͏ ͏( across the stars. ) ͏ 𖹭 ⵰ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ welcome to my profile ’ meet my main account ; 𓆸 artytaeh. ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა
other—more popular—account of mine. 'how can i reach you?' characters i write for. masterlist's masterpost.
requests are open for bots for robb stark, jacaerys and lucerys velaryon, aemond targaryen, aerion brightflame, valarr targaryen, sam munroe, scott barringer and anakin skywalker.
aemond with a pregnant wife would be unnerving for maesters because he'll ask your opinion about everything. food, walks, exercise, do's and don't's, best clothes, what's recommended or not... and simultaneously decide that HE knows what's best for his wife. the maester said so but aemond disagrees so we're doing his way, and god forbid his wife is uncomfortable for more than three seconds because he's glaring at you. like you're an incompetent. or blind. or deaf. what other excuse do you have to not soothe his wife's aches? dramatically will open the doors to her birthing chamber too, god forbid someone says the husband can't be inside. yes he will. and holding your hand, too. suddenly everyone's lives are on the line for the sake of his love and heir.
"i'll steal you, johanna," but it's VALARR TARGARYEN patiently finding a way to convince your father to stop caging you, as if the world around you will eat you alive—and that he's worth it. in valarr's case, it's a sweet song, a devoted one, a wholeheartedly yarner.
"i'll steal you, johanna," but it takes a darker tone when it's aerion, smirking as his eyes follow you, because somehow, someday—closer than your father expects, surely; aerion is not that patient. and who does he think he is, anyway, to hoard a dragon's treasure?—you will be in his arms. doesn't really matter if you're happy about it or not, if the loss of familiarity from your cage aches, because living with the court and within targaryen chaos is overwhelming.
Do you do smut bots?? Specifically for Scott Barringer?
hey baby ‹3 yes, totally. but i have this rule with requests: i need some basic context or an idea of context to write it. you don't have to give me something super detailed! just something i can work with. but yeah, of course; i make smut bots too. i mean, all of sam's bots are pretty much smut intended... and i have like, three anakin skywalker bots with smut undertones too.
⌕ sam monroe is a character from the movie life as a house (2001), a comedy slash drama about rebuilding a man's bond with his problematic kid after a heartbreaking diagnosis.
tw. prostitution, terminal disease, depression, drug abuse, smoking. beware these warnings if you're interested in watching this movie.
space for his file ’ sam monroe headcanons and character analysis.
── exploring . . .
diving into his daily life ’ bots with and about sam monroe on character·ai.
── panties th!ef. after your father marries his mother, two teenagers must share the same house. perhaps things would be less awkward if sam wasn't a bit of a kleptomaniac perv.
── sneaky link. sam knows the drill: your little boyfriend will pull up, leave with a huge grin as if you're not grumpy from sexual frustration, and within a handful of minutes, his phone will ring so he can finish what the other boy started.
── scotty doesn't know. barringer!twins au. if sam wasn't so bitter about his twin brother, he swears that he wouldn't look twice at scott's girlfriend. but then again, sam was always quite the spiteful teen, and so his bed creaks with every movement of his hips.
── 27 seconds. sam can't help that his girl is so fine. and hey—it's not like he has lots of experience, alright?! be nice with him, sam's already in a huge mood. [upcoming.]
𓆸 ꯭ requests are open. fluff, angst, smut ; all genres are allowed. won't do alternative universes that are too different from his context. will do my version of scott && sam monroe twins alternative universe.
MOUNT HORIZON'S SN#RKY CLIFFHANGER · SCOTT BARRINGER M.LIST.
⌕ scott barringer is a character from the early 2000s canadian series higher ground, with a single season. this teen drama follows scott, along with other cliffhangers that reside in mount horizon, a therapy camp for troubled teens.
tw. sexual abuse, trauma, eating disorders, pedophilia, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts and characters that face depression, death, loss. beware these warnings if you're interested in watching this series.
space for his file ’ scott barringer headcanons and character analysis.
── exploring . . .
diving into his daily life ’ bots with and about scott barringer on character·ai.
── scott is playing favorites. the sky is blue—that's obvious. it's also painfully obvious that scott barringer has a soft spot for you; while ezra gets yelled at for being slow, scott holds your hand so you keep up with today's hiking trip.
── sorry is the hardest word. scott knows he messed up. he knows it, alright? after begging for your forgiveness for a whole damn week, scott can't take another day of your silent treatment.
── reading frankenstein. based on the episode daised and confused, scott tries to convince you to sneak out with him.
── a case of romantic runaways. unable to withstand another week under mount horizon's stupid rules, scott manages to convince you to run away with him. what could go wrong?
