#Game of thrones oneshot

[thebadboyfanclub]

Don’t Say It (Tywin x Reader)

I know I disappeared for a little but I hit a writers block with this one, I think it’s due to exhaustion over me working full time so I hope @thanyatargaryen forgives me if this wasn’t what you intended. Enjoy

Olenna Tyrell was a legend, she had learned the rules by heart and was now on a mission to pass them down to her wonderful granddaughters, the beautiful rose that listened to the name of Margaery and the bewitching siren that could stop a man with a simple song, the young (y/n).

Olenna was no fool, she recognized that the two girls were her strongest soldiers, with these two alone she could rule all of Westeros, well at least all the men which was the same thing.

“Today is an important day, even for you dearest, the wedding of your sister to the king means every eligible lord from all of the seven kingdoms will be attending”

“I am well aware, you do not have to worry about me, grandmother”

(Y/n) reassured olenna whilst her handmaidens assisted her with the finest dress anyone had ever seen, it was her first time at court she needed to look her best, (y/n) squeezed into a dress that was custom made, her hair had taken hours and was brushed to perfection and she smelled of the finest of fragrance oils that were brought from Dorne, it is safe to say that (y/n) couldn’t have looked nor smelled better.

Everyone’s breath hitched at their throats when (y/n) walked with the confidence only a Tyrell could possess, she strutted up to her big sister to wrap her arms around Margaery with clear endearment.

“Congratulations, my queen”

“Oh come on now stop with that”

“I know this is a blessed day for the king but could he be so kind and hear a plea I have for him?”

“Anything for my good sister”

“Look after my dear Marge, as she has done for me”

(Y/n)s voice was as sweet as strawberry cakes and her smile could stop a man dead in his tracks, the young Tyrell leaned on her big sister pressing her chin on Margaerys shoulder whilst the bride leaned her head close to (y/n) as well, the girls shared a strong bond, it was the first time that they would be separated ever since (y/n) was born.

What they did not know was that a certain someone had already his blue set of eyes on the lovely Tyrell who seemed so blatantly unaware of it all, Tywin had sworn to never remarry, no one would ever be as good as his dearest Joanna, she was the one that knew him like the back of her hand, the lady that could wrap her arms around the vicious lion and make him swoon, if she saw him now she would laugh at him, she always told him “never say never my love, you won’t know what the future holds for you”.

“You have your queen and your alliance now, I hope you are happy”

“Naturally, Margaery will serve the realm greatly”

“Soon enough she will start popping out lions, hopefully, my little (y/n) will have better luck”

“What could be better than becoming the queen mother?”

“Becoming the lady wife of a lord that cares for your well-being and happiness”

Tywin grew silent, there was nothing he could say against the allegations of Jeffrey’s cruel nature, he could only hope that Margaery was cunning enough to outsmart him which honestly was not going to be much of a huddle, all the times that Joffrey has been able to be sadistic was owed to other peoples stupidity to either allow him or cover for him.

“Well then let me take a good look at this girl you have such expectations for, lady (y/n)”

Tywin called for the girl whilst he stood a few feet away from the newlyweds, (y/n)s eyes finally found his, and Tywin felt his chest grow tight, the girl was a dream, a dream he often had but could never speak of due to him always believing it will be just that… a silly dream of a widower.

“Lord Tywin, I can imagine this day is probably one of the happiest for your house, correct me if I am wrong but house Tyrell has never wed a Lannister prior to this moment”

“Indeed, let this be a fruitful union for both of our houses, your grandmother has spoken quite highly of you”

“Oh do not listen to her, it is a grandmother's nature to always speak for her grandchildren in the best light”

“Nonsense, Garlan is utterly nice which makes him boring and Loras likes to imagine being a young day twirling in a dress on the garden field, I had lost all hope up until you and your sister were born, the true soldiers of the Tyrell’s”

(Y/n) smiled sweetly before she leaned to place a kiss on her grandmother's cheek, (y/n) and Margaery was well trained, they had sat on the table and played against the best of players only to come out victorious, now Margaery was queen and (y/n) was ready to score her alliance that would bring nothing but glory to her and her family.

“Lady olenna is a lot of things but she is not soft nor does she hide behind her finger, if she says you are her best card then I truly believe it”

Olenna noticed the graciousness in the old lions' words, she picked up on the scanning look that started from her toes and ended on the top of her head, (y/n) did not even have a hair out of place, she placed her hand over her heart as a sign of vulnerability and her smile became brighter in gratitude.

“You are utmost kind, my lord, it is not every day a lady gets to be complimented by the warden of Casterly Rock and the hand of the king, I consider myself lucky for that”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, above it all I am a man that favors honesty and that is what you are receiving”

“I shall go before your words get all in my head, it was an honor to meet you, my lord”

(Y/n) went to curtsy before she was interrupted by Tywin that instead of letting her, reached for her hand and then placed his other one on top of hers, a smirk still evident on his lips as his eyes pierced through her, yet he was left with nothing, (y/n) had always prevailed under the hawking looks of men, she was well aware that she could not budge whatsoever.

“I will see you later Grandmother”

“Of course little flower, go on now, have some fun for me”

Olenna kissed the top of the lady’s head lovingly, it was not a secret that olenna doted on her especially now that it was her turn to marry, she had to bite her lip when it came to Margaery since her son had already bargained her for a sweet deal of a crown, she must do right by (y/n).

Once the lady was far away enough Olenna turned her head towards Tywin who was still following the enchanting Tyrell with his gaze, the way she walked, talked, even her breathing was perfect, his thumb traced over his fingertips, recalling how soft and warm he skin felt against his touch.

“I know that look”

“Pardon?”

“You are planning something”

“I always am”

“If you are scheming to betroth my precious flower to another lion, I must admit I would rather it be you than that little son of yours, in truth I would rather for her to stay away from lions but an old lion is better than Tyrion”

-

The news of Tywins betrothal hit everyone in kings landing like a ton of bricks. Joffrey was dead, Margaery was technically the dowager queen, and the crown was getting weak by the moment.

(Y/n) had become her sister's shadow, some applauded her compassion and how she was present at all hours to console her sister, what they did not know was that Olenna was already moving the strings for Margaery to marry Tommen, the young, kind boy who could never hurt a fly, however, Olenna had ensured both of the girls now once and for all, what better way to do that than to mess with Tywins head?

“Lady olenna, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am here to propose another marriage between my house and yours”

“That is no surprise, I am to expect you wish to betroth Margaery to Tommen?”

“No, no my dear Margaery has been through way too much”

“Loras is still to marry Cersei, is there a change in that betrothal?”

“Unfortunately that mess of a wedlock is still going steady, I am concerned over my (y/n)”

Tywin had been too occupied with writing to look up at olenna up until now, his ears perked up at the sound of her name, the girl with the bright smile and the scary resemblance to a shadow of the past.

“What do you wish to suggest?”

“My (y/n) is sweet, kind, and full of life, I believe Tommen would treat her as delicate as she deserves to be treated”

“Tommen? You want to put (y/n) by the new king's side?”

“Tommen is a good boy, nothing like Joffrey, I have taken notice of how Tommen smiles at her, no man could ever deny my beloved granddaughter, I am convinced their reign will be prosperous”

“Mayhaps, although I do not believe Tommen should be the one to marry (y/n)”

“Who else could stand the weight of the crown? Tommen is in much need of someone like (y/n), to keep him humble and gentle, show him what it is like to be loved”

That was what made tywins blood boil the most, the concept of (y/n) hugging Tommen, his grandson brushing (y/n)s hair, the lady creating a child out of Tommens semen, the image of her with a swollen belly whilst Tommen rubbed his hand over it made his skin crawl.

No, no he would never allow another man to be by her side on those milestones, he was graced by the gods with a second chance at love, how could he be a bystander to a marriage that would probably be terrific, although Tywin could never survive with the “what if” lingering on his mind.

“Because she is to marry me”

“Pardon?”

