shook your head. “That is no way to speak to a princess.” you teased. 

He cupped your chin with his hand, “My Princess.” He kissed your lips softly, and gently. As he pulled away he spoke again though this time more earnestly, “You rode valiantly.”

You blushed slightly, you did not know he was watching you ride, and you felt somewhat embarrassed. But you smiled, “Thank you, my Lord,” You pushed him off of you playfully, “or perhaps I should say my Prince now.” you teased as you continued to walk along the tall grass hills overlooking the ocean.

He followed after you, “You know I don’t like that title.” 

You nodded, looking back at him, “I know it riles you. Makes your blood hot.” You smirked at him. 

He ran after you once again, grabbing hold of your arm and pulling you into him, “Are you challenging me?” He asked with a lustful gaze. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, looking at him with big innocent eyes. “All good wives should challenge their husbands.”

He nodded and bit his lip as he came closer to you, “You are a constant challenge. Challenging my restraint, and my ability to protect your virtue.” He said his eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips to your neck. 

You ran your hands from his neck to his chest, then pressed your lips to his own, “Mmm…” You moaned into his lips as your hand continued to wander further down over his stomach. Making him groan softly into your lips as well. You grabbed hold of his cock through his breeches making his hiss and breaking your kiss. You looked at him with a mischievous grin, “Because I do not wish for my virtue to be protected.” You said as you pushed him back again and ran off again laughing at him. 

He growled under his breath as he ran after you. He tackled you to the ground but you overpowered him, flipping him onto his back. You took his wrists and placed him above his head pinning him down. He could have overpowered you back but didn’t. He enjoyed this view far too much. He smiled up at you breathless. “I think we’re a good match don’t you?” You said in a seductive tone. 

He bit his tongue and laughed, nodding, “A very good match.”

You leaned down and kissed him. “I missed you.” You said breathlessly between kisses and moans. “I kept all your letters, read them again and again.”

He groaned, he held your face as he passionately kissed you. “Your last letter near drove me mad, you know?”

You giggled to yourself quietly, “I hope you made good use of my smallclothes.”

He nodded, “I did.” He groaned and squirmed a bit, “I’m already getting hard thinking of it.” 

He was, you could feel it underneath your clothed cunt.

Ben put his hands firmly around your thighs, squeezing you tightly. It made you squeal. The sound of it made Silverwing stir from her slumber. Which in turn made Ben loosen his grip on you. Scared to upset your beast. 

You chuckled to yourself lowly, “Don’t worry about her.” you shook your head.

“Easy enough for you to say.” He scoffed, “If she thinks I’m harming you she’ll swallow me whole.” 

You laughed slightly amused by his fear, “No she won’t.” You shook your head, “She and I are bonded by old Valyria. She can feel what I feel. She knows I am not scared of you.” You tried to tell him but he was still not completely convinced. Though you were sure overtime he would see. You turned to Silverwing, “Silverwing, jikagon arghugon!” You commanded, and she flew off and away into the sky.

Ben looked up at you in awe of your abilities, “What did that mean?”

You looked back down at him, surprised that he would take such an interest, “Silverwing, go hunt.”

He sat up on his elbows, getting closer to you, “Teach me your language.” 

You smiled, it was a sacred language. One only taught to the noble and wealthy. But he was to be your husband, and your children’s father. “Vūjigon issa.” You said with a soft smile, 

“Vūjigon issa?” His pronunciation was not perfect, but good for someone just beginning to learn the language. “What did that mean?”

“Kiss me.” You said with lustful eyes, and he obeyed eagerly. Pulling your face to his and kissing you passionately. 

You could feel him hardening even more beneath you. You couldn’t help but rock yourself against it. The bulge of his breeches rubbed against your cunt in the most delicious way. He gripped onto the plush of your ass and helped you rub against him harder. Your moans into his mouth only encouraged his cock.

“You feel so good,” He moaned into your lips. 

“So do you.” You moaned back, you began to grind against his cock harder, rolling your hips into a rhythm, “I can feel you- throbbing.” You whimpered against his lips. 

He ran his hands through your dark hair, pulling it as you continued to rub against him, “If good wives challenge their husbands, you’ll be the best.” He wanted more than anything to take you right then. To tear the neckline of your dress and push up your skirts and fuck you like an animal would. 

He tried to keep himself in control but it slipped through his fingers for just a moment as he flipped you onto your back.

You moaned, and breathlessly you pleaded, “I want my husband to fuck me.”