── traitorous impatience. scott bared his soul to you—every gruesome detail of what elaine did, his need to resort to drugs so he could cope with the abuse. after you refuse to tell him about your past, scott can't help the temptation of reading your diary.
── the burden of leadership. the moment that counselor sophie leaves the group to help katherine, the cliffhangers turn to scott for guidance. hell, scott wasn't sure when he was nominated the group's leader.
── safe haven / back to square one. scott leaves mount horizon for a period of two weeks, so his father can spend a period of vacation with his son. the moment scott returns to your arms, he's back to square one—the same boy he was, angry and broken, used once again.
𓆸 ꯭ requests are open. fluff, angst, smut ; all genres are allowed. won't do alternative universes that are too different from his context. will do my version of scott && sam munroe twins alternative universe.
watching akotsk to then watch hotd and take notes so i can write valarr and aerion being dragon riders. "oh but the point of their generation is—" i really don't care. i WILL write them with dragons.
A.N: This is the end of Act I, my loves! 🩷 You have now read 148k words, so basically finished two books, congratulations! 🥰 Act II is starting on May 3! 🩷
And thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Harvest follows patience.
Word Count: 5,7k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Even with the small crack that let the light in through the haze of sleep, despite the pounding in his head and the exhaustion of last night, Robb couldn’t help but think that this was the most peaceful moment he had ever had.
At first he just thought the bed smelled like her. The sweet scent of the flowers surrounded him, making him feel like he was lying in a summer garden, and it was only when her hair tickled his nose that he realized her head was resting on his chest. He dipped his head to bury his nose into her hair, his arms wrapping tighter around her as he felt himself slip back into blissful daze, a faint smile curling the corners of his mouth.
However, that bliss was short-lived.
“Robb?”
Gods, it couldn’t have been five minutes—
She shook him by the arm, her whisper nearly frantic. “Robb, wake up!”
“Mm?”
“Have the maids already been here?”
It was with great difficulty that he managed to open his eyes, but the sight that greeted him was so dazzling that the answer had already left his mind before he could speak. She was still in last night’s gown—her infamous wedding gown that the whole North was going to talk about for the centuries to come, if the many comments that he heard last night were anything to go by. She was bathed in the warmth of the sun coming from the window and spilling through the sheer curtains around the bed, the moonlight still clinging to her in the form of her dress even in the morning, as if it couldn’t bring itself to abandon her.
By the gods, she was the most breathtaking vision he had ever cast his gaze upon, even with worry etched on her face.
A grin pulled at his lips while he reached out to run his fingers over her arm. “Good morning, my wife.”
“The maids,” she insisted. “Have they been here?”
“Only for a moment before I dismissed them.”
Her eyes widened.
“Gods,” she breathed out. “We—Robb, we haven’t…”
She didn’t have to finish her sentence for him to understand the root of her worry, any trace of sleep washing away from his mind. The fur covers pooled in his lap when he pulled himself up to sit in the bed as well, her eyes following his every move.
“They’ll say—”
“They’ll say nothing.”
“They’ll say everything!”
“They will not, because I already took care of it.”
That made her gaze snap up to his, whatever protest she was about to direct at him claimed by stunned silence instead. She looked down at her gown, then back at him, the unasked question making him scoff.
“I’m no wildling to take advantage of you at such state,” he told her and turned his palm up. “I cut my finger, so there was blood on the sheets.”
Her brows furrowed and she blinked a couple of times as if she was straining her mind to remember. Robb wouldn’t have been surprised if the memory had left her completely considering how drunk she had been last night, but he was proven wrong when a look of realization dawned on her face, her lips parting.
“Oh,” she said after a moment, coaxing a smile out of him.
“Come here,” he murmured before he pulled her to his lap, the closeness of her making his heart gallop in his chest. Her fingers caressed over his palm, her gentle touch barely there as if she was hesitant, but then she took his hand in hers to glance down at the tiny slice over the tip of his thumb.
He couldn’t have looked away if he tried.
She had to be a gift to him from the old gods; wrapped in light and warmth, halting all thoughts in his head with her mere presence. Robb swallowed when she ran her fingertips over the back of his hand in an almost absentminded manner, awakening fire underneath before she frowned slightly and raised her eyes to meet his.
“Did it hurt very terribly?”
Robb couldn’t help but smile at the genuine concern in her tone.
“You’re the one with sensitive skin,” he teased her, making her scrunch her nose up at him before he leaned in to kiss her, sneaking an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. It took everything in him not to flip them over and get rid of all these stupid, unnecessary clothes that kept her away from his gaze and his touch, desire burning through him as he slowly started to bunch up the skirt of her gown—
She pulled back with a gasp and turned her head to look at the door when someone pounded their fist on it, followed by his brother’s gruff voice.
“Robb?”
“Just ignore him,” Robb muttered, trailing kisses down her jaw and she shifted in his lap, making his grip tighten around her thighs.
“I don’t think—”
“Robb, it’s noon!” Theon’s loud voice from behind the door cut off her whisper, and Robb dropped his head on her shoulder with an exhausted sigh.
“Aye,” Jon added, “father sent me to wake you up. Theon is also here for some reason.”
“Fuck you too, Snow.”
“I’m going to kill them,” he muttered into her skin while she ran her nails over the nape of his neck gently.
“You can kill Theon,” she said, still a little breathless. “But I happen to like Jon.”
Much to his displeasure, she got off of him to walk to the other side of the room to grab her dressing gown and Robb discreetly adjusted himself, then pushed himself off the bed to make his way to the door to swing it open.
“Has someone died?”
Jon frowned. “No?”
“Would you like me to change that?”
Theon grinned at him. “Good afternoon to you too.”
“Father sent me,” Jon grumbled. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but you two missed breakfast already, and the feast is starting in the yard.”
Robb gritted his teeth, then his eyes found his lady’s maid standing behind them.
“Eadith?”
“I just wanted to inform my lady that her bath is ready,” she said, averting her eyes while Theon stole a look at the bed, earning a glare from Robb who pulled the door closer to him so that no one could see inside. “In her bedchambers.”
“Thank you Eadith,” she called out before she pulled the door open. “Good morrow.”
Theon mumbled a greeting and glanced up at the ceiling while Jon offered her a smile, and before Robb could say anything, she had already walked past him and stepped into the hallway, making him frown.
“Wait, wha—”
“I must get ready for the feast but I’ll find you in the yard!” she called out and walked down the hallway to enter her bedchambers, her maid following her close. She closed the door behind them, and Robb let out a breath, slumping sideways to the doorframe.
“So,” Theon said with a grin while Jon raised his brows at him. “Judging by the murderous look on your face, I take it your wedding night went well?”
After a quick bath, a change of clothes and being all but dragged to the yard, Robb had already made up his mind:
This was nonsense.
This whole Harvest Feast was nonsense.
He was supposed to be in bed with his wife—who was still nowhere in sight— enjoying their marriage. He could’ve been in her bedchambers or even better, in the bathtub with her, and yet here he was, being stuck in a conversation with his father and multiple lords.
He took a big sip of his drink, his eyes darting around the yard. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, many couples were dancing to the musicians’ tune, some cheering, and some still drunk from last night. Perceon and Braxton were laughing at something Cliff was telling them, Arys was talking with Alton, and for a second Robb wondered where Silas was, but he figured he was with one of his many admirers from the Reach, still in bed.
“…and Robb will come with.”
His head whirled around. “Hm?”
His father exchanged glances with Lord Cassel, both grinning.
“Ease off on him, Ned,” Lord Cassel said. “At least for the day. You pulled him out of the south’s prettiest girl’s bed, he’s bound to be distracted.”
“I’m not distracted,” Robb lied through his teeth while his father hummed.
“Will your lady wife be joining us?”
Finally, now everyone referred to her as his lady wife.
“She’s getting ready,” Robb replied. “It takes her a while and we—we woke up late.”
“I’d gather she’s quite tired,” Lord Umber joked, clasping his shoulder. “As a husband of thirty years, let me give you some wisdom, my boy. You must let her have her rest, otherwise you’ll suffer during the day.”
Well he was way ahead of that, already suffering.
“Aye, she’ll make sure of that,” Lord Karstark said, laughter erupting from the small crowd. “Did you let her sleep last night at all?”
Robb rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh huh.”
“I must admit, I doubt I have ever seen a happier bride,” Lord Cassel chuckled. “Even my lady wife…”
The rest of his sentence disappeared into rest of the chatter when Robb’s eyes caught the sight of his beautiful lady enter the yard with Silas, claiming the air in his lungs without so much as a glance in his direction.
Just as she was the silver moonlight last night, today she was pure sunlight. Her gown looked like it was made of liquid gold, silk shimmering under the bright sun, giving her the look of a vision from beyond this realm even more than usual. The skirt of her gown was embroidered with wheats in accordance with harvest feast—and her own house Robb was guessing, since their sigil had wheats around the goat— as well as tiny flowers scattered along them. To match with the rest of her gown, she also had small golden wheat earrings dangling from her ears, and it was only when she turned to say something to Silas that he realized she had heart shaped braids on the back of her head, making his chest feel all warm.