“I am to be betrothed to the lady (y/n), our marriage will take place the same day as Margaerys and Tommens, your Margaery will be queen, and lady (y/n) will become the lady of the rock”

“I would rather die than let my dearest become a second wife, your daughter will eat her alive once the news hit her ears”

“Are you afraid of Cersei?”

“I am petrified of the brass neck your daughter possesses, that woman thinks she can do whatever she pleases with no consequence”

“Cersei is my daughter, you have nothing to worry about she will not be allowed to harm your little girl, once (y/n) falls pregnant that child will become heir of Casterly Rock”

“What if she births a girl?”

“You and (y/n) along with Margaery will decide on her future, I will not partake or force my daughter to do anything”

“Your offer is dripping with syrup, but I will not accept, I gave you Loras and Margaery and now you dare to ask for more”

“If you do not consent to this then I shall announce a match of (y/n) and Ser Sandor Clegane, how does that sound?”

“Careful now, what you are suggesting is… grasping”

“Indeed, but I am feeling rather charitable so I grant you the day to decide, if I do not have an answer by the morrow then the sweet girl will be cloaked with a wonderful yellow flag”

Tywin was a man that proudly stood behind his every word, so as he walked out with a triumphed smirk on his lips he was too occupied with feeling his triumph to notice that olenna was also doing the same (y/n) was now the future lady of the rock and Margaery was to have a second chance to wear the crown.

“My lord”

(Y/n) interrupted his thoughts once she saw him, Tywin stopped swiftly before he could fall right onto her, she was waiting behind the door anxiously, her eyes gawked at the man as her cheeks grew rosy from the embarrassment of her clumsy nature.

“Lady (y/n), what seems to be so important that you could not wait in your chamber for your grandmother”

“She informed me about my betrothal, I apologize I was just so fidgety I wanted to know the second that it was settled”

“Are you in such a rush to marry that boy? I am concerned over your taste”

“Tommen is a wonderful person and the future king, any lady would be lucky to be his lady wife”

“So is it the promise of a crown that excites you? I can tell you wearing a piece of metal decorated with gems will not bring you any happiness”

“Pardon my intrusion but why are you so opposed to the fact of me marrying your grandson? I am highborn and have received the proper education, your house along with the Baratheon owe my family everything”

“It is not you that is not enough young lady”

Silence fell over them, Tywin had stumbled right on her trap and now he was as still as a grain of salt, only blinking at the girl that acted surprised over his suggestion that Tommen was the one that was short when he stood next to her, (y/n) bit her lip before she gazed down for a split second and then back up, she wanted to appear at a loss of words.

“I do not want to believe what my thoughts are suggesting”

“You are a fool if you don’t”

“Lord Tywin, you and I it- how could”

“I am too old for this game my dear, I have given your grandmother the rest of the day to decide and if I’m being frank I believe that luck is on my side, so I suggest you ran along and instruct the finest tailor to start on your gown, you must look as stunning as ever”

“I am fluttered, but I do not understand-“

“Listen to me dear, from that moment you smiled at me you have haunted every waking moment and I cannot seem to escape you even in the shackles of deep slumber, I am aware that I do not look like the young and beautiful knight in shining armor a maiden might expect to marry but I can you this promise right now, every other lady from east to west will be jealous of the luck you held when you marry me”

Lord Tywin once again made his exit thinking that he had the upper hand, if someone were to consider everything that has been done in this world wasn’t it always like this?

A man trotted away victorious while the woman stood and smiled proudly at herself, moving the strings without even the man realizing that she had very carefully placed the strings around his arms like a little puppet.

“My dearest girl, I was there at your birth and I took one good look at you and saw the moon and the stars in those eyes, I always knew you would be the brightest of them all”

Olenna informed (y/n) once she had walked into the office Tywin was in moments ago, Olenna wrapped her arms around her in the most loving manner and (y/n) responded with the same warmth.

“We have so much to plan, the future doesn’t wait for anyone”

-

“How could he ever do this to our family?”

“Who did what?”

“Do not play the fool with me Jaime I am sure you have heard of the vilest news, our father is to marry that little rat from Highgarden”

“One of them is a smirking whore and the other one is a rat? Well you certainly won’t have a good time in the palace once all of them marry into our family”

“How could be so calm at this time? Our son is dead, the other one is to marry Margaery and now our father betrayed us”

“Our father has been without a wife for over a decade Cersei, he is a highborn lord, anyone would have a good chunk of heirs from another wife by now”

In jaimes defense he has always attempted to take the logical side when Cersei went on her little paranoid rants over loyalty or whatever the case was at that time, however, this time he could not sit for hours and let her blabber.

Jaime did not even blink when his father told him about his betrothal, he is a kingsguard, and Tyrion is… well, Tyrion and Cersei have played her part in becoming queen though she could not inherit lannisport, every year he waited for his father to announce a marriage of alliance for himself and now it was finally time.

“This is despicable, they will tarnish our name”

“How will they do that exactly? (Y/n) will probably do her best at becoming pregnant which will install our name to live on which as you know is truly what our father cares about”

“Margaery is a manipulative little scum she will shred our Tommen to pieces”

“Tommen was tormented by Joffrey for years and you know it, if anything having some female tending to him will probably do wonders for his confidence”

“Of course as a man that is all you think about, I do not even know why I came to you over this matter, once again I am called to act by myself”

That is when Jaime had heard enough, very softly he rose from his seat and went over to his clearly disheveled sister, a kiss was laid on the center of her forehead all while his hands rubbed up and down to her forearms making her puff out a breath of relief from the comfort his touch brought to her.

“You will do nothing, Father has already announced his betrothal, if anyone even touched a hair from (y/n)s head he will not hesitate to demand its head to be served on a silver platter”

“Father is just being short sighed it is us that must act to save him”

“From what? Having his bed warm by a woman? Especially her, surely you are not that blind that you haven’t understood what he saw in her”

“Don’t say it”

“I know it feels like salt over the wound-“

“No, no”

“You must admit the resemblance is uncanny”

“Never!”

Cersei pushed him away harshly, tears welled up in her eyes and all of a sudden she was rudely pulled back to that day, the gods forsaken day that Cersei had to witness her mother laying in bed with blood staining her nightgown.

“That bitch is not our mother”

“She is not, though she looks like her”

Requests are open!

[justanoasisimagines]

Being Married to (Headcanon)

Requests are open! Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider and banner!

❀Tormund is such an attentive husband. The moment you two say your vows, Tormund sees you as someone he's going to love and protect until his final breath.

❀Tormund would kill for you. If someone glances at you the wrong way he'll kill them. I someone threatens you, he'll murder them slowly. Tormund is not afraid to fight everyone. He's more ruthless when it's related to you. No one would be able to defeat him.

❀Tormund is a proud husband. He's always telling stories about something you've done. It doesn't have to be a massive victory. You could help sow his trousers together and he could make it sound like you defeated a bear.

❀This also goes with everything you make him. Craft him a new weapon, he shows it off to everyone. Stitch him some new furs, and Tormund will brag. He loves showing off the things you do for him.

❀When you are in battle together Tormund keeps an eye on you as much as he can. He knows you can be ruthless with any weapon, but he still worries. The tension in his shoulders does not lessen until he's caught a glimpse of you again.

❀When the battle is finally over, Tormund is quick to locate you. He hoists you into his arms and takes you away from the scene. He needs to spend some time alone with you. To celebrate and reassure you are both still alive and together.

❀If Tormund sees something he thinks you'll like, he'll take it. He doesn't care who it belongs to, he'll find a way to obtain it. He enjoys the way your face lights up whenever he presents you with something.

❀Tormund puts your needs before his own. He must protect you, to look after you, to make sure you are taken care of and provided for. He needs to make sure you're happy and safe.

❀With this being said, you make then make sure Tormund is looked after. Tormund will protest, but you remind him you made vows to protect and look after each other. He reluctantly allows it.

