#house mormont imagines

[mostfandomimagines]

Imagine: Jorah finding you unharmed after a battle

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Hiii can u write part 2 about Maegor when the stepson is older and again like Aemond he became a amazing warrior. His father family can to petition Maegor about something and reader ia there with her new kids ans her son. Her ex husband family is panicking when the son calm Maegor father and because he doesn’t use an eye patch. There’s a ruby in the place of the eye he lost. He’s basically a mini Maegor without write hair. His mother and stepfather’s are proud.

A/N: I hope you like this!

pairing: Fanon!Maegor Targaryen x Reader

summary: Maegor when the stepson is older and again like Aemond he became an amazing warrior. His father's family came to petition in front of Maegor about something and reader is there with her new kids and her son. Her ex husband's family is panicking when the son calls Maegor father and because he doesn’t use an eye patch. There’s a ruby in the place of the eye he lost. He’s basically a mini Maegor without white hair. His mother and stepfather are proud.

Word count: 1,5K

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Garvey hissed moving out of the way before the sword could hurt him and deflected it easily with his dagger. His right hand adorned with a sword and his left with a dagger. As usual a crowd had formed around him and his personal guard to watch them spar, a friendly daily occurrence, sometimes you came to watch him along with his siblings and sometimes you his stepfather decided to join. This day however you both were busy preparing for a petition, his old family the Grey family was coming soon. Garvey was twenty and six now, at the hight of his strength.

His older brothers who were twins were fighting over lands and the title of Lord, again. Garvey raised his foot and kicked his guard in the chest sending him on his back powerless and moved to place his sword at the guard's neck and his dagger over his stomach.

"I yield" The guard called, two words Garvey had heard from the same man every single day for the passed three or so years. Garvey smirked and moved to stand up straight and helped the guard up.

The crowd around them exploded into applause for him. The Grey that was raised among dragons. His hair was long enough to reach his shoulder but he tied the front of it back to show his face, to show his scar like his stepfather told him to do, show it proudly. Maegor had gifted him a ruby to place in place of his eye and now he had one grey eye and one red eye.

His remaining eye paused when the gates opened and two wagon houses rolled in with the flags of house Grey waving in the wind. Garvey turned to his sister Maena who was ten and six, the only one of his siblings to have showed up that day to watch him, not surprising considering the fact that they were in love and in the process of convincing his mother and her father to let them marry instead of marrying her to her younger brother Aegon. She gave him a small smile and moved to wrap her arm around his.

"Come brother, you must wash before the petition" She scolded. he obeyed and let her pull him away from the crowd and into the Red Keep again.

Garvey bathed quickly and changed to wear the clothes you probably sent for him, black trousers with a red tunic to top it, the colours of house Targaryen. When he stepped into the throne he was announced by one of the guards.

"Lord Garvey of house Targaryen and Mormont" The entire Grey family whipped around to look at him, he was announced by the last name of his stepfather and his mother, your last name, Mormont, it was unheard of to be announced by the house name of the mother.

Maegor smirked watching their reactions atop his throne of swords and turned to look at you. You were glaring at your old stepdaughter whose son was the one to maim your son but when Garvey stepped in your face morphed into a proud smile watching him strut closer to the throne. The Grey family moved to the sides forming a walkway for him leading to the throne, some of the women gasped in horror at the sight of the scar and missis eye uncovered and instead a ruby in its place. Garvey bowed to Maegor before moving to stand by your side.

Maena snicked by Maegor's other side at their reactions. Maegor face softened when he looked at her admiring Garvey and him smiling back at her from the other side. Aegon who was only ten and two, the age where he despised his older sister and thought all girls disgusting. Beside Aegon stood your third child from Maegor and the last, a little son of five namedays who was called Viserys.

"You're late, Garvey" Maegor scolded, however his tone was light and made Garvey raise a teasing eyebrow.

"Apologies, father" Garvey's heart fluttered with joy at the horrified gasps.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dannis, the oldest of the twins hissed glaring up at the king.

"Why is our brother calling your grace father? Disrespectful shit needs to be punished, your grace, we apologise for our uneducated brother" Laina, his sister scrambled to say, trying to get on the good graces of Maegor. The sister who taught her son that what he did ti Garvey was okey because he was weak. Maegor burst out laughing much to their shock. You giggled behind your hand.

"No one will touch my son, Lady Laina, Garvey is the son I did not father but raised and soon he will be the husband of my eldest and heir, Maena" Maegor gestured to Maena. She gasped turning to look at her father as if awaiting him to say that it was a joke but he did not. You winced a little finding this queer but did not spoke up, your children loved each other and the King himself betrothed them, you had no say in the matter so you chose to ignore the fact that they were siblings and was happy for them.

"An honour, your grace" Laina stumbled a little. Her son's eyes were wide looking around before settling on Maena, that fucker. Garvey's fists clenched when he noticed who that little shit was looking.

"But wouldn't my son, Randar, be a better match? he is whole after all" Laina pushed her son closer to the throne. Your hand snapped to Maegor's shoulder squeezing it tightly, furry build into your form when she dared to look at you and smirk.

"Lady Laina, it would do you well to learn your place. Slandering my wife's first born will end with your head on a spike!" Maegor yelled, slamming his hand down on the metal handle of the throne, one of the rings on his fingers hitting the metal harder than the rest letting the sound of metal echo around the room. "His lost eye does not make him any less of a man"

"Garvey" Your calm voice followed Maegor's loud and booming voice. You took a step forward letting your hand slide down Maegor's arm and let him hold your hand instead. Garvey turned to look at you instead of glaring at his sister.

"Do tell me son, when was the last time you lost a fight either in the training yard or at a tourney?" You asked, calm on the outside but fuming on the inside and Maegor knew from the deathly grip you had on his hand but he did not mention it, he never complained and instead always said he was too strong to fell pain from it.

"Three years ago mother" Garvey answered, a smirk returned to his face. You smiled proudly and turned to look at Randar.

"When was the last time you won a tourney?" You asked. Maegor smirked noticing the change in the question.

"Never" Randar mumbled ashamed. Laina wanted to jump at you and kill you in your spot but you were queen now, she could not do that.

"In that case who is the better match husband? One who never looses a fight and can protect our daughter or one that never one a fight and probably would push our daughter in face of danger to save himself?" You asked turning to Maegor. He raised your intertwined hands and placed a kiss on one of the rings he had gifted you, it was a ruby in the middle of a gold band, a ruby of the same colour of Garvey's eye.

"I think there is no comparison, sweet wife" Maegor answered. Garvey looked down at Randar who huffed annoyed, rolling his eyes. That broke Garvey's control and made him pull out his dagger stalking over to his nephew and pulled him closer by the collar with the dagger to his throat.

"You dare roll your eyes at your king?" Randar's eyes widened in shock. Laina tried prying Garvey off her son but her strength was nowhere near his.

"Garvey, let the fool go, he is not worth your energy" Maena called from beside her father. Garvey sighed feeling weakened by her voice alone. He closed his remaining eyes to compose himself before pushing his nephew off making hims tumble and fall on his behind. Randar was horrified to find that Garvey's maimed eye did not close and remained open.

"Now back to your petition, Lords Dannis, Laroy" Maegor ended the argument turning to the order brothers who were silent the entire time. Probably the smartest decision they have ever made in their lives.

"Your grace" Laroy shakily stepped to the middle so he could petition for himself. Garvey put away his dagger before moving to stand by Maena instead of his mother this time. Maena reached between them to grab his hand in her own, he maybe older than her by ten namedays but she was the one with the more patience and the one to anchor him.

[factorydefaultlu]

What about Jon Snow, Jorah, Alicent and Rhaenyra Kinks?

Jon Snow

Giving: Praise, scratching, marking, bondage, teasing, body worship, oral, fingering

Receiving: Praise, bondage, facesitting, oral

Jorah Mormont

Giving: Praise, body worship, size kink, marking, fingering, oral

Receiving: Praise, marking

Alicent Hightower

Giving: Praise, body worship, marking, fingering

Receiving: Praise, body worship, sensory deprevation, facesitting, fingering

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Giving: Praise, degradation, marking, scratching, biting, knife play, blood play, spanking, bondage, pegging, hair pulling, wax play, fire play, sensory deprevation, facesitting, spitting choking, cum play

Receiving: Praise, marking, scratching, biting, knife play, blood play, bondage, hair pulling, wax play, fire play, mommy kink, cum play

[alannybunnue]

Could you please do a fic about the meeting. After the whole reek ark theon running into the reader & her son. Can you include the stuff from the asks about it. Like theon hearing the kid call her mama, & the son looking just like theon. Plus that cute moment when theon cries; the son comforts him like his mother does for him & theon hugs him. The reader agreeing to go with theon for the sake of her son but saying that it doesn't mean she forgives him or is going to be his salt wife.

Let's see what i can do...

->

He was on his way to the Iron Islands, it seemed like his past was trying to hunt him even more.

Lady ... Mormont, one of his past lovers, one in which the heart he arrogantly broke, was right in front of him, she looked different, her body wasn't the same, but she still had that soft expression on her face.

That was because she wasn't looking at him.

And when she did, her expression went from worried to stoic, she was obviously mad, but refused to show it to him. The lady was ready to turn around before both heard an unexpected voice.

"Mama! Look what i found!" - Soon, a little boy appeared behind her, and it was like looking at himself in a mirror.

Except that the reflection showed a little boy, not older than 5 or 6 years, with a big smile and holding a weird rock in his hand.

Lady Mormont immediately blocked Theon's view on the boy, she looked distraught, not wanting Theon to get close or see the little one. Hiding something...

But Theon is not that much of an idiot.

"Mama" - said the little boy - "Who is that?"

She looked at her son without knowing what to answer, then the baby bear got closer to her once lover and she internally freak out.

"Hi Mister..." - said the smiling boy - "Are you ok?"

Now Theon remembers his current state, he looks miserable, i mean, he is miserable, but it was so much that a 6 year old was able to notice.

But that didn't mattered, his mind elsewhere, on the possibility, on the idea that this little boy right in front of him was...his son.

Something he never thought would happen.

He broke down and hugged the little one tightly, expecting him to try to get away, but he didn't, the boy stood there, tapping Theon's head.

"It's okay Mister, you can cry as much as you need, Mama and i will help you!"

It was already getting dark at that point, in which forced Lady Mormont to let Theon stay with them for the night.

The whole time, baby bear kept showing the things he would find in the forest to Theon, and telling him many things he wanted to do when he grew.

The man saw the life that his ex took since she left Winterfell, in poverty, avoiding her family in a small shed away from everyone.

Now the boy was in bed while his mother sat beside his sleeping form, without saying a word or acknowledging the man who she once loved deeply.

Theon knew he couldn't let them live that way anymore, but he was too nervous to say a word.

"You noticed already, didn't you?" - She said, giving him a chance to say something, still not looking at him - "Yes...does he know?"

"No" - She replied coldly - "He never bothered to ask"

Theon slowly walked close to her, trying to reach for her arm, but to no avail. She backed away from him.

"You shouldn't be living like this..." - He said very quietly, obviously nervous of her answer to anything he says.

"Maybe, but this is my life now...thanks to you" - She replied, her expression and tone remained cold and indifferent, but Theon needed to do the right thing, he already messed up a lot.

"I am going to the Iron Islands...y-you should come with me." - Theon proposed, trying to mentally prepare himself for any sort of reaction.

"Are you serious? After everything...you still have the audacity to ask me that?" - She was, with good reason, irritated, Theon's mind started to race to find a good answer, he wanted them to go with him, maybe out of guilt, maybe for other reasons.

"It's not- you shouldn't be living like this-"

"Stop" - She interrupted him immediately - "I know what you are doing...you think that after all this time, you can just come here and 'rescue' us, so then i can forgive and forget what you did-"

Now she was looking at him

Theon was visibly shaking, not even Lady could deny it, he was anxious and stressed over everything at once.

She began to worry - "Theon?"

"I don't deserve..., i am not doing this, because i want you to forgive me...i just, don't to leave you like this...not again"

Now she was very concerned, Theon fucking Greyjoy, the cocky asshole who she once love deeply, was doing something not for his own benefit?

Of course, a lot of time has passed, and she heard rumours, that Theon betrayed the Starks and took Winterfell, killing Bran and Rickon Stark, but she didn't knew what happened to him afterwards.

"What did they do to you, Theon?"

Maybe there was a chance for them.

[controld3vil]

here we stand

pairing: jacerys velaryon x mormont!reader

synopsis: news had broken out that the throne has been usurped. jacerys rides his way to winterfell, the end to the north where he meets cregan stark. and in evidently, you, lady mormont of bear island.

notes: first of all, HE LOOKS SO GOOD w/ long hair !! also this mentions the first scene in s2 ep 1, i just tweeked a few things where now jacerys receives the terrible news days after getting acquitted in at winterfell. and bc i wished for more jace & cregan interaction >:( no beta reading btw !!

Duty is sacrifice.

All know of it. It bypasses any blood or foe. To honor one's duty is to sacrifice one's possessions. And oaths can last long over through generations. It is bypassing children and their children. It is the utmost fidelity any honorable man should know. If for the Seven Kingdoms and everyone at stake at what's beyond the Wall. A barrier that towers over seven hundred feet from what lies more gruesome than death.

Your cousin, Cregan Stark took up the responsibility as Lord of Winterfell, sometime after the passing of his father, Rickon Stark. He's a noble lad, he took upon the role at the age of six and ten. He was young but quickly learned how to command and serve the people. Much like his House's words, he understood what was coming. Though unexpected news of an envoy from Dragonstone had landed him in monetary consideration. Of what's to come with his men and the upcoming raging war.

"This is only late summer snow, my prince. In winter it will cover all you see and all memories of warmth will be forgotten." The metal chamber that brings them to the top of the Wall stops and both men walk out into the cold winter bridge. It's desolate and high in altitude.

Jacaerys could only imagine what it would feel like in wintertime, where there is nothing else but ice. "It pleases me that over a century ago our ancestors were treated in this very place. The Conqueror and the King in the North." His brown hair, inches longer, flutters past the cold air. Even with his blood, the descendant of the ferocious fire-breathing creatures, his heart still churns with a chill.

"You at least had the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon." The Lord of Winterfell smiles, eyeing the prince's reaction to the weather. No Southerner would know the true cold past summer.

The crowned prince returns his grin, looking out into the view beyond the Wall. From seven hundred feet above, everything, even the trees and people looked small. A wall that has been built this tall must offer security for what's beyond more terrifying than wildings and foes.