He groaned, and shook his head, “I’m not your husband yet,” He was angry he had to wait so long to make you his in the eyes of the realm and the gods. “Ah it’s fucking torture. I need you to be my wife.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You need me to be your wife to fuck me?”

“How good of a husband can I be if I cannot protect my intended’s virtue?” He said with a grin, but his grin faded as he ran his hand against your cheek, “But I don’t need you to be my wife just so I can fuck you- I need you to be my wife because I love you.” 

The words slipped from his lips. You felt just as thrown off as he did. 

You’re eyes went wide, “You-” 

“I love you.” He asserted firmly. He had no doubt in his mind he loved you. Ever since he saw you on that beast. 

You smiled, a smile of pure bliss. “I love you.” You said back to him with loving eyes. 

You both let out a breath of relief, and laughed for a short while. He rested his forehead against your own and kissed you once before.

“Say it in Valyrian.” He asked with a smirk, 

“Avy jorrāela.” You said holding his face adoringly. 

“Avie jorraela.” His pronunciation was still not perfect but it was well enough. 

Your lips met once again, and he began to grind his cock into your clothed cunt again. The friction making him moan into your mouth, and you into his. You bit his lip in desperation, wanting so much more than he was giving you. 

You then rolled him back over onto his back. He laughed breathlessly for a moment before he was interrupted by a moan leaving his lips. 

As you kept rolling your hips and grinding against him, your hands went to the laces of your dress. Pulling them loose. Ben thought he might die when he saw your shoulders becoming further and further exposed. 

“We can’t-“ He shook his head frantically. 

“I know-“ You nodded, “Can we just do this? It feels so good-“ You said as you continued to moan.

As you kept going, your dress began to slip lower and lower. His eyes fixated on your body as your dress exposed your breasts, “Keep going-fuck! You’re so beautiful.” He knew he would be done soon enough. The sight of your body was enough to make him mad.

“I want you in me so badly.” You moaned, 

Gods you were driving him mad, begging so beautifully as you rocked against him, breasts bouncing. 

He moaned, “Fuck-I can’t- I want to but I, I can’t sully you.” His eyes went dark, “I’d kill any fucker who tried.” He growled possessively. 

“I love you bloody-” You smirked, but your smile was interrupted as your face contorted in pleasure again. “Qopsa” “Harder.” You moaned, and reached for his wrist. Pulling his hand to grab hold of your breast. Knowing he was too shy to do it himself.

He groaned, and you could feel him throbbing underneath you, “I’m going to-” 

You nodded, “I know, so am I.” You leaned over, practically laying on top of him as you continued to grind against him. You lips and his collided as you both reached your peak.

You rolled onto your back. Laying there side by side together trying to catch your breath. Ben rolled onto his side and propped himself up by his elbow as he looked over you.

“How did the Gods bless me with such a maiden?” He asked breathlessly with an absent minded smile.

You smiled back, and shook your head, “They blessed you with nothing. I chose you.” You said placing a hand on his cheek.

Ben took your hand that held his cheek, and brought it to his lips to kiss your palm “Then I must worship you.”

You looked over to the ocean, and noticed a ship approaching. You knew it was the one harboring the Targaryen’s that were about to risk their lives for a new life. You sat up, pulling up your sleeve over your shoulder. 

“We should head back.” Your demeanor changed. From one of relaxed bliss to one of contempt. 

He sat up, and began helping tighten the laces of your dress for you, “How do you feel about this?” He questioned gently. 

You shook your head, and sighed. As he finished with the ties you stood, “It matters not what I feel.”

He stood, and grabbed your wrist, “Of course it does. It does to me.” he asserted. 

You looked at him, and sighed. “My mother has been left with few options. Her choice is to win or die.” You shook your head, “Her choice is to win, or we all die. And I am not blind to the irony, I know I am no more deserving of a dragon than they are.” Ben wanted to interject and argue that point in the opposite direction but you continued, “So I must support this course of action though it tastes of ash and blood in my mouth.”

You tried to continue on, but he pulled you back once more, “I did not ask about the war. I asked about you.”

You looked down to the sea, at the ship approaching. “I tried to claim Seasmoke when I was ten and two.” You turned to Ben, “I had just lost my father and I wanted his dragon desperately. I thought if I had him, I’d have a bit of my father. So I snuck into the dragonpit.” He smiled at the thought of you doing that. “Perhaps it was too soon for him, or perhaps I was not ready but Seasmoke nearly killed me. He opened his jaws and readied himself to burn me. But Silverwing scared him off.” You looked down, shamefully, “I always thought he knew I didn’t have pure Valaryian blood.” Your tension began to rise, “If a bastard born from some silver haired Targaryen who spent too long in a pleasure house, would be able to claim him and I couldn’t-” You took a deep breath, looking at Ben, “I mislike all of this. But I understand the order of things.” 