❀Tormund is easily a jealous person. He knows what other men think. He's always skeptical about their movements and their motivations. He's quick to remind the two of you one married and unless they want him to rip their head off they need to leave you alone.

❀Tormund takes you everywhere. He even takes you to the wall. If he's going somewhere he doesn't see why you can't come with him.

❀Tormund's not great when he's poorly. He's used to being able to go at one hundred percent. Yet when he's sick he becomes solely dependent on you. Suddenly, he's a child again. Tormund hates it. Although the extra attention from you isn't too bad.

❀Tormund also gifts you weapons. He likes to know he's gifted you the weaponry to protect yourself with.

❀Tormund likes you to sit in his lap. Why would you need a chair when he has a perfectly good lap? Even if you go to sit in a chair. Tormund will pull you into his lap.

❀Tormund is an openly affectionate person. He holds very little boundaries. He doesn't care who sees. If he wants to show you affection. If they want to stare, let them. If they want to look away then do it. ❀Tormund is going to be blunt in your relationship. He's never going to beat around the bush. He wants you to be completely honest. When you and Tormund get married, Tormund refuses to be with anyone else. Nothing or no one can tempt him. ❀Tormund likes to call you terms of endearment like "my love", "my fire", "my wild heart" ❀Tormund is a gentle giant. He loves you with all his heart. Wholy and without any conditions. He's willing to tear him apart and build you a safe place. Marriage is serious to Tormund as are you.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

To Dream of Home | D. Targaryen

▹ Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Stark!Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff with mentioned Angst

▹ Words: ~2.5k

▹ Summary: A storm at Dragonstone brings you and Daenerys together and allows for confessions of love to slip.

▹ Note: I am very gay, that is all. My love for the Targaryen's has returned and y'all are gonna be sick of me.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A storm raged on the island of Dragonstone. 

Charcoal skies were dappled with thick silver-black clouds that brought the heavy rains that shook the keep. Roaring thunder and electric blue lightning. Treacherous seas and a storm that could rival the vengeance of a god. The inhabitants of Dragonstone seemed acclimated to the severe weather.

You, however, were used to winter winds and thick snowfall. Not devastating rain and earth rattling thunder. Sleep eluded you which led you to where you were now. Locked away in a small room near your chambers, you made a makeshift altar upon your arrival to Dragonstone with your half-brother Jon.

“You spend an awful amount of time here.” 

The voice cut through the silence, an intrusion of your time of peace. Kneeled before the makeshift altar you’d created, a half dozen flickering candles illuminated the center of your face and carved shadows on the contours of it. Wordlessly, you finished the final verses of your prayer before lifting your lowered head and turning to face the intruder. 

At the doorway, not daring to cross into the room without permission, was Daenerys. Her hesitance to intrude was strange, seeing as Dragonstone was her keep you were a guest in.

Her hair was loose, waves cascading over her shoulder and down her back. The curls and creases left by her braids were the only reminders they’d been there. She wore dressing robes in hues of blue, embroidered flowers and designs following the curve of her body. She was beautiful in an ethereal kind of way. It was the type of beauty you half expected to be a facade, that one day you would wake to find Daenerys had only ever existed in your mind. 

“I find the prayer soothing,” you responded, slowly standing. Your legs were sore from kneeling on the hard stone too long. There was a crick in your neck that tinged painfully if you turned your head too far left or too far right. Yet you did your best to keep a grimace from your expression. The last thing you needed was Daenerys thinking it was her presence you found unpleasant and not the needling pain in your body. 

“Do you pray often?” She shifted her head, causing tendrils of silvery hair to move from over her shoulder to rest along her back. Violet eyes stared at you curiously, lips pursed in an almost grin. She hardly seemed to smile, the oppressive halls of Dragonstone mimicking the impending war for the Iron Throne. 

“I do, yet I do not believe the gods are listening,” you muttered the last part quietly, followed by a deep breath. 

You glanced towards the candles and the altar, recounting every moment you’d spent kneeling before ones just like it. The years had been unkind, the horrors only growing worse as the years passed. It had shaped you into the woman you were today, hardened by deaths you never should’ve witnessed. Yet there was a part of the ten-year-old girl that still lived within you, that believed the gods were listening and that if you prayed hard enough, they would grant your wishes. 

“I never did much praying as a child, my brother didn’t see the point.” Her eyes moved past you, staring at the makeshift altar. Lit by the dim light of the room, you could see a hint of melancholy that tinged her violet eyes blue. Your gaze lowered to the ground at the mention of her brother, her upbringing so different than yours had been.

Northerners were as harsh and cold as the winter winds they grew up in, but beneath all the cold, austere facades your family was as warm as the hearth in the great hall. You’d grown up with a family who loved and cared for you. Whispers of Viserys’ anger reached even the North, his grief twisted into madness. 

Both parties may have passed, but at least you had your family's love to hold onto during the darkest nights. Daenerys had no such thing. Nothing but the hope of reclaiming her family’s stolen valor as a light in the night. 

“If you want, we could pray together.” Her attention returned to you. “It may help you sleep through the storm.”

Daenerys pondered your offer for a moment before accepting with a single nod. She crossed the threshold into the room, her gown following her like a cloak. You returned to the kneeling position you were in before, Daenerys taking her place beside you. 

“Some people believe there are specific words you have to use, that then have to be said in a specific order or the gods won’t care. But I don’t believe that, I allow my feelings to guide my prayers. Perhaps that’s why the gods aren’t answering me, but I feel better that way.” 

Daenerys nodded, watching you with such attentive eyes you had to look away in fear of the flush that would appear on your face. “Do you say them out loud?”

“Sometimes, but mostly I just mentally recite them. It feels like it's my own secret that way.” There was a hint of coyness in your voice that made a smile appear on the corners of Daenerys’ lips. 

Silence fell over the room, only the roar of thunder and the patter of rain to be heard. The candles continued to burn, the wax melting and staining the stone flooring. There was a single window in the room, a flash of lightning filling it with pale blue light. Subconsciously, your eyes moved to Daenerys’ side profile. 

Her eyes were shut and her lips slightly parted. She looked so soft and innocent, and you wondered if this was who she could’ve stayed if not for the rebellion that harshened her worldview. What would she have become if she didn’t have to fight tooth and nail every moment of her life just to survive? The quiet of the room and the soft curves of her face allowed you to imagine just how different she may be in a different lifetime. 

Your eyes had lingered on her too long, you knew, but you couldn’t look away. Your heartbeat had sped up, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. She’d always made you feel giddy like a child, but now that there was no chaos to distract you. It was easier to hone in on the feelings she elicited from you. And perhaps you shouldn’t entertain them, but a small sliver of hope kept you holding on. 

The weight of your gaze must’ve been heavy because Daenerys lifted her closed eyes from the floor and met your gaze. Her expression was unreadable, but you could’ve sworn her eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your eyes. 

“What did you pray for?” The words fell from your tongue before you could consider how invasive they could be. But she didn’t seem offended, a small blossoming on her face as another streak of lightning filled the room. It made her skin glow, making her look even more otherworldly. 

“I prayed for home.”

Her answer sent a pang of sadness that was surely reflected in your eyes. She brought dragons back to the world and freed the slaves of Slaver’s Bay while uniting the Dothraki under one banner and making them cross the sea for the first time ever. So many fantastical acts were done because of her, it was easy to forget behind it all was just a scared girl. She could make herself of steel and ice, but underneath it all would always be flesh. 

“I pray for home as well,” you uttered. 

She raised a brow, non-verbally asking you to elaborate. Her expression was so attentive, like a sponge ready to soak up whatever information you may present to her.

How could you possibly ever deny her?

“I very much wish to return to the North. The short days and long nights, the air that was sharp with a bitter chill. Grey skies and white grounds. Snowflakes that fell into my mouth as Theon and Robb chased me to the edge of the woods. The sky was bleak and void of color, but the hearths in the Great Hall made light dance in the keep, mead keeping everyone warm and merry.”