"While your men stand to protect against wildings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp my mother's throne. It is the duty of the Seven Kingdoms, and you, as Lord of Winterfell, to uphold your oaths sworn to the heir to the Iron Throne," Jacaerys gaze moves across where his eyes can take him off the Wall. It stretches out ridiculously long with men at every post. He has passed by a few to know whether or not, it was their obligation to join the Night's Watch, it was now their vow to protect this sacred place. However, he needed to remind Lord Stark of his reason for visiting. If the realm remained unbalanced, even Winterfell would not prosper.

"Starks do not forget our oaths, my prince," Cregan restates, with a look of sympathy and seriousness. "But you must know that my gaze will forever fall between the north and south. Here, in the winter, my duty to the Wall is more dire than what I ought in King's Landing. I need my men."

The prince of Dragonstone's look flickers, questionably. Until a holler from one of the watchmen signals Cregan of a visitor. He nods before glancing back at Jacaerys to dismiss him. A soft courtesy of his name before stepping down the post to greet the newcomer.

The cranks of the elevator come to a final stop. Before a pair of boots shuffle out of the old compartment to be met with the face of your cousin. Cregan's eyes meet yours in surprise and you subconsciously feel your shoulders untensed.

"Cousin,"

"Lady Mormont," He says with utmost respect as he can decipher the faint footsteps from behind Dragonstone's envoy. "What reason may you come to visit the Wall?"

"I received word that a messenger from Dragonstone came," Your bear fur coat holds you snug to protect you from the harsh winds. And your embroidered gloves, made from leather and deer fur have kept your fingers from freezing off during the trip to the edge of Winterfell. Your hands clasp together in an assertion. "Though I can already see he has arrived." Your soft stare transfigures onto Jacaerys and the sudden attention makes him slightly step aback.

Your lord gives you a playful look before turning back. "My prince, this is Lady Mormont of Bear Island. She is a close friend of mine and cousin." As embarrassed as the prince was, he could feel heat run up his spine as Jacaerys struggled to say anything welcoming.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Mormont,"

"The pleasure is mine," You blink innocently before addressing yet again your reason for presence. “Come, discuss matters over the fire,” 

Eventually, a week has gone by with Jacaerys Velayron’s stay. His extended stay has left questions and concerns for the townsfolk. However, Cregan reassures them, replying to them in short curt responses. In all, he explains the prince should rest before riding back to Dragonstone as it was a few days' journey from the North. This brought no rejection from either party and allowed the two boys to catch up and take into consideration the risks. 

You were always welcome at Winterfell. When you were little, your father, Lord Mormont, visited the black castle occasionally to meet with Lord Stark. The maids and servants knew you well as well as the Starks. They treated you like their own blood despite you being a distinct relative from a faraway island. Rare at times would they come to visit your home. Your homeland was not as welcoming as Winterfell some may say. Your House resided over lone shores, topped with horrific rock structures and charcoal reefs. A ruthless and barbaric landmark for the House of the Bear. 

“I appreciate your hospitality, Lord Stark,” Jacaerys starts, holding his ale cup to drink as all of the other guests gather to feast for the night. The three of you alongside Cregan’s son, Rickon, were seated at the high table, enjoying the luxurious scene before you all.

Large condiments of meats, pastries, and wine for the people, nobles of the Northmen. Feasts were something that brought together everyone during harsh times. In times of violence or sorrow, it is the shared appreciation you all must endure to move forward. That is true of what the people of the North had that no other House had. The Velaryron prince gives you an appreciative smile. “And to you, Lady Mormont, I thank you for your sincere support of my mother’s claim.”

“Here we stand,” You raise your goblet, reciting your very House words. True to what it meant, your family stood prepared for what days would come to an end. You understood one day you have a place in something greater when the moment was right and here it was now, lying right in front of you. Mormonts are known to be willing to fight even when the odds are against them. So were you when you declared fealty to Cregan Stark, your dear cousin. Your loyalty towards him would only mean you would go to the ends of the Earth to fulfill your promise. “And here we fight for the queen.” 

Despite not having Rhaenyra, her son knew she would be fond of you. Your attitude and strong integrity were something few held at King’s Landing. He acknowledged that people may not agree with his mother’s claim. However, there will always be those who still believe and support her. You are one of those people. Despite being hundreds of miles away from King’s Landing, Cregan and you showed fealty and loyalty to the oaths sworn nearly a decade ago. Some day, he wishes his mother would meet you. 

“Of course,” Cregan begins, settling his cup down, before patting for his son to come towards him. “With the men we have, it is guaranteed they’d be ready to march the earliest as of the morrow” Rickon starts off his wooden seat and shuffles to his father’s lap. A clumsy stumble and the Lord of Winterfell picks up the child with ease with a soft smile. “From there, the men will march to King’s Landing.”

“Then I should leave by the morrow,” Rhaenyra’s son places his arms on the table.

Your heart skips a half second, knowing that the time you spent together would be short-lived eventually. The prince was sent as a messenger, nothing more. His stay was long overdue, though no word from Dragonstone has the eyes of the ravens yet. It sinks to you momentarily when you place the last piece of meat into your mouth and down the last drops of your ale. 

“Yes, your visit has been short-lived,” Your cousin sighs, too aware of how the brief meeting would be over. Jacaerys was a good friend, being the same age as him, Cregan felt well acquainted with him. He had only wished that they had met under different circumstances and times. Perhaps when war wages on, they would meet again on the battlefield or after they have won against the Greens. Speculation of what was next was unknown. “But you have our support, my prince. Do not fret, we will prepare for what the Hightowers plan.” 

Jacaerys nods, understandably. He turns to you who sweetly bobs your head in agreement. How delicate your features looked in the dim ambers of the Winter halls. He’s enamored by your presence with how often he gravitates towards your direction.

He had always assumed Northern women would be different from Southerners. They were different. Northerners were divine in their way. You excluded such poise and delicacy, Jacaerys sometimes couldn’t help but become curious of you. Your hobbies, what you liked to do, what was your favorite food, and your most desired ambitions. Southerners in King’s Landing were graceful and fragile like the summer breeze. However, you were like a chilly snow cast. The cold, it’s welcoming and he constantly feels chills running down his spine whenever your eyes meet. 

“Now what do you think of the North?” Your lord light-heartedly brings up to lighten the mood. You and Cregan enjoyed the short mornings with the prince. The limited time you shared allowed for intimate discussions and a way to become acquainted with one another. The people, how things functioned, and how you adapted to the cold. It’s far much different than what he’s accustomed to in Dragonstone, where his home echoed through miles.  Compared to the North, Winterfell was exceptionally enormous but had a sense of home and warmth. 

“It’s different from Dragonstone,” The brown-haired envoy laughs, showing quite fond forever his home. “My home resides by the sea, surrounded by the high tides and rough shores. The castle is covered in obsidian stone and is known to be indestructible. My family has lived there for centuries now.” 

“How fascinating,” Your cousin breathes, showing his teeth. “I’ve heard stories about Dragonstone. Some say you can find dragon eggs deep in the mountains.”

“That is true, our dragons reside in caves. They lay their eggs in crystallized magma. Our dragon masters look after the eggs and know when the time is right to harvest them.” 

“What happens when a dragon egg doesn't hatch?” You lean your head forward, hands clasped together again. Learning about his family and their customs kept your interest for a long time. Not many Southern Houses come to visit from King’s Landing. They rather stay where it is warm and avoid the uncomfortable weather and travel to the North. Your eagerness was appreciated when Jacearys considered your question. 

“We wouldn’t know for sure when they would or would not hatch. We simply wait it out.” He quirks a gentle smile when your gaze is sort of magnetic. It’s like you were in a trance every time he spoke of anything he was interested in. 

“How long have you waited for one to hatch?” Cregan picks up his cup again to refill while his son pivots to run to the other side of the table, only to be greeted by you. With big smiles, you gladly carried the child to your side. 

“A few years,” Jacearys remembers the day well. He remembers his brother Joffrey, struggling and whining to his mother about his egg. He was as young as four, however in the first three years of his life, his dragon had not hatched. It’s a mystery when the dragon decides to break out of its shell. He was fortunate with Vermax after months of being born, his companion was right beside him from the start. Lucerys had a similar reaction. Rhaenyra often told stories of many instances of good and bad hatchlings alongside their rider. Some may not have been awakened by its rider, for they might have been dead already. The unknown enigma of those ferocious beasts pales in the prince’s head.

“It must’ve been unpleasant,” You joked, hugging Rickon tightly, having his cheek meet with yours. The young boy giggles loudly, taking hold of both of your cheeks in excitement. 

The atmosphere felt sublime and almost too perfect. Here in the warmth and formality of the Stark Household, everyone was lively and heeded no sorrows. How the prince wished upon the same for Dragonstone. If only the realm was brought together and the Hightowers had not usurped his mother’s throne despite her rightful claim. Would his family be united and happy finally?

He wasn’t sure as Jacaerys had never known familial love on his mother’s side. Both of his uncles vexed him, Luke and Joffrey. Helaena was kind, however, never showing malice towards him and his brothers. But the Hand of the King, and Queen Regent. Quiet in their schemes and distaste for bastards. 

Affection is what fills the prince’s chest with glee. As he scans the dining room of men, women, and children, they all feast and brawl over pointless endeavors. The scent of mead and hot fresh meat fills the room with chaotic laughter and nonsensical bubbling. In another time and place, Jacaerys would have been thrilled to visit Winterfell during this time of year. 

And his gaze slowly follows the wisp of your faint figure by the fireplace. With the heir of House Stark, you blow raspberry kisses against Rickon’s hot cheeks. As the boy squeals in delight, grabbing at the ends of your hair like ropes on the ship, bouncing them back and forth. You were good to Rickon, Jacaerys knows you care for the boy like it were your son. He thinks Cregan is grateful to have someone's endearment and protection toward his son. For the lack of a maternal figure had been long gone. You would be a great mother one day, he deciphers. You constantly fiddle Rickon’s hair which reminds him of his mother when he was little. 

It was such a faint memory that stuck in his mind whenever he saw you with the children. Rhaenyra would question him if she were here. Mothers had a knack for spotting things such as things. The prince knew of his interest in you. However, would you do the same if he made them clear as day?

You never said anything to him. It makes him question if you were truly interested or not. You’ve shown fondness over meals and spoke of jokes whenever he came out to the stables, where his poor dragon, Vermax, gruntled in the snow. 

“I’m sorry the farmers could not do much to help your dragon!” You shouted out one day in the early sunrise. He takes a few steps from his companion to find you in white fur coats and boots. You looked beautiful, the color suits you. As elegant and dainty as the pigment of his mother’s hair. Your locks were braided halfway with the rest, flowing down from your ears to your shoulders. “We don’t often have dragons visit us in the North!”

The prince laughs with small puffs of his breath becoming visible. “The stable boys did a fine job in accompanying Vermax.” At the call of his dragon’s name, it slowly hovers over his dragon rider. It purrs warmly in the frost as your eyes glower in fascination.

“He’s beautiful,” Your voice is nearly breathless at the size difference Vermax has over the buildings and people. It is a creature that comes far beyond your imagination and fairy tales. It's olive green scale prickle in delight as your eyes began to wonder back and forth. Dragons were rare in the North and it must’ve been a relentless recurrence for the people in King’s Landing. 

The prince hums before kicking a chunk of frozen dirt. He makes an effort to be bold for once. “Would you like to pet him?” 

You looked shook and it made him struggle to keep a composed posture. You stumble to make any words come out of your mouth. “I- May I?” 

“Of course,” The dragon rider comes forward and grabs your hand, dragging himself closer to the beast. The sudden contact and closure make your heart beat faster than anticipated. As you find yourself glancing up at its reptilian eyes. In horror, you hold your ground, wanting nothing more than to back away. “It’s alright, he won’t hurt you.” 

Jacery’s reassurance doesn't comfort you as you resist his grip on your wrist. Vermax merely stands, grumbling in curiosity as to your stricken presence. It’s trying to inquire about your anxiety when it was the reason for it in the first place.

Taking a short take of air, you stand in place. You did your best to calm your breathing, feeling a hand on your lower back to support you. Your dainty eyes meet the prince. And within contact, it felt as though you felt everything would be alright. His touch soothed your racing heart as you excelled forward, step by step closer to the beast. For you, it must’ve felt like the clock had slowed down when you were merely inches away from Vermax. Its enormous size was breathtaking and you could make your lungs free of oxygen again. 

Yet your state of mind returns when the queen’s heir comes into view. The air felt a tension between fear and anxiety. It was both exhilarating and terrifying for someone who has never seen a dragon up close before. You took the last big step when you lifted your fingers above its nose. 

Vermax shivered and at the last minute, you wanted to back out. Until Jacaerys hand envelopes over your hand to pet his companion. With such care and attentiveness, you should have realized the prince’s advances towards you by now.

The Godswood was a welcoming pastime you’ve grown to respect. With the decline in visits, you’ve come to value the historic tree for what it stood for and the ancestral value it had over your people. Cregan did not mind whenever you went away to pay your respects. He knew how important it was to you to respect the old gods and the new. War was coming. If you were going to support Rhaenyra, you only wish for your men to come out victorious. 

You were no war-picking woman. But death was something you’ve come to accept recently. The passing of Rickon Stark brought a hole in your heart. You mourned in your ways, and so did Cregan when you had heard he had taken the mantle as Lord of Winterfell. He still is a young man, barely over six and ten. The best you could do was offer your presence and time. To him, being present with the people and acting lively was enough for him to regain his mind. Everyone looked up to Rickon for what he stood for and the House. There is no doubt Cregan would do the same in the coming time to King’s Landing. 

“It’s saddening, isn’t it?” You breathe into the crisp air, only to feel your throat grow dry. But the person behind you knows you were referring to them. “How war affects us all.” 

The prince of Dragonstone steps out from the shadows. His steps were slow and gruff, still worn out from the feast and the massive amount of ale that was offered to him. But you were the only thing that had piqued his interest. You were quiet, not expecting an answer from him. Until he stepped and stopped right beside you, shoulders nearly touching but inches apart. Your bear coat was held loosely on you as he recalled you too struggled to leave the dining table. You all drank too much tonight. 

“The Godswood know of it all. They see everything,” The bear bronze sigil shines past his peripherals when he cannot meet your gaze. You were not drunk enough to do something reckless but not too sober to do anything either. 

In return, all you could ever see was Jacaerys furrowed expression. He’s contemplating something. But you choose to stare and take in his features with such interest and curiosity. His soft and tranquil pout resembles much of a wolf you’ve seen. As though his curly strands, which you would imagine, are dim to the touch. The prince holds assertiveness in his duty, falling into the role of heir as for his queen. Perhaps he’s everything that his mother stood for. You admired it. 

