Iâm about to start my period and I go through phases of completely and utterly despising my body. Like, feeling way too big in every aspect (Iâm a chubby girl already :-(.) and I was just wondering if u could do a tiny Drabble about Robb Stark (or all of the Stark men) comforting a reader who feels like that? And thinks sheâs too ugly/big for him, doesnât wanna get out of bed or show him her body at all :-(
Sorry if this is too much. I love u
hello baby i know EXACTLY how you feel :(( here itâs your little treat angel, and please donât talk like that about yourself! Your body must be beautiful and Stark men would so praise it every day đđ¤
Ö´ÖśÖ¸đ STARK MEN who comfort you during your period and insecurities.
ââINCLUDES ⧠Robb ⧠Jon ⧠Cregan ⧠Ned ŕłŕż
ἍáĄ.Ö´ÖśÖ¸đ ROBB
You lay curled on your side, a mountain of blankets pulled up to your chin, the dull ache in your belly a persistent, unwelcome companion. Worse than the pain, though, was the thick, suffocating feeling of wrongness that had settled over you. You felt swollen, ungainly, and utterly miserable.
The door opened softly, and you heard the familiar, heavy tread of your husband. The bed dipped as he sat on the edge, his hand coming to rest on the curve of your hip through the wool.
âWifeâ his voice was low. âYouâve not eaten.â
âIâm not hungry, Robbâ you mumbled into your pillow, not turning to face him. You were acutely aware of your tangled hair, the sweat in your skin. âYou should go. I⌠I am not fit for company.â
âNonsense.â His hand began a slow, soothing circle on your back. âWhatâs this? Youâve been in here all day.â
You squeezed your eyes shut, a wave of self-loathing washing over you. âI look terrible. I feel like a great, bloated cow. I donât want you to see me like this.â
A beat of silence. Then a soft, surprised chuckle. âA cow? My fierce lady, who faced down a Northern lord at the last council, thinks she looks like a cow?â
âRobbâ you whined, a pathetic sound.
He leaned over, his lips pressing a kiss to your temple. âI have seen you covered in mud from a hard ride, your hair a wild nest from the wind, and your cheeks flushed with victory after a fight. You have never been more beautiful to me than in any of those moments. And you are no less beautiful now.â He gently tugged at the blanket. âNow, let me see my wife.â
You resisted for a moment, then relented, turning onto your back. He was looking at you with such open, unadulterated affection that it made your heart ache. His hand slid beneath the covers to rest on your belly, the warmth of his palm a soothing comfort.
âIâll have the kitchens send up some of that honeyed tea you likeâ he murmured, his thumb stroking your skin. âAnd you will eat some bread. And then, perhaps, you will let me hold you for a while.â
You gave a small, watery smile. âEven if Iâm a cow?â
He grinned, the boyish charm breaking through his kingly mask. âEspecially if youâre my cow. The finest cow in all the North.â
ἍáĄ.Ö´ÖśÖ¸đ JON
Jon was quiet, as he always was. Heâd brought you a tray of food, setting it on the small table by the window without a word. Youâd barely looked at it. You were huddled in the corner of the bed, a pillow clutched to your chest, feeling awkward and ungainly. The sheets felt too heavy, your skin too tight.
âGo away, Jonâ you said, your voice small. âI donât want you to see me like this.â
He turned from the window, the grey light of the overcast sky softening his features. âSee yaâ like what?â he asked, his voice a low, even murmur that held no judgment.
âAll⌠like thisâ you gestured vaguely at yourself. âIâm swollen and ugly. I canât even stand the sight of myself right now.â
Jon crossed the room in a few silent strides. He didnât sit on the bed, but instead knelt beside it, bringing his face level with yours. His grey eyes, so often guarded, were open and soft.
âYerâ my wifeâ he said simply, as if that explained everything. He reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. âI have seen you command a room full of men twice your size. I have seen you hold a dying soldierâs hand. I have seen you smile at me in the morning when you think I am still asleep, and it is the most beautiful sight I know.â
He took your hand, the one that wasnât clutching the pillow, and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. âI do not see what you think I see. I see you.â He glanced at the tray. âYouâve not touched your food. Youâll feel better if you eat.â
âI donât want to moveâ you murmured.