The smile on your face was tinged with melancholia, the grief making your body lock up and freeze. Those days were long gone, and you could never return to them. That didn’t stop you from wishing for it, however.

To hope that one day you might wake up and find this had all been a terrible dream. Your mother and father were still alive, Robb was preparing to become Lord of Winterfell; Arya and Sansa would continue to bicker and Jon would join the Night’s Watch to make something of himself. Everything would be right and war wouldn’t cast a shadow far darker than that of the worst winter storms. 

But those were the wishes of a naive child, the life you were in is the life you’re stuck with. But perhaps in another lifetime, you got to live out every fantasy and forgotten dream.

“That sounds beautiful.”

Daenerys’ voice pulled you from your reminiscing, your eyes wandering back to hers.

“It was.” 

“And yet you left Winterfell to come here with your brother?” 

You swallowed thickly. Winterfell had become a bittersweet place. Walking the Great Hall felt as if you were in a haunted house. The ghosts of past memories lingered in every corner, the echoes of laughter you’d never hear again filling your head. The relief being home had brought you had been short-lived, the weight of the betrayal of Theon and the Bolton’s tainting it. 

Winterfell wasn’t home anymore. 

“I--” you stuttered, unsure of just how to put your feelings into words. How do you tell someone that your home doesn’t feel like home anymore? How do you explain everything you had fought for felt empty in the end? It didn’t lift your pain or mend the scars of the past years. Instead, it ripped over the scabs and left you bleeding in the snow. 

“I don’t know if Winterfell is my home anymore.”

Daenerys hummed, nodding her head. Her expression was solemn and in her eyes, you saw understanding. She knew all too well the conflicting sentiment of fighting for something you may not want in the end. 

“When I was a girl, Viserys and I lived in a house in Braavos with a red door and lemon tree outside my window. It was the closest thing to home I’d had.” 

Subtly, you scooted closer to Daenerys, eager to unravel more of her elusive past. She hardly spoke of her life with Viserys, most of the memories too painful to reminisce on. And maybe, just maybe, her vulnerability was a sign that your feelings weren’t so unrequited. 

“What was it like?” You prod for her to speak more on her time in Braavos, enraptured by the glimmer in her eyes. 

“It was a beautiful house and so large, at least it seemed large at the time. There was even a room with a wooden beam with animal faces carved in it. I had my own room and a window to peer outside. I’d sit there for hours, watching the sunrise and the sunset.”

Her hand rested on the floor, and tentatively, you reached over and placed your hand over hers. You half expected her to brush you off, but instead, she leaned closer to you. Shoulder to shoulder, you could smell the floral oils her hair had been washed with. 

“What happened to it?” 

She sighed, eyes wandering back to the altar. “Our patron passed and the servants sent us away. But even after all these years, I still long to return. To escape to the innocence of my youth.”

A beat of silence passed, Daenerys longing words hanging in the air. 

“We could always return.”

Daenerys turned, meeting your gaze. Inches separated your face from hers, and this close up, you could see the faint freckles that created constellations on her skin. 

“And if it’s no longer standing?” 

Your heart stuttered as you hesitated on your next words. It was now or never, the time to lay your cards on the table and learn if your hope was delusional. 

“We could build a new one with a lemon tree just outside the bedroom. I’m not much of a widdler, but I could try to carve new animal faces in the wooden beams in all the rooms.”

For a moment Daenerys doesn’t speak, doesn’t even seem to breathe. Her eyes are locked with yours, wide and unblinking. Nerves begin to create a thousand cuts in your mind, perhaps you’d been too forward in your confession. 

“And you would stay with me?”

She wanted to hear you say it, to verbalize you’d never leave her side, not willingly. 

“I’m not much for the heat, but I could learn to love it to never leave your side.”

She exhaled a small puff of air, a smile lighting up her face. The apples of her cheeks were rounded and rosy, violet eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky. The sudden impulse to run your fingers through her hair came over you. And you acted on it, gently carding your fingers through the silver-gold strands of hair. 

“Then perhaps we meet in the middle and build our house with the red door in a more temperate climate.” 

She leaned closer, the tips of your noses brushing. 

“We could make our home on the mountainside? It would leave plenty of room for the dragons,” you suggested. Daenerys smiled, the whisper of a laugh leaving her mouth. The sound was the sweetest melody you’d ever heard. You’d never wanted to stop hearing it. 

“And direwolves?” 

“Maybe one or two.” 

You cut off whatever Daenerys may have replied with, placing your lips against hers. The kiss was gentle as if to seal the promise you’d made. She smiled into it, her hands weaving themselves around your neck. You pulled her closer, practically pulling her into your lap; you’d wanted her as close as possible. To bask in the warmth radiating from her body and the softness of her skin under your fingertips. 

Perhaps things would’ve been different in another lifetime, where Daenerys got to be the princess she should’ve been and you the daughter of a very much alive Ned Stark. But perhaps in those lifetimes you and Daenerys would never be more than passing acquaintances. She'd be the princess of the kingdom and you the lady-daughter of the Warden of the North. 

This lifetime felt like trying to sail through a storm and Daenerys was the lighthouse guiding you to the shore. The death and loss had been painful, but it all led you to this moment with Daenerys. It nearly made the events of the past years worth it.

"Let's win this war so we can build our silly little house," you muttered against her lips, eliciting another laugh from Daenerys before she placed her lips on yours again.

You would give Daenerys her house with the red door and the lemon tree outside, no matter the cost.   

[fandom-puff]

It's absolutely fine if you are not comfortable with it, but could I please request happy, tipsy sex with Tyrion Lannister? Preferably with an established relationship? Again no pressure if that doesn't work, thank you! xx

Thank you for your request- hope you enjoy!!

Tipsy

Pairing: Tyrion Lannister x reader

Warning: drunk sex (both Tyrion and reader are at the same level of tipsiness; neither is blackout drunk), alcohol consumption

Gif creds to owner

“More wine, my lady?”

You nodded and with a grin held out your goblet for Tyrion to fill, not moving until he had filled it to the brim, making Bronn laugh.

It had been a pleasant evening; a new shipment from Dorne had come into King’s Landing, and Tyrion had a few bottles of the finest Dornish red brought up to his chamber. Between you, him, Bronn and Podrick, you had cleared off nearly all of the bottles and the effects were beginning to show. Podrick was slumped in his chair, dozing with a small smile on his face, the occasional snore sounding from him. Bronn had started to slur and put a ‘fuck’ or a ‘cunt’ in every other sentence.

And you and Tyrion had been eye-fucking each other for the best part of an hour.

Tyrion drained his cup before setting it down. “Bronn, Podrick, leave us,” he said suddenly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Bronn kicked Pod’s leg. “Come on, lad. Else you’ll end up watching your Lord fuck his lady,”

Any other time you would’ve shot the sellsword an indignant look… but right now you had eyes only for your Lion of Lannister, but when the door slammed shut, it was you who pounced, your lips pressing to his in a feverish kiss.

“My, my, sweet YN,” Tyrion groaned between kisses. “It seems the Dornish gets you hot,”

You tugged on his lower lip, your fingers knotting in his hair, one hand trailing down to the straining bulge at the front of his breeches. “Should say the same for you, Husband,” you murmured, voice low and sultry, your hand closing around his cock. Tyrion watched with amusement and longing as you fumbled with the strings of his breeches, releasing his pulsing cock and taking it (albeit clumsily) into your mouth.

“YN,” he rasped, tugging at your hair until you released him with a lewd, wet noise. “I won’t last long in your pretty mouth,” you pouted up at him, your lips slightly swollen. “I’d much rather spill my seed in your tight little cunt,”

He laughed at how quickly your face brightened, and he pulled you up from the floor. You grinned, pushing him back on the plush couch, squealing as he reached up and tore the bodice of your dress, admiring the swell of your breasts as he tugged at the strings of your corset. Soon you were stripped bare, straddling him on the couch. He grasped at your thighs as you lowered yourself to his cock, his fingers fluttering through your wetness briefly. He grunted as his tip slid between your folds, before your plunged him deep inside you with a throaty moan.