“Know you and your men's contributions would be known,” He whispers, it’s clear you could feel his breath close to your neck. The dark clouds could not even hide the indisputable truth. The crescent moon gleams somewhere in the far distance you can’t seem to find. But you know what’s true. Because moments ago, you could discern his distance inches away. Now it seems that he wants to close the gap by the second. “And that…”

“That we did our duties, nothing more.” You pant, unable to keep your eyes from moving from his gaze and lips. Strands of his dark brown hair trickle against your cheeks as you take one last glimpse at your prince. If any of this was acceptable. You wouldn’t exceed further to know he’d reject your proclaimed assumptions. 

But nothing happens. It was as though the chill in the air had changed. When another figure reappears out of the shadows and into the light. Jacaerys distances himself from you. While you did your best to compose yourself for being caught red-handed by a servant boy.

“My Lady,” The innocent boy chants, as he holds up a scroll. “A message from Dragonstone.” Jacearys’s eyes shot up as you were given the letter. The moment you give the signal of approval, the servant boy leaves into the abyss and back into the cabin. 

You unlatched the curly paper and patiently read its contents. The prince carefully awaits, every so longing to catch any misdemeanor you would have upon what letter had. He hopes and wishes it is good news more than anything. But you held a stone-cold expression and when you looked up at him, he could only discern sorrow with the words that come out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, my prince.”

[witchthewriter]

𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

Like I've done with the Hogwarts Houses, Moral Alignment, Tarot Cards and Zodiac (Sun, Moon, Rising); I am now creating a post for MBTI personalities! 16 all together, I've included some tests so if you don't know already, you can now!

Test One (from 16 Personalities, sort of the 'official' test, well the official free test. I think the real one you have to pay.)

Test Two (free don't worry)

Test Three (from truity)

There are sixteen different options that are split into four groups:

Analysts

Intuitive (N) and Thinking (T) personality types, known for their rationality, impartiality, and intellectual excellence.

Diplomats

Intuitive (N) and Feeling (F) personality types, known for their empathy, diplomatic skills, and passionate idealism.

Sentinels

Observant (S) and Judging (J) personality types, known for their practicality and focus on order, security, and stability.

Explorers

Observant (S) and Prospecting (P) personality types, known for their spontaneity, ingenuity, and flexibility.

Analysist: INTJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅/𝑨𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕

The acronym INTJ stands for introverted, intuitive, thinking, judging. ESFP is the opposite of the INTJ personality type. They're also known as: The Scientist, the Strategist.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

One of the rarest personality types and one of the most capable

Rational and quick-witted

Not known for being warm and fuzzy. They tend to prioritize rationality and success over politeness and pleasantries 

Architects question everything

Prefers to make their own discoveries

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Independent

Introverted

Confident

Analytical

Driven

Ambitious

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Petyr Baelish

James Moriarty

Gandalf

Wednesday Addams

Walter White

Doctor Strange

Tywin Lannister

Analysist: INTP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒏/𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒚

The INTP acronym stands for introverted, intuitive, thinking, perceiving. The opposite of an INTP is either an ESFJ or an ISFP. Also known as 'The Thinker.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

Can’t help but puzzle over the mysteries of the universe

Logicians aren’t afraid to stand out from the crowd

Often lose themselves in thought

They put a great deal of consideration into everything they do

Seem to live in a never ending daydream

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Analytical

Imaginative

Curious

Radical thinking

Indepedent

Problem solvers

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Sherlock Holmes

Alice from Alice in Wonderland

Lord Varys

Bruce Banner

Arthur Weasley

Analysist: ENTJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

It stands for extraverted, intuitive, thinking, judging. ISFP is the opposite personality type of ENTJ. Sometimes referred to as the 'CEO'.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

Ability to set long-range goals and implement them in an organized manner

They love a good challenge, whether it's big or small

Tend to avoid displays of any type of emotion, so they may be perceived as cold.

They firmly believe that given enough time and resources, they can achieve any goal.

At the negotiating table, be it in a corporate environment or buying a car, Commanders are dominant, relentless, and unforgiving.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Natural born leader

Charismatic

Direct

Organised

Self-assured

Stubborn

Dominant

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Thomas Shelby

Tony Soprano

Cersei Lannister

Beth Dutton

Milady de Winter

Raymond Reddington

Lyanna Mormont

Analysist: ENTP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

It stands for extroverted, intuitive, thinking and perceiving. ISFJs and ENTPs are two Myers-Briggs personality types that share the same cognitive functions, but in reverse order. Also known as ' the Innovator,' 'the Visionary'.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

It would be a mistake, though, to think of Debaters as disagreeable or mean-spirited. Instead, people with this personality type are knowledgeable and curious, with a playful sense of humor

No belief is too sacred to be questioned, no idea is too fundamental to be scrutinized, and no rule is too important to be broken

As Debaters see it, most people are too ready to do as they’re told and blindly conform to social norms

They tend to be bold and creative, deconstructing and rebuilding ideas with great mental agility. They pursue their goals vigorously despite any resistance they might encounter.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Quick-witted

Audacious

Rebellious

Outspoken

Puts self first

Charming

Unpredictable

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Captain Jack Sparrow

Tyrion Lannister

Willy Wonka

The Joker

Irene Adler

Fleabag

Alfie Solomons

Diplomat: INFJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆/𝑴𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄

Is someone with the introverted, intuitive, feeling, and judging personality traits. The opposite to INFJ is the INFP, who will appear less organized and less controlled than the INFJ to others.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They tend to approach life with deep thoughtfulness and imagination.

Their inner vision, personal values, and a quiet, principled version of humanism guide them in all things.

People with this personality type care about integrity, and they’re rarely satisfied until they’ve done what they know to be right.

Advocates tend to carry around a sense – whether conscious or not – of being different from most people.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Insightful

Idealistic

Principled

Wise

Moral

Compassionate

Understanding

Passionate

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Remus Lupin

Elsa

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Jane Eyre

Elizabeth Bennet

Loki

Galadriel

Diplomat: INFP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓/𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓

Is someone who possesses the introverted, intuitive, feeling, and prospecting personality traits. ESTJ is the opposite personality type of INFP. Also known as 'the Idealist,' 'the Healer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These rare personality types tend to be quiet, open-minded, and imaginative, and they apply a caring and creative approach to everything they do.

Although they may seem quiet or unassuming, INFPs have vibrant, passionate inner lives.

Happily lose themselves in daydreams

Known for their sensitivity; they can have profound emotional responses to music, art, nature, and the people around them.

Long for deep, soulful relationships

Mediators have a talent for self-expression. They may reveal their innermost thoughts and secrets through metaphors and fictional characters.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Introspective

Intuitive

Empathetic

Flexible

Idealistic

Curious

Creative

Strong Personal Values

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Lucy Pevensie

Frodo Baggins

Tina Belcher

Newt Scammander

Wanda Maximoff

Luna Lovegood

Edward Scissorhands

Diplomat: ENFJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒓

ENFJ is extraverted, intuitive, feeling, and judging personality traits. ISTP is the opposite of the ENFJ personality type. Also known as, 'the Giver,' 'the Teacher.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They're born leaders, with passion and charisma which makes them great politicians, coaches, and teachers.

These warm, forthright types love helping others, and they tend to have strong ideas and values.

They back their perspective with the creative energy to achieve their goals.

Feel called to serve a greater purpose in life

When something strikes them as unjust or wrong, they speak up

These personality types have the ability to pick up on people’s underlying motivations and beliefs

ENFJ’s secret weapon is their purity of intent

They're motivated by a sincere wish to do the right thing

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Very extraverted

Great people skills

Warm

Affectionate

Supportive

Great at encouraging others

Thoughtful

Gentle

Kind

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Margaery Tyrell

Queenie Goldstein

Professor X

Mufasa

Diana Prince / Wonder Woman

Peeta Mellark

Elle Woods

Moana

Diplomat: ENFP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒓

ENFP stands for extraverted, intuitive, feeling, and prospecting personality traits. ISTJ is the opposite personality type of ENFP. ENFPs are also called the Campaigners or the Encouragers mainly because of their desire to inspire and encourage other people. Also known as, 'the Champion,' 'the Visionary.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These people tend to embrace big ideas and actions that reflect their sense of hope and goodwill toward others.

Their vibrant energy can flow in many directions.

Are true free spirits – outgoing, openhearted, and open-minded.

They can’t help but ponder the deeper meaning and significance of life – even when they should be paying attention to something else.

These people radiate a positive energy that draws in other people

Few things matter more to these personality types than having genuine, heartfelt conversations with the people they cherish

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Free-spirited

Optimistic

Idealistic

Open-minded

Curious

Authentic

Inspiring

Intuitive

Imaginative

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Ariel

Anne of Green Gables

John Keating

Wizard Howl

Jo March

Michael Scott

Peter Parker/Spiderman

Phil Dunphy

Sentinel: ISTJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒏/𝑫𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆

ISTJ stands for introverted, observant, thinking, and judging personality traits. ENFP is the opposite personality type of ISTJ. Also known as 'Duty-Fulfillers'.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These people tend to be reserved yet willful, with a rational outlook on life.

They compose their actions carefully and carry them out with methodical purpose.

ISTJs pride themselves on their integrity

Aren’t known for expressing their emotions readily

They strive to meet their obligations no matter what

ISTJs might unfairly misjudge people who can’t match their rigorous self-control – suspecting that someone is being lazy or dishonest when that person might actually be coping with other challenges.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Decisive

Focused

Efficient

Reserved yet willful

Loyal

Blunt

Factual

Logical

Meticulous

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Hermione Granger

Thorin Oakinshield

Nedd Stark

Rick Grimes

Brienne of Tarth

Jim Hopper

Ron Swanson

Sentinel: ISFJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

ISFJ stands for introverted, observant, feeling, and judging personality traits. The ENTP personality type is the opposite ISFJs. Also known as 'the Protector,' 'the Nurturer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These people tend to be warm and unassuming in their own steady way.

They’re efficient and responsible, giving careful attention to practical details in their daily lives.

In their unassuming, understated way, Defenders help make the world go round.

They invest a great deal of energy into maintaining strong connections with their loved ones

Known for dropping everything and lending a hand whenever a friend or family member is going through a hard time.

Defenders’ sense of loyalty doesn’t stop with their nearest and dearest – it often extends to their communities, their employers, and even family traditions.

For ISFJs, “good enough” is rarely good enough. People with this personality type can be meticulous to the point of perfectionism.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Warm-hearted

Responsible

Sensitive

Reliable

Caring

Will do anything for those they care about

Generous

Defenders tend to underplay their accomplishments but they eventually become resentful toward the people who just don’t seem to appreciate them.

Excellent analytical abilities and an eye for detail

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Steve Rogers/ Captain America

Jennifer Honey (Miss Honey from Matilda)

Beth March

Charlie Buckets

Samwise Gamgee

Dr Watson

Will Turner

Sentinel: ESTJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆/𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏

ESTJ stands for extraverted, observant, thinking, and judging personality traits. INFP is the opposite personality type of ESTJ. Also known as 'the Supervisor,' 'the Composer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They possess great fortitude, emphatically following their own sensible judgment.

They often serve as a stabilizing force among others, able to offer solid direction amid adversity.

ESTJs feel most comfortable when there are established procedures in place

Taking pride in bringing people together

The main challenge for Executives is to recognize that not everyone follows the same path

Executives are classic images of the model citizen: they help their neighbors, uphold the law, and try to make sure that everyone participates in the communities and organizations they hold so dear.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Productive

Task-Orientated

Pragmatic

Enjoy order and structure in life

Focuses on facts and details rather than ideas and concepts

Confident

Natural leaders and have a strong work ethic

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Mary Poppins

Peter Pevensie

Borormir

Monica Gellar

Hector Barboss

Claire Dunphy

Miranda Bailey

Mycroft Holmes

Sentinel: ESFJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒍

ESFJ stands for extraverted, observant, feeling, and judging personality traits. ISTP is the opposite personality type to ESFJs because they often struggle to be practical. Also known as, 'the Caregiver,' 'the Host.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They are attentive and people-focused, and they enjoy taking part in their social community.

Their achievements are guided by decisive values, and they willingly offer guidance to others.

Energized by time spent with others

Consuls do believe in the power of hospitality and good manners, and they tend to feel a sense of duty to those around them

Consuls have a talent for making the people in their lives feel supported, cared for, and secure.

They believe that there is a clear right thing to do in nearly every situation

ESFJs have a clear moral compass

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Attentive

People-focused

Generous

Reliable

Tender-hearted

Organised

Focused

Strong sense of duty

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Anna Smith

Molly Weasley

Bilbo Baggins

Effie Trinket

Sansa Stark

Cher Horowitz

Nala

Leslie Knope

Explorer: ISTP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒔𝒐

ISTP stands for introverted, observant, thinking, and prospecting personality traits. ENFJ is the opposite of the ISTP personality type. Also known as, 'the Vigilante,' 'the Crafter,' 'the Analyser,' 'the Artisan.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They tend to have an individualistic mindset, pursuing goals without needing much external connection.

They engage in life with inquisitiveness and personal skill, varying their approach as needed.

Virtuosos love to explore with their hands and their eyes, touching and examining the world around them with cool rationalism and spirited curiosity.

Energized by time spent alone

Virtuosos are likely to go too far, accepting likewise retaliation, good or bad, as fair play.

Act too soon

They’ll be the first to tell an insensitive joke, get overly involved in someone else’s project, roughhouse and play around, or suddenly change their plans because something more interesting came up.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Individualistic mindset

Logical

Loves action and new experiences

Logical but adaptable

Enigmatic

A lot of impulsive energy

Have a “do unto others” attitude

Self-sufficient

Tough

Independent

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Arya Stark

Jason Bourne

Jessica Jones

Jace Herondale

Indiana Jones

Rosa Diaz

Rue Bennett

John Wick

Wolverine

Explorer: ISFP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒓

ISFP means introverted, observant, feeling, and prospecting personality traits. ISFP is the opposite of ENTJ: the commander, who is upfront outgoing and demanding. ISFP is quiet and unassuming. Also known as, 'the Artist, 'the Composer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They tend to have open minds, approaching life, new experiences, and people with grounded warmth.

Their ability to stay in the moment helps them uncover exciting potentials.

Adventurers tend to see themselves as “just doing their own thing,” so they may not even realize how remarkable they really are.

Quiet and reserved, people with this personality type are keen observers; they enjoy the moment and what’s happening around them.

Embrace a flexible, adaptable approach to life.