You finished as you continued on down the hill. Ben was not far behind. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You did not attend the claiming of the dragons. You knew it would be bloody. You also did not wish to seem as if you were enthusiastic about this plan of action.

Though with supper approaching, you figured you should probably know where your family was standing after this procession took place.

You wandered the halls of Dragonstone looking for Jace with Benjicot. Finally after some time you found your brother in the library sulking. You waved to Ben to stay outside the room as you entered. You knew you had to speak to him alone. 

“What was the outcome?” You spoke softly, not wanting to upset him further. 

He turned the page of his book angrily “Both dragons have been claimed. Seasmoke has been claimed. Claimed by some drunk old man they call… Ulf.” He said, in an attempt to make you as angry as he was. 

And it worked, you were mad. You didn’t give him the satisfaction however. “Stop pouting.” 

“I’m not pouting.” He said, flipping another page.

You scoffed, “You are pouting. Pouting as our mother awaits us.” You sat next to him, “You’re angry, I know it.” You said gently. 

“How are you not?” He looked at you with an annoyed demeanor. 

“I am angry. Angry that our family has been torn apart and burnt to ash. I want revenge and I support our mother.” You spoke softly but intently, needing him to understand why such action though unpleasant was critical. 

“They are an insult to us. To what makes us Targaryens. If any common lout can ride a dragon then-”

You interrupted him, “Speak for yourself, I am not common.” You stood and paced the room,

“You know what we are.” Jace said with a dark voice. 

You shrugged, “Everyone does. So why should I care.”

“Does your betrothed know?” He asked almost mockingly.

You stopped your pacing and looked at Jace, “Just as Baela knows.” You stepped closer to Jace, “You act as though we are the first noble bastards. I am the princess and you the crown prince. We are children of the rightful queen. And you sit here sulking over dragons and if not that then something else.” You took hold of Jace’s shoulder, “It is true we’ve must prove ourselves. We’ve to prove to the people we are worthy of the status our mother gave to us. So get up and take your place by our mother’s side.” 

And with that, you left him. You hoped you would see him for supper, but if not the House of the Dragon was going to be safe another day. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

As you began to walk down the hall, Ben followed closely. You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled at him. Your smile drove him mad. He playfully began to chase you once again. He was so close though it was hardly a chase. He grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you into him as his arm wrapped around your waist tightly and held you close. You gave in quickly and happily. Your arms wrapping around his neck. His lips met yours passionately as he lifted you with ease and spun you around in the hall. Uncaring of anyone who saw. 

He placed you down gently as his smiling lips continued to meet your own repeatedly as he pushed you against the stone wall. 

As your lips parted, you smiled softly and absent mindedly as you looked at him with loving eyes, “I did not think love would find me in such a sad world.” You said as you ran your thumb across the scar on his lip.

He shook his head as he looked at you with adorning eyes, “I’ll always find you.”

You bit your lip and looked at his, though you had kissed him a thousand times now you still hungered for more. And he shared that same hunger.

His lips and yours collided once more, in a passionate and loving embrace. Though the heaven that your kiss brought would soon be interrupted by the sounds of a man’s crude laughter echoing down the halls. 

Benjicot immediately looked down the hall, looking for anyone who might have disturbed you both. He pushed you behind him slightly, in an attempt to defend whatever threat might have been there.

You however furrowed your brows in annoyance, “What is that?” You asked as you pushed yourself away from Ben’s protection and continued to walk down the hall towards the laughter.

Ben of course followed closely behind. Soon you reached the council room where you heard the same voice speaking, “This is more like it, Hugh, don’t you think?”

You stood outside the room listening in more carefully.

Another voice beckoned out the room, “We’re meant to be at the training yards learnin’ the commands.”

The same voice as before once again called out, “Yeah, and I will go, but surely they’d not deny me my pleasure after so long. I may never eat fish again.” he replied. 

You entered the room angered. You knew these must have been the Targaryen bastards who claimed those sacred beasts. Your anger only grew as you saw them sitting at the council table.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes and storming into the room. You saw the man more clearly now, his feet sitting upon the council table. “Remove your feet from the table.” You spat at him. This man dared place his feet on your mothers table- sitting in your mothers seat. 