“Gods,” he groaned as you rode his cock. “Oh, Gods,”

“Now’s not the time for prayer, my Lord,” you reminded him. “Unless, of course, you want to fuck me in the Great Sept of Baelor,”

Your words spurred Tyrion on, and he met your movements with thrusts of his own, and he relished in the way your eyelids fluttered. “Such-ah- blasphemy, my sweet wife,” Tyrion groaned, “wine turns you into quite the little harlot it seems,”

“Tyrion,” you moaned out, gripping onto his shoulders for leverage, and he smiled as he felt your movements stutter. “Tyrion, please,”

“Too focused on my cock to listen to me, Hmm?” Tyrion teased, pinching your nipple. “Come for me then, YN, let me feel you,”

You would’ve came with or without his bidding, your cunt fluttering around his thick cock as you cried his name, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his orgasm quickly following yours as he filled your clenching pussy with his seed. “Fuck, YN, good girl,” he praised, and as you fell forward onto his chest, he smiled, kissing the top of your head.

Clumsily, you managed to make it to bed (tripping over an empty bottle along the way) and into your Lion’s arms. Your head would ache on the morrow, but the ache in your thighs would be worth it.

[luvinescent]

Entangled Fates

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Targaryen name has brought nothing but misery to Y/N— her half-blood placing a curse upon her. She's observed the toll her presence takes on the people she loves; no longer wanting to form a close tie with anyone. Nevertheless, her heart steered its own course. And it steered towards a certain man.

Warnings: angst. allusion to r*pe and death, nothing descriptive. a steamy make-out scene but nothing crazy. not really book or show accurate but f it we ball. also fluff. also reader has dark hair so just pretend u do if u don't xoxo.

Word count: 10.1K (beginning just has lots of background lore pls bear w/ me)

In life, there are those destined for lavish living and those made to struggle to see their next day. From a young age, Dorea knew she fell into the second category. She grew up orphaned; never knowing the love of a mother or a father. Despite the fact, Dorea was strong willed; she found her own kind of love. Love for herself, love for her friends, and love for her life. She knows that she did not have the best life; her dresses had holes in them, she had to work from dawn to dusk, and she often would need to go days without eating. That ultimately changed the day a close friend of hers had come to her with a new line of work.

“One of the castles maids was executed, so her position is open to take”.

Looking back, she should’ve said no from the way a chill went up her spine. She had heard the rumors of the king having gone mad; but at the time, that was not her problem. Being a castle maid sounded a lot better than being a candle maker. All she had to do was clean the chambers and mind her business and pay would be given to her. The task sounded easy— it should’ve been easy. Dorea had ways of not drawing attention to herself. That is how she has made it this far in her life; from hiding. The peace of obscurity brought her comfort; being anonymous was a safe refuge that protected her from prying eyes and the entanglements of wicked connections. The girl was pure and innocent.

Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans.

She truly had done all she could to stay out of the eyes of the royal family. She should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more aware of the eyes that followed her unknowingly when she walked the halls. Her foolishness had caught up to her one day when a guard had dragged her to the throne room; thrown to the ground to kneel in front of the king, Aerys II Targaryen. Dorea was ready to open her mouth and beg for forgiveness on whatever crimes she had committed but was silenced in fear. “You will meet me in my chambers tonight”, he said. Dorea could do nothing but nod as she could not go against the kings’ words. The only thing she could do was look to the Hand of the King for some form of help, but they stood muted. Moments later, she was whisked away by some female servants— some of them her own friends— and was prepared for the event. She was washed and dressed properly; never have been so physically clean yet so dirty internally.

Later that night, her virtue and gaiety of life was destroyed when the king came and took her. She had prayed to the Gods that it was only a one-time thing. But the Gods seemed to find her plea a joke. The king would request her presence many more times and many more nights afterwards. Her position as a maid in the castle vanished overnight. Now, she stood as something different; still, she did not know exactly what. All Dorea knew was she felt shame as those working in the castle started to treat her different, with more respect and caution. She dreamt every night for this nightmare to end, but it only continued.

“The girl is pregnant, your grace”. The maestar told the king. Both fear and relief spread through her body. Fear in the sense that the king would have her eliminated to hide such sin, and relief that he might just send her away forever. It had to be one or the other; from what she has seen, the queen is currently pregnant as well and due in a few moons. Furthermore, he already had two children born, why would he need her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the third alternative she had feared the most, “You will continue to stay here. You will have the child”. Later that night, Dorea prayed once more for all this suffering to end. Finally, her prayer had been answered in the worst way possible.

She had heard the talks of the rebellion, but she never thought it would come to where she resigned. The king’s heir was now dead, along with his wife and children. The queen was now dead; dying from childbirth. The middle child and newest member of the royal family had been sent to exile. And the Mad King was now dead as well; stabbed by a member of his own Kingsguard.

Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.

For her own safety, and her chance once again at freedom, she did what she knew she had to do. She ran away.

Dorea took refuge in a small village that resided in the Reach. Selling all the gifts and jewelry the king had bestowed upon her; she and her unborn child were set for life. A few moons later, Dorea gave birth during a warm summer night. As she held the newborn in her arms, she thought the Gods had finally decided to take pity on her and grant her some kindness. For starters, she had given birth to a girl. Dorea was thankful in the sense that the child would not be seen as a threat to the line of succession of the Iron throne. Additionally, the babe had no features of a Targaryen. Caressing the small amount of hair on her daughter’s hair, she was given hair as dark as night instead of the silvery-gold feature of her biological father. Dorea let out a sigh of relief once the girl opened her eyes— no violet eyes either. Pulling the babe closer to her chest, she gave a quick prayer and smiled down at the sleeping babe.

Dorea named her Y/N.

As time passed, Y/N quickly grew before her mothers’ eyes. Both her and her mother were beloved by the village folks— Dorea giving money to those who were in need, and her daughter who was tenderhearted and befriended all. No one in the village had known about Doreas’ past or Y/N true linage. And Dorea wanted to keep it that way. She, however, knew that one day it would all come back to bite her. Despite having run away, she knew that there were some people who knew of their existence. It did not help her case more when Y/N had begun to show a great fascination with fire; something the mothers of the village made jokes about, but Dorea knew the truth.

“You have dragon blood within you”, Dorea had whispered to her daughter one quiet night. “You are part Targaryen, but you must keep this a secret. I am only telling you this for your own safety. There are people in this world who will want to hurt you, to take you away from me. Do you understand darling?”. At just the age of eight, Y/N was smarter and brighter than her peers. Hearing such solemness in her mothers’ voice, she nodded, “Yes mother”.

Such a topic was dropped and never brought up again— that was until Y/N turned ten. Since Dorea had the funds, she had hired a tutor for the young girl. Y/N’s instructor was a retired tutor who had taught many kids from noble homes before moving to their village. The old man was just supposed to teach her simple things like language, arts, music, and maths.  Without her mothers’ knowledge, Y/N brought up the topic of history to her teacher, particularly the history of the Targaryen household. And that’s where everything started.

It was one calm afternoon in their shared bedroom when Y/N had asked the question. “Mother, am I cursed?”. Dorea, puzzled, stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and turned towards her, “What kind of question is that?”. Y/N looked sheepishly to the side and confessed everything, “I have been learning history with my tutor. Targaryen history”. Before Dorea could respond, the young girl continued, “You say I am half Targaryen, and based upon their history, I must be cursed”. Dorea questioned what she meant and then let out a loud laugh at her daughters’ answer: “I have black hair mother”.

Dorea caressed her daughters face, smiling and shaking her head, “Darling, your hair color does not mean anyth- “.

“But its true mother!” Y/N exclaimed, “It is shown all over their history. Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest sons were born with dark hair, and they all died before they could reach adulthood. Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the “Queen Who Never Was” and saw the death of her two children in her lifetime. Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter was killed in the sack of Kings Landing. Valarr Targaryen was- “.