Remarkably tolerant and open-minded.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Gentle

Compassionate

Tend to live in the here and now

Love to be active

And love interacting with others

Carefree

Playful

Spontaneous

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Claire Fraser

Eowyn

Bella Swan

Jon Snow

Cinna

Zuko

Cedric Diggory

Explorer: ESFP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓

ESFP stands for extraverted, observant, feeling, and prospecting personality traits. INTJ is the opposite personality type of ESFP. People with this personality type tend to be outgoing, friendly, and impulsive, acquiring the most enjoyment from being in the presence of others. Also known as, 'the Performer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These people love vibrant experiences, engaging in life eagerly and taking pleasure in discovering the unknown.

They can be very social, often encouraging others into shared activities.

These people love vibrant experiences

ESFPs get caught up in the excitement of the moment, and want everyone else to feel that way, too.

No other personality type is as generous with their time and energy as Entertainers when it comes to encouraging others, and no other personality type does it with such irresistible style.

Many famous people with the Entertainer personality type are indeed actors

There’s no greater joy for them than just having fun with a good group of friends.

Have the strongest aesthetic sense of any personality type; an eye for fashion.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Spontaneous

Humorous

Comedic-relief

Thoughtful

Well-liked

Resourceful

Outgoing

Friendly

Love the spotlight

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Steve Harrington

Jesper Fahey

Arthur Shelby

Rose Tyler

Jesse Pinkman

Andy Bernard

Explorer: ESTP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒓/𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍

ESTP stands for extraverted, observant, thinking, and prospecting personality traits. INFJ is the opposite personality type of ESTP. Also known as, 'the Doer,' 'the Action-Seeker,' 'the Persuader.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They tend to be energetic and action-oriented, deftly navigating whatever is in front of them.

They love uncovering life’s opportunities, whether socializing with others or in more personal pursuits.

They love using common sense to find smarter ways of doing things.

While they are dedicated to whatever they're working on, they don't like to be micromanaged or told what to do by others.

They thrive by being the center of attention.

Always have an impact on their immediate surroundings

If an audience member is asked to come on stage, Entrepreneurs volunteer

They have a special ability to react quickly in an emergency or crisis situation.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Adventurous

Thrill-seeking

Energetic

Outgoing

Charismatic

Persuasive

Live in a world of action

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Rebecca Sharp

Jaime Lannister

Aquaman

Gimli

Sirius Black

Han Solo

Jennifer Check

𝑻𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌:

Extraversion (E) – Introversion (I)

Extraverts (also often spelled extroverts) are "outward-turning" and tend to be action-oriented, enjoy more frequent social interaction, and feel energized after spending time with other people. Introverts are "inward-turning" and tend to be thought-oriented, enjoy deep and meaningful social interactions, and feel recharged after spending time alone.

Sensing (S) – Intuition (N)

People who prefer sensing tend to pay a great deal of attention to reality, particularly to what they can learn from their own senses. They tend to focus on facts and details and enjoy getting hands-on experience. Those who prefer intuition pay more attention to things like patterns and impressions. They enjoy thinking about possibilities, imagining the future, and abstract theories.

Thinking (T) – Feeling (F)

This scale focuses on how people make decisions based on the information that they gathered from their sensing or intuition functions. People who prefer thinking place a greater emphasis on facts and objective data.

Judging (J) – Perceiving (P)

The final scale involves how people tend to deal with the outside world. Those who lean toward judging prefer structure and firm decisions. People who lean toward perceiving are more open, flexible, and adaptable. These two tendencies interact with the other scales.

[catsteeth]

Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader 

+:✿ Chapter 3 ✿:+ : Waves Of Emotion

Chapters: 1 | 2 | _ | 4

Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister.  You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his. 

CW: afab reader, SMUT, MDNI, Oral (Mutual), unprotected P in V sex, praise, insanely sweet fluff, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of NSFW themes.

Word Count: 5125 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

It had been some time since your night with Podrick. 

Since then you and he rarely had a moment together alone longer than a few moments. On the walks back from Tyrion's chambers you would speak quietly. About anything. And when you arrived at your chamber if there were no one around you would kiss him. However, that was all. 

Ever since Margery and Joffrey were engaged, your moments together had grown fewer and far between. 

Tonight was the wedding of Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa. One that you knew was not going to be a happy one. But with this wedding on the way it would seem Margerys was becoming closer. With her as queen you’d be free soon enough. 

“What was it like?” Margery asked as she rummaged through her gowns in her wardrobe. 

“He finished me first. No man has ever done that.” You said as laid on a lounge chair while you chewed on some grapes.

“If you were paid to do it, would you refuse the money?” She said not turning her attention away from the dresses in front of her. 

“I never refuse money.” You said as you plucked another grape off its vine. 

“Do you believe another would?” She asked looking back at you,

“Perhaps.” You looked at the grape vine you stripped clean. You realized you’d no interest in disclosing any intimate details about Podrick. As if it were a betrayal to him. You changed the subject as you threw the bare grape vine onto a tray next to you. “What was your evening with Joffrey like?”

She looked back at the dresses in front of her. “Enchanting as always.” She said sarcastically, “Let's change the subject shall we?” She spun around holding two dresses, “Black or Red?”

“We already dressed you.” You said with a raised eyebrow

“This one is for you.” She said with a smirk

“I have to come to that repulsive ceremony?” You whined

“You are my lady,”

“I am your handmaiden.�� You corrected her,

“And I wish for you to be with me during such a repulsive ceremony.” She held the dresses up higher trying to direct your attention back to them. 

“No green?” You pout your lips. 

“It’s a Lannister wedding, you are fortunate I am not making you wear gold. Or perhaps one of those terrible wrapped gowns Cersei wears.” You continued to pout and she felt the need to convince you, “Joffrey already does not like all the green you wear.” She sighed

“Black.” You conceded, at least black was the second color of your house. 

Margery buttoned and tied you into the gown. she turned you around and rested her chin on your shoulder as you looked into the mirror. 

“You are going to need moon tea after that boy sees you tonight.” 

“No need, he won’t finish in me. He says he does not want to “sully my body”” You said the last part in a mocking tone

“He said that?” Her eyes widened and you nodded, “I’d say he does love you.” 

“No, he doesn’t” You shook your head. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The ceremony was as droll as you imagined. 

However it did once again give you an opportunity to dance and drink. 

As the night went on you tried your best to get on with the things that brought you joy, like drinking and dancing however none of them were helping. You danced from man to man, all of them pleasant enough but none of them made you feel the way Podrick did. 

You looked around the room that night and saw Podrick standing behind Tyrion’s wedding table. He was dressed somewhat nicer than normal, wearing a cape. He stood there with his arms crossed and a timid yet stoic expression. As soon as your eyes found him, his eyes met yours. 

You took a break from dancing and grabbed a chalice of wine. You made your way over to Podrick, once he noticed this he stood up straighter.

“Podrick,” You said with a slight nod, greeting him. 

“Lady (Y/N),” He looked flustered, “You look beautiful.” He said softly

“It’s Lady Margery's dress,” You said, running your hands over the fabric of the gown.

“No, I meant you.” He said softer, and your eyes went back to him. “I would like to ask you for a dance, really I would but I cannot leave my Lord.” He said, keeping his eyes low as if he were disappointed in himself.

“I see,” You said looking over to Tyrion, who was drowning himself in his cups. “He seems to be enjoying himself. In one way or another I suppose.” You said with a smirk, making Podrick smile “Besides, I have grown tired of dancing. Hardly seems appropriate.” You said into your chalice.

“How do you mean?” He asked 

“Does this appear to be a happy or willing union?” You asked as your eyes wandered from the drunk older lord to the young to the miserable young lady.

“Well I-“ He began but was interrupted by the shouting of Joffrey. 

“Come, everyone! Time for the bedding ceremony!” Joffrey shouted pulling Sansa along with him

“Bedding ceremony, a great joke.” You said sarcastically lower.

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Tyrion said,

“Where is your respect for tradition, uncle? Come everyone pick her up and take her to her wedding bed, rid her of her gown she won't be needing it any longer.” Joffrey commanded Podrick however took a step backwards, 

“Ladies attend to my uncle, he’s not heavy.” Joffrey said mockingly

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Tyrion reaserted.

“There will be if I command it!” Joffrey Shouted back,

“Then you will be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock!” Tyrion shouted as he stabbed the table with his knife.

As the tension grew, Podrick slowly moved his arm in front of you and gently pushed you behind him. You were unsure of how he planned to protect you if anything did happen but the gesture made you feel a warmth growing in your belly. 

You stood behind Podrick, standing closer to his back as you watched the exchange dwindle out. As Tywin was able to play Tyrion’s justified rage filled outburst as a joke and drunken foolishness. 

Tyrion eventually got up and began to walk away with his new bride. 

As the two of them walked off, you leaned toward over Podricks shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Not quite a happy union, would you say?” 

You then walked past him and out of the feasting hall. 

The scene that played out in front of you made you feel sick. How Joffrey's cruelty may lay dormant towards Margery for now it may not forever.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You went for a walk outside. Walking along the stone walls that stand beside the ocean sea. You took in the sounds of the sea, how comforting it was to hear. It reminded you of the Island, how the ocean wrapped around it beautifully. You held yourself tightly as the cold air blew past. 

“Are you running away?” Podrick’s voice beckoned uncharacteristically loud, it made you jump. You turned around and saw him standing there, like a scared puppy.

“You scared me!” You clenched your neck, 

Podrick walked closer towards you, “I am sorry- are you leaving?” He reiterated his question,

“No, no I’m not.” You relaxed a bit, walking closer to him, “How’d you find me?” You questioned.

“I-I-” He stammered

“Were you following me?” You asked with narrow eyes.

“I wanted to be sure you got to your room safely.” He kept his eyes low

“I can ensure my own safety.” You said, still a little angry how he scared you.

“I know, I know you can, I’m sorry.” He said about to leave you, 

“Podrick,” You said as you walked to him, grabbing ahold of his arm, “It’s alright, I’m sorry. I was only frightened.” 

“I didn’t want to scare you,” He said as his hand found yours, “I just saw you out here and I-” He stammered again, “I thought you might be leaving.” 

“I’m not. I needed to get away for a moment.” You pulled him along, walking along the water. “The water calms me.”

“Reminds you of home?” He asked softly. 

You nodded, “I miss it terribly.” 

“I’m glad you’re not leaving.” he pulled your arm closer, pulling you closer. “I’m sorry I did not dance with you tonight.” He looked at you, his eyes were deep and loving, it scared you.

“I didn’t ask you to,” You say, looking away from his gaze.

“No but I regret not doing it.” 

“You had a duty.” You say lowering your head, before looking back at him “Besides, you still can.” 

“Now?” He asked as he stopped walking.

“Why not?” You smiled softly,

“There's no music-” He began as you pulled him closer in front of you, wrapping one of your arms around his neck and the other taking his hand.

“There is, there is the sound of the ocean.” You said as you rested your head on his shoulder. His hand found your waist as you both swayed together. Using the sounds of the waves to keep your rhythm. 

“I know nothing of your life.” You said sweet and soft into his ear. 

“I told you, I squired for ser-” 

“I know that but I don’t know about your life. Before all of that.” 

“Not much to say I fear. I mean there is, but it's not interesting.” He stammered slightly as your hand trailed across his back, “I was born in the Westlands. My father died in Greyjoy’s Rebellion, my mother left when I was young. I was taken in by my cousin.”

“Was he kind to you?” You asked sweetly into his ear as you continued to sway back and forth.

“I suppose he gave me shelter. I did things for him, tended his horses, cleaned his mail-”

“You were his squire.” 

He couldn’t argue with it, it was true. 

“I had a dog, Hero.” His voice was softer than velvet.

“Was he one?”

“No, but he was a good dog.” 

“Do you ever miss it? Your home?” You asked as you let go of his hand, wrapping both arms now around his neck.

“No. I didn’t really have one, I mean I did but… I didn’t.”

“You must think I’m silly for wanting to leave mine.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, now having the courage to look him in the eye.

“I wouldn’t think that. But I am curious as to why you did.”

“When you’re on the Island, they believe there is nothing outside of it. Nothing of value or beauty. Life there had become dull, but I miss it. The dull is comfortable.” You said with a sadness in your voice,

“What was it like?” He asked you, wanting to know more about you desperately. 

“I’ve told you, cold and dark.” You smirked,

“No, not the Island, your life. What kind of clothes did you wear, what did you do everyday, what kind of foods did you eat, who did you know?” He asked you softly

“Well,” You sighed, “I wore much more than this,” You looked down at your dress. “Furs, leathers, armors,” 

“I’d like to see you in that.” He said with a uncharacteristically confident smirk,

“Would you?” You said with a flirtatious smile.

“Mhm” He said, his hand coming up to brush some of your hair behind your ear, “Keep going,”

“What was next?”

“What did I do everyday?” “What did you do everyday?” You asked in unison, making you giggle,

“Mm lets see, riding, archery, and sword trainings. But I grew tired of that quickly, and turned my attention to healing.”

“You’re quite good at it.” 

“Thank you,” You smiled, and he nodded at you wanting you to continue with his questions, “Right… Foods were less decadent as the foods here. Hardly ever any fruits. Kidney or liver pie, soup, really anything hot. And as for people, I knew everyone on that Island.” 

“Any men?”

“Yes, many men.” You smiled holding back a giggle

“Did you love any of them?” He held you slightly tighter,

“No.” You shook your head, “I had been with men, not many. However none of them I loved, much less did they perform well enough to inspire any interest.”

“Do I do well enough?” He leaned in closer and spoke softly, just in case anyone was around to hear it.

“Very well,” You smiled, “but you already know that.” You said leaning your forehead against his, rubbing your nose against his. When you pulled away you asked softly, “Have you ever loved a woman?”

“No.” He responded quickly

“You’ve been with a woman before though,” You asked with a raised eyebrow

“Yes. But, it was… only.. Physical.” He seemed flustered by the question.

“Other handmaidens?” You teased

It only flustered him more, “No- no, no, they were…”

“Whores?”

“How did you-”

“Rumors spread quickly, though I suppose worse rumors have been told.” 

“You do not judge me for it?”

“Every man has done it. Very little of them admit it. Even fewer of them would admit it to a woman, I’d not judge your honesty.” You smiled softly

“I won’t be doing it again.” 

“You’d not enjoyed it?”

He shook his head “I wouldn’t anymore.” His eyes became desperate, and filled with longing “I’ve missed being near you.” His voice was lower, and his grip on you tighter. It didn’t feel like lust. It felt like something that scared you terribly. 

“Stop that.” You said, almost a plea.

“I don’t believe you see how wonderful you are. I don’t know how you don’t, but you don’t.” His hands went from your waist to your face, cupping your jaw. “When you asked me if I had ever loved a woman. I said no, but that was a lie because the answer was yes and it was now. I love you.” His voice was desperate.

