The Spiderweb That Is This Storys Plotline Is Getting So Tangled So Fast Lol

The spiderweb that is this story’s plotline is getting so tangled so fast lol 😭

You'll Be Safe - Chapter Two

"It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island."

- John B.

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HE SMALL WOODEN BANGKA SILENTLY FLOATED ON THE WATER’S GLASSY SURFACE, ITS OARS RESTING IDLE AT ITS SIDES AS ELLIE SAT ON THE BOW SEAT. The water was unnaturally still, acting as a mirror to reflect the overcast sky above. Ellie stared at what was supposed to be her reflection, not this image of a person floating on the water.

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Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @dipperscavern, @instructionsnotincluded, @darlingchronicles, @jjsfavgirl, @maraudersmyloves

…✋ I’ll take mean!Robb 🫠

request: letting robb stark take me feral like the wolf he is

unfortunately this is giving me thoughts.

usually, he’s ever so gentle. passionate, attentive, unapologetic in his desire for you. but he’s stressed. constantly frustrated. angry, even. so, you offer for him to take it out on you. an outlet to release all of his pent up energy. he’s hesitant at first, unsure & unwilling to hurt you, but you trust him — and you tell him as much.

so here you are. your throat & chest littered with marks, some areas bitten. he didn’t even bother to prep you, bottoming out in one swift push that knocks the air from your lungs. his nails leave indents from where they tightly grip your hips. or, anywhere he can reach, really. his pace is relentless, harsh & setting your nerves on fire. you squirm, wanting reprieve as you lose track of the amount of times you’ve peaked.

he merely pulls you closer, back flush against his chest as he leans forward, positioning his head next to your ear so you can hear him.

“where you goin’? hm?” he doesn’t get a reply. he doesn’t expect one.

“thought you could take it? y’said you could.”

he sets a new pace, tantalizingly slow as he fully bottoms out & then pulls himself almost entirely away. and again. and again. his hands roam you, and you’re not sure this is the same robb you married. he’s rough — harsh. he’s mean.

…🫠

…and then we fucked so loudly, the blonde haired bastards in King’s Landing heard us

Hiiii!!! Could you please write something abt comforting Robb after a long day of leading the war? Just some nice, sweet moments between the two of em xx

anon i SPECIALIZE in this department. thank you sm for the ask, i hope u enjoy !!

the tent is dark in the cloak of night, lightly illuminated by the various candles placed about. robb fiddles with the stuck buckle of his armor inside his tent, sighing in his growing frustration at the persistence of his armor refusing to unlatch.

he’s got squires for this, he knows, but he’s been around men all day. taken lives of fathers, brothers, sons, he can take off his own damn armor.

he gives it one final tug before he gives up, sitting back and running his hands down his face, trying his best to rub the sleep from his eyes. he’s got wounded to check on, meetings to hold & ravens to answer. he can take off his armor later.

he leans forward, putting his elbows on the table & resting his head in his hands, just for a moment.

….

approaching footsteps interrupt his moment of reprieve, and greywind rouses from where he lays guard at the door. robb hopes it’s just the guards changing shifts, but he knows better. it’s someone coming to ask him for something. someone coming to tell him what he should be doing instead of what he has been. pigs are flying and he must fix it.

he closes his eyes, and he hears someone enter the tent. the guards are obligated to announce everyone’s arrival, are they not? who could they possibly let in without hesitation?

“what is it?”

his tone is harsher than he intends. he’s snappy, even when he doesn’t mean to be. when he gets no answer, he looks up, and it’s you. his expression softens in record time, guilt crawling up his spine. he puts his head in his hands again, sighing at his own stupidity. what kind of king speaks to his people like he just did? to his lady, nonetheless?

you walk over to him, wordless, and begin to unlatch the stuck buckle. it lets go in record time, and you move to the next. robb sits back to give you access to all of his armor, and you step into his space. you must be a gift from the gods, he thinks. some kind of… divine blessing that he could never be worthy of receiving.

some time passes like that. you, taking off his armor, and robb, sitting back ever so patiently, resisting the urge to pull you closer. the weight lifts off him as the layers get shed, and he can’t help the few groans that escape him. how long has he been wearing this? ten, twelve hours? his body relaxes as you work, and in tune, his mind. his hand reaches for any part of you he can hold while not interrupting your work. he almost thinks he’s bothering you until he feels you lean into him, whether you’re aware of it or not. it brings the first smile he’s worn on his face all day.

eventually you pull him up to send him to bathe.

“y’look like death.”

your comment has a playful expression adorn robb’s face as he pulls you closer, and he starts poking your ribs, the place where you’re most ticklish. you yelp in surprise, squirming in his grasp and trying to get away. he’s got a good hold of you, and your pleas for him to stop are drowned out by your own laughter.

even if you’re the victim, you secretly enjoy the playful moments like these. the ones where you get a glimpse of the robb you fell in love with at winterfell — where you both were just two stupid kids, head over heels for each other.

“robb- robb!”

he eventually decides on mercy, stopping his assault. you sway in his arms, catching your breath & letting smaller giggles escape you. he leans in, kissing your temple in a half-apology (he’s not sorry) as he leaves to wash the grime off himself.

he comes back to find you lighting a candle you just replaced. the glow of its light illuminates your features, and you’ve never looked so pretty. he approaches you, and he can’t help himself, sliding an arm around your waist & pulling you into him. however stuck you may be, you seem content with your situation. you aren’t sure how long you stand like that, soaking in each others presence, watching the candles flame dance. you’re both so enamored in this moment, you don’t hear greywind moving to stand up.

“Your grace.”

you both turn around to see the subject of the intrusion. a guard has his head poked through the tents entrance, greywind stopping him from stepping inside.

“A raven.” the guard holds up a sealed scroll, punctuating his words. robb squeezes your waist ever so lightly as he lets go, moving to collect the scroll and add it to his list of things he must do. he nods, silently dismissing the guard, and the guard bows, going back to his post.

he breaks the seal, and whatever’s written on the paper has robb’s mood growing sour as he reads it. he sets it down on the table, putting his hands on the old wood and exhaling through his nose, leaning his weight against it. his eyes are distant, overworked brain no doubt at a loss of what to do anymore. how much can one man take?

you hate seeing him like this. the crown on his head is heavy, and war has not been kind. you wish you could fix it all yourself, but you can’t. the best you can do is stand unwavering by his side, there to prop him up when he’s buckling. so you do.

you move to join him, gently moving one of his arms off of the table to give you room to wrap your arms around him. he’s immediate in his response, tucking his head in your shoulder & pulling your body flush against his. he sighs, a shaky exhale against your shoulder. he needed this. bad. and he didn’t even know it, not until he got it.

not until he feels the heat and weight of your body pressed against his own, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. he can feel you trying to embed yourself into his memory, a reminder that even when you’re not here, he can come back to this moment. when he feels like he’s drowning in the vast sea of battle and politics — that he once felt like he was drowning here, inside this tent, too. and you were there to pull him back up. somehow, impossibly, he finds himself pulling you closer.

Listen, no one ever said he wasn’t welcome to join us 😘

real talk do you think theon gets jealous when robb starts spending time with reader instead of him

ouhhhhhyhyhh lord y’all keep blessing me with these asks. this is so interesting thank u for giving my brain this delicious food

so, it really depends on the dynamic i think. do you mean it in a romantic context? is there romantic subtext? or is it just platonic jealousy in pure theon fashion?

either way the answers about the same, because god knows theon is just incapable about recognizing his feelings toward robb. “He owed me a smile that day.” YOU ARE GAY!!

to be real with y’all (we keep it 💯💯 here) i write robb x reader with the childhood friends to lovers dynamic in mind. it’s my blueprint, and unless stated otherwise in a request/ask or it’s different for the plot, that’s how i’m imagining their relationship came to be, and i write with that intention in mind.

so, with that dynamic, being childhood friends with the starks means theon included, and robb & reader have loved each other for sooooo long. it’s kinda just always how it’s been, so it’s normal for theon to spot them spending a lot of time together. it’s the norm if that makes sense

but, if it was different and robb just started spending a bunch of time with reader, theon would definitely get jealous. he wouldn’t even recognize it, just feel irrationally angry and frustrated. would definitely let it fester (because he doesn’t recognize it, so he can’t fix it) and take it out on reader 💔 dirty looks, angrily telling you off if you ask if he needs help, and he would just give robb the silent treatment (with a sprinkle of attitude)

but it can definitely be fixed!! with a conversation between him and robb & him and you, some adjustments, and things would go back to normal/be okay !

AKA: Robb x guard!reader

pushing the breathless and whiny robb stark agenda

…I’ll be his mistress but the North knows I’m its Queen

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write about Robb’s childhood best friend/lover finding out about his betrothal between him and one of the Frey girls? Love your writing!!

i won’t lie… this one hurt my heart a bit (i’m grieving) but we persevere — i’m glad u enjoy my writing & thank you sm for the ask </3 (i am a shell of the man i once was)

robb stark x fem!reader (angst, doomed by the plot i fear)

war is unforgiving. war is harsh, it is mean, and it doesn’t change direction for anyone’s feelings. terrible things happen, terrible choices have to be made, and there’s nothing you can do about it. this is a hard lesson that you’ve had to learn, ever since lord eddard stark (or as you knew him, ned) was beheaded, and the north declared war.

it all seemed to happen so fast. one thing after another, like the stone of tragedy was rolling down the hill and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. fate has been cruel, and especially cruel to your lover, robb.

and here sits another obstacle for him to maneuver. lord walder frey.

you needed to cross at the twins. there was no other option, and it was crucial that you win the freys to your side. it was so important, that catelyn stark herself went to treat with them. she was confident that her past with lord frey would ensure her safety, and hopefully make her negotiation that much easier. you bit down on your bottom lip watching her leave, in a poor attempt to soothe your nerves.

you didn’t like this. you liked things you could control, things you could fix. this was completely out of your hands, and you found yourself praying to the gods on behalf of lord walder frey. things really have gone downhill. you spared a glance to robb, to find him already looking at you. he gives you a small nod, which you return, and you move to start heading back to the camp.

you can’t really say why this is the thing that made you so anxious, but you need to keep it together. robb needs dependability, so you did the one thing you were good at. staying busy. there was never a shortage of things to do or problems to fix, and you happened to be especially good at keeping the camp running smoothly. you had no doubt robb would find you once catelyn returned, providing you with an answer — or, with something that needed a solution.

“We’ve been granted crossing.”

you turn around, seeing robb walk in the tent you’re in. he’s got a mixed expression of relief, and the usual cloak of exhaustion & grief that doesn’t seem to leave his face much these days. there’s something else wavering underneath all of it, but you leave that discussion for later.

you exhale, nodding, and you send a silent thanks to the gods. you turn, moving to continue your organization of the maps. most were unorganized, half of them outdated, and they all could use a rewrite.

“Not without a price, I’m sure.”

your words weigh much more heavily than you intended, meant as a jest to the ever prickly walder frey. you’re messing with the scrolls, waiting for a reply. but you don’t get one. robb has hesitated.

that makes you stop your ministrations. you and robb could always talk to each other about everything. you were each others outlet, and conversation always flowed easily — even if there was grievous news, he never hesitated. you turn around, looking at him, and finally, you recognize the micro expression you saw when he first came in.

guilt.

a soft call of his name brings him out of his head, and squeezes his heart at the same time. how can he do this? can he even bring himself to look at you? he’s on autopilot, hand moving by itself to close the flaps of the tent behind him. he turns back to face you, and the expression you wear almost makes his knees buckle. how can he? how can he do this?

“Don’t scare me. I hate when you scare me.”

he knows. he remembers how he used to jumpscare you as children, until you told him (with tears in your eyes) not to — and he found himself wanting to heed your every wish. the next time theon scared you, it was robb you sought out. he pranked theon to make you feel better (oh, how you laughed). why does it have to be him? why him to do it?

“Lord Walder Frey has granted us crossing through the twins,” he exhales. “but not without price.”

all of your attention is on him, and for the first time, robb doesn’t relish in it.

“I must take Olyvar Frey as a squire, a knighthood is expected in due course.”

you watch him intently, waiting to listen to whatever’s made him hesitant to talk to you. doesn’t he know you’re steadfast, in it for the long run?

“Arya, when recovered, will marry one of Lord Walders sons.”

“She’ll like that.” the mere mention of arya is enough to make you smile. he finds himself returning it. you look so pretty when you smile. how can he make you do anything but? how?

“And…” he trails off. he’s gripping his gloves so hard his knuckles turn white. how can he? can he even?

“And must take one of Lord Walders daughters to wife.”

the tranquility melts off your face. your smile is nowhere to be found. he has. he did.

he can see the gears in your head turning. your expression morphs into sadness, grief. he watches you try and steady your breathing. can he reach out for you? is that his place anymore?

you’re nodding, as if you expected this as a possibility, but the tears welling up in your eyes betray you.

“We… we can cross, that’s…” you swallow down your cries. “that’s good.”

you’re picking at your hands now. you do that when you try and hold yourself together. it’s not working.

robb isn’t fairing much better. if you took your attention off of choking back your sobs, you’d see his expression is helpless. painful. he understands your pain, he feels it tenfold. when did his eyes get so wet?

“I need…” you pause as if you don’t even know. “I need you to go.”

he whispers your name. he wants you in his space. he wants you closer, and you want him away. he begins to take steps towards you without even realizing it.

“Robb, please,”

“Don’t make me…”

“I need you to leave. Please.”

all the times you’ve pulled him towards you echo in his mind. now you’re pushing him away. he’s approaching you. you have a hand on your stomach, trying to steady yourself. you sense his presence, putting a hand out to the side he’s standing on. he’s slightly behind you, trying with everything he has to respect your wishes. his heart wins. his giant, aching heart.

he puts a hand on the one you have outstretched in a poor attempt to keep him away.

“Robb-” you begin, tensing up. you tense at his touch. his.

“Don’t.”

he’s never been a good listener.

he reaches for you. at first you pull away, cries of his name spill from your mouth as your voice breaks. he doesn’t stop. you melt into him.

selfishly, you find comfort in his arms. you grip him like he could disappear. he’s not disappearing. he’s leaving.

you are touching another woman’s husband.

they will share a bed.

he is not yours.

they will share a soul.

his heart is, but his body never will be. and isn’t it all the same, at the end of the day?