“I’d rather not.” The gray haired oafish old man said, refusing your command which only made your anger rise, and Benjicot’s anger rose.

The other man tried to correct his behavior, “Ulf-” 

Though you interrupted him, staring daggers at the man as you approached him, Ulf… The man who claimed Seasmoke, it made you hate it all the more, “It is not a matter of what you want.”

“What is it a matter of then, girl?” Ulf asked unabashedly. 

Benjicot grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword, “You dare speak to her like that?” he hissed at the gray haired bastard. 

Hugh attempted once again to knock sense into Ulf, “She’s the princess, Ulf. Princess (Y/N) Velaryon.” 

Immediately Ulf threw his feet down from the table and stood, “Princess (Y/N) Velaryon! Right here!” He said with great enthusiasm, it reminded you of Willem. “Who’d thought it?”

“You’re in her home.” Ben said with venom in his tone as he stepped closer to the man, “She’ll have an apology from you.” Benjicot sneered at the man.

“Ah! The young princess!” Ulf said with great excitement as he stepped closer to you, making Ben rush to your side as well, “Look at that hair!” Ulf tried to place his hand into your dark hair, though Ben’s hand grabbed Ulfs wrist before he could touch you. “As dark as they say.” He remarked. “Let them tell us we don’t have Targaryen blood, eh?”

Benjicot would not allow a man to question your parentage no matter if it were true or not. No matter if the man was a dragonrider or not. “Her mother is the queen and-”

“My niece. Dragonriders both.” He said as if he were reminiscing on your pasts together. You felt more angered by it, he did not know you and he was certainly not your family. Perhaps blood bound you together but not family. “You and I… cut from the same cloth.” You felt a sting of resentment. This is the man who claimed your fathers dragon dare call himself your uncle?

“You claiming Seasmoke was a sacred inheritance of which you know nothing.” You hissed at him. 

“Forgive him, princess. He is not much used to the manners of court.” Hugh said, attempting to remedy the growing tension in the room. 

“Or any fucking manners at all I’d say.” Benjicot said, still grasping hold of the hilt of his sword.

Ulf’s eyes finally left you, and landed onto Ben. “You must be her lad, eh?” He questioned mockingly with a grin. 

“I’m her husband to be.” Ben said protectively and proudly. 

“To be.” Ulf mocked in jest, though Ben did not find it amusing. 

But rather than allow Ben to spill blood of a man in your mother’s council room, spill the blood of a dragonrider whom you needed. You stepped forward and began to speak, “Do you know what has happened this last hour?” Your eyes bore into Ulf’s soul, and you stepped closer to him. “The so-called Prince regent has burned Sharp Point down to its stones. Thousands of its folk dead or lost. Its harbor has been reduced to ash.” Ulf swallowed hard, now understanding the gravity of his position, “Will you prepare to face such an enemy? Or will you stay here and make yourself easy?” You sneered at him, “If you hinder our efforts through sloth or unreadiness I will allow my husband to do whatever he wishes with you.” You threatened and the room fell silent. 

Ben’s eyes stayed on Ulf, waiting for that apology. 

Ulf stammered before he finally spit out, “I meant no disrespect, my princess.” 

You nodded, “Best be on your way to the training yards then.” You tilted your head to get him moving. 

Ulf and Hugh then scattered and scurried off to the training yards as they were meant to.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

At supper, Ulf did not redeem himself in your favor. 

“More wine here!” He called out as if he were in a tavern at your mothers table. “Taming a dragon is thirsty work.” He said to the servant girl who served him his wine. As if to woo her, it made you roll your eyes in disgust, “Oh, and some more of these little birds.” He called out 

Your mother however wanted to turn the evening's conversation to a more suitable discussion. “A toast to my daughter, and her intended Lord Benjicot Blackwood. Benjicot who shall soon be a Velaryon, and my daughter who shall soon be a bride. You shall be married soon and I know you both will find great happiness and joy.” She said as she stood raising her cup to you and Ben. Ben felt honored, and undeserving of this. He raised his cup to you instead. You smiled and raised your cup. Your cousins and brother did the same, though Jace was still pouting.

“You’re taking ‘er name?” Ulfs voice rang out again. 

Ben turned his head down to the end of the table where Ulf sat. “It is a great honor for my children to inherit the name, Velaryon.” He practically hissed though he tried to maintain his manners at the queen’s table.

Though this tension would be cut as Rhaenrya began again, “A toast. To our new riders. The two of you, are not of noble birth, but you have done a thing never dreamed of before now. I have entrusted you with a power only few have known. And I charge you to take it up with fealty and respect. Serve me well and I will make you knights of the realm.” She said wanting to honor but warn them.

“Huh? What do you think of that? We’ll be knights… just like that.” Ulf said, lacking tact as usual. 

Hugh grimaced at Ulf’s words, then turned to the queen, “We will not fail you, my queen. What will you have us do?” He asked

“We must strike while we have the advantage.” She responded 

“What about Vhagar?” Hugh asked, clearly weary of going against such a large dragon.

Your mother shrugged, “She is fearsome but she is one dragon, and we have seven. She cannot take on us all.”

“I’ll take her by myself. Seasmoke’s a goer he is. We’re afraid of nothing.” Ulf said arrogantly, making you roll your eyes. 

“Ondoso zȳhon nyke emagon zirȳla zūgagon hen nykeēdar.” “By his stench I would have thought him fearful of water.” You said under your breath only for Baela to hear. From the little Velaryon you had taught Ben he picked up enough of what you said to have to hold in a laugh. 

“I said more of these little birds!” Ulf called out loudly commanding the servants again.

“A knight will conduct himself with grace at the Queen’s table.” Your mother attempted to subtly correct his behavior. 

“Best make me a knight then.” Ulf attempted to jest.

“You forget yourself, Ulf.” Jace threatened as he leaned into the table. 

“A sense of humor could do you all good.” Ulf said awkwardly as he drank from his cup.

Ben leaned closer to you, “I think you’re quite funny.” he whispered in your ear. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

After supper you walked with Ben through the halls of Dragonstone.

“That's the man who claimed my dead father’s dragon?” You huffed, “I had hoped for whore or a tavern wench.” You were not jesting, this was certainly the worst case scenario. 

“Do you want me to kill him?” Ben asked, also not jesting. 

You looked at him and smiled, “No.” You shook your head, “I’ll leave that to Vhagar.” 

“Vhagar…” Ben said, thinking of the large beast.

“Silverwing could kill Vhagar.” You said, getting lost again in the fantasy of your revenge.  “And I could kill Ameond.”

Ben took your wrist, making you stop on your tracks. 

He sighed, not wanting to ask what he was about to ask you, “You won’t fly to war will you?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You don’t believe I could do it?”

“If it were you and Ameond, I know you could. But when your dragons meet, it is not a matter of skill or strength.” He wanted to reason with you 

You shook your head, about to continue walking, “I just have to go for her neck. Like she did Arrax.” 

Ben took you by your arm and forced you to stop, “I’ll go to war. Kill every green I see. I’ll roar and rampage in the name of your revenge.” His eyes were wide, he was desperate, “I’ll bring Kings Landing to your feet.” He vowed it to you, “I’ll never command you to do anything, never forbid you to do anything. I’ll give you my own sword to ride your beast into battle. But, I keep thinking of it. Being in battle and looking up to seeing you overhead on your beast. I am overcome with pride and admiration but should the greens shoot you down, or Vhagar prevails- I have to beg you selfishly. You’re the only woman I want, the only one I’ve ever loved, the only one I’ll ever love. If you are harmed, or worse I will burn all of Westeros to its soil and me with it.” 

You wanted to laugh, not knowing how to respond. You shook your head again, “You’re not my slave-” 

“I am.” He got down on one knee, “Willingly- happily.” He said as he took your hand, “There’s not a single fucking thing I wouldn’t do at your command. Not a thing I wouldn’t give you.” His eyes were filled with emotion, “Not a thing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe, happy. If that means massacring Cristan Cole and his armies I will do it. If it means shooting down Vhagar I’ll do it. If it means watching you in battle, so be it. But I beg you- stay.”   

You looked down at him, “Ben.” you were at a loss for words.

“Tell me what you wish and I’ll not stop you. I’ll not speak another word of it.” He said assertively. 

“I can lean on you?” You asked gently and softly. 

“Completely.” He said without hesitation, assertively and without doubt.

You hesitated, but then nodded, “Alright.” You sniffed, holding in tears, “Alright.” You nodded, not wanting to 

“Av-ey jorraela.” He attempted to pronounce it though it was not perfect. 

You exhaled a sharp laugh, holding in your tears. You held his face in your hands, “Avy jorrāela.”

Note:

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@callsignwidow

[jaeedraszaerysz]

JON SNOW ☆ DATING HCS

SFW 💕💕

It would probably take him a while to trust you if you hadn't known him very long.

If you grew up with or close to the Starks he tried to befriend you before Robb did

He would always be scared that he would steal your heart away

You would spend hours mocking the men and women of the courts

When Robert Baratheon came to visit you both sat outside taking the piss out of all the Lords and ladies and any twat who dared speak low of either of you.

Tyrion Lannister defos assumed u were a couple and when you told him otherwise, he just shook his head.

Catelyn would probably despise you for being so close to him.

Ned would love you though, thanking the gods silently that the boy had someone by his side.

He would probably have kissed you before he left for the nights watch and spent his nights wondering whether leaving you was worth it all.

When you eventually found your way back to him it was rather chaotic.

You were probably interrogated by tormund on arrival

Atleast until Jon saw you, never forgetting your face.

You probably punched him square in the face and then proceeded to have a huge, westeros equivalent of Oscar worthy, makeput session infront of everyone.

Ghost, when not growling at random twats, would act like a second protector when Jon wasn't by your side.

Arya either loves you or hates you

Sansa is, just like her father was, happy Jon has someone.

Bran doesn't care. He's too busy wheeling around doing seven eyes Sparrow shit or whatever he called it.

You and Davos defos spend ages tryna talk some sense into him.

He always seems to be holding you in some way

Whether it be your arm, hand, waist. He would probably play with your hands or you hair often.

Is always bloody staring

Like never stops

His eyes are for you and only you

Takes. You. Everywhere.

Like no debates. He goes, you follow. Or vice versa.

He took you with him to meet with ramsay and if he made any comment whatsoever it was straight up a routine by now.

Death stare, holds onto you twelve times tighter, kills the offender within 24 hours.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him because he's happy you feel safe with him.

Head kisses.

Need I say more?

Everywhere anytime.

Head. Fucking. Kisses.

Walking past. Head kiss.

Sat next to him at dinner. Head kiss.

In an extremely serious situation requiring your full attention. Head kiss.

Dying. Head kiss.

It's like his fucking bread and butter.

When you first met daenerys it was bad vibes.

Like very bad.

No clue why she just doesn't sit right with you.

Either grows to love you or ends up hating you with a passion.

No in-between.

He dreams of having a normal life.

He would want three kids, two boys and girl so they could protect their sister.

Maybe another direwolf or four. One for each and one for you.

Can't sleep when you aren't next to him.

Teaches you to sword fight extremely early on in your relationship.

If you were ill or pregnant he would never leave your side.

Never ever ever never.

He's convinced that you could have a hundred children and you would still be the person he loves most in the world.

Would do anything for you.

Minors DNI below this line.

NSFW ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (implied female reader)

Worships you like no one else

Touching you always.

Passes it off for his hand on your back but in reality he's secretly caressing your ass, or will have his arms under your cloak, passing it off as a hug, and will gently squeeze your boobs.

Neck kisses.

His favourite thing in the world.

Loves to leave marks on you wherever he can.

Has definitely kissed every inch of your body

Gives no fucks about scars or hair or anything of the sort.

Boobs.

Lives laughs loves your boobs.

Will lay with his face buried in them at any time.

Minor inconvenience? Someone was being a twat? He's tired?

Boob pillow.

Will eat you out for hours.

Insatiable.

You have any problems at all? Sit on his face.

If he's had a bad day he will legit just stuff his face between your thighs.

His fave place.

Says that if you suffocated him it would be an amazing way to go.

Probably prefers giving but he will never say no to receiving.

His dick is probs like 6-7 inches.

Takes tormunds advice very seriously.

Loves to see how many fingers you can take before he stuffs you.

Will go for as many rounds as you need.

Always a gentleman, making sure your comfortable and that your satisfied.

Cockwarming he loves.

Cuddles afterwards.

He will slide out of you and pull you onto on him, pulling the blankets up and wrapping his body around yours.

Calls you love but with his gorgeous deep voice.

Has a sexy asf morning voice.

He's so whipped for you he can't function somedays.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Need asoiaf fans to be disabused from the notion that anyone “deserves” the Iron Throne. Not a single person deserves it, doesn’t matter how good they are. And I’d take it a step further and say that no one deserves to be king or queen or lord. We shouldn’t be equating kingship/queenship with a happy ending. This series does so much to criticize this awful system so it’s particularly jarring that people will go “I want my fave to get their happy ending and sit on the iron throne”. That’s…kind of antithetical to what the series has shown us so far I think.