He nodded, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He stood, retrieved the tray, and brought it to the bed, settling himself beside you. He broke off a piece of bread and held it up to your lips.
âThen Iâll feed youâ he said, his voice holding a gentle command. You looked at him surprised, he smiled âAye. Now, try the broth.â
ἍáĄ.Ö´ÖśÖ¸đ CREGAN
Cregan was a man of few words, his actions speaking for him. You had tried to wave him away when he entered the solar, insisting you were fine and just wanted to be left alone. Youâd pulled your heavy woolen shawl tighter, hiding your form, refusing to meet his eye. The deep, gnawing pain was nothing compared to the feeling of being so unattractive, so undesirable.
âWifeâ he said, his voice a low growl that brooked no argument. He ignored your protests and swept you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. You squeaked in surprise, your hands flying to his shoulders.
âCregan! Put me down, Iâm too heavy!â
He gave a short, sharp huff of amusement as he carried you across the room towards the large, cushioned chair by the fire. âI am a Stark of Winterfell. I have brought down bulls with my bare hands. Do not speak to me of weight.â
He settled into the chair, positioning you on his lap, wrapping his heavy arms around you and tucking your head under his chin. The heat from the fire and his own formidable body began to seep into your chilled bones.
âThereâ he grunted, his big hand coming to rest on your lower belly, the pressure of his palm a grounding comfort. âI have you.â
You tried to squirm away, still feeling self-conscious. âIâm all uncomfortable and⌠and fat.â
He gave you a firm squeeze, his arms tightening like bands of iron. âYou are my wifeâ he stated, his voice a rumble against your hair. âYou are carrying the weight of a wolf. There is strength in that.â He paused, then added gruffly, âAnd you are not fat. You are soft. And I like it.â
A teary laugh escaped you. âYou like it?â
âAye,â he grunted, resting his chin on the top of your head. âIt means I can hold you easier. Now be still. Rest. I will not let go.â
ἍáĄ.Ö´ÖśÖ¸đ NED
Ned found you in a puddle of misery on the bed. The drapes were drawn, the room dark, and you were buried under furs. Youâd been weeping, you knew your eyes were red and your nose was running, and the thought of him seeing you like this was mortifying.
âMy loveâ he said softly, sitting beside you. His hand was gentle on your shoulder. âWhat is the matter?â
âEverythingâ you sobbed into the pillow. âMy stomach hurts, I feel sick, and Iâm hideous. Just look at me. I canât even go to the feast tonight. I canât have anyone see me like this.â
Ned was quiet for a moment, his hand moving in a slow, steady rhythm on your back. âYou knowâ he began, his voice thoughtful, âwhen I first saw you, you were covered in mud and sea salt from the ship.â
You hiccupped, turning your face slightly from the pillow. âThatâs not the same.â
âIt isâ he insisted. âYou were beautiful then, and you are beautiful now.â
He leaned over and gently, so gently, wiped a tear from your cheek. âLet me see your eyes.â
You shook your head, turning your face away. âNo. Theyâre all red and puffy. Iâm a mess.â
âThen I will look at a messâ he said, his tone so sincere and loving that it broke through your defenses. He cupped your chin and gently turned your face to his. He studied you, his eyes filled with a profound tenderness. âThereâ he whispered. âThere is my wife. The most beautiful woman I have ever known.â
He pressed his lips to your forehead, then your nose, then each of your closed eyelids. âNow, what can I do to make you feel better? Some warm milk? A book by the fire? Or shall I just sit here and tell you all the reasons I love you until you feel better?â
A fresh wave of tears, born of relief and affection, spilled over your cheeks. âThe last oneâ you whispered, your voice cracking. âPlease, Ned. Just stay with me.â
âI always willâ he promised, pulling you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.
A vindication of the rights of the woman by Wollstonecraft and Politics by Aristotle (can you tell Iâm studying law)
what are the things you look for in a book?
gosh i love connecting dots. I hate plot holes. I love finding beauty and deep meanings in the narrative. I also look for a character to relate to lmao.
Not my favorite ones but the ones i believe had more impact (?)
I would say the bible first because i read it fully and itâs so damn interesting. The Odyssey by homer goes second and Don Quixote third. Pride & Prejudice because i love it and has a huge cultural impact. Last but not least Harry Potter. Fuck the author but come on, everyone read that shit as a kid.
My favs are : The unbearable lightness of being, The secret history, The picture of dorian gray, Wuthering Heights and Crime & Punishment !!
recommend and review a book.
I already recommended and reviewed one here
most disliked popular books?
I may be a little hypocritical for this one bit i donât enjoy smut hidden in âfantasyâ books. Yes im saying fourth wing, acotar and dark fantasy ones. Im not saying itâs wrong to read it! Just saying i donât personally enjoy them. When i read books, i try to find beauty, emotions, philosophy. These donât fit my interests i guess. Also fuck Colleen Hoover.
shiiit i donât have enough argumentative skills to make a full review đ
Iâll recommend the last book i read: A Vindication of the Rights of Woman by Mary Wollstonecraft.
I would say itâs a foundational feminist manifesto. It argues that women are not naturally inferior to men, but appear so only because they are denied a proper education. Itâs set in the 1700s of course so she critiques the societal trap that forces women to rely solely on beauty and emotional manipulation, advocating instead for reason, independence, and educational equality. I rated it 4,5 on goodreads.
The secret history. Itâs on of my favorites and i always find myself going back to it.
top 5 books of all time?
Not my favorite ones but the ones i believe had more cultural impact (?)
I would say the bible first because i read it fully and itâs so damn interesting. The Odyssey by homer goes second and Don Quixote third. Pride & Prejudice because i love it and has a huge cultural impact. Last but not least Harry Potter. Fuck the author but come on, everyone read that shit as a kid.
what is your favourite genre?
Classics? Idk i read whatever i want whenever i feel like it lol
â¨đźđˇđ This is the you are amazing award. Send it to ten bloggers you think are wonderful or just take a moment to bask in your own awesomeness! â¨đźđˇđ
SUMMARY: Gwayne didnât expect to visit his sister Alicent in a long time, his father had betrothed him to a Tyrell and the wedding plans were all that kept him busy in the Hightower of Oldtown. But when he came to Kingâs Landing to visit Alicent, he found that the Targaryen princess had grown into a beautiful woman. And he fell immediately.
TO ADD: Part one of ??? Rhaenyraâs little sister! Reader, slight age gap, tension, infidelity if you squint. Yearner! Gwayne.
The journey from Oldtown to King's Landing had been long and tedious, the summer heat turning the inside of Gwayneâs carriage into a sweltering prison. He had spent most of the journey with the windows drawn, watching the golden fields of the Reach give way to the more rugged terrain of the Crownlands, his mind churning with thoughts he would rather not entertain.
His father, Lord Otto Hightower, had arranged the match six moons past. Lady Elara Tyrell, a perfectly suitable bride from a perfectly suitable house. She was pretty enough, with honey-colored hair and gentle brown eyes, the kind of woman any lord would be grateful to call his wife. Gwayne had tried to feel grateful.
The wedding was set for the turn of the year. Three months. Three months until his life would be bound to a woman he barely knew, to duties he had never asked for, to a future he didnât choose.
He had come to King's Landing to see his sister, Alicent. The Red Keep rose before him as his carriage passed through the gates, its red stone gleaming in the afternoon sun.
He was shown to his chambers by a young squire, a boy with sandy hair and a nervous stammer who seemed eager to please. Gwayne dismissed him with a wave, too weary for pleasantries. The room was comfortable enough, decorated in the red and black of House Targaryen, with a large window that overlooked the training yard.
He could hear the clash of steel from below, the shouts of men at practice. For a moment, he considered going down to join them, to lose himself in the rhythm of swordplay. But the trip had drained his energy.
He settled into a chair by the window, watching the activity below with half-lidded eyes. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the light had shifted to the golden haze of late afternoon, and a knock at his door roused him from his stupor.
"Enterâ
The door opened to reveal his sister, Alicent, Gwayne rose to greet her, crossing the room in three quick strides to pull her into an embrace.
"Gwayneâ she breathed against his shoulder. "I was so pleased when I heard you were coming. Father didn't mention it in his letters."
"I wanted to surprise youâ he said, pulling back. "How are you, sister?"
"I am well enoughâ she said, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "The King has been... unwell of late. It keeps me busy."
Gwayne nodded, understanding what she didn't say. King Viserys was sick. Alicent's position was precarious, her influence tied to a man who was slowly slipping away.
"Comeâ she said, taking his arm. "I have arranged a small dinner in your honor. Just family. Princess Rhaenyra and her sister will be there, and the King if he feels well enough to join us."
The mention of you, Rhaenyraâs little sister, brought a slight tension to Gwayne's shoulders. He had met you, the princess, years ago, when you had been a girl of twelve with a fierce in your eyes. He had not seen you since, and he found himself curious about the woman you had become.
"Of courseâ he said. "I would be honored."
The dinner was held in a small private dining room, far from the grand halls where the court feasted. It was intimate, the table set for six, with candles casting dancing shadows across the walls. Gwayne arrived with Alicent, his hand resting on his sister's elbow as they entered.
The King was there, seated at the head of the table. He looked older than Gwayne remembered, his face lined with pain, but his eyes were kind as he welcomed them. Beside him sat Rhaenyra, chin up with a proud smile. And beside her, sat you, dressed in jewels and the dark red of house Targaryen, and Gwayne felt his breath catch in his throat.
You had grown into something extraordinary.
You had become a woman, your silver-gold hair cascading down your back in loose waves, your lips curved into a small smile as you watched him approach.
"Ser Gwayneâ you said, "It has been too long."
"Princess" he replied, bowing. "You have grown."
"Most people do. Though I suppose some of us grow more than others."
Your playful tone that caught him off guard. He had expected cold formality, royal etiquette. But you wanted to play with him so badly.
He found himself smiling despite himself. "I would hope I have grown as well, Your Grace. Though perhaps not in the ways that matter."
Your eyes flickered with interest, and you gestured to the seat beside you. "Sit with me, Ser Gwayne. Tell me about Oldtown. I hear the Hightower is quite magnificent this time of year."
The dinner passed in a blur of conversation and wine. Gwayne found himself drawn to you, your wit and quick laugh, specially, in how beautiful you had become. He could not take his eyes off your lips, neck, and decency kept himself from wandering further.
"The Reach is beautifulâ you said at one point, fingers tracing the rim of your goblet. "But it seems so... peaceful. So tame. Does it not bore you, Ser Gwayne? To live among fields and dirt, when here we have dragons?"
"Not all of us are fortunate enough to have dragons, Princess," he replied. "Some of us must make do with simpler pleasures."
"Simplicity is a choice, a choice you seem to have made quite willingly."
The way you said it, a hint of accusation, that made him pause. You were right, of course. He had made his choices, had accepted his father's plans without question. But hearing it from your lips, hearing the judgment in your voice it was different. Different in the way we all realize things we already knew if someone mentions them out loud.
"Perhaps I have been too willingâ he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "Perhaps I have not considered all the choices available to me."
Your eyes widened slightly, and you leaned closer, voice dropping so only he could hear. "And what choices would those be, Ser Gwayne?"
"I have not yet decided, but perhaps I am beginning to see possibilities I had not noticed before."
Gwayne felt his heart pounding in his chest, felt the heat rising to his cheeks. So did you. He had never felt this way before, never been so consumed by a woman's presence.
"Gwayneâ Alicent's voice cut through the moment, and he blinked, turning to see his sister watching him with a curious expression. "I was asking if you would like to tour the gardens tomorrow. The roses are in bloom."
"Of courseâ he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I would be delighted."
But even as he spoke, his eyes drifted back to you, watching him with a knowing smile. Youâd seen it, he realized. You had seen the effect you had on him, and you were savoring it.
The next few days passed in a haze of stolen glances and fleeting moments. Gwayne found himself seeking out your company at every opportunity, inventing excuses to be near you, to hear your voice, to feel your presence. He slowly found himself obsessed.
And you? You were more than delighted to welcome his attention, finding ways to be alone with him, to speak with him in quiet corners.
"You are betrothed" you said one afternoon, as you walked through the gardens. "To Lady Elara Tyrell. Is she beautiful?"
"Her mother thinks soâ Gwayne replied, and you laughed.
"Her motherâ you repeated. "And what do you think, Ser Gwayne? Do you find her beautiful?"
He stopped walking, turning to face you. The afternoon sun was behind you, casting your features in shadow, but he could see the smile on your lips.
"I find myself thinking of other things" he said. "Other women."
"Other women?" You asked, voice innocent, though your eyes told a different story. "How scandalous. Your betrothed would be heartbroken."
"I doubt she would notice" he said. "We barely know each other. The match was arranged by our families, as these things always are."
"A tragedyâ you said, stepping closer to him. "To be bound to someone you do not love. To have your life decided for you before you have a chance to live it."
"Is that how you feel, Princess?" he asked, his voice soft. "You are the Kingâs daughter. Surely you have more freedom than most."
"Freedomâ you said, "I am a woman in a world of men, Ser Gwayne. My freedom is an illusion, a pretty cage that I am expected to be grateful for. I am a princess, as long as I do as I am told."
"But you donât do as youâre told, my princess" he said. "Do you?"
You looked at him sharply, and for a moment, he thought he had overstepped. But then you smiled.
"I donât" you said. "I should. If i donât, how will i earn the peopleâs respect? The love?"
"Is that what you want?" he asked. "Love?"
"I want to be seenâ you said, voice a whisper. "I want someone to look at me and see who I truly am, not what they expect me to be. I want to be known."
"Then let me see youâ he said, reaching out to take your hand. "Let me know you."
You did not pull away. Your fingers were warm in his, your skin soft as silk.
"You are betrothedâ you repeated. A kind of sadness, a resignation that broke his heart.
"I do not careâ he said. "I have never cared less about anything in my life."
You laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "You say that now. But when the time comes, you will do what is expected of you. You will marry Lady Elara, and you will have children, and you will live a peaceful, contented life in Oldtown while I sit here in the Red Keep alone as if i was my sisterâs shadow"
"I will not," he said fiercely. "I will not let that happen."
"What will you do?" You asked. "Run away with me? Steal a dragon and fly to the ends of the earth?"
"If I could, I would" he said. "I would take you anywhere, princess. Anywhere but here."
You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face. Then you leaned in, lips brushing against his ear.
"Prove it" you whispered.
And then you were gone, walking away through the roses, leaving him standing there with his heart pounding and his mind reeling.
The next few days were harsh, he could barely resist the urge to see you. Gwayne found himself sneaking through corridors and slipping into dark corners. He had never done anything like this, had never broken the rules so thoroughly. But with you, rules seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was you.
You met in the library one evening, the candles had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. You were perched on a reading table, legs swinging idly. Your eyes lit up immediately as you saw him approach.
"You came" you said, as if you had doubted he would.
"I always willâ he said, crossing the room to stand before you. "I would follow you anywhere."
You smiled, "And what would your betrothed say if she heard you speak like that?"
"She would not hear it" he said. "Because I will not tell her. I will not tell anyone. This is ours, princess."
You reached out, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, feeling the warmth of your skin against his.
"I am not the kind of woman who shares" you said, voice low. "If we do this, if we allow ourselves this, I will not be content to be a secret forever."
"We will find a way" he said, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. "I will find a way."
You pulled him closer, hands tangling in his hair, your lips brushing against his. And then you kissed him, a small noise came out of his throat, a relieved noise.
He pulled you into his arms, his hands found your waist. He could not get enough.
"Gwayne," you said against his lips. "Gwayne, Iâ"
The sound of footsteps interrupted you, and you broke apart, breathing ragged. A servant passed by outside the door, oblivious to what had nearly happened within.
"We must be more careful" You said, voice shaking. âEveryone here knows about your commitment, If anyone found outâ"
"I know," he said, his hand still resting on your waist. "I know."
But even as he said the words, he knew he could not stop. The taste of you was still on his lips, the feel of you still in his arms. He was lost, consumed by you, and he did not want to be found.
A/N: well well idk if i should make a part 2 but lmk if you wanna be tagged.
Also, if Otto sold off his daughter to viserys, my headcanon is that he totally would give Gwayneâs hand in marriage to the best suitor. He might be my failson, but he GOT THAT FACECARD â Otto