“What does any of that have to do with you?!”, Dorea shouted out, startling Y/N. The young girl felt tears come to her eyes as she hid herself in her mothers’ embrace, muffling her words, “They were not pure Targaryen. I am not a pure Targaryen, mother. I do not wish to fall to such misfortunes”. Dorea felt her heart break at the sound and thoughts of her daughters’ troubles. Shaking her head, Dorea raised Y/Ns’ head and looked straight into her eyes, “You are not cursed. Their misfortunes are not yours. Do you hear me girl? This is your life, and you control it”. Y/N could do nothing but continue to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother whispered, her voice a tender melody that carried reassurance. Dorea cradled the young girl, whose sobs softened but still lingered, the remnants of a storm that had raged within her fragile heart. “I will protect you no matter what”, she declared.

Y/N would forever remember that loving moment, amongst the many others she shared with her mother. While Dorea had said she would do anything to protect her, Y/N should’ve said the same thing back. Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans for the daughter. Not even a month later, Y/Ns’ mother died, succumbing to a mysterious illness that took her in a matter of days. It felt as though the moment she acknowledged the said “curse”, her world only came to be filled with hurt.

Being only ten years old and now orphaned, the people in the village were kind enough to take the girl in. Specifically, it was a family of three that consisted of a father and mother and a son her age who took her into their home. The boy, named Tomas, had always been a close friend of Y/N. The two would spend many days together, playing and running around in the meadows. He would pick flowers for her and in return she would do the same. There was even one early morning when the two stood by their village’s lake and shared a kiss with each other. Despite still being a child, Y/N felt as though she was feeling the love that was described in the fairytale stories her mother used to read to her.

Sadly, that love was taken from her as well. At the young age of one and three, Tomas had somehow fallen and drowned in that same lake. Y/N had never heard such a devasting scream as Edith, Tomas’s mother, held her dead son in her arms. The village was both in mourning and in query; Tomas had been taught to swim at the age of four, how could this have happened? No explanations were thought of, but Y/N had her own belief.

I’m cursed, she would toss in turn in her bed at night, I am cursed.

Two more years would pass by, and no other unfortunate incidents would have occurred. But there is always calm before the storm. One day, something within Y/N had made her go explore the small forest that was near her village. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she had done it many times before. Yet, she stayed exploring for hours before that same voice within her told her to return. Upon seeing her village within the distance, Y/N should’ve never listened to that voice. She wishes she could’ve stayed back and continue being ignorant of everything. Her village— the homes, the crops, the trees, everything, was up in flames. Running down the dirt paths, Y/N did not have time (nor did she want to) to acknowledge all slaughtered men, women, and children that laid on the grounds. A small amount of hope had sparked within her when she saw that her home was not ablaze. That hope died upon entering the residence— Y/N crying out in distress at the sight of Edith, the women she had come to see as her second mother, dead on the ground. Her sadness was turned to fear when she spotted a large man in the corner, angry and hungry for blood. Before the crazed man could run at her, he was tackled to the ground by Lance— Edith’s husband and her adopted father. He was clearly injured; covered in blood from head to toe but still had the strength in him to scream at Y/N, desperation laced in his voice, “Run girl! Run and do not look back!”. Y/N, not wanting to witness his clear end, quickly listened to his order and ran out the door, trying her best to stay out of sight of all the other savage men as she made her way out the village.

She must’ve ran for hours before she knew she was no longer in danger. A day or two of traveling passed by before she took residence in a small city. That same night, under a dirty bridge, she finally acknowledged all hell that had occurred to her within the past forty-eight hours. The dams broke as she cried and screamed out in sorrow and pain. She cried, and cried, and cried until she had no more tears to let out; now consumed by numbness. Her mother, her first love, her caretakers, her childhood friends, her home; had all been taken from her. What had she done to deserve this? With her heart broken into millions of pieces, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t live like this. Never would she fall in love and never would she form a deep connection with anyone again. She wasn’t going to let herself be tied to the Targaryen name, to its blood, nor its curse. She wasn’t going to let this curse win and see her suffer again.

And so, she did; well, she tried her best at least. With the little money she had on her, Y/N jumped from village to village, city to city, and made sure not to socialize with anyone. There were some instances of people trying to get to know her, boys trying to court her, but she wouldn’t stay very long and would be gone the next day. It was a lonely life, a life she despised but knew she had to endure. That changed a bit when she came face to face with a woman with a fair complexion and silver hair.

Daenerys Targaryen. The “Mother of Dragons”. Her older half-sister.

Daenerys had always known about her half-sister’s existence; her older brother one day rambling that the throne belongs to a true Targaryen and not the current usurper, nor the “Targaryen-bastard filth” their father left behind. At first, Y/N was wary of the girl but soon found herself becoming fond of her presence. Daenerys felt the same way; with no family left on either girl’s end, they quickly found solace in each other— treating one another as the sisters they are. It was strange at first for Y/N; getting used to now having family once again and the companionship of dragons that came with it. Initially, she was terrified at the sight of the foreign creatures but quickly came to love them and their beautiful nature. She became quite close with the one called Rhaegal, favoring the dragon over the overs. Rhaegal doted and protected the girl the same; but still recognized Daenerys as its’ rightful mother. Y/N could say she just held the title of “favorite aunt” now amongst the creatures.

The thought of the curse still weighed heavy in the back of her mind, but Y/N hypothesized that whatever superstition was out to get her would not harm her sister; a true (and last) Targaryen. Y/N immediately recognized Daenerys as her queen and vowed to help her reclaim her throne. For some time, Y/N felt happiness once again entering her life as she spent more time with her sister and her allies. That bliss, however, turned out to be false hope.

“When the time comes and I reclaim my throne, I will legitimize you as a Targaryen”, Daenerys spoke to her one night. Y/N wanted to decline right away; she was content with not having a household name and did not want to be associated with the Targaryen name. Before Y/N could speak, Daenerys looked shamefully down while holding her sister’s hand, “There is a reason why I came looking for...”. Y/N felt a chill run up her spine and quickly encouraged the Mother of Dragons to continue. “I am unable to have my own children. When the time is right, I will need you to find a man, any man of your choosing..”, Daenerys sternly said as she looked into Y/N eyes, “I will need an heir to inherit the throne and continue my family name. Do you understand sister?”. Daenerys felt guilt creep up inside her as she finally confessed her true intentions from the start of meeting Y/N. She was asking too much of Y/N but, she, however, was on a mission to reclaim her birthright no matter what. Y/N stared agape at her, no words coming from her mouth. She wanted to decline even more— but, looking into Daenerys eyes, she saw the graveness within them and the true tone behind her words. She was not asking this of her as her sister. She was commanding this of her as her queen. And Y/N would do anything for her rightful queen.

“Yes, sister. I understand”. Y/N now found herself tied to the Targaryen name. Something she vowed never to be but couldn’t escape.

As time passed by, Y/N kept her promise and stood by Daenerys side as she continued her conquest; now finding herself at Dragonstone, her sister’s ancestral home. The preparations and campaign for Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne was in full effect but was interrupted momentarily.

“The King in the North?”, Daenerys questioned one of her advisors who came bearing news. “Yes my Queen. He sent a raven— detailing that he wishes to speak with you”. Y/N, standing off to the side, expressed her thoughts and question, “I had heard that the King in the North was dead”.

“As did I”, Daenerys said sharply. The man before them nodded his head, “Yes. There was an incident that had occurred that made everyone believe he was dead. But he is very much alive”. Daenerys raised her eyebrows up, skeptical about this so called “King in the North”— “And he trusts me with the information of his false death?”

“Well, according to his letter, yes.”

Y/N and Daenerys turned, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking with them. Not much emotion was shown behind Y/N eyes, but she was able to express with them, “What harm is there in seeing what he wants”. Sighing, Daenerys nodded her head and agreed with her sister.

“Send a message back. Invite him here and let him know I agree to speak with him”.

A few days later, Y/N stood on the shores, waiting to welcome her guests on the request of Daenerys. Once she saw the boats pull up on the beach, she made her way but stopped in amazement. Out from one of the boats came a large, thick furred animal— a dire wolf. She had only ever heard about the mythical creatures and now she was in close distance with one. Dragons and now dire wolves; she held a small smile on her face at the uniqueness that was the world. Clearing their throats, the two guards behind her had snapped her out of her daydream, reminding her of the task. Standing tall, Y/N put on her best welcoming smile and stood in front of the party, “Welcome to Dragonstone. I have been sent by our rightful Queen to give our greetings”.

Y/N voice had started loud and clear, but slightly quieted down towards the end as she made eye contact with a man. A very handsome man to be exact, she thought to herself. He stood tall and strong, a lean build with dark curls and blue eyes as blue as the water behind them. He smiled at her and before he could open his mouth, the older man next to him spoke up. “I present Robb Stark. Heir to the Stark household and King of the North”. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the discovery of the handsome stranger being the King in the North. Turning to him, she held a sort of mischief but harsh attitude in her voice, “Is the King in the North unable to speak for himself?”

The men in front of her were clearly taken back. Except for Robb Stark who let out a small laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am very capable of speaking. I am Robb Stark”. He held out his hand and was charmed when she firmly grasped it and shook it; opting out of giving her his hand to kiss.  

“I am not a lady. Please, call me Y/N”. Robb was preparing himself to compliment her name but was cut off by the same man next to him. “She’s the Targaryen bastard, your grace”. Though it was meant to be a whisper for only Robb to hear, Y/N was in close enough proximity to have heard it as well. Robb swiftly turned to his advisor next to him, giving him a crude look before turning back to the girl, “Forgive the rudeness of- “

“No, it is quite alright” she waved her hand, “It is all true anyway. I am THAT Targaryen bastard”. Robb nodded, gulping as he tried to ease the tension, “I have heard a lot about you...and your sister too, of course”. Y/N wanted to let out a chuckle at the sight before her; a gorgeous man trying his best not to insult her. “And I have heard very little about you,” Y/N voiced, “Other than the fact that you were supposedly dead, which I can see you are very much alive”, looking him up and down with her eyes. Robb smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “It is a long story”. Y/N let out a “hmm” sound, looking off towards the side to the dire wolf. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. His name is Grey Wind. I’ve had him since he was a pup”. Y/N nodded once more, noticing just how well behaved the wolf was, “He’s very beautiful”. Robb thanked her for the compliment, grinning widely, “I can see you are fond of animals. Do you have any of your own?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head, “No. I have children.”

Robb was clearly taken back by her words, a stuttering mess as he questioned her statement. “O-oh? You have children?”. Y/N could sense some disappointment in his voice towards the end as it cracked. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. But I do consider them children. Just not mine. I am just an aunt”. All the guests in front of her were puzzled by her words but ducked down in fear at the sound of a roar from above. Looking up, she smiled at the sight of Rhaegal and Drogon patrolling the skies.

“Seven hells!” she heard one of Robbs’ men yell out. Turning back, she playfully spoke “My children. Beautiful, aren’t they?”. None of Robbs’ men were able to agree or speak; still in shock. Robb, still looking up to the sky, laughed earnestly, “Well, they sure are an eccentric sight to see”. Y/N smiled more at his honesty, clapping her hands together, turning and speaking to the entire party, “Well. I believe that is a sufficient way to welcome you all here. Now, I must welcome you into the castle. Please come, the Queen is curious to known what it is you wish to speak about”.

Upon greeting the Queen, Robb Starks’ words and terms were clear to her. He wishes to ally with her in her conquest to take the throne and create a fairer and just realm. “We both have a clear enemy,” he spoke, “I want the Lannisters dead for what they have done to my family, and you want them off the throne entirely”. Every so often, Robb would cast his eyes off to the side to look at Y/N; something she tried her best to hide her reddening face from. “My men, though small numbers, will be yours to use. We ask that in return, once you take your rule, you allow the North to maintain a degree of self-rule. We will recognize you as the rightful Queen, but we wish to keep the North the way it is”. Daenerys nodded her head, asking her advisors for their views on the matter, and taking Y/N by surprise when she asked her as well. “As I perceive it, the North is biggest land piece in Westeros. It would be better to keep them as allies instead of fighting them off. They recognize you as Queen, and the Stark household keeps the North in check for you, sister”. Daenerys responded with another nod, showing to be clear in thought at all the opinions given to her. The Queen stood up, still not fully convinced, but could not deny all the positives of the compromise, “Very well. I will continue to think about the matter. I will let you know that my thoughts are leaning more toward yes than it is no. For now, your men must be tired. Allow my people to escort them to rest”.

Later that night, Y/N made her way down the dark halls to the one place in the castle that brought her peace. She almost let out a small scream at the tall shadow that appeared around the corner, “My lady?”. Placing her hand to her chest to control her tachycardic heart, she saw that the dark shadow was Robb Stark. “Your grace. You almost scared me to death”, Y/N laughed, “And please, I am not a lady of noble birth. Call me by my first name”. Robb returned her laugh with his own, apologizing for scaring her. “Forgive me, my lad- Y/N. I was just curious as to why you are out so late”. She nodded her head in the direction she was originally heading in, “I can not sleep so I was heading to the library to bore myself with some reading” she joked, “Is it not late for you to be awake as well?”. Robb gave a similar answer; unable to sleep and practically full of energy. Y/N looked down at the ground for a mere second before glancing into his eyes, “Would you like to join me?”. He agreed to her invite, thankful for the darkness of the night hiding his blushed face.

Dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the shelves towered, laid with books that held centuries of knowledge and wisdom. Robb made himself comfortable at one of the chairs available while Y/N opted for the window nook. “Do you come in here often?” Robb asked. Y/n offered a silent yes, trailing her fingers against the rim of the book she had chosen, “I have not been here that long, but yes. I come here every night; I tend to have trouble sleeping”.

“Why is that?” Robb questioned.

“Nightmares”, Y/N replied. Her dreams were always filled with visions of her dead loved ones.

After a pause, Robb gave a “hmm”; silently admiring the girl for not being afraid to show vulnerability. “That’s something we both have in common” he gave a warm smile. Another quiet pause passed by until Y/N looked up at him, “You say that you being alive is a long story— can I listen to it?”. Robb gave a slight nod, standing up to sit next to her in a close but comfortable proximity.

“I was to marry the daughter of someone who I thought was my ally. I agreed initially but something within me told me not to carry out my word”. He slowly reached over for the book that was in her hands, both hands brushing slightly as he took it out of her grasp, now distracting himself with it. “The wedding still went on; I supplied another man in my place. But, there was bloodshed, and I was betrayed. I barely made it out alive, along with a few other men of mine”. Inhaling sharply, he continued with his outpour, “And I’m thankful I did. I have sources that tell me that even if I went along with the wedding, I was to be killed no matter what. The Lannisters long ago forming allies with the people I thought I could trust”. Coming close to a finish, he looked into Y/N eyes, softly smiling, “I guess it was fate that saved me somehow”.

Breaking eye contact, Y/N scoffed at his words. “Fate” she said with repugnance. Her reply caught him off guard, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You do not believe in fate?”.

Y/N took in a long sigh, shaking her head, “No I believe in it”, she gently whispered the last part, “We just never have seen eye to eye. My fate only brings me bad luck”. Robb took in her words, trying to calculate what he should say next. “I believe fate can bring both good and bad luck”, he began with, “One can say it was my fathers’ fate to have been killed, or my sisters’ fates to be held captive”, Robb swallowed thickly before continuing, “But, it is my fate to avenge and save them. It is fate that has brought me this far; that has brought me here and to you”, he slowly spoke while staring deep into Y/N eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping her face wasn’t red and was successful in controlling her facial expression. Clearing her throat, she spoke firmly, “You must be confused; I believe you are trying to woo the wrong sister, Stark. Is it not my sister who you need as your ally?”.

Robb let out a low laugh, grinning widely, “That may be true, but”, he slowly scanned the room in a playful manner, “I believe that I don’t see your sister in here at all. So, no, I am not confused. I am speaking to the right sister”. A third pause passed by as the two continued staring, wating for one of them to speak or do something. Y/N was the first— standing abruptly, she moved her hair behind her ear and let out an awkward ahem. “I believe I must retire for the night. It was nice speaking to you Stark”. Before she could make her way out the door, he called out to her.

“It’s Robb”. Turning, she questioned what he meant. Smiling, he spoke, “You can call me Robb. You say you come here every night?”. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you allow me to see you here again tomorrow? Or even spend some time with you come morning?”.

Y/N wanted to say no. She needed to stop whatever friendship (or relationship) was forming between the two before she got too close. Before her curse got to him. He had already suffered enough. Despite the fact, deep down, her own selfish desires won over. She hadn’t felt like this in forever— she wanted this feeling to last forever.

“Yes. Of course, Robb”.

Come morning, they spent the entire day together, including the night. The next day was the same. Daenerys had granted Robb and his men a longer stay as there was much to discuss. It was late in the morning that he and Y/N were walking along the shores, discussing the most random of topics. Both were making a great effort to make the other one laugh: sprouting different jokes and funny stories. They both loved hearing the sound of laughter coming out of each another’s mouths. A gentle breeze roamed the air, blowing through Y/Ns’ dark hair. Robb stood silently still, stuck in a daze and awestruck by her appearance. Swiftly, he removed his fur cloak and placed it upon her exposed shoulders. Robb gestured to the area around them as Y/N looked at him in confusion, “I thought you might be cold”. She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head but not returning his cloak back. It provided her with a sense of ease. “No,” she confessed, “I don’t run cold that easily”. Resuming their walk, Robb gave her a look of admiration, “You would do great in the North then. Have you ever been there?”.

She answered with a clear no, stopping in her path to match Robb’s sudden cease of movement. Slowly, he placed his hands upon the cloak, further wrapping it securely around her. “I believe you would love it there. Maybe one day, you can come with me to Winterfell. I would love to give you a tour and introduce you to my mother, and hopefully my sisters too. I’m sure they would love you”. No further sounds were made; the distant sound of crashing waves serving as the only soundtrack to their wordless communion. Y/N leaned slightly into him — his closeness felt like a forbidden sanctuary, a place where she found solace and belonging but knew she shouldn’t enter. Y/N only response was a gentle nod and smile.

Many heart-fluttering moments continued to happen between the two. Stolen glances from across the table, hands brushing as they took their walks, laughter and smiles shared in the dark of night. There was an occurrence in the library when Robb had urged the girl to go to bed; taking notice of her eyebags forming from their long night of talking. “I can’t go to sleep that easily. And even if I can, I just have bad dreams I can’t wake up from”, she disclosed. They sat intimately close, sharing an intense gaze, both their features illuminated by the light of the candles in the room. Y/N could see every detail, every pore, every small scar that graced his beautiful face. She was caught by surprise, her breath hitching when he gently grabbed her hand, drawing small patterns into it.

“You can sleep here if you wish. I will watch over you and wake you at any sign of discomfort”. She wanted to decline, but there was something in his eyes that was persuading her. Y/N then found herself in his warm embrace, laying her head gently on his chest. She could hear every breath he took, every beat his heart made. Sealing her eyelids, he was the sole occupant of her dreams. She had never slept better.

Daenerys was no fool to what was happening before her very eyes. Sharing a private dinner with her sister, she brought up the topic.

“So, you and the Northern have been spending some time together”. Y/N nodded; not being able to lie since there was clear evidence in front of Daenerys. “He is a good man,” she smiled, “Very kind to his men, to his wolf”, she smiled even further at the memory of Robb introducing her properly to Grey Wind. She could still hear his laughter and the concern that replaced it when Grey Wind had tackled her to the ground with wet kisses. “We don’t want to get that pretty face all slobbered up now, do we?” fondness had colored his expression as he helped her back up. The smile upon her face slipped away, a frown and more serious look taking over.

“He’s very kind to me…I don’t think I will be spending much time with him anymore though”, she held her fork tightly in her hand. Daenerys questioned what she meant by her words. “Personal reasons”, Y/N said in a somber tone, “He will be leaving soon, and I plan to stay by your side”. Daenerys nodded her head, a part of her knowing that Y/Ns’ excuse was not the full truth. It’s not an exaggeration— Daenerys wasn’t a fool. She was well aware of Y/N’s standoffish attitude; practically a hermit as she kept to herself, or Daenerys. She saw the reasoning behind it— having an understanding of her past hardships. Additionally, Daenerys once tried to comfort Y/N during a nightmare of hers, hearing the word “curse” coming out of her mouth every few seconds. She badly wanted to comfort her sister, let her know that she was not cursed— life was just not fair to everyone. Daenerys, however, said nothing. Y/N was the only family she had left, and she did not want to lose her so soon, especially to some man. Forcing a smile upon her face, Daenerys tried to hide the distaste she felt towards her own selfishness. “That is good. Family must stick together”.

As the hours slipped away, Y/N and Robb were spending their last night together in the library. Robb and his men were set to leave tomorrow— all discussions and plans made with Daenerys were finalized. Robb, sitting across the room, was enamored as Y/N read to him out loud. It was a couple nights ago that they created this little routine; Y/N would read to him, and he would give his input at certain scenes. Right now, however, he was not paying attention to what was happening in the story. He was trying to memorize her gentle sweet voice, the way her lips moved with each syllable she said. Finishing a passage, Y/N put the book down to ask Robb his view.

“I can not lie to you. I was not paying attention”. Mouth agape, she pretended to be upset, throwing the small pillow she had next to her. Robb caught the cushion, letting out a hearty laugh that rumbled deep within his chest. Standing up, he walked across the room to her, placing the pillow behind her back. He knew she liked to read in comfort. Y/Ns’ smile was warm, spreading even more across her face at the words Robb spoke next, “You have a pretty voice”. Shyly looking down, she quietly thanked him. Robb’s compliments towards her only continued, “And a beautiful face”.

Biting her lip, she was readying herself to change the topic, but he only continued more. “I remember when I saw you for the first time”, he sat down beside her, sharing body warmth now, “I truly thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman before in my life”. Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes softly and replying in a joking matter “And then you saw my sister and I was the second most beautiful woman you had seen in your life”. Her heart quickened up when she looked up at him, no humor present on his face, only showing seriousness. “No”, he whispered, “you were still the most captivating and breathtaking beauty I’d seen”. Silence filled the room. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers interlacing with hers. “I leave tomorrow”, he spoke of the one thing they both had refused to acknowledge. “That you are”, Y/N said, her main focus placed upon their hands. Drawing small comforting circles into her skin, he asked her what she had planned for her future.

“My future is a mystery”, Y/N sighed heavily, “Regardless, I will continue to stand by Daenerys and be with her when she retakes the throne. She told me that she was going to bestow the Targaryen name upon me, but I’m not sure that is what I want”. Confusion etched Robbs’ features, questioning her meaning. Her face gave away a gloomy look, “I have never really been fond of my Targaryen blood. Daenerys is the only good thing that has come out of it”, she said truthfully, “I’ve gone long enough without a household name, so I don’t see the point in having one”. A smile graced her lips as she looked at him, “I won’t lie, it is a small yearn of mine. To belong somewhere and become a part of something special”.

A pregnant pause filled the room. The only sound being heard was the burning of the fireplace. Y/Ns’ laughter echoed through the room; Robbs’ next statement finding humor within her.

“You can become a Stark”.

Shaking her head, almost wanting to wipe the imaginary tears in her eyes, she continued her fits of giggles. