rheanyraaaa

[rheanyraaaa]

just saw that everyone ( @inkandarsenic & @kingnlionhearts) is making their oc’s with that picrew here’s my one :)

lord it was easy making them naked i do not blame u inky

[rheanyraaaa]

After School Activities

Modern Elite High School AU with Mutual Pining, Angst, and Healing Romance - Part 4

main pairings: robb stark x reader, jon snow x ygritte, theon x random girls & flings, margaery x robb (inconsistent) reader x Lancel (past)

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Your birthday at Westeros Academy isn’t a big event. You don’t throw a party or post one of those carefully curated birthday collages with filtered selfies and captions like “blessed.” You’d rather keep it quiet, a cupcake from your aunt, a soft hug from your uncle, a new notebook wrapped in floral paper. Simple.

But Robb Stark doesn’t do subtle. He finds you just before lunch, near the old stone benches where the ivy creeps up the walls. He’s grinning like he’s up to something, one hand behind his back.

You squint. “What?”

“Close your eyes.”

“No.”

“Come on, birthday girl.”

You sigh but do it, and the next thing you feel is cool metal against your wrist.

“Okay. Open.”

You look down. A delicate gold bracelet circles your wrist, thin chain, tiny charms that catch the sun. Your initials, hanging from the middle, glint with quiet elegance. Not flashy. Just… intimate.

You blink. “Robb.”

He shrugs, like this wasn’t a big deal. “Saw it last week and thought of you.”

It feels heavier than it looks, maybe because of what it means, maybe because of the way he’s watching you now. Not cocky. Not waiting for praise. Just… hoping you like it.

“I love it,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t realize you’re still holding your wrist out, admiring the way it sits there like it belongs.

“Yeah?” Robb says, eyes softening.

“Yeah,” you echo.

But as you both start walking toward the lunch tables, you feel it, the shift.

A few girls glance up from their salad containers and Diet Cokes. Ally’s among them, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. She sees the bracelet. She sees Robb walking close beside you.

Her mouth twitches. She leans over to whisper something to another girl, who immediately turns to look at you, not your face, your wrist.

You fight the urge to tug your sleeve down.

Margaery joins you seconds later, all styled curls and sparkly lip balm. “Cute bracelet,” she says, but there’s something in her tone that isn’t entirely friendly.

“Birthday gift,” you say simply.

“From Robb?” she asks, a single brow arching.

He answers before you can. “She deserves it.”

That… doesn’t help. The air tightens.

Ally laughs quietly behind you, and suddenly, your skin feels too visible. Like everyone’s looking. Like this simple gesture, gold and thoughtful and lovely, is now a statement.

You slide into your usual seat, Robb joins the boys, Theon, Jon, and they start kicking a football around near the field again.

But you’re distracted. You run your fingers over the little dangling letters. Your name.

It feels like a claim.

You’re not used to being claimed.

Not in public.

You think about the whispers. The glances. The way Ally looked at you like she knew something you didn’t.

And yet… you don’t take it off.

Not even when the school bell rings.

Not even when you go home.

You lie in bed that night, staring at the charms dancing in the low light, wondering why it felt so much easier when it was just you and Robb, before this got complicated.

But still, you fall asleep with the bracelet on.

And a part of you, a very quiet, hidden part, hopes he meant every bit of it.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

[rheanyraaaa]

https://www.tumblr.com/rheanyraaaa/787207476627013632/what-fics-have-you-currently-got-in-your?source=share

Autistic!reader x Robb???? Oh! I am absolutely buzzing for that one! I can't wait! Could you tag me in that one please? 🤭🫶

of course!!

edit/a/n: i’m going to release this one once i have atleast 2 of my current fanfics are released :) or atleast when another one of my fanfics is released & done and another one is almost fully released too if that makes sense?

[rheanyraaaa]

Hearts like Minefields

pairing: robb stark x reader (f)

“sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough i don’t know why”

summary: You leave. Not to make a scene just to breathe. But silence from Robb is its own kind of answer. Alone in a hotel, you begin to question if this was love… or just transference in a prettier dress. - Part 5

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

The hotel room is too cold, not freezing just chilled enough that it seeps into your sleeves, your spine, the bones of your face, like the air itself resents you for thinking you could call it shelter. The heater rattles when it kicks on, too weak to mean it. The lamp glows that sickly yellow-white that turns every mirror reflection into something ghostlike and unkind.

You don’t unpack.

You don’t shower.

You just sit on the edge of the bed, your laptop open in front of you, your body stiff and still in the clothes you left in, like movement might admit you’re really here, really alone.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

You try to work.

The company inbox is bloated red-flagged requests, client briefings, one security report marked URGENT. You click through one or two, eyes scanning the words without absorbing them. A contract extension from the shipping firm. A new bodyguard with a clean military file and a dead stare.

You type a response. You delete it. You try again.

Your hand won’t stop shaking.

The cursor blinks like it’s waiting to scold you.

You slam the laptop shut, a sharp little slap of plastic and metal, and then it’s just the silence again wide and flat and echoing, like a punishment.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

You pick up your phone.

No missed calls. No texts.

You open the last message from yourself to Robb, sent hours ago now, when your voice still held together enough to type without trembling:

I’m safe. At a hotel. Don’t worry about me.

He hasn’t replied.

Not even a “seen.”

You scroll anyway.

There’s a number below his.

Minisia.

The preview alone tells you everything.

Minisia: Don’t come back. We were fine before you.

No punctuation, no hesitation just that one clean cut, delivered with the surgical confidence of someone who’s been waiting to say it for months.

And that’s when it happens.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the phone slips from your fingers and hits the blanket with a dull thud, and your hand stays frozen in the air like you’re still trying to hold something that’s already gone

Your breath jerks out of you in uneven bursts, loud and wet and painful, not elegant or quiet, not something you can hold in just gasping, shaking sobs that twist your body forward like it’s breaking from the inside

You press your palms to your face, but it doesn’t help, nothing helps, and the harder you try to stay quiet the more it hurts

It isn’t just sadness

It’s grief, and rage, and humiliation, and that deep, sickening ache of realization that maybe the whole time, this was always going to fall apart maybe Robb was never the man you thought he could be, maybe he was just a mirror you kept polishing, hoping you’d eventually like what you saw

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

You lie back against the pillows, still crying, your eyes raw, your throat scraped from trying not to sob too loudly in this strange, sterile room where no one knows you

The ceiling blurs in and out of focus as you blink up at it, remembering his voice in that cramped little office when he sat across from you, younger but not softer, hands clenched on his knees, jaw tight from holding in whatever war was still playing behind his eyes

“I don’t know how to be normal,” he’d said, barely above a whisper, as if speaking it out loud made it dangerous

You thought it was vulnerability

You thought it meant he wanted to try

But maybe it was a warning, and maybe you missed it, and maybe he meant exactly what he said — not I don’t know how to be normal, but I don’t want to learn. And maybe you fell in love with a man whose pain you could name and not the man who never wanted to be known

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

You turn your phone face down, you wipe your face with the scratchy hotel tissue that smells like bleach, you close your eyes and for the first time since you met him, you let yourself wonder if walking away staying away might be the most loving thing you’ll ever do for yourself.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

[rheanyraaaa]

What fics have you currently got in your drafts/you're working on?

oooo good question.

Every single fanfic I have currently out is completely finished and is sitting in my drafts waiting to be posted!

I’m working on two new fanfics! one i’ve subtly talked about before, Robb and reader meet themselves again after years of not seeing eachother but they are with different people, it’s all about that angst and the yearning and the trying to forget the memories.

I want to start each chapter (or atleast the first couple) with a memory of when they were together and then follow up with the main story. Not sure how long this one will be.

Second one is a mini fic, five chapter story, it’s a Robb Stark x autistic reader (f) where Robb moves in and ruins her schedule and she has sensory issues and gets overwhelmed so she just straight up hates him and he finds her annoying but does eventually understand. Wanted to do an autistic reader as a form of diversity but also that everyone is different and I want this to be a safe community and to bring confidence to those who do have autism and want to be represented:)

i’m a massive researcher so even though i do not have autism I know people that are & have worked with some and I understand how it works & have seen different spectrums of it, so everything will also be researched to not offend groups :)

i also have a couple of headcannons for him, but i also am working on a oneshot where he’s in a actor & your an rnb singer/music producer and he’s essentially talking about how you gave birth to his son recently in an interview, it’s going to be a massive humour & fluff oneshot to give break to these dramatic sad fanfics

[rheanyraaaa]

Dwellings

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

pairing: Robb Stark x reader

summary: Being pregnant with Robb Starks firstborn makes you incredibly nauseous and brings you great physical pain, Robb is distressed watching you spiral

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

The first time you retched until your throat burned raw, Robb thought it was just the Northern winter finally settling too deep in your bones.

The second time, when your knees hit the cold stone floor of your chambers and you heaved until there was nothing left but bile and trembling, he pressed a hand to your forehead and swore under his breath.

The third time, when the maester confirmed it, pregnant, Robb’s face had split into a grin so wide it could have rivaled the summer sun you still whispered about in your sleep. But then the sickness did not pass.

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

It clung to you like a curse, relentless, gnawing at your strength until you were little more than a wraith draped in furs. The nausea was a living thing inside you, coiling around your ribs, squeezing until your breath came in shallow gasps. You vomited until your stomach was hollow, until your throat was scraped bloody, until even the scent of broth once comforting, now a torment sent you stumbling for the chamber pot.

Robb watched, helpless, as the vibrant woman he had carried through the snow withered before his eyes.

"You need to eat," he murmured one evening, kneeling beside the bed where you lay curled on your side, your skin pale as the moonlight bleeding through the window.

You shook your head weakly, your lips cracked, your eyes glassy with exhaustion. "I can’t."

His jaw clenched. "You’ll waste away."

A humorless laugh escaped you, brittle as ice. "I already am."

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

The hallucinations came next.

At first, they were small things, shadows moving where there were none, whispers in the wind that weren’t there. But then you began to speak to people who weren’t in the room, your fingers plucking at the furs as if trying to grasp something only you could see.

One night, Robb found you sitting upright in bed, your gaze fixed on the far wall, your voice a childlike murmur.

"Look," you said, pointing at nothing. "The lemon trees… they’re blooming."

His blood turned to ice.

You turned to him then, your eyes bright with feverish joy. "Can you smell them, Robb? The blossoms… they’re so sweet."

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

You reached out, your fingers brushing empty air. "Mother?" Something in Robb’s chest shattered.

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

That night, after he had coaxed you back into a fitful sleep, he sank to the floor beside the hearth, his head in his hands, and wept. He wept like he had never wept before, great, heaving sobs that tore from his throat like a wounded animal. He wept for you, for the suffering etched into every hollow of your face. He wept for the child growing inside you, a child he had once dreamed of with pride but now feared might steal you from him entirely.

He wept because he was a king, a warrior, a Stark of Winterfell, and yet he was powerless to save you.

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

The birth was a storm of blood and pain and screaming.

You were so weak by then, your body ravaged by months of illness, your strength a flickering ember. The midwives exchanged grim glances, their hands quick but their eyes heavy with unspoken fear.

Robb refused to leave your side.

He held your hand as you screamed, as your nails dug into his skin hard enough to draw blood. He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered promises, prayers, pleas, “Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me."

When the babe finally came, a son, red-faced and squalling the room erupted in relieved murmurs. But Robb barely heard them.

His eyes were fixed on you, on the way your chest rose and fell in shallow, exhausted breaths, on the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks like the wings of a dying bird.

You were alive, that was all that mattered.

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

Later, when the torches had burned low and the castle had settled into hushed silence, Robb sat beside your bed, his son cradled in one arm, his free hand tangled gently in yours.

You stirred, your eyelids heavy with sleep, your voice a fragile whisper. "Robb…?"

"I’m here," he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We’re both here."

You turned your head just enough to see the babe, your son, nestled against his chest, his tiny fingers curled into a fist.

A tear slipped down your cheek.

Robb leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his own eyes burning. "You’re okay," he murmured, his voice breaking. "You’re okay."

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

[rheanyraaaa]

i have so many fanfic ideas…. and i haven’t even finished publishing ones in my drafts 💔💔 ughhhhh

[rheanyraaaa]

In the Public eye

pairing: robb stark x roslin frey

Fake Dating, Emotional Slow Burn, Media Pressure, Public vs Private Identity, Power Couple Dynamics, Journalist/Politician Romance, Mild Enemies to Allies, Legacy & Duty, Soft Angst, Mutual Healing - Part 3

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

It dropped at 6:03 a.m.

No warning. No embargo. No soft call to Robb the night before. Just a link shared across half a dozen political outlets, and then picked up by every major feed within minutes. The headline was sharp, clean, and brutal:

“Legacy and Leverage: How the Stark Foundation’s Ties to Stark Industrial Resources Complicate Its Philanthropic Image”

By Talisa Maegyr

Robb read the entire piece from his phone in bed. He didn’t move. The air felt thick, like it was resisting his breath.

The article was surgical: a polished, investigative hit on a decades-old partnership between the Stark Foundation and a coal-turned-renewable energy company quietly chaired by a Stark ally. It questioned the ethics of certain grant disbursements, implied a soft laundering of political influence through public service initiatives, and called into doubt the Foundation’s much-touted environmental integrity.

Talisa had receipts emails, board notes, financial overlaps nothing technically illegal, but enough to make a noble institution look like a convenient shield for moneyed interests. She never named Robb directly. But he was in every sentence, in every implication.

There was a photo embedded halfway down the piece. Him and Talisa, walking out of a Foundation gala, hand in hand. Laughing.

He stared at it for a long time.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

She came in an hour later, coffee in one hand, sunglasses still on despite the rain outside. She saw his face before he said a word.

“Morning,” she offered breezily, setting her tote down. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

He stood. “You published it.”

“Of course I did.”

“No warning? No heads-up?”

Talisa removed her sunglasses, setting them beside the coffee. “You knew I was working on it.”

“Working on it? Talisa, you used our name. My family’s name. Our donors, our board my father’s legacy. You used me.”

She gave him a long look. Not cruel. Not angry. Just matter-of-fact.

“It’s not personal, Robb. You of all people should understand that.”

He laughed once, dry and stunned. “You sound like a hitman in a movie.”

“Journalism is a hit sometimes. That’s the point.”

“No,” he said. “The point is truth. Not… spectacle.”

She blinked, slowly. “You think this is about a headline?”

“I think you wanted to prove you could touch the crown and still spit in its face.”

Something flickered in her eyes something sharp, almost hurt but she didn’t show it for long.

“You knew who I was when we started this,” she said. “You liked it, even. The danger. The edge. You said I made things feel real.”

“And I believed you’d draw a line between us and the rest of it.”

“I don’t draw lines, Robb. You draw walls. I’m not your mother’s charity daughter. I’m not going to shrink myself to fit your press releases.”

“No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”

She exhaled and stepped back.

“I’m sorry if this hurts,” she said. “But you and I—we’re not the same. I fight to survive in a world that chews up people like me. You inherited it. I have to make noise to be heard. You whisper and the room goes quiet.”

He stared at her, stunned by how calm she was. How professional this betrayal felt.

“I loved you,” he said.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she replied. “I asked you to see me.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

By mid-afternoon, the damage had spread.

Social media tore itself in half:

#TalisaTheTruth vs #StarkSetUp.

Op-eds flooded in. One branded Robb a “naïve heir caught in a very strategic trap.” Another called him “complicit by proximity.”

The Foundation’s board held an emergency call. Donors pulled two appearances. His father sent a single-line text:

We clean it. You distance.

Even Jon didn’t call. Just sent a thumbs-up emoji and the link to a GIF of a dumpster fire.

Robb deleted it without replying.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

That night, he stood on the balcony alone, phone dark, city humming. The space where Talisa’s presence usually buzzed was finally quiet.

And for the first time since she’d walked into his life, he realized what silence felt like when it wasn’t waiting to explode.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[rheanyraaaa]

please i need more hearts like minefields,, im so obsessed

do not worry more is coming 😭😭

[rheanyraaaa]

Hearts like Minefields

pairing: robb stark x reader (f)

“runaway as fast as you can”

summary: Minisia crosses a line reading aloud from your old therapy notes on Robb. It’s betrayal from every angle, and Robb turns on you like you’re the one who did the damage. - Part 4

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

You’ve had bad dinners before like the tense ones, Silent ones and nights when Minisia picks at her plate like you poisoned it and Robb answers in single-syllable grunts. Nights where the house feels less like a home and more like a hostage situation with curated lighting.

But this? This is nuclear.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

Minisia is calm tonight, that’s the first red flag.

She says “please” when you pass the salad, She asks how your day went.

She even calls you by your name. Not “her.” Not “Dad’s wife.”

Robb notices it too. You can tell. He looks between the two of you like waiting for a trap to spring. You pour water. Pass the bread swallowing the tension.

Then, halfway through the meal, Minisia sets her fork down. Clears her throat.

“‘Avoidant tendencies paired with military structure. Fear of loss greater than desire for intimacy.’”

The room freezes. You stare at her. She stares at Robb. He stares at you.

“What does that mean, Dad?” she asks sweetly. “Is it like, you don’t love people so they don’t leave you?”

You drop your glass.

It doesn’t shatter, but the sound is enough to split the moment open.

Robb’s face goes blank, that scary kind of blank like every memory is slamming forward all at once, and he’s trying to stay upright under the weight of it.

“Where did you get that?” you whisper.

Minisia shrugs.

“Your office. It was just… lying around. Don’t therapists have to keep stuff locked up?”

You’re out of your chair before you even register standing.

“That was private,” you hiss. “That wasn’t even from your time with him—”

“It’s about my dad,” she fires back. “So I figured it counts.”

Robb hasn’t said a word. His hands are in fists against the edge of the table, you can see it now the crack running right through him. Not from her. From you. Because those were your words. Your diagnosis. Your insight, before love made it all too soft to say out loud anymore.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

Minisia is sent to her room in silence. No yelling. No punishment. Which almost makes it worse.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

The second her door closes, the dam breaks. “You kept notes?” Robb spits. “Physical notes, in our house are you insane?”

“It was a professional archive. From before we were together. It was filed—”

“And she read it like it was an article in a fucking magazine!”

“Because you’ve never set a boundary with her!”

He turns on you, fast.

“Don’t make this about Min. This is your violation.”

“My violation?” You laugh short, sharp. “I wrote those notes when I was your therapist, Robb. When you were just a client. I followed every rule. And then I ended the sessions, by the book. You came back months later, and we—”

“So what, this was a project for you?” The words slice.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe. “Is that what you think?” He doesn’t answer.

You push forward anyway, something burning in your chest now acid and sorrow and fury and shame. “That was before I loved you,” you say, low. “Before I was stupid enough to think I could have a life with you.”

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

The silence after that feels alive and you don’t cry. He doesn’t apologize.

The gap between you doesn’t close, it just stretches wider, and somewhere upstairs, you can hear Minisia’s bedroom door creak open quietly, curiously because she knows she won.

●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・○・●

[rheanyraaaa]

After School Activities

Modern Elite High School AU with Mutual Pining, Angst, and Healing Romance - Part 3

main pairings: robb stark x reader, jon snow x ygritte, theon x random girls & flings, margaery x robb (inconsistent) reader x Lancel (past)

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

The match ends in a blur of sweat, shouts, and the sharp sting of near victory. Westeros Academy’s football team takes the field like knights going into battle, and Robb Stark is their golden boy, flushed, grass-streaked, still panting from the last mad sprint toward the goal.

You’re standing near the edge of the pitch, pretending to scroll on your phone, even though your eyes keep flicking up every few seconds. He’s got that post-match glow — hair messy, shirt clinging in all the right places, smile wide and wild as he fist-bumps Theon.

And when he finally finds you through the small group of lingering students, his gaze sticks. Not casual, not fleeting, it lingers. Lifts. Drops. Lifts again.

A slow up and down.

Your stomach flips. You look away, pretend not to feel your whole face warming, but it’s useless. He’s already jogging over, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“You watched?” he asks, all breathless and too close.

“Maybe,” you say, pretending you weren’t watching the entire time.

He grins. “Didn’t know I had a fan club.”

“I was bored. You’re just… background noise.”

He laughs, that low, familiar sound that lives somewhere behind your ribs now, and bumps your shoulder with his. “Liar.”

You shrug, but it’s harder to pretend now. There’s too much spark under your skin.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s ditch the after-talk and cool off. Quick walk?”

You nod, wordless, and let him lead you around the back path, where the school’s maintenance shed hides between trees, where the bushes grow thick and wild, where no one’s really looking.

You’re not sure when the silence turns electric. Maybe it’s when your fingers brush, or when he tugs your hand without thinking. Maybe it’s just the quiet, the kind that hums in your ears when everything unsaid is begging to be spoken.

You turn to say something, anything, but Robb’s already looking at you like he’s not thinking anymore.

He steps closer.

Your back hits the wall of greenery, cool against your spine, but all you feel is heat, his breath, his closeness, the intensity in his eyes.

“We shouldn’t,” you whisper, though you’re not moving away.

“I know,” he says, but leans in anyway.

The kiss is fast at first, impulsive, like the match adrenaline still hasn’t worn off. But then it deepens. Slows. Turns into something tangled and confusing and impossible to walk back from. His hands find your waist, yours find the collar of his jersey, and the world narrows until it’s just this.

You break apart only when you both have to breathe, and even then, he doesn’t let you go. His forehead presses to yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

Finally, Robb whispers, “What are we doing?”

You don’t know. You shake your head, lips still parted, pulse still racing. “I don’t know.”

But he doesn’t let go. And you don’t step back.

The air between you is charged and terrifying, like if you name it, it might disappear. Like the truth would be too much and not enough at the same time, two seconds later he’s dragged you with him further down the pitch, where theres hidden bushes and trees where no one sees, as the two of you take eachothers clothes off and make love under the sun, and he’s pumping into you and kissing along your neck to keep you quiet.

Later, when you both walk back to the others, no one says anything, but you swear Margaery looks at you a second too long.

And when Robb catches your eye across the grass, he smiles. Not cocky. Not teasing.

Soft. So soft it makes your heart ache, Whatever this is, it’s already started.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

[rheanyraaaa]

hello!! could you write a short smut with a little fluff of Robb Stark and a Baratheon reader? she could be robert's only legitimate daughter or maybe Stannis's daughter and it's their wedding night, robb married her to get the Baratheons help to invade kings landing and keep the North's independence (you can change the overall plot if you want) 💙

— Oaths

Robb Stark x Baratheon!Reader | Wedding Night Fluff 💛 & smut

summary: you are the daughter of Robert Baratheon and your marriage to Robb Stark only meant war … or so you both thought

_ . . . . . . . ︿ ❀ ︿ . . . . . . . _ _ . . . . . . . ︿ ❀ ︿ . . . . . . . _

The candles in the bridal chamber flickered, casting warm, golden light over the rich tapestries of Winterfell. The scent of pine and smoke from the hearth mingled with the sweet aroma of winter roses scattered across the bed a Northern tradition, one you were still growing accustomed to.

Robb stood by the window, the silver embroidery on his doublet gleaming as he turned to face you. His auburn hair was tousled from the feasting, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable nervousness, perhaps, or desire.

"You’re staring," you murmured, fingers tracing the edge of your wine goblet.

He exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Aye. Forgive me. It’s not every day a man marries a Baratheon."

You smirked, setting the cup aside. "And it’s not every day a Baratheon weds a Stark to start a war."

A shadow crossed his face, but only for a moment. Then he was before you, his calloused fingers brushing your cheek. "A war for justice," he corrected softly. "But tonight… tonight is for us."

His kiss was tentative at first a question, you answered by tangling your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, the taste of spiced wine on his lips, the heat of his body against yours, the way his breath hitched when your fingers traced the laces of his tunic it was intoxicating.

The furs were cool against your back as he laid you down, his touch reverent. "You’re beautiful," he whispered, and for the first time since this marriage was arranged, you believed him.

Outside, the winds howled, but within these stone walls, there was only warmth the joining of wolf and stag, of duty and desire. And for tonight, that was enough.

_ . . . . . . . ︿ ❀ ︿ . . . . . . . _ _ . . . . . . . ︿ ❀ ︿ . . . . . . . _

He slowly undid the laces of gown, quietly and carefully giving you the space to say no, when you didn’t and let the dress fall away, his breath hitched with the woman who laid naked on his furs, you gently clawed off his tunic until you were both naked together.

He entered you with no warning, as though he had done this before, and made several thrusts, you reached out to tangle your hair into his curls while he softly nipped your collarbone, leaving some red marks around.

“You don’t have to be quiet you know, if you need to scream do it.” He almost growled, if not angry that you are only breathing heavily.

You nodded at this and closed your eyes, making all sorts of noises and moans that pleased him more, before you finally felt yourself filled with a sweet mixture of his cum, and you made sure that you had released before this, he took two fingers and brushed them against your clit, and thrusted more and more until you released even more, before licking your cum off his fingers and then he kissed up, and put those two fingers into his mouth, letting you taste your own cum, he took his dick and grabbed whatever cum was still sticking on his cock and wiped it over your face downwards. As though this wolf was making some sort of claim on you.

“Mine” he muttered after looking at his creation, your face covered with his sticky cum, you licked your lips happily, having a taste of his sticky juices in your mouth.

Afterwards you both rested and it did not take you too long for you to fall asleep into his arms.

_ . . . . . . . ︿ ❀ ︿ . . . . . . . _ _ . . . . . . . ︿ ❀ ︿ . . . . . . . _

[rheanyraaaa]

Robb stark holding your hand while your pregnant and look like a balloon while he takes serious conversations with the other lords

[rheanyraaaa]

Almost Yours - Modern AU

pairing: Robb Stark x Reader

Slow burn - Part 10 (Finale)

summary: summer days, bonfire nights, Robb and you tangled in his sheets

——————————————————————————

By the time word got out, it spread faster than a group chat notification. You didn’t exactly announce it. You didn’t need to. The group figured it out the second Robb picked you up for brunch the next morning, his hand resting easily on your lower back, your hoodie suspiciously oversized (and unmistakably his). He sat beside you at the café, thigh pressed against yours under the table, his fingers laced with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait,” Theon said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Are you guys—?”

“No way,” Gendry gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “I knew it. I called it. Someone owes me twenty bucks.”

“You all bet on us?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Only a little,” Margaery replied, smirking behind her latte. “I told them it would happen before graduation.”

“Technically it happened on graduation,” Jon said dryly.

Gendry fake-sobbed into a napkin. “Our little babies are in love.”

You blushed, Robb just leaned over and kissed your temple, completely unfazed, like he’d been waiting his whole life to do things like that in public.

⸻

That weekend, someone (probably Theon) planned a beach bonfire to celebrate graduation, everyone showed up, old friends, classmates, that one guy who never came to class but somehow still graduated.

You wore Robb’s hoodie again, your legs bare beneath it, sand clinging to your skin, the fire crackled in front of you, casting golden light across the circle of bodies, laughter rising with the smoke.

Robb sat behind you, legs on either side of yours, your back resting against his chest, his chin kept brushing your shoulder like he couldn’t help it, every time he thought no one was looking, he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

Robb leaned in. “Come with me.” He didn’t need to say where.

You followed him down the beach, away from the firelight, feet sinking into the cool sand. The waves whispered nearby, moonlight spilling over everything in silver, he pulled you close beneath the dunes, his hoodie long on you, your hair tangled from the wind. His hands found your waist. Yours slid up beneath his t-shirt.

You kissed again, and again. No interruptions. No almosts. Just this, his mouth warm and slow against yours, his hands in your hair, the ocean a steady hush in the background.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, he rested his forehead against yours. “Told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

You laughed softly, fingers tracing his jaw. “Good. Because I’m not letting you.”

You kissed again. And again. And again. Until the night blurred around you, salt in the air, your name on his lips, and the quiet, perfect ache of something you’d waited so long to feel The summer stretched out like a secret you didn’t have to hide anymore.

You still woke up early some mornings, blinking into the sunlight, wondering if it had all been a dream, until you turned your head and saw Robb sleeping beside you, one arm flung over your waist, lips parted in the softest way, it was real and warm.

His room always smelled like him now, laundry soap, a little bit of cologne, and something that was just Robb. The sheets were always slightly messy, because neither of you ever made it past the soft laughter and tangled limbs that happened the moment you got under them.

You spent mornings tangled up in each other. Skin against skin, your leg hooked over his, your cheek on his chest, his fingers tracing the dip of your spine. He kissed your shoulder like it was a ritual. Whispered good morning like he meant it every time.

Sometimes, he made you coffee, walking around shirtless in flannel pants, pressing a mug into your hand and kissing your forehead like he couldn’t not. Other times, you didn’t make it out of bed at all.

“I could stay here forever,” he mumbled one morning, lips brushing your collarbone, voice still thick with sleep.

“You say that now,” you teased, stretching with a yawn. “Wait till Jon texts about training and you’re halfway through your second set.”

He grinned against your skin. “Then I’ll just ignore him.”

“You never ignore him.”

“I will now.”

You laughed, but it faded when he looked at you, really looked. Eyes soft, full of something deeper.

“I love you,” he said, like it was the simplest truth.

You didn’t say it back right away, not because you didn’t feel it, but because it hit you so hard, so fully, that you needed a second just to breathe.

But then you smiled. Pulled him closer. And whispered it back into the hollow of his neck. You loved him. You had always loved him.

The rest of the summer passed in golden warmth. Lazy days at the beach, late-night drives with the windows down, shared ice cream cones, fingers laced together in movie theaters, parties where you didn’t have to search the room for each other anymore. And at night, when everything else faded, you still found yourselves in his bed , soft kisses, quiet breaths, slow hands learning every inch like a map. No rush. No secrets. Just love, in its most bare and honest form.

You once whispered, half-laughing, “This feels like a dream.”

He kissed your jaw and murmured, “Then don’t wake up.”

You shared everything now, playlists, hoodies, toothbrushes, lazy afternoons with the fan spinning overhead, tangled up in sheets and laughter.

Sometimes, he’d study your face like he was trying to memorize every inch. Sometimes, you’d run your fingers through his curls just to see his eyes flutter shut.

And one morning, over pancakes and bad coffee, you got the email.

“Stark and [Your Last Name],” the subject line read.

Accepted. Both of you.

Same college. Same dorm block.

You screamed. He dropped the spatula.

He caught you in the kitchen, arms wrapping tight around your waist, spinning you in a circle before kissing you breathless.

“We’re doing this,” he said, grinning against your cheek.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “We really are.”

From hallway crushes to late night drives, from almost-kisses to that one perfect night under the stars, it had all led here.

To him.

To you.

Together.

And this time?

There were no more almosts.

Just Always

——————————————————————————

@nervouschaosgladiator @samieree @inkandarsenic

@maryrouge

[rheanyraaaa]

Water Lilly Part 45

Robb Stark x Frey Reader

Enemies To Lovers

summary: a bittersweet day, takes place two years after the last chapter, Cregan & Catelyn are 2, Ned 7, Rickard 5, and Seraphina 3.

Finale

——————————————————————————

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

The morning at Winterfell bloomed with warmth and noise.

Sunlight streamed through the high towers and trickled across the mossy stone, chasing off the lingering northern chill. It painted the stone corridors with streaks of mellow light, glinting off old banners and catching in the threads of woollen curtains. Outside, the snow had finally melted from the hills, and the North had been gifted one of its rare, treasured days of soft warmth and sky.

But indoors, chaos was already brewing.

A sharp, high-pitched wail shattered the peace like glass.

“No no no no no!” screamed one of the younger maids, ducking behind a chair as Lady Catelyn and Lord Cregan Stark toddled through the great solar like tiny marauding gremlins—half-naked, covered in what suspiciously looked like berry jam and chalk dust.

Cregan had a wooden spoon clutched in one fist, smacking the floor with great delight. Catelyn had somehow gotten ahold of a feathered ink quill, which she was brandishing like a dagger, trailing blotches of black across the tapestries as she shrieked with delight.

“Baah! Pbbt!” Catelyn crowed triumphantly, smacking her sticky hands against a nearby cabinet.

Cregan followed with a war cry of his own, something between a shriek and a bubbling giggle, before both toddlers plopped down in a heap, rolling over each other like puppies, limbs flailing.

You stood in the doorway, blinking in horror.

“Oh gods,” you murmured.

Robb stepped beside you, taking in the scene. “Is that… ink on the direwolf embroidery?”

You didn’t answer. You were trying not to cry.

“She bit me!” the maid wailed, clutching her arm.

“She’s two,” you said flatly.

“She has teeth!”

Robb stifled a laugh as he leaned in. “They are feral.”

“They’re your children,” you shot back.

“Our children,” he corrected with a smug grin.

“I’m going to throw you out the window.”

But before either of you could make a move to collect the chaos goblins, Seraphina came skipping into the solar, a glint in her dark eyes and suspicious innocence on her lips.She ignored the cry of her siblings, her dark curls bouncing wildly as she stormed down the hall in bare feet. She found her father sitting by the hearth in the great hall, reviewing scrolls and maps.

“Papa,” she cooed sweetly.

Robb lifted his eyes from the parchment, smile already pulling at his mouth. “Sweetling, what are you—?”

Before he could finish, she reached up, grabbed his hand, smacked herself in the forehead with it, and immediately let out a bloodcurdling wail.

Robb blinked. “Wait—what?”

She took a running leap away from him, tears suddenly streaking her cheeks.

“He hit meee!” she sobbed as she passed a very alarmed maid.

Robb stood slowly, arms falling to his sides. “She—? She hit herself with my hand, gods help me.”

“You are doomed, my love,” you said from the doorway, barely able to keep from laughing. “You’ve raised a little actress.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “She gets that from you.”

“I heard that!”

Though still, Robb stood frozen, completely betrayed.

“I wasn’t even doing anything!”

“She’s very convincing,” you offered with a shrug.

“She framed me. In broad daylight.”

You patted his shoulder. “A daughter always knows her father’s weakness.”

Outside, the world softened. The family spilled out into the walled gardens and grassy training yard, basking in the warmth of the day. Rickard and Ned sparred with wooden swords, their laughter echoing off stone walls. Greywind lounged nearby, tail lazily thudding against the earth as he watched with the resigned patience of an old wolf.

Cregan and Catelyn had finally been wrangled into clean clothes. They toddled across the grass, babbling unintelligibly and shrieking whenever they found a flower or bug to poke.

Seraphina, meanwhile, had made a complete recovery from her false accusation. She pranced about in a flower crown, holding a wooden spoon like a scepter.

You sat beneath the weirwood tree, resting with a book in your lap and your shoes tossed aside. Robb was stretched out beside you on the blanket, half-asleep, lips parted in a lazy grin.

Ned and Rickard were locked in a very serious duel nearby, wooden swords clashing as they circled each other with dramatic grunts and far too much flair.

“En garde!” Rickard yelled, mimicking what he’d once seen Robb do during training.

Greywind gave a low huff of amusement as the boys lunged and parried, steel-less blades clacking together. You reclined into the crook of Robb’s side, enjoying the rare, golden stillness.

“They weren’t even fast, Mama,” Cregan said proudly. “We’re very fast.” Discussing about the maids and how they handle him and his twin sister.

“Too fast,” you muttered.

Robb sprawled beside you on the blanket, eyes closed, hands behind his head.

“I miss when they were quiet.”

“They’ve never been quiet.”

“Hm. That’s right.”

Your gaze drifted to your sons, and then just in time, to Seraphina, skipping into the middle of the sparring ground, and then the inevitable happened.

Rickard swung just a bit too wide, and the hilt of his wooden sword smacked directly into Seraphina’s forehead.

A sharp thwack echoed across the yard.

Seraphina went flying backwards, somersaulting once down the small grassy hill beside the training stones.

She didn’t cry right away. Not until the entire family turned to look.

And then—

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!”

You leapt up immediately, heart in your throat, but Robb was already sprinting.

He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, pressing her close, whispering gentle things as she clutched his tunic and wailed like the sky was falling.

Ned looked utterly horrified. Rickard had gone white as milk.

“I didn’t mean to—she ran into it!” Rickard protested, already crying himself.

“It was an accident,” you reassured him, though you knelt to check him too, just in case guilt had physically wounded him.

Seraphina, meanwhile, had wrapped herself entirely around Robb like a stubborn vine. She refused to be put down, refused to speak to anyone but him, and glared furiously at her siblings from the safety of his arms.

Robb kissed her bandaged brow, his voice soft against her curls. “You’re very brave, sunshine. Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone else with a sword near you again.”

She sniffled wetly, then nodded.

“Not even Ned?”

“Especially not Ned.”

That night, the fires were low, and the halls quiet. You’d bathed the twins, kissed Ned and Rickard goodnight, reassured a still-pouting Seraphina that she was indeed the most wounded and the most brave.

You were already in bed, brushing out your hair, a light robe wrapped loosely around you.

“I’ve brought something,” he said from the doorway, almost shy.

You turned.

He stepped forward, holding a simple basket, brimming with water lilies, your favorite. Dew still clung to their petals, and they smelled like every summer morning you’d ever loved.

Your throat tightened.

“Robb…”

“I picked them myself,” he said, setting them gently on the bedside table. “I know they grow wild by the lake. Took longer than I thought.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to get the white ones. You always said the white ones were the purest.”

You smiled at him, eyes stinging slightly. “You’re an idiot.”

He laughed. “Probably. But I’m your idiot.”

And you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. “You’re forgiven. For everything.”

“Even the tiny warlords we created?”

You gave a mock sigh. “Even them.” You opened your arms and he came into them instantly, pulling back the covers and sliding in beside you, pressing his lips to your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone.

You ran a hand down his chest, tucking your face into his shoulder.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“More than anything,” he said back. “More than war, or land, or duty.”

“I would’ve waited lifetimes to love you like this.”

“You don’t have to wait anymore.”

Your fingers tangled into his hair as he pulled you closer, and for a long while, there was only silence, the two of you breathing in tandem.

Then he kissed you, soft and slow. You kissed him back, cupping his cheek. The kiss deepened, until teeth grazed lips, playful and warm. His stubble scratched your skin as he grinned into your mouth.

“You always bite,” you whispered with a smile.

“I always want to remember the taste of you.”

Wrapped beneath the covers, tangled together, you let the world fade. The children, the kingdom, the noise it could all wait.

Tonight, you were only his. And he was only yours. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees. Inside, your world was still and whole.

For now. For always.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

——————————————————————————

I just wanted to say thank you for everyone whose been reading or just started reading and/or enjoys the fanfic I wrote, obviously this is the finale and a lot has happened from chapter 1 to chapter 45 & i’ve had so much fun creating characters and building the relationship between Robb and the (frey) reader and doing this enemies to lovers.

Special thanks too:

@samieree @maysileeewrites @amanojaku-the-cat @nervouschaosgladiator @prettydeeryess @nommingonfood @yeahnohoneybye @lilysflower1

[rheanyraaaa]

i was looking at my prompts and one was seeing eachother again after years and being with different people and thought of an angsty oneshot where they meet at a friends wedding & robb is with talisa and you are with some other dude and you see him across the hall and he’s 10x hotter then you recall and then the whole oneshot is that heartache from the both of you and that yearning to be with the other person.

and maybe your a bridesmaid and he’s a groomsman and you have to walk with him to the altar

[rheanyraaaa]

Water Lilly Part 44

Robb Stark x Frey Reader (F)

Enemies To Lovers

summary: you finally get to bury him the way you wished all those years ago. And jealous Robb.

——————————————————————————

The letter arrived on a quiet morning, bound in black ribbon and sealed with an unfamiliar sigil.

You stood by the arched window in your solar, sunlight tracing lazy fingers across the stone floor as your eyes scanned the words in silence. The handwriting was formal, deliberate. The tone, gentle but clipped.

To Her Grace, Lady Stark,

We write to inform you that the remains of Ser Alec of Sunspear have been recovered after considerable searching. Though ravaged by time and the earth, they are now accounted for and en route to Winterfell. By request of the men who served with him, a formal funeral and ceremonial farewell will be held upon their arrival. He is to be buried beneath the godswood, as per Northern tradition, with the rites of his motherland honored in full.

It was said he died protecting you. It seems only right that his vigil end where his loyalty last lived.

The parchment trembled slightly in your hand.

It had been five years, five long years since Ser Alec’s blood soaked the snow while shielding you from a Lannister ambush. Since his last breath had whispered your name, not in plea or regret, but in unrelenting loyalty. Your childhood friend. Your sworn shield. Your shadow.

And now he was coming home.

⸻

Robb found you minutes later, still holding the letter, lips drawn into something unreadable.

“Alec,” you whispered. “They found him. There’ll be a burial. Full rites.”

You didn’t look up as you said it, but you could feel the heat shift behind you. Robb’s discomfort quickening, though he said nothing at first.

He cleared his throat. “You’ll want to attend.”

“I’ll be performing the rites.”

Silence.

You turned toward him slowly, gauging the tight line of his mouth, the subtle flinch in his jaw.

“As his… what?” he asked carefully.

“As his wife,” you said softly. “In symbol. For the sake of ceremony.”

He exhaled, the sound thick and half-choked. “He wasn’t your husband.”

“No,” you said. “But he died alone, and unloved by all but me. He deserves something more than cold earth and no words.”

He took a long step forward, then stopped. “And what am I meant to be? The man watching his wife mourn another man like he still sleeps in her bed?”

You closed your eyes briefly. “He’s not a threat to you, Robb. He’s dead. And this isn’t about you.”

“It never is,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But it still always touches me.”

⸻

The day of the ceremony dawned crisp, with frost still clinging to the boughs of the godswood trees.

Your gown shimmered like wildfire in the grey light.

It was a Dornish cut, bold, sharp, reverent. The bodice was embroidered with curling flames of copper and crimson thread, laced tight with brass rings up the back. The skirt split into layers of orange silk, rust velvet, and golden gauze, trailing behind like a sunset in motion. A belt of hammered bronze hugged your waist, and chains of fine Myrish gold draped from your neck and ears.

The veil, a sheer cascade of flame-coloured silk was pinned into your raven-black curls with golden combs, falling just behind your shoulders, not obscuring your face, but setting you apart from the mourners.

When you descended the stairs, the children stared, wide-eyed. Old Nan murmured something about “the sun come to walk the North,” and Rickard whispered to Ned that you looked like a queen from the old songs.

But it was Robb’s gaze that seared into you.

He said nothing, but his lips parted. His throat bobbed with a swallow.

“I look too much?” you asked, offering a faint smile.

“You look like fire,” he said. “Like something I could never touch and never want to lose.”

⸻

The ceremony was solemn. Quiet. The air carried the smell of pine and ash.

You stood alone before the shrouded remains, hands trembling only slightly as you dipped your fingers into the oil and anointed the brow of the fallen knight.

“In another life,” you said, voice steady, “I would’ve been your wife. And you would’ve had a hearth and a name carved into stone beside mine.”

You turned, tears glinting but unshed.

Robb stood far enough to honor the space, but close enough to witness everything. His hand was on Ned’s shoulder, guiding the boy’s rigid form toward the edge of the circle.

Later, when the flames rose and the chants quieted, Ned tugged at your sleeve.

“Was he… your lover?” the boy asked, eyes downcast.

You blinked.

“No,” you said truthfully. “He was someone I loved, yes. But not like I love your father.”

Ned didn’t speak again, but his little hand slipped into yours, holding it tightly as the fire cracked and roared.

⸻

That evening, once the children were tucked away, you stood before the mirror in your chambers, slowly undoing the layers of fabric and chains.

Robb stepped in, silent as the moonlight spilling across the rug. He came behind you and gently pulled the final clasp of your dress loose, letting it slide down your arms and onto the floor.

“I didn’t like today,” he murmured into your neck.

“I know.”

“But gods help me… you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You exhaled softly. “Then why were you scowling at me like I’d betrayed you?”

He shrugged. “Because I’m a jealous fool.”

You turned to face him.

“You let me have it, though.”

“I did.”

“And now?” you whispered, voice thinner now, as the weight of the day finally settled.

Robb pressed his lips to your temple.

“Now, I help you out of this damn jewelry and remind you exactly who you came home to.”

And he did, carefully, reverently, piece by piece, until nothing remained between you but quiet understanding.

——————————————————————————

Reader definitely had a childhood crush on Ser Alec (he’s literally dorneish so he’s automatically fit) but didn’t ever recongnise that love) Of course now reader has moved on and is devoted to Robb.

Reader & Alec - Storge (Love) - with Platonic love

Reader & Robb - Eros (Love)

next chapter is the finale.

——————————————————————————

tag list:

@samieree @maysileeewrites @nervouschaosgladiator @nommingonfood @prettydeeryess @amanojaku-the-cat @yeahnohoneybye @lilysflower1