“I’ll be back,” he heard himself say before he crossed the yard to make his way to them, his heart beating in his ears.
“So you’re seriously not going to tell me—” Silas stopped talking when Robb entered his sight, and his lady turned to him, a smile lighting up her face immediately.
“My husband!” she chirped with an excited lilt in her voice before she took his hand in both of hers, then leaned sideways to his arm. “I’ve missed you already I’m afraid.”
The whole yard was watching, but Robb couldn’t care less as he dipped his head to kiss on top of her head, his hand cradling the side of her neck.
“Good afternoon my beautiful wife.”
“I hate this,” Silas announced with a grimace. “Can you two not do this in front of me?”
“Do what, be in love?”
“I strictly remember your septa telling you it’s a virtue to be humble, and that you should not gloat about your fortune in front of those who are less fortunate.”
She tilted her head. “And you are the less fortunate in this situation?”
“Do you see me looking at people with love shining in my eyes?”
“I see a lot of people looking at you with love shining in their eyes,” Robb pointed out, glancing around the yard to prove his point, momentarily getting distracted by Jon immediately turning around as if he wanted to walk away but ended up bumping into Theon and making him spill his ale instead. “I doubt there’s a lack of fortune there.”
Silas blinked a couple of times, a slight frown pulling his brows together at the sight of Jon walking away. “…Right. Yeah.”
“Besides, we had the same septa and she also said it’s a sin to be a hypocrite,” his lady stated. “I’ve spent my entire life having to endure your wave of admirers—”
“I’ve been through worse, in case you forgot,” Silas insisted, “Ever since that title started being thrown around. How about your wave of suitors who kept ambushing me? I’ve been all over the realm to find you a suitable husband—”
“And to find yourself one hundred lovers,” she cut him off smugly while Robb repressed his laugh, and Silas shot him a look.
“You owe me, and yet you’re encouraging this?”
“My wife speaks the truth,” Robb said with a shrug of his shoulders and Silas heaved a sigh.
“I’m going to have to get drunk again if you two insist on calling each other husband and wife,” he muttered and walked past them to make his way to one of the servants who was carrying a tray of drinks. His lady glanced up at him, a smile warming her face.
“He’ll be alright,” she stated, swaying their entwined hands. “I didn’t make you wait long I hope?”
“Of course not,” he said, lifting her hand to press a light kiss on the back of it. “You look very beautiful today, my lady. You and your gown.”
A giggle escaped her.
“Why thank you, my lord,” she played along, her eyes finding the dancing couples on the yard. “Will we dance today too?”
“If you wish to,” he said and she nodded fervently.
“I wish to!” she said. “I must say hello to my father first—have you seen him?”
“He’s with Lord Manderly.” Robb nodded in their direction through the crowd, his lady following his line of sight, her father’s boisterous laugh echoing in the yard.
“I fear my father likes northern lords more than southern lords,” she pointed out and Robb grinned at her.
“Good,” he said. “They can keep him entertained when he comes to visit, you and I will be busy.”
Her jaw dropped as she shoved his arm playfully, coaxing a laugh out of him before he pulled her closer and they both started walking towards Lord Greensted.
It wasn’t that Robb was an impatient man.
On the contrary he was very patient, he had been the paragon of patience since his lady had arrived in Winterfell, but this was pushing it too much.
He hadn’t got to get her to himself the whole day, not even once.
First it was their families, and now, for the last hour, it had been the rest of the guests. On one hand Robb was glad more and more northern families were accepting her now that they were wed before the guests and witnesses, but he did not appreciate them hogging all her time.
“Father will be angry if you keep glaring at the guests.”
Robb lowered his cup to shrug at Jon while Theon plopped down beside him, then pulled a plate to himself to dig in. Jon grimaced, turning to shoot him a glare.
“Ghost chews quieter than you, Greyjoy.”.
“I’m hungry!” Theon defended himself and nodded at Robb. “And you’re glowering.”
“My wife has been taken hostage.”
“She seems too happy for a hostage,” Theon pointed out while his lady, who was surrounded by many other ladies, let out a clear laugh at something one of them said. Jon’s eyes stopped on someone over Robb’s shoulder, then he cleared his throat, shifting his weight.
“Aye, she seems like she’s having fun.”
“It’s our first day of marriage—”
“And you spent the last night consummating the said marriage, so you can wait a little.”
Robb chewed on his lip, keeping his gaze on his lady.
“Besides what else are you going to do?” Theon asked with a smirk, wiggling his brows. “Drag her back to your bedchambers in the middle of the feast to sheathe your sword?”
Robb’s silence seemed enough of an answer for both of them and Jon’s eyes widened.
“You’re doing no such thing.”
“Not like anyone would notice.”
“Everyone is watching you two,” Jon insisted. “She is standing in the middle of a crowd of ladies hanging onto her every word right now, in case you went blind all of a sudden. People would notice.”
“Then perhaps they should notice,” Robb grumbled. “Why are they still here anyway?”
“Because it’s the Harvest Feast.”
“I’ll rephrase, why am I here?”
“Because you’re the heir,” Jon deadpanned while Rickon crawled under the table with a growl, no doubt mimicking Shaggydog who was somewhere in the Godswood with Grey Wind and the rest of his siblings. “And you have to be here until it’s finished.”
“Well—” He sneaked his plate under the table so that Rickon could grab it, then started running around with a piece of steak in his hand, still growling while Robb got up. “If I’m to be here until it’s finished, there’s no harm in taking a break.”
“Robb!” Theon and Jon said at the same time but he paid them no mind as he passed Perceon and Jorelle who were dancing along with many others, then made his way to his lady.
“…and the children took up calling you The Shiny Lady,” Lady Woolfield was telling her, making her smile bigger as she pressed a hand on her chest.
“Really?”
“Oh yes.” Lady Berena nodded. “My daughter Bess, she already asked me for a gown similar to yours, she is enchanted.”
“Everyone is.”
“My seamstress is the most talented lady that the realm has ever seen, and my brother Cliff is a merchant who’s been all over the realm, he always sends me the best—hello my lord!” She beamed at him, immediately distracted from what she was saying. Robb bowed his head slightly, his chest tight with pride upon hearing her call him her husband.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted the others, then turned to her. “My lady, could I borrow you for a moment? Some news of importance requires our attention.”
Her smile faltered a little, a worried frown pulling her brows together.
“Of course,” she said and excused herself, her hand finding his as if it was second nature while he led her away from the crowd. “What’s happened? Is everyone alright?”
“Mm hm.”
“A raven then?” she asked as they both entered the keep. “Is it from the Reach or—”
The rest of her sentence turned into a squeal when he pulled her into a dark corner in the hallway, wasting no time to crash his lips on hers. A surprised gasp hitched in her throat as his grip around her waist tightened, but then she pressed a hand on his chest to push him back gently.
“What news?”
“The news that I missed my wife while everyone is convinced they should keep her away from me.”
“Robb!” she chastised him while he let out a chuckle. “Those were northern ladies, they finally like me!”
“They can wait,” Robb brushed her off as he dipped his head to kiss her neck, making her let out a breath before she pushed him back again.
“I’m a lady, in case it escaped you,” she whispered. “I will not be—be pulled to corners for…”
He grinned at her. “For what?”
“You know for what!”
“You wound me,” Robb said, clutching at his chest as if she just stabbed him. “I’m not pulling you to corners for that.”
“No?”
“No, I’m pulling you to our bedchambers,” he said and grabbed her wrist to tug it, earning a surprised yelp from her before a laugh escaped her.
“My lord!”
“Your husband.”
She tried to yank her arm back with her full strength, leaning back on her heels like a stubborn goat. “We cannot just sneak out of the feast!”
He tried to keep a straight face, biting back his laugh. “Well, not if you lack faith.”
“Someone will take notice of our—” Her laugh echoed in the hallway as he easily pulled her forward. “Our absence!”
“So what?”
“It’s disrespectful!”
“Even better, maybe they’ll leave if they find us disrespectful—”
“Robb.”
His father’s voice snapped both of them out of it, his lady’s head whipping around, her eyes widening. Robb made a face, then turned his head to look at his father, slowly letting go of his lady’s wrist as she stepped to stand beside him, offering his father that perfect courtier smile he had seen multiple times on Silas.
“Lord Stark!” she said breathlessly while Robb grasped the silk skirt of her gown so that she wouldn’t walk away. “Good afternoon! We were just um—”
“Talking,” Robb finished her sentence for her while she nodded fervently.
“Something of…” She cleared her throat. “Great importance.”
“Aye, very important.”
His father glared at Robb, then turned to smile at her.
“My lady, could I have a moment with him please?”
“Of course!” She took a step forward with Robb still holding onto her skirt and immediately pushed his hand away, shooting him a warning look. She walked away from them both, her heels echoing in the hallway before she stepped out to the yard, and Robb turned to his father who was pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache.
“Father,” he greeted him and his father lowered his hand to glare at him.
“Robb,” he said after a couple of seconds of silence. “I hope to the gods that you have many sons just like you.”
Robb shrugged his shoulders.