“Stop that I said-“ You said pulling his hands away from your face, 

“I can’t, I can’t hold it inside any longer, I love you.” He said as you passed him, almost running away. 

Spending so long being used for one thing, it didn’t make sense for someone to love you. And for you to love someone else. 

How could you love someone when you were so close to leaving this place. As you walked down the halls, tears in your eyes. You realized you weren’t walking back to your own room but his. You realized that you did love him. And you realized that he loved you. If you were going home once Margery was queen and you’d never see him again. You wanted, no you needed to tell him at least. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

When you walked into his chamber you waited for him. It wasn’t long till he arrived. 

Podrick walked into his chamber. He looked like he had cried. A he noticed you and you could see the relief wash over him.

“I thought I scared you off.” You said, breathing a sigh of relief as he approached you.

“It wasn’t you that scared me. But you were right, I am frightened.” You said as you wrapped your arms around him

“Tell me why?” He pleaded as you petted your hair.

“Once Margery is queen, she had promised me that she’d send me home. I was frightened of how much pain I’m going to be in when that happens.” You held his face in your hands, “But I could be content here. If you were with me.” You smiled softly, eyes still glassy from the tears.

“I can’t make you stay somewhere like this if you’ve a chance to leave it. A chance to be somewhere where you’d be treated as you deserve. Where your name has weight. Where you’d have power.” He said softly his eyes filled with a heavy sorrow

“You wouldn’t be making me.” You shook your head.

“(Y/N),” He began

“Stop,.. I admit I find it hard to find the language to describe this. Where I come from we don’t speak of such things. It’s silly and pathetic to us. But I find the urge to tell you this now.” You pleaded, “I’ve not felt this emotion toward another. Ever. It is greater than any ambition or desire I have. It makes me forget the things I miss because I know if I’m without you, I’ll miss you far greater than all that. I believe this to be what they say love is. Tell me, have you felt what you feel for me for anyone other than myself? If you have, say it now, plainly. And I will not burden you-“ 

Podrick took you by your face and kissed you deeply. Desperately. 

He broke your kiss, he held his grasp on your cheeks. 

“It’s a feeling that consumes me and my thoughts. I feel it surrounds me whenever I am near you, and I feel it’s absence when I am without you. Like a cold emptiness in my chest. Each night, when I lay alone I think of your face. No, no I have never felt this for another.” He brushed your cheek with his thumb, he looked into your eyes in awe. “This must be that companionship they talk about in songs and books, but it feels like we’re inventing something.” He said, a small smile pulling slightly at the corners of his mouth.

“Do all lovers feel that way?” You asked, breathlessly as you held him close.

“I only care for us, how we feel, how you feel.”

“I miss your lips on mine, kiss me again.” You said into his lips as he kissed you again. 

This kiss was desperate, passionate, and loving. His lips were gentle but firm. Your lips left his as they kissed his jaw and his neck. Your hand roamed from his back to shoulder down to his stomach and then to his cock.

Breathlessly Podrick spoke again, “I watched you all night,” He said stifling a moan as you palmed his hardening cock through his breeches.

“Did you?” You whispered into his neck,

“I did,” He moaned softly, “I envied every man who danced with you-”

“Envied?” You whispered into his ear as you kissed and licked at his ear. 

“Hated.” He corrected, his voice deeper than it was before.

“You’re the only man I want.” You said, breathlessly as you pulled the ties of his breeches loose

He shook his head, “You’re the only woman I have ever wanted.” He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, you kissed his thumb.

“I want you to feel good.” You said, almost in a moan.

“I feel very good-” He said but was catch off guard by you getting on your knees, he stammered slightly “You don’t have to”

“You don’t want me to?” You asked as you slowly released him from his breeches. You took him in your hand. Admiring just how pretty his cock was. It was girthy enough that you just about couldn’t close your fist around it. 

“I- I do but I don’t want you to feel as if you need to.” 

“Sweet boy, “ You kissed the head of it making him swallow hard as his cock twitched, “would it change how you think of me if I told you I want to do this.” You asked, looking up at him with doe like eyes.

He shook his head no, and was about to tell you how he would never think of you differently when he let out a moan as you licked up and down his shaft. 

He grasped at your hair instinctively but released his grasp almost immediately not wanting to feel like he was forcing you. But his hand stayed on top of your head. 

“Beautiful,” He cooed as he petted your hair

You pulled your tongue away from his tip,

“You like it?” you asked sweetly as you took his tip into your mouth. 

“Ve-Very m-much” He stammered trying not to moan

You took him out of your mouth once more, “You can tell me,” you said before sinking him into your mouth completely. 

“I don’t want to be vulgar to you- mmmm,” He gripped slightly harder onto the crown of your head as you sucked harder, working your tongue so skillfully up and down his shaft “but it’s so good. Gods!” He winced

“(Y/N), please, I need to- to-“ He stammered as he pulled himself out of your mouth. He dropped to his knees and kissed you deeply. “I wasn’t going to last long, I don’t want to finish yet,” He whispered into your mouth. 

His mouth moved away from yours to kiss your cheek, and your jaw, then your neck. “I’ll be careful not to bruise you this time, I promise” He said sickeningly sweet. 

“I don’t care if you do,” You said as he wrapped an arm around your lower back, he began moving closer and closer to you, slowly pushing you down onto the ground. 

You smiled up at him as you laid on the ground. You pulled your skirts up exposing your dampened small clothes. Podrick took your hand, kissed the inside of your wrist, then your palm, then each of your fingers. 

“I want you,” You said softly, 

He kissed from your hand, to your wrist, down your arm, all the way to your shoulder, til finally he kissed your neck. 

“Can I do… something.” He whispered into your neck, you nodded back in return. 

He pulled your small clothes off, and kissed your inner thighs gently. “If we were wed,” He kissed your other thighs' delicate inner skin, “I’d never let them perform the bedding ceremony.” He bit your inner thigh delicately making you whimper and squirm, “I’d never let any man handle you that way.” He said into your weeping cunt, the vibration of his voice made you mewl. He began by simply kissing your clit. One of his hands ran up and down your inner thigh, while the other he used to run his thumb up and down your aching slit. 

“More, please..” You mewled, 

“Whatever you wish,” He said before he pushed a finger into your weeping core as he began to suck on your clit. You arched your back at the sensation, your eyes went to the back of your head as you whimpered out his name. 

Then he pushed in a second finger, and curled his fingers upwards into that sweet spot in your cunt. Pulsing his two fingers against it, again and again. It made you moan out, “Podri-Mphm!” you curled your toes and gripped his hair tightly, making him moan into your cunt, the vibration against your clit only making the pleasure that more intense. “Aaawh!” You practically cried out. 

You could believe someone would refuse payment for this. 

You couldn’t help but buck and grind against his face, which he didn’t seem to mind telling by the way he moaned into your cunt. 

But you didn’t want to come undone on his fingers and tongue, you wanted more, needed more.

“Podrick,” You said softly, and he immediately halted his actions and looked up at you. 

Those big brown puppy eyes, so sweet and loving. You petted the top of his head, rubbing your thumb against his temple a few times. “I need you, all of you.” 

He arose from between your thighs. Panting, and immediately pulling you into a kiss. You could taste the sweetness, the bitterness, the saltiness, it was intoxicating, and it was you. 

“You taste so good, so good,” He whispered into your lips as he positioned his aching cock against your soaking entrance.

“I love you,” He said, and before you could say it back he was sliding inside of you, you moaned loudly and clenched around him making him bury his face into your neck and moan out your name so desperately. 

You gripped at his back. With his face in your neck, you kissed into his ear between your own desperate moans. As he pumped himself in and out of you, his hand found your face, cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes with awe and wonder. Love. 

“Do- Mmmphm! Do I fe-feel good enough?” You asked breathlessly between moans. It made him smile and thrust even harder into you, 

“Very,” He thrusted harder, “Very,” and harder, “Very” and harder again, “Very good.” 

As his thrusts continued, faster, and harder, he trailed down your body and to your cunt again. Circling your clit, he somehow always knew just how much pressure to apply. You felt yourself tightening, and so could he. 

You thrusted against him, the lewd sounds of your bodies colliding mixed with the sounds of your shared moans filled the room. 

As you felt your peak reaching you grabbed ahold of his throat, tightening your grip only slightly. Enough for him to feel the pleasure of it. 

“I want it this time, I want it in me.” You whimpered against his lips as you held him by his throat,

He nodded frantically in return as his thrusts became more and more erratic and you clenched down on his cock more and more. The heat is tightening in your stomach more and more. 

Soon you finally felt his hot seed spill inside of you, you felt the heat spread inside of you. It was too much for you and you came alongside him. 

He stayed in you for a moment. You both held one another panting, sometimes kissing one another before he pulled out of you. 

Still panting he laid beside you, on the floor of your chamber, still in your disheveled clothing, your fingers entwined. 

You looked over at him, still trying to catch your breath, “How did you get so good at that?” you asked softly.

“I hoped for so long I would find someone I loved. I imagined it all, countless times.” He looked over to you, “Waiting for you.” 

“You dreamt of it?” You asked in a whisper,

“No, I thought of you.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE:

If anyone gets the Portrait of a lady on fire reference I will kiss you on the mouth. 

BELOVED TAGS: 

@ryn-away @boojaynaqueen @holierthancunt @symonedoesart

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 2: The Same Agony]

Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a (newly widowed) daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love this series has received! I hope you continue to enjoy it. 🥰🥰  

Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.

Chapter warnings: Language, slightly more extensive witchcraft, mentions of death and violence, sexual content, this fic is for readers 18+!!!

Word count: 4.8k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @crispmarshmallow @tclegane @daddysfavoritesexkitten @poohxlove @imagine-all-the-imagines @nsainmoonchild @skythighs @bratfleck @thesadvampire @yor72 @xcharlottemikaelsonx  @loverandqueenofdragons @omgsuperstarg @endless-ineffabilities @devynsshitposts @vencuyot @ladylannisterxo @itzwhatever123 @cranberryjulce @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @liathelioness @mirandastuckinthe80s @haezen @fairaardirascenarios @darkened-writer @weepingfashionwritingplaid @signyvenetia​

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“You wouldn’t happen to have any bear teeth, would you?”

“Bear…teeth?” Aemond blinks at you, confounded. You are standing together in the doorway of Helaena’s chambers as she plays on the floor with the children: stacking wooden blocks into diminutive castles, demolishing them with cloth dragons, chanting childhood nonsense songs in a wavering, whisper-soft voice. It is late-morning, and sunlight pours in through the open windows in sheets like rain.

“You see, bears are large terrestrial mammals. Their pelts make good rugs. They are commonly found in caves and forests, eat lots of salmon, and have often been observed—”

“Kindly desist your taunting,” the prince says, though fondly. “Why on earth would you require bear teeth?”

You hesitate. “They’re for…a tradition.”

“A tradition?”

“Um…perhaps…rather…a ritual.”

He flashes a devious grin. “A ritual, or a spell?”

You sigh in defeat. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“You still worship the Old Gods,” he realizes. His single remaining eye—bright, cunning, oceanic blue—sweeps you up and down. He is not mocking, not appalled; he is forever seeking to uncover more pieces of you like shells collected from sand. “Well…that’s alright. We won’t tell Mother.”

“Yes, please don’t. She’d send me to the Wall.” This is an exaggeration, though not by much.

“What sort of spell involves bear teeth?” Aemond inquires, amused, like he’s waiting for a punchline.

“One for protection.”

“Oh? And who do you believe needs protecting?”

You peer up at him guiltily. He’ll hate that you’ve had this thought. “You’re riding in the tourney tomorrow.”

“Me?!” he exclaims, and laughs. It’s an alarmingly beautiful sound; you have to stop yourself from reaching out to touch him, his face or his forearm or his long silvery hair. “You think I need protection?”

“You never joust. You haven’t in years, I know, people won’t stop talking about it. They’re all baffled by your sudden interest. Everyone’s wagering bets. And you’re out of practice.”

“Hm, yes, well if Axel Hightower can do it then surely I’ll manage.”

You’re dismayed; if you’ve unwittingly encouraged him, that makes you responsible for any resulting catastrophes. In your own heart, at least. “Please tell me you aren’t doing this to outshine my dead husband.”

“Logistically, it would be rather difficult to compete with a corpse.”

“You don’t joust,” you say. “You never joust…”

“You know, my Uncle Daemon was known to joust on occasion.”

“Perhaps, but you aren’t.”

“Calm yourself.” He’s impatient now. “It’s a tourney, not an execution. And my match is some Lannister boy, it’s not like I’m stepping into the tiltyard with Ivar Kellington.”

“Right.” Ivar is the son of a house sworn to the Baratheons, and he is positively monstrous: tall, broad, fearsome, immovable. When he spars, he has to face two or three ordinary men to keep it competitive. He’s responsible for no less than four deaths resulting from tourney mishaps. He has a reputation even larger than he is; you’d heard about him all the way back in the Reach during your marriage. People around the court refer to him—with both awe and shudders—as ‘Sir Killington.’

Aemond considers you, always searching, never quite finding his footing. “I thought you weren’t one to shy away from battles.” And then he adds swiftly, just to emphasize how beneath him this is: “Not that a tourney is anything like a real battle, of course.”

“I’m not trying to stop you. I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he replies briskly.

“Fine.”

He stares out into the hallway with his arms crossed. You stare over at Helaena and the children without really seeing them. Neither of you speak, but neither of you leave either.

“Enjoy your sparring,” you say eventually.

“Enjoy the beach,” Aemond replies, and departs almost soundlessly like a shadow. You tug on your pendant as you watch him disappear down the hallway: the lines of his shoulders, the sheen of his hair, the way strips of sunlight fall on him through windows and doorways. As your grip tightens, the oval of moonstone etches its shape into your palm; the silver chain digs into the soft vulnerable flesh at the back of your neck.

That did not go well. That did not go well at all. You frown absently, your mind elsewhere. So much for my attempted witchcraft.

“Lady Mormont?” Helaena beckons, breaking your apprehension like glass. She clutches one of Jaehaera’s tiny hands in hers while Jaehaerys stomps around demolishing microscale castles. You hope this is not prophetic of his (possible, far-off) future reign. “Help me get the children ready. The sea is calling for you.”

You shimmy the toddlers into swimming clothes, gather up toys and linens and pieces of fruit, and walk with Helaena and her white-haired twins down to the golden sand, to the water’s edge. As Helaena supervises her children—which consists primarily of having flustered handmaidens chase them around while the princess sits on a sand dune and embroiders a green-thread praying mantis onto a pillowcase—you wander ankle-deep in the warm, foreign surf.

King’s Landing is nothing like Bear Island. Home was stormy and grey and fog-cloaked, harsh, cold, rocky, inescapably brutal. Home felt old, hopelessly old, older than the stars; there was no hope of changing one’s life there. The people of Bear Island have been scraping out an existence—forcing an untamed, unwilling land to nurse them at blade-point—since long before the Targaryens ever set foot in Westeros, since before the Andals, since before there was any divide between history and myths. But here…here…

As you stand on the beach below the Red Keep, there are gulls circling far overhead and clear blue skies and invigorating heat and ships gliding ceaselessly in and out of port. This land yields life plentifully, effortlessly. Within the walls of the city there are people clawing their way up ladders every minute of every day, and tumbling down them as well; there are always new futures to be made. This is an idea you could get used to. This is a world you could get used to.

Later, much later—after bathing the children, after lunch, after visiting the sept with Queen Alicent (requiring some pantomimed piousness on your part), after a meandering stroll through the godswood, after music and dinner and dancing—he finally returns. You don’t need to see him come in. You can hear his footsteps; you can feel the room shift like a ship rocked by waves.

“Aemond!” Helaena squeals in glee and rushes over to him. Meanwhile, you loiter by the fireplace pretending to be engrossed in a letter. In truth, you’ve read it twice already, and it wasn’t all that enthralling to begin with; one of your cousins, married into House Manderly, has just birthed her fifth child in seven years and feels the compulsion to tell the whole world about it. It occurs to you that some people’s luck is really quite excessive.

You try not to listen as Aemond asks Helaena about her day, as she prattles on about the beach (but mostly about her insect embroidery), as she gets sidetracked and scurries off and lowers herself onto the couch to finish the aforementioned embroidery. The prince’s familiar footsteps approach you. You refuse to look up until he’s waited several minutes with nothing but the dry, popping fractures of wood in the fireplace to split the silence.

“Did you and Sir Criston have a productive time hitting each other with sticks?”

“There was a slight change of plans.”

He tosses a leather pouch to you. You catch it in mid-air. Inside are cracked, bloodied bear teeth. You gasp in the flame-lit stillness. “How…?”

“It was the strangest thing. I, entirely unprompted, was struck by this intense desire to go bear hunting.” He grins: impish, off-kilter, waiting to see if you’ll forgive him. “I hope they’re adequate, they were difficult to…uh…dislodge. From the skull, I mean. And I wasn’t sure if you wanted them…you know. Cleaned.”

“No, you did well. It’s better if they’re bloody.” You are struck by a sudden, ludicrous vision of the prince practically dragging Sir Criston Cole through the woods for hours—their boots coated with mud, their brows sweated, twigs embedded in their hair—while dodging Sir Criston’s increasingly exasperated inquiries. “I don’t know why you did this for me.”

“I know what it’s like to hold something sacred that others don’t understand.”

From the couch, Helaena murmurs: “He had to close his eye.”

You turn to Aemond for a translation.

“To get my dragon,” he says softly, then gestures to his lost eye: quickly, as if he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to it than he absolutely must. You know it happened in some sort of childhood scuffle between Alicent and Rhaenyra’s sons—every noble who’s ever travelled south of the Neck knows that—but you’ve never heard the details. Unthinkingly, reflexively, you reach out for him, resting your right palm against the mutilated half of his face. He’s so perfect in spite of the destruction his flesh holds like a memory; he’s so fucking beautiful. Your thumb ghosts across the section of scar that slits his cheek in two. Aemond flinches and catches your wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Gently, he lowers your hand back to your side. Then he grasps your pendant to examine it more closely. “Hm. Moonstone and silver, together, entwined. Curious, don’t you think?”

“Very,” you agree. You wonder what he looks like without his eyepatch, not in a morbidly curious sort of way but out of a longing—a craving—to know every part of him entirely.

“I’ve studied the Old Gods, you know,” he says. “Purely for scholarly purposes. And the Drowned God, and the Lord of Light. There are temples dedicated to Him in Dorne. I’ve exchanged letters with several of the maesters there.”

“I’m sure your mother is positively delighted that you’re writing to maesters instead of eligible Baratheon and Lannister women.”

He smiles wryly. “Aegon has brothels. I have the library.”

“So you don’t spend all your time sulking around unnerving courtiers.”

“Well, not all of it.” His face is illuminated by the fire, amber and scarlet and gold. He reads the nervousness on yours: the tourney, the joust, your own dawning realization of how much he means to you. “Fear not. I’m coming back.”

“That’s exactly what my mother said before she left me in the Reach with Axel Hightower. And I never saw her again.”

Without speaking, Aemond cups your face in his hands. He touches his forehead to yours—lightly, lightning-briefly—and then backs away. He takes several long strides, as if he’s afraid of what will happen if the space between you could be so easily closed.

“Good luck tomorrow, Silver,” you tell him.

He glances down at the leather pouch of bear teeth still clutched in your left hand. “I thought you were taking care of that for me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When the rest of the Red Keep is slumbering in unwitting darkness, you slip unnoticed back to the heart tree. You have to do this part here, where the Old Gods can hear you; you have to give Aemond the best chance you can. You pour a handful of the bloodied teeth, rosemary, sage, sea salt, and your last few pebbles of black jade into the mortar you left Bear Island with, and then Oldtown after Axel’s death. You hope you never have to leave King’s Landing. Everything in you struggles against the thought of it, like an animal with its paw in an iron-jawed trap. You light a white candle and set it on a root of the heart tree.

“Protect him,” you implore the flame again and again. It flickers and bends to you in the cold night wind. You grind the teeth until they are a fine, pale-pink dust. “Break others if you must, burn others if you must, bury others if you must…but protect him.”

This next part is the trickiest. Back inside the Red Keep, you evade guards and handmaidens to slink inside the prince’s chambers. The man you are regrettably falling in love with—Aemond Targaryen, Aemond One-Eye, the dragonrider of Vhagar—is exactly where he should be: asleep in bed. He is sprawled on his stomach and occasionally murmuring as if in the middle of a very consequential conversation. He is mostly obscured by blankets, but you can see he’s not wearing his eyepatch; his white hair flows freely and unincumbered over the pillows. You are careful not to look too closely at him, only because you know he wouldn’t want you to.

You crouch down on the cold, hard floor and scatter the powder you’ve ground under his bed. No one would ever recognize it as witchcraft. It could be sand, it could be dust, it could never be noticed at all. When you are finished, you flee the room with feather-light steps.