“When?” he asked. “It’s not as if I can work on making those sons, with the way I’m not left alone with my wife.”
His father brushed a hand over his face with a sigh, as if praying for patience.
“Is that what you want, father?” Robb insisted with a solemn expression. “Do you want our line to end? Do you want House Stark to—”
“Out.” His father pointed in the direction of the entrance to the keep, and Robb held up his hands, gesturing surrender.
“If I’m being blamed for thinking of our house’s future…” He started walking as his father pushed him forward by the shoulder blades, the same way Robb would push Rickon.
“You’ll be with me for the rest of the day.”
“I cannot,” Robb argued. “I’m a lord husband now, I have responsibilities to my lady wife—”
“You also have responsibilities to our house,” his father stated. “Since you’re so concerned about its future, you must be very involved with any possible issues it might face in the future. What better way to do so than listening to all our vassals and their issues?”
Robb threw his head back to let out a groan, then stepped outside with his father beside him.
“Come,” his father said. “Lord Ryder has news from the Rills.”
His father was a man of his word, which meant that for the rest of the day, Robb had to be stuck with many, many vassal lords and their issues instead of enjoying the first day of his marriage with his wife. Eventually his father had decided to talk to the lords in his solar—with Robb beside him— and it had taken such a long time that by the time they were finished, it was way past supper. Robb went straight to the Great Hall once he left his father’s solar, his eyes darting around the hall.
Where was his lady?
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jon getting himself a drink, so he made a beeline to him.
“Jon.”
“Ah, you’re back,” Jon said. “Where have you been?”
“Father’s solar, listening to almost all of the guests,” he said. “I swear, for a moment I thought he’d keep me there until the dawn—who are you glaring at?”
Jon’s eyes snapped back to his. “Hm?”
Robb looked over his shoulder to see what he had been glaring at, but he couldn’t see anything that captured his attention other than Silas talking to a knight, so he turned back to him.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked. “You’ve been strange the whole day.”
“I’m not.” Jon took a sip of his drink. “You’re the one who’s been strange.”
“With good reason,” Robb grumbled. “Where’s my lady?”
“She retired to your bedchambers an hour ago.”
Robb’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Aye. Braxton just asked the same to Cliff, that’s how I know. Do you—”
Robb did not even waste a second. Without another word or so much as bidding goodnight to his brother he crossed the hall as fast as he could while making sure he wasn’t running, but the moment he stepped out of the hall and into the hallway, he darted for the stairs. He jumped over multiple steps as he ascended them to get to the hallway leading to his—their—bedchambers and only when he reached the door he stopped, his heart beating in his ears.
…Now what?
He couldn’t just pounce on her like a damn wildling. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter how hot the fire of desire burned through his veins, he knew he had to be slow. His father had advised him just yesterday at the wedding feast right before he made way to wake his lady up to carry her to their bedchambers:
“Do not rush things and scare her,” he had said. “Love requires patience, do not harm what’s blooming between you two in your haste.”
Not that Robb hadn’t already decided to let her sleep that night even before his father had opened his mouth, but that was valuable advice for the rest of their marriage.
Including now.
He was just going to ask her. That seemed like a good solution; they were both still learning to communicate with each other, and he didn’t want to push her into something she was not ready for.
If his touch scared her, then he had to soothe that fear before touching her.
Was he supposed to knock, or—?
He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, then shrugged to himself and knocked on the door before he pushed it open, his heart slamming against his ribcage hard enough to make it ache. He half expected to find her in bed but he was proven otherwise; she was cozily sitting on the soft furs before the fireplace when he stepped in and closed the door behind him, the warmth of the room surrounding him. She jumped on her feet, blinking fast like she was trying to pull herself out of her thoughts before she smoothed the skirts of her nightgown, a shaky breath leaving her.
Seven hells, she had to have access to some sort of dark spell; it was not fair for her to be able to make him speechless just by standing there.
The soft light coming from the hearth and the candles illuminated her sheer nightgown; the tiny stars on the air light fabric glimmering even in the dim room. Her hair was loose from any braids, all the jewelry and adornments from earlier abandoned except her favorite goat head bracelet clasped around her wrist. The memory of the very first night they met shot through Robb’s head faster than lightning, a warmth dripping inside his chest.
Though he knew she wouldn’t believe him, he found her the most beautiful like this; in her nightgown, simply her.
Simply his.
His voice was hoarse with desire when he spoke: “My lady.”
Hesitation flashed over her face before she managed to give him a mischievous smile, then her fingers grasped the side of her skirt, the thin fabric shining with the light of the flames behind her before she gave him the courtliest curtsy.
“My lord,” she greeted him back and straightened up, her eyes searching his face as if she was trying to read his mind. Robb had to command in his head that he was not supposed to rush to her, so he ended up taking agonizingly slow steps while he crossed the room, the crackling of the burning wood echoing in the silence of the room. She gulped, shifting her weight.
“You—you don’t mind I hope,” she stammered, vaguely motioning at the fireplace. “The maids lit it but it still felt rather cold, so I…I made it bigger, the fire.”
He tilted his head. “You know how?”
“I’m learning,” she said with a ghost of a proud smile that faded as her gaze fell on the bed before it darted back to his face, the unasked question as loud as a scream between them. She nibbled on her lip, then took another trembling breath, her fingers grasping the skirt of her gown.
“Should I, um—”
“Would you like some wine?” he cut her off as soon as the bottle and the goblets on the small table caught his attention. She blinked a couple of times like he had asked the most confusing question before nodding her head vigorously.
“That’d be lovely, thank you.”
“Sit, I’ll bring it.” Robb filled the two goblets with wine, his heart still pounding in his ears before he made his way to the furs, then sat beside her and held one of the goblets out of her reach with a grin.
“Didn’t eat anything Arys gave you, did you?”
“Gods no.” She huffed out a nervous laugh. “I’m planning to stay away from what he brought me unless the situation is dire.”
Her hand was slightly shaky as she took the goblet from him, then took a huge sip before she lowered it to steal a glance at him. Robb took it as a sign to sip his wine as well, the tart taste burning its way down his throat.
“Thank you, by the way,” she rasped out, making him turn his head. “For earlier.”
“Earlier?”
“The sheets. That was a…” she trailed off, “strangely southern way of thinking.”
A small smirk curled his lips. “I’m learning.”
That managed to coax a small giggle out of her before she downed her wine and put the empty goblet down. He could swear she was able to hear his heartbeat, perhaps the whole castle was, with the way it echoed in his head.
Slow.
He had to be slow.
He had to be slow and gentle and not scare her off, no matter how beautiful she was just sitting there, the orange flames from the fireplace illuminating half of her face.
He swallowed thickly, then put his goblet aside before reaching out to brush his fingertips over her bare shoulder. The thin strap of her nightgown slipped down a little as he leaned in press a chaste kiss on her shoulder, her sweet scent wrapping itself around him and pulling him deeper under her spell.
Go slow.
Go slow.
Go fucking slow, Stark.
“My lady—”
Her breath was a gentle caress on his temple: “Your wife.”
“I will not touch you unless I’m given leave,” he managed to murmur through the haze of desire, nuzzling into her shoulder before lifting his head to look at her. “Am I given leave?”
He didn’t know what it was, nor would he have been able to describe it later on had someone asked, but something in her expression shifted. Gone was the worry pinching her brows, and the hesitance swirling behind her eyes just a second ago, melting into something much lovelier, much softer. Her hand came up to cradle his cheek, a genuine smile, brighter than the sun and the moon and the stars, lighting up her face before she nodded, then leaned in to kiss him.
He had tried, he really had, but the feeling of her lips was more than enough to wash away any thought from his mind. If he were able to think he would’ve realized he was supposed to take her to the bed, but somehow what he was supposed to do held no power against what he was feeling, not when she was in his arms, not when he finally could kiss her, not when—
Not when she was his, completely.
How was it that every time they kissed it felt like the first time?
He leaned over her, resting a hand on the floor as he laid her down on the furs and settled between her legs. Her fingers curled over his shoulders before she tugged at his shirt with a small whine, and he pulled it off to throw it somewhere in the room, his heart leaping to meet her palm where it belonged, her touch awakening goosebumps on his skin. He was nearly dizzy as the familiar fire made its way down, his hands slipping from the soft swell of her chest to her waist before squeezing her hips but her breath hitched in her throat when he blindly reached down to bunch up the skirt of her gown. He buried his nose into the crook of her neck, intoxicated by her sweet scent.
“We have unfinished business, wife.” He smirked against her skin. “From two nights ago.”
“But my skin is sensitive!” She giggled, coaxing a chuckle out of him as he pulled back to look down at her, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb when she pouted. “You have a beard, it’d be uncomfortable.”
He grinned before leaning down to brush his lips against hers.
“Is it uncomfortable when I kiss you here then?”
A pleasant sigh left her. “…No.”
“And here?”
She shook her head, her hands shooting up to cover her face to muffle her giggle while he kissed his way down. He gently pulled them off of her face before lacing his fingers with hers, and she buried her other hand into his hair as if she wanted to soothe herself, playing with his curls.
“None of that,” he murmured. “Don’t deny me the sight of you.”
Then, without wasting another second, he lowered his head to kiss her right where he wanted to, taking her breath away.
valarr targaryen is so king dominic because i keep imagining him falling in love with the possibility of marrying a northern lady, however offering to talk to his father and the king to break the betrothal — not because he wishes to be far from her, but because valarr could never doom her to a life she would find miserable (living in the south, coexisting with the southern court, being far from home...) so taking her from her home, even though he'd fill the palace with every piece of the north he could find, is something he could never do to the woman he loves. ‹/3
A grin pulled at his lips while he reached out to run his fingers over her arm.
“Good morning, my wife.”
“The maids,” she insisted. “Have they been here?”
“Only for a moment before I dismissed them.”
Her eyes widened.
“Gods,” she breathed out. “We—Robb, we haven’t…”
She didn’t have to finish her sentence for him to understand the root of her worry, any trace of sleep washing away from his mind. The fur covers pooled in his lap when he sat up as well, her eyes following his every move.
“They’ll say—”
“They’ll say nothing.”
“They’ll say everything!”
“They will not, because I already took care of it.”
That made her gaze snap up to his, whatever protest she was about to direct at him claimed by stunned silence instead. She looked down at her gown, then back at him, the unasked question making him scoff.
“I’m no wildling to take advantage of you at such state,” he told her and turned his palm up. “I cut my finger, so there was blood on the sheets.”
Her brows furrowed and she blinked a couple of times as if she was straining her mind to remember. Robb wouldn’t have been surprised if the memory had left her completely considering how drunk she had been last night, but he was proven wrong when a look of realization dawned on her face, her lips parting.
“Oh,” she said after a moment, coaxing a smile out of him.
“Come here,” he murmured before he pulled her to his lap, his heart galloping in his chest. Her fingers brushed over his palm, her gentle touch barely there as if she was hesitant, but then she took his hand in hers to look down at the tiny scab over the tip of his thumb.
He couldn’t have looked away if he tried.
She had to be a gift to him from the old gods; wrapped in light and warmth, halting all thoughts in his head with her mere presence. Robb swallowed when she ran her fingertips over the back of his hand in an almost absentminded manner before she frowned slightly and raised her eyes to meet his.
aerion would have the fun of his life pretending that he believes the earth is flat with people that can't have none of those philosophies. he'd have a field day, actually. and by the end of the day, the poor soul he instigated will go to sleep actually wondering if he earth might be flat, after all.
WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN JON AND SILAS, WHEN AND WHERE AND HOW
Asdghjkl at midnight my loveeee😈 Like an hour or two after Robb carried Blossom out of the hall, and everyone was drinking and making jokes about wedding nights, and Silas had to excuse himself and Jon followed, and I have a couple ideas😈
PLEASE LET THEM HAVE EXPLICIT STEAMY DROOLING MOUTH DROPPING LOVEMAKING GODOEKDWKKFKWF PLEAAASEEEE the lgbtqia+ community yearns for dreamwritesimagines to bestow her blessing
Hello! Sorry to bother you. I have a question... I've been chatting with your character from c.ai. for a long time, but recently I found out that he's gone... This dialogue was pinned, so it hasn't disappeared, but it stopped loading... Can I find out what happened? Did you delete it? And if so, why? or was it blocked? Sorry, it's just that I had a very interesting storyline there, the longest I've ever had... I loved this character so much and I just want to know what happened... (Oh, and I'm a foreigner, so I apologise if there are any mistakes in the text.)
hey baby ‹3 you're not bothering me at all! thank you for coming to check with me, but i fear that bot isn't mine... especially because i wouldn't name them without caps lock and i don't remember writing a bot with the barringer!twins just yet. maybe it's another creator? i hope you can sort it out soon!
sometimes what happens is that c.ai censors bots. my sam bot with the panties thief scenario was taken down once, and he's not in the banlist (like star wars, harry potter and game of thrones characters are). because i'm sure that bot isn't mine, i can't say for sure ‹/3 but i hope it gets added back soon!
big kisses for you anon, i hope you have a lovely day.
Girlie, some of your Anakin bots got taken down, I believe 😭
NOOOOOO PLEASE DON'T TELL ME THAT 😭 NOT AGAIN?! 💔
i swear c.ai targets my favorite fandoms. harry potter? a tragedy. star wars? worse than order 66. don't make me talk about game of thrones because i was so happy about writing more robb stark bots.
this is cruelty istg. hopefully they'll come back around! :( i have most of them safe, so... if worst comes to worse, i'll find a solution. 😞 tysm for warning me ml.