Yet you think you might have heard it as you crossed through the doorway, just maybe, just barely: a creak, a stirring, the prince rising to catch a glimpse of you with his sleep-bleary eye.

~~~~~~~~~~

A Mullendore unseats a Buckwell. A Tyrell unseats a Rollingford. A Westerling gets so drunk he falls off his horse mid-charge and the Tully proclaims victory. Sir Ivar Kellington breaks some poor Massey boy’s jaw. Everyone applauds politely.

Aegon leaps to his feet. “Well done, Sir Killington!” he shouts, raising his wine cup. “Uh…I mean…Kellington.” Aegon drops back into his seat. Otto Hightower glares at him.

You tug nervously on your moonstone pendant. Helaena claps and smiles when necessary but otherwise watches the birds, the clouds, the horses and works on the favor she’s making. The queen is wringing her hands and dressed—predictably—in a rich emerald-green gown. Alicent has always struck you as kind and affectionate enough, albeit in a distracted sort of way. You suppose she has plenty of legitimate distractions. Her husband the king is ailing, rarely seen, unlikely to live much longer. Her father is ruling the kingdom in all but name. Her estranged stepdaughter, a prospective schemer and confirmed dragonrider, is the heir apparent. And she has an adult son in need of a politically-expedient marriage…a son who doesn’t have any spare eyes to sacrifice to this tourney.

You turn to Aegon, who stares vacantly down into the tiltyard with red, groggy eyes. “I know the prince is good on his feet, but can he joust? You know…without his…?” You point to your own unharmed eye in explanation. Aegon shrugs listlessly. This does not inspire confidence.

As Ivar Kellington exits the tiltyard, Aemond comes in. They exchange a look as they pass each other on their horses, a silent antagonism, a taking of measurements. It can safely be assumed that Ivar—a man whose legacy will be built on the bones of the people he’s brutalized—would like few things more than a chance to publicly skewer the prince, but he won’t get it. The Hightowers would never allow such a match. Aemond smirks up at the giant triumphantly.

The crowd cheers as Aemond and the Lannister boy he’s scheduled to joust gallop around the tiltyard, but in a way that is tentative, taunt, uneasy. No one can recall ever seeing the brooding, one-eyed prince participate in a tourney before. As his long white hair flows out behind him like a banner, as he sizes up his opponent with a cool, stoic gaze, people chatter about how much he reminds them of Daemon Targaryen. Is Aemond another rogue prince? Is that primal breed of fear that he inspires in people deserved? You observe the nobles gathered here from your seat between Aegon and Helaena, noting for the first time just how many seven-pointed stars there are: on cups, on chairs, on pieces of embroidery, on necklaces. Queen Alicent wears them constantly.

What do they do to witches here? Burn them?

A bolt of dread pierces through your chest like a blade. No one is looking at you, of course; no one is paying any attention to you at all. But suddenly you feel naked in this crowd.

Sir Criston has appeared to give Aemond his parting words. He grabs the horse’s reigns and says something to Aemond that you can’t hear over the thunderous noise of the audience. The prince nods. Criston speaks again, miming a technique. The prince continues to nod. His mood is evident from his posture: Yes, okay, alright, let’s get on with it. Criston hands the prince his helmet, which is open in the front and without a visor, and people murmur about how Daemon always wore the same style. You think it has less to do with an homage as it does with practicality. Aemond cannot afford what sight he has left to be obscured by metal. He doesn’t look at or acknowledge you in any way, but when he dons his helmet and his hair is momentarily displaced you see it rubbed onto the back of his neck where no one will notice: a fine, chalky, pinkish dust.

He saw me after all. In his bedroom.

You can envision him crawling out of bed and dropping to his knees, investigating while still clumsy and half-asleep, pressing his palm to the dust before marking himself with it. You smile, a solitary moment in a pulsing space.

That has to be good luck, doesn’t it? That has to give the spell more power.

You wish you knew more about magic. You wish your mother was still alive.

Sir Criston hands Aemond his shield and his lance. Aemond asks Helaena for her favor. She gives it to him wholeheartedly: a small wreath of green calla lilies she’s been weaving together with jittery fingers. She waves him off and then sinks back into her seat, silent and remote.

Aemond takes his place at one end of the tiltyard. The Lannister boy—Leland or Luca or Landon or Lyndon or something like that, you keep forgetting—waits on the other. Their horses paw at the earth restlessly. There’s already blood in the soil, the air. Everyone else clears the tiltyard. The seconds tick down.

Suddenly—like falling forward—both riders have kicked their mounts and the horses are hurtling towards each other. The space between them evaporates like a waning moon. People are screaming all around you, and some of the noise is pure exhilaration but a good amount of it is horror, because already people can see it: the prince’s lance is aimed just a bit too low and too far to the left, and the Lannister boy’s lance is poised to collide with Aemond’s unguarded face. Aemond sees it too, soon enough to know but not soon enough to fix it. His blue eye is wide and gleaming with doomed shock.

Before the riders can strike, there is a deafening snap, a cracking of bones. The Lannister boy’s horse plummets to the earth as its left fetlock shatters. The Lannister boy’s lance goes flying, his lips loose a shriek…and his body falls perfectly into the line of Aemond’s lance. The prince’s lance crashes into the Lannister shield and sends the boy soaring off the back of his collapsing horse. The crowd explodes into cheers and applauds. Aemond has won.

He is dutiful about it, honorable about it. He dismounts and helps the Lannister boy to his feet and expresses sympathy about the horse: such bad luck, so unfortunate, although everyone knows horses are prone to such accidents. He bows graciously to the crowd of courtiers who have so consistently ignored, avoided, misunderstood him. And only then does he come to accept congratulations from his family.

Aemond receives a giddy hug from Helaena, a sloppy whack on the shoulder from a very intoxicated Aegon, and kisses on his hands from the queen. Otto Hightower gives him a proud, beaming nod. Sir Criston sprints up from the tiltyard to embrace—in fact, nearly tackle—the prince. In the joyous mayhem, you make no attempt to capture Aemond’s attention, but he does fight his way through it to find you. He circles an arm around your waist to pull you close so he can whisper to you as he places Helaena’s calla lily wreath on your head like a crown.

“I’m awfully glad I found you those bear teeth, Moonstone,” he says, and then he’s spirited away by admiring nobles.

You watch—alone in the havoc—as Aemond is commended by the great families of Westeros, the fathers and the matriarchs and the marriageable daughters too; and you are struck by a sudden and overwhelming sadness.

He is going to marry a Baratheon or a Lannister or an Arryn or a Stark, you think. And any fantasy that deviates from that eventuality is pure, self-inflicted cruelty.

You don’t belong in his world. Perhaps you don’t really belong anywhere.

Unnoticed—or so you believe—you escape through the spectators and into a small, empty stairwell of the Red Keep. You crumple onto a step, entertain the possibility of composing yourself, and then rupture into helpless, pitiful tears. You sit there sobbing with your face in your hands for five minutes, or ten, or twenty, you aren’t sure. It doesn’t matter. No one misses you.

When you hear the footsteps, you immediately know who it is. You don’t even look up. You wipe your sore, drenched cheeks with the sleeves of your gown and stare down at the stone floor in abject humiliation.

“What troubles you?” he asks. You marvel at his voice, and not for the first time: calm yet compelling, soft-spoken and yet so heavy with gravity.

You consider lying to him, but you don’t. The answer is so simple. Now your eyes find his. “I want something I can’t have.”

Aemond nods, solemn, pensive. “I find myself afflicted with the same agony,” he says. And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

There is an informal feast held in the Great Hall to celebrate the winners of the tourney. People roam and mingle and eat off of plates balanced precariously in one hand. There is dancing and music, an anxious plucky sort of sound that plays from the strings. Aemond is the guest of honor, although no stranger would guess it; after his short obligatory exchanges with various nobles and fellow jousters, he makes his way back to his immediate family. You are obliged to accompany Helaena, and thus bound to stay near Aemond; all night you orbit each other like planets, like seasons. Sometimes he catches you watching him as you sip your wine, sometimes he skates his palm along the small of your back as he passes behind you, over and over again you find excuses to stand next to each other while saying nothing, while thinking everything, while feeling each other’s heat through the infinitesimal space between you. Finally, as the evening careens towards midnight, he finds you alone in the doorway of the same winding staircase he tracked you to earlier, except now you’re at the top of it. You’re nursing a cup of wine, unnoticed and unnecessary, still wearing the crown of green calla lilies. Helaena is thoroughly preoccupied with a plateful of pear tarts and the doting attention of Otto Hightower. Aegon is presumably off badgering a servant girl somewhere…or perhaps passed out under a tree.

“This is an odd question, I freely admit it,” the prince says, close enough that you can see the ring of dark blue around the edge of his iris like the ocean at night. Torchlight glows on the flush in his cheeks: one pristine, one ruined. “But would you happen to have been in my bedroom last night?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Lying is a sin in any religion.”

“Alright, yes, I was there. Briefly. Very briefly.”

“So you didn’t want to stay?”

In reply, you only gaze up at him, wanting him so badly it puts aches in your hands, your spine, your lungs, the threads of your heart. His smile is knowing and playful and warm and kind. He reads you the same way he pours over dusty, long-forgotten books in the library and you read him like a spell. You want to know everything he’s made of. You want to feel him beneath the innate design of your fingerprints. He looks into your eyes and sees all of this and more; and then he turns and descends the stairs.

You follow after him, your dress dragging on the stone steps. His footsteps are so light they’re nearly soundless. He moves like a storm, like a wolf; you don’t hear them until they’ve got their jaws around you. Torches burn overhead as you traverse the staircase down, down, down. You can still hear the muffled music of the strings through the castle walls. You can feel the pounding of your heart, the blood roaring in your ears like waves. The music fades as you walk, and then disappears; but your heart grows louder.

When you reach the final step, Aemond catches you, presses you against the wall, kisses you so deeply it feels like you’re drowning in him: in heat, in insatiability, in all that long-caged wildness screaming to be freed. Your wine cup and crown of calla lilies both tumble to the floor. His hands are gliding beneath your dress. You’re ripping open his tunic. In the sea of fabric, his fingers find the velvet-soft inside of your thigh and follow it upwards. You’re soaked for him already. He moans, licks his fingers, kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. Your hands tangle in his hair and drag him closer, closer, until there’s no space left between you, not even enough to second-guess this. You open your thighs wider, bite his neck, beg him to fuck you. His fingers stroke you until your hips are thrusting in rhythm, until you’re stifling your cries against his bare, flare-hot skin. There is a powerful, shuddering sensation of an opening, a warm glowing like liquid gold. Reflections of fire dance over you both. His breathing is ragged, ravenous. Even through his clothes, you can feel how hard he is, how thick. You are starving to be filled with him.

“Wait,” you gasp, and immediately he stills. You touch his face, your palm to his scar, and this time he doesn’t flinch away. “Can I see you?” you say. “I want all of you. The real you.”

He hesitates. He reaches for his eyepatch. He rips it away in one fluid motion, like a bandage off a fresh wound, like he’s afraid of losing his nerve. Where his left eye should be is jagged flesh framing a glittering, savage-blue sapphire. You can see the shadow of the little boy he was when he was disfigured and never avenged. You can see every brick he’s built himself with since.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you whisper, your words weightless and vanishing like smoke.

“I never wanted people to pity me.”

“No one pities you. They fear you.”

Aemond asks, mesmerized, spellbound: “Why don’t you fear me?”

“Because I was raised to admire ferocity, not to run from it.”

“You are perfection,” he breathes. “You were made for me.”

You grab his face with one hand, hook it around his jaw, and look him straight in his eyes, both of them: one flesh, one sapphire. “Show me.”

You’re still throbbing, still slick, still roiling in aftershocks as he plunges inside you. You fuck with your faces close and your hands entwined, kissing, moaning, biting, whispering promises that cannot be kept. When he comes, his teeth close around your collarbone to keep himself from crying out; and then he rests his forehead against yours. You remain there together in this dying moment, in the receding seconds, dwelling in them like the last days of summer. Then he steps back and the illusion is shattered.

You let the hem of your dress drop to the floor. Aemond refastens his tunic and smooths his hair. As you find your balance on weak and trembling legs—as you adjust to the unwelcome absence of him—you push Aemond away. “Go,” you say, glancing to the steps. “Go. I know you have to.”

His hands are open, empty. “Are you sure—?”

“Go,” you insist. “Please, just go. Before you’re missed.”

He looks at you like he’s going to say more. Then he picks up his eyepatch off the floor, secures it over what remains of his left eye, and ascends the staircase to rejoin his family in the Great Hall. That’s where he belongs, after all. That’s where he will always belong.

You wait to follow him until enough time has elapsed to evade suspicion. You wait at the bottom of the staircase in silence, in agony, your skin crawling with the echoes of flames.

[15-lizards]

what do u think house mormont’s features look like? i’m having so much trouble picturing them honestly

Dare I say one of my top five houses

Mormonts are pretty sturdy so I usually imagine them as having rounder faces and wider jaws, typically have flat noses and other features, full lips, and ofc heavy brows and dark hair and resting serious faces. My bear people my loves

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

I love the what if Jon joined Robb’s war campaign au:

more brotherly moments between Jon and Robb

Robb having more emotional support  possibly could lead to him not breaking the engagement with House Frey

Catelyn and Theon having something in common, disliking Jon and how much influence he has on his brother.

Catelyn and Jon agreeing that Robb shouldn’t send Theon to the Iron Islands.

Actually, they would also agree on exchanging Jaime for the Stark girls. This is a subject that I could even see Jon have a huge disagrement with Robb.

Stark and Snow duo being the fear of their enemies 

Jon being part of Robb’s battle guard and befriending the other members of the squad. Knowing Jon’s preferances in women he would at least have a platonic crush on Dacey Mormont, lol.

Robb revealing to Jon his will of naming him his heir. Just imagine how emotional this scene would be for both brothers.

[wylldebee]

Ye Olde Magick AU Part II: More Houses

As always: thank @books-n-guns for the existence of this AU :D Basic lore (and the first bunch of houses): X Without further ado, have some more houses~!

The Arryns: Wings, wings, wings. They have the most beautiful feathered wings you'll ever lay eyes on and back muscles because damn their wings are heavy. They need special oils and soaps, and are almost constantly grooming. And they have echo voices (X). If the song Hallelujah existed in ASOIAF they would own it. The skies of the Vale always has at least one Arryn or one of it's cadet houses The Boltons: Like books-n-guns says, they're vampires with an interest in blood magic. Legend says the Boltons actually used to be able to shed their whole skin—and I mean their whole skin—until one Bolton got into blood magic and suddenly vampires. The northern weather is perfect for them. The Mormonts: Werebears! Werebears! Werebears! You think Bear Island was named after the bears that inhabit it? No. It's the werebears of House Mormont. Were as wild looking as the Starks of old just bear themed; claws and teeth and fangs and thicker hair, and were generally bigger and stronger. Now they're just strong. Lady Maege Mormont can still crush a man's head between her hands.

The Tarths: Giants. For some reason the magic has been absent from their bloodline for a few years until Brienne was born. While not as big as her ancestors, Brienne is still big and has great strength. She didn't defeat those who had a bet on her maidenhead so much as she sent them flying. People held score cards. Loras was sweating in his armour and allowed Brienne to grapple him instead shut up you drunken archer of my family I allowed it because I didn't want to fucking die. The Hightowers: Flame hair. Think Hades from Hercules. It's safe to the touch and doesn't set anything on fire...unless the Hightower it's attached to wants it. Just like when they turn the beacon's fire green to call their bannerman, a Hightower's hair can turn green at will. Please imagine Alicent entering the room not only in her green dress, but with flickering green flame hair. The Baelishs: Fiery eyes. Look up Lucifer Morningstar red eyes and you get what I'm imagining, though the pupils are a glowing flame coloured. It's hard to look like a friendly and powerless man to be underestimated by all the high lords with these eyes, but Littlefinger manages it. The Greyjoys: Krackens. Honestly I'm just imagining a kracken version of Davey Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean. But they can only get that form when wet with seawater. Can remain in that form so long as a part of their body is still in seawater. Rare times does it skip a member of the family, so sorry Aeron. The Karstarks: Since they are a cadet branch of the Starks they also benefitted from the same wolf magic—however instead of fangs they've got the claws. Sharp and deadly, the Karstarks are best at being frontline fighters where even if they lose their swords they can still maul a bitch. No, seriously, they will maul someone with their claws. They have mauled people with their claws. Rumors say they use grindstones to keep their claws nice and sharp. The Freys: Trolls, specifically bridge trolls. And not the dependable kind that they used to be back in the day. Still having that weasel look to them, they have granite skin that makes normal swords break against them and above-human strength, thus still making them the most powerful bannermen of House Tully. The Reeds: Lizard-lions or frogs. Actually, nobody really knows what the Reeds are—not now or back in the past. Not even Ned knows what Howland Reed looked like because he kept his entire person covered from the top of his head to his hands to his feet. The only thing he saw was a super long tongue jab hard at Arthur's neck that killed the knight and save him. And that's what I've got for now. Again ideas of other houses are welcome!

[dalekofchaos]

Targaryen restoration au

Imagine if the following happened.

Rhaella lived through childbirth and got to take care of Dany and Viserys

Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys were able to escape to Dorne before the sacking of King's Landing

Arthur Dayne took a pregnant Lyanna to Starfall to find proper care to deliver Jon. But let's say in this au Rhaegar told Arthur the Prince that was promised must be named Daeron III

Jon Connington is called and returns to serve his lord's children

At some point they all link up and begin to plot to restore House Targaryen and take what is rightfully theirs. With Fire & Blood

With Rhaella, Ser Willem, Elia and Arthur around. Viserys never descends into madness and becomes more well adjusted.

Lyanna survived childbirth. Lyanna could not return home. She's too ashamed after her actions led to the deaths of Rickard and Brandon and she knows if she returns with her son, Robert would kill them. Arthur and Lyanna raised Daeron together. One thing led to another and they fell in love.

With outside forces preventing the crown from finding them(Doran, Varys and Illyrio) the Targaryens are never found.

Dany has a happy childhood and while they move every often, she has happy memories with her mother, brother and cousins.

With Rhaella, Doran, Oberyn Arthur and Jon Connington around, Aegon, Rhaenys, Viserys and Daenerys all grow up well versed into politics. Arthur and Oberyn properly turns Aegon, Daeron, Rhaenys, Dany and Viserys into warriors.

Because of Arthur's presence, he would not allow or tolerate Jorah Mormont.

With the vast wealth of Illyrio and Varys influence, an army of sell swords are at their disposal. They have the Golden Company, Windblown, Second Sons, Unsullied, and Storm Crows

With an alliance with Dorne, Aegon is betrothed to Arianne, House Tyrell are known Targaryen loyalists. Daeron is betrothed to Margaery and Daenerys is betrothed to Willas, The Targaryens could reach out to the Greyjoys and promise revenge and plunder. Viserys is betrothed to Asha.

I don't know if the dragons would factor into this au. Maybe there is a ritual, magic via the red priests/priestesses or something they found that could hatch the dragon eggs. If so the dragons are given to Rhaegar's children because prophecy. Aegon's Dragon will be named Visenya(Drogon) Rhaenys' dragon will be named Meria(Rhaegal) and Daeron's will be named Ghost(Viserion)

The War of the Five Kings turns into the War of Kings & Dragons.

Renly runs back to Stannis after he finds out the Tyrell's true allegiances. The brothers put behind their grievances and stand together.

When Cat goes to treat with Renly, she is surprised that Stannis and Renly stand together. They offer Robb a choice, join us. The Lannisters must be dealt with and then deal with the invading Targaryens.

Battle of the Blackwater ends with the Stark-Baratheon alliance victorious. Robb rescues Sansa and Joffrey is executed. Cersei is executed and Tommen is fostered at Casterly Rock by Tyrion. Tywin falls in battle.

Littlefinger is executed and Varys escapes in time to meet with the Targaryens.

The Targaryens arrive. They are met with Dorne, the Ironborn and the Reach.

All out war.

The Targaryens obviously win. But they are smart. They give their enemies the chance to bend the knee.

Then the Targaryens, Starks, and Baratheons unite their forces and marches North. to face their true enemy.

Aegon VI's small council

Hand of the King:Jon Connington

Grand Maester:Marwyn

Master of Whispers:Varys

Master of Laws:Oberyn Martell

Master of Ships:Mace Tyrell

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard:Arthur Dayne

Meanwhile I can see Euron return and hire a Faceless man to kill Willas Tyrell. Euron tries weasels his way into Dany's good graces. There are two ways we can play this. Dany sicks the Kingsguard to kill him or he slowly begins to corrupt her. Blame Viserys and cause Targaryen infighting. And after Viserys is out of the picture. Euron helps Dany take the throne and cement the Targaryens and the Greyjoys alliance through marriage, let the Long Night kill her cousins and they can rule the Iron Throne together and he has the means to bind the dragons to her will.

In the scenario where Dany stays loyal to her family. Euron is captured and is awaiting his execution. With no dragons to burn him. Dany has him executed by Wildfire. "Dracarys"

Ending 1:Rhaegar's prophecy is true and his children save the realm from the Long Night

Ending 2:Aegon, Rhaenys and Daeron sacrifice themselves to end The Others, while Dany brings peace to the realm

Ending 3:The unholy union of Euron and Dany plunges the world into darkness.

[greenandsorrow]

Not a request, but can you make a list of the fandoms and characters you write for? Not to be rude! <333

Disclaimer-> There are fandoms I've already written stuff for or will in the future, but they're not in the following list bc I simply don't take requests for them (the wizarding world, star wars, the matrix, prometheus, DC, etc.)

x reader for the most part unless I say otherwise

FANDOMS & CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR 🍂☕

FNAF:

William Afton (either from the game or the book trilogy, not movie Willy still love him tho)

Springtrap

The Puppet

Comfortingly scary stuff with the animatronics of the first six games.

OMORI:

I'M NOT AGING ANYONE UP FOR SMUT/ I WON'T PUT ANYONE IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS (aging up for character development is acceptable ig)

Omori (can be shipped with Aubrey)

Stranger

Basil

Sunny (can be shipped with Aubrey/Basil)

The group x reader

The reader just experiencing or being part of Headspace, Black Space, White Space and the characters there.

RYAN GOSLING

Ken

Officer K

Sierra Six/ Court Gentry

maybe Colt Seavers

PEDRO PASCAL

Joel Miller

Din Djarin

HAZBIN HOTEL

Alastor, in all shapes and forms (human, giant demon, cursed cat, something from your imagination)

Angel Dust

Vox

Lucifer Morningstar

maybe Sir Pentious (can be shipped with Cherri)

The Hazbins x reader

LOTR/ THE HOBBIT

Bilbo Baggins

Thorin Oakenshield

Fili Durin

Kili Durin

Thranduil

Gandalf x reader (platonic!!)

Thorin & company x reader

The fellowship x reader

Sauron in any form

The Witch King of Angmar (🤭)

GAME OF THRONES

Petyr Baelish

Varys (don't ask me why)

Jorah Mormont

Sandor Clegane

Arya Stark

Brienne of Tarth

maybe Eddard Stark

maybe Tormund Giantsbane

maybe Theon Greyjoy

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Aegon Targaryen

maybe Larys Strong (I'm sorry)

Scenarios that include multiple characters

?Dragon bonding¿

SHERLOCK BBC

Sherlock Holmes (platonic mostly)

John Watson

maybe James Moriarty

maybe Molly Hooper

DEAD POETS SOCIETY

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

The poets x reader

Mr. Keating (platonic!!!)

THE SECRET HISTORY

Anything.

Absolutely anything and anyone.

I mean it.

(no incest, no orgies)

STRANGER THINGS

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

Jim Hopper (don't ask why)

Vecna/ Henry Creel

IT

Pennywise (not smut)

Not sure about any other ships but shoot your shot ig.

Reader just living in Derry???

masterlist of all work

requesting rules/ info

*my paypal link can be found on my masterlist & fics

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #64: ASOIAF, but make it House Hightower

A little while back @kyuremking mentioned how reading my plot bunnies made them want a female Jon Snow/male Hightower fic - and gave us a wonderful look at how they'd go about it. Being who I am, I ended up having to have a go at it myself.

Or: House Hightower was once one of the most powerful houses in Westeros. How might it become so again?

Aka: The Elia the Magnificent Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon - until Lyanna dies giving birth to a daughter who looks as if she might well be her clone. Inexplicably, Lyanna's one act before dying is to name the babe Elia.

As female bastards are inherently less danger to patriarchal systems, Ned decides to pass his niece off as the illegitimate daughter of his brother Brandon and Ashara Dayne. Not only does this allow the girl to keep her name, Ashara being a well-known friend of the late queen, but it should temper his wife's reaction.

It doesn't. Catelyn is nearly as wroth about Ned bringing home her ex-finance's bastard as she was about Jon in canon. The only difference is she feels that she can be open about her dislike of Elia in a way she never could quite manage with Jon. For the sake of peace in his household - and a chance of giving Elia a happy childhood, - Ned sends his niece to foster with the Mormonts at Bear Island shortly before the Ironborn Rebellion.

Elia thrives on Bear Island. Free of anyone's expectations other than her own, she grows into a stubborn, fierce, and proud Northern woman who can wield a sword if necessary and will pick up a needle to tend her own clothes, but has little interest in tourneys or fine needlepoint. Though no one realizes it, she bears a remarkable resemblance in both personality and appearance to the young Queen Who Never Was, Rhaenys Targaryen.

Around the year 290, Jorah brings Lynesse Hightower to Bear Island as his new bride. This goes about as well as canon - with the exception that he doesn't resort to selling men into slavery for coin, not wanting to risk it while Ned Stark's niece fosters on the island. Lynesse eventually packs up and leaves for Oldtown, only for her father to send her back to her husband. This process repeats several times before she manages to smuggle herself to Lys and a position in Tregar Ormollen's harem c. the year 297. But not before Leyton Hightower sends one of his grandsons to keep an eye on Lynesse - Lymond, second son of Baelor Hightower.

Lymond is not quite a southron knight out of Sansa's stories, but is about as close as it is possible for a real human being to be. Five years older than Elia, he's a little too stubborn - reacting fairly negatively to the idea of women bearing arms at first, though he does come around during the first Free Folk raid he's present for - and has far too many freckles for anyone to consider him handsome - though he shares the hair Queen Alicent was famous for. He's also a staunch follower of the Seven, seeing followers of the Old Gods as little more than heathens.

It's this later that puts him in Elia's path. It's not slap-slap-kiss so much as I know you're wrong, so I'm going to drag you around and show you how wrong you are and make disappointed faces at you every time you say something hurtful or just plain wrong. And it works. Lymond comes to understand Northerners and the Old Gods in a way few Southrons bother, and the reverse is true of Elia.

By the time Elia reaches an age where it wouldn't be wrong for a southron knight to fall in love with her, she and Lymond have become close friends.

Shortly before Jon Arryn's death, Lynesse runs away for the last time and Lymond is called home. Jorah goes with him to talk with Leyton and the Faith about having his marriage dissolved - and Elia joins him, wanting to see the Hightower she's heard so much about. Though a series of accidents, misfortunes, side trips, and delays, they're still there when Robert dies and the War of Five Kings begins.

House Hightower, being close kin to the Tyrells, is getting ready to throw their lot in with Renly when one of the septons they'd been meeting with about the dissolution of Jorah and Lynesse's marriage comes forward. Leyton and Lymond are a little leery because they've seen how this particular septon watches Elia - only for the septon to reveal how he was the former High Septon's closest assistant and knew about Rhaegar's second marriage, and how he's fairly certain Elia Snow is Princess Elia Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

It takes some convincing, but eventually House Hightower puts forward Elia's claim - and convinces their Redwyne and Tyrell cousins to join them. Renly's claim falls apart before it can even get started, especially after Robb tosses his lot in with Elia. The combined might of The North, The Riverlands, and The Reach allow King's Landing to be taken fairly easily and the remnants of Stannis' army to be mopped up not long after. Though pockets of rebellion remain, Elia is crowned queen of the Seven Kingdoms within the year.

The rest of the fic should be about putting down rebellions and solidifying Elia's claim to the throne. Lymond should make a bit of a name for himself during these, as should Elia on the few occasions where she's called upon to defend herself from an assassination or is separated from her guards.

It should be at some point during the absences this fighting requires that Elia and Lymond come to realize they care for each other as more than friends. This should move somewhat comically from Mutual Pining to surely the queen will need to marry higher than a second son, no matter how in love they are to our relations have been planning our marriage for years and we were too stupid to realize it.

They marry on Elia's eighteenth birthday, in a ceremony far grander than her wartime coronation two years earlier. They are, perhaps, the happiest royal couple Westeros has ever seen and start a bit of a fad for love matches amongst the nobility - provided everyone is of the appropriate rank. (Think Regency England.) Historians will later say that Elia had the wisdom of Jaehaerys I, the prudence of Aegon I, and the compassion of Alysanne, for which they call her Elia the Magnificent, while her husband had the rare ability to know exactly how best to support his royal wife without undermining her position.

Bonuses include: 1) the implication that Elia Martell was a lesbian, Lyanna Stark a disaster bi, and Prince Rhaegar an asexual who only had the relationships he did in an effort to produce the three-headed dragon. Had things happened differently, they would have scandalized Westeros with their relationship; 2) An in-depth exploration of the Old Gods and the Faith of the Seven, including their belief systems and practices. This should come with the realization that both faiths want essentially the same things from their followers but have been misused by each when it suits, and the the introduction of a reform element into both; and 3) House Hightower regaining the power it's rarely been seen to have since before the Dance. It's not enough to destabilize The Reach, but it is enough for the powers that be of the Citadel and the Faith to be leery of drawing their attention, and so both groups are a little more willing to fall in line than in canon. This leads to reform movements in both, removing corruption and - eventually - the admittance of women to the Citadel and the higher ranks of the Faith.

And that's all I have - though admittedly I petered out a little around the middle, because RL is exhausting. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Rhaegar the Righteous | River Queen | Shiera Snowbird

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[alannybunnue]

How about after one of their nights together, theon wakes up and the reader is gone. He panics thinking she left again and scrambles to find her. He's freaking out. But the reader just left to use the bathroom or something like that. He finds her and mama bear readers like calm down I just had to pee. They go back to bed after she calms him down and he just clings to her like a freaking python.

And then Baby bear joins the pile

Honestly, the fact that we are making Theon into this traumatized clingy sub boy is making me laugh too hard

[random-imagines-blog]

Game of Thrones  / House of the Dragon Masterlist.

In an attempt to organize the blog and keep everything in order, masterlists are being made to join together into a masterlist of masterlists to make it easier for those on mobile. Thanks for being patient! 

Any smut will be tagged with ⭐

Robb Stark

Oneshots

Just Got Home

Drunk on Shadows

Imagines

Imagine scaring Robb Stark with your own White Walker mask.

Imagine modern day Robb Stark taking you to the movies to see a horror film, reluctantly.

Imagine surprising Robb Stark with your strong sense of strategy.

Jon Snow

Oneshots

Holy Rivers ⭐

Bare My Soul

The City is Far From Here

Imagines

Imagine Jon Snow sending Ghost to your farm, just so he can come see you.

Imagine Jon Snow being falsely told that you’re dead.

Imagine Sansa Stark and Jon Snow staying up with you after a nightmare.

Imagine trying to be happy with Jon before the world ends.

Imagine Jon Snow being scared for your safety.

Imagine Jon Snow is trying to set up a camp for the two of you in the cold.

Arya Stark

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being Arya’s twin brother, and losing an eye during the Long Night.

Imagine growing up with Arya always spying on you to make sure you’re alright.

Imagine taking Arya Stark under your wing.

Imagine being one of the sole people that Arya Stark trusts.

Imagine Arya Stark going after someone who had threatened you.

Sansa Stark

Oneshots

Seeing Stars

Imagines

Imagine Sansa Stark and Jon Snow staying up with you after a nightmare. 

Imagine impulsively hugging Sansa despite people watching.

Imagine bringing Sansa Stark on a sea voyage with you.

Imagine having an intimate moment with Sansa Stark and knowing it could never happen again.

Imagine getting drunk with Sansa.

Imaging sewing with Sansa Stark to help keep her busy.

Ned Stark

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being a Lannister and making a game of trying to make Ned Stark blush.

Imagine being a Lannister visiting Winterfell, and immediately setting your eyes on Ned Stark.

Jaime Lannister

Oneshots

The Ask and the Answer ⭐

Castle in the Sky ⭐

Imagines

Imagine having a secret child with Jaime Lannister.

Imagine walking into a pub and seeing a drunk Jaime Lannister.

Imagine Jaime Lannister seeing a portrait of you and thinking you’re the most beautiful woman in the nine realms.

Imagine being imprisoned with Jaime Lannister.

Imagine trying to figure out whether or not to spare Jaime Lannister and him telling you that he is in your debt.

Tyrion Lannister

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Tyrion Lannister coming to realize that your wit may be better than his.

Imagine the first time you tell Tyrion you love him.

Imagine having a drink with Tyrion Lannister.

Imagine going to Tyrion for aid in defeating someone who had hurt you.

Imagine being Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand’s paramour, and flirting with Tyrion Lannister.

Imagine being in an arranged marriage to Tyrion but you convince him that you truly love him & cuddling.

Joffrey Baratheon

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Joffrey having to get used to you having pets, but putting up with it because he loves you.

Imagine being one of the few women who knows how to handle a crossbow, and showing Joffrey how it works.

Daenerys Targaryen

Oneshots

The Face of God

Imagines

Imagine Daenerys coming home to you.

Imagine killing an enemy for Daenerys to try to earn her favor.

Imagine being betrothed to Viserys Targaryen, but you spend more time with Daenerys making fun of him.

Imagine Daenerys Targaryen introducing you to her dragons.

Jorah Mormont

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being Jorah’s first love, and him finding you at Littlefinger’s Brothel.

Imagine Jorah Mormont keeping you warm in Winterfell.

Imagine Jorah seeing the results of teaching you how to fight.

Khal Drogo

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being a merchant’s son who seduces a passing Dothraki, not realising until your father catches you in bed together that it’s Khal Drogo.

Imagine being the wife of a rival Khal, but Drogo claims you as his.

Imagine being a male dancer at a Dothraki Celebration and Khal Drogo seducing you into his bed.

Imagine being worried about Khal Drogo while he’s out on a hunt.

Ramsay Bolton

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being the one to serve Ramsay Bolton his dinner.

Imagine spending a weekend with Ramsay Bolton.

Roose Bolton

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being in a pitch black castle with Roose Bolton.

Imagine Roose Bolton being unable to take his eyes off of you.

Tormund Giantsbane

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being a lone wildling, and Tormund coming across your camp.

Gendry Waters

Oneshots

Imagines

Beric Dondarrion

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Beric knowing that he’s on his last life, and wants to spend it with you.

Imagine being one of the reasons why eternity is worth living through for Beric Dondarrion.

Sandor Clegane

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Sandor bursting into your room while you are undressing.

Ser Davos

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine joining Ser Davos on his small quests to help people.

Imagine finding a rare flower in the wilderness and gifting it to Ser Davos.

Imagine helping to stitch Ser Davos after the war, and him trying to find you to repay you.

Tywin Lannister

Oneshots

Crimson and Gold

Imagines

Imagine Tywin Lannister finding solace in your garden.

Imagine Tywin Lannister being impressed by your fighting gift, and making you his personal bodyguard.

Podrick Payne

Oneshots

Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me

Imagines

Imagine being a Baratheon princess, and falling hard for Podrick.

Imagine being a bit of a rulebreaker, and Podrick finding you fascinating.

Imagine Podrick Payne coming clean about lying to you.

Brienne of Tarth

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Brienne of Tarth seeing your potential and wanting to assist you in achieving it.

Ygritte

Oneshots

This Could Be Anywhere in the World

Flirt

Imagines

Imagine making Ygritte feel things that are alien to her.

Imagine introducing Ygritte to the world of Southern desserts.

Imagine nearly dying and Ygritte getting mad at you.

Imagine Ygritte finding out just how much you notice her.

Sam Tarly

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Samwell Tarly sneaking you into the library to read to your hearts content.

Imagine being a refugee from King’s Landing, and Samwell letting you stay in his home.

Theon Greyjoy

Oneshots

Imagines

Oberyn Martell

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Oberyn being proud of how you follow his every order.

Imagine Oberyn admitting to you that he’s going to fight The Mountain.

Imagine Oberyn loving it when you’re dominant.

Ellaria Sand

Oneshots

The Sky is Falling

Imagines

Imagine finally getting to relax with Ellaria Sands after a long journey.

Imagine Ellaria Sand moving you into Dorne.

Yara Greyjoy

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine Yara Greyjoy breaking you out of the dungeons when she goes to save her brother.

Imagine hating your home so Yara takes you away.

Imagine telling horror tales with Yara Greyjoy.

Bronn

Oneshots

Imagines

Daario Naharis

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine constantly making fun of Daario for his sexual prowess.

Jaqen H’Ghar

Oneshots

Poison Oak

Imagines

Rhaenys Targaryen

Oneshots

Imagines

Imagine being a Hightower, and being romantically involved with both Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen.

Corlys Velaryon

Oneshos

Imagines

Imagine being a Hightower, and being romantically involved with both Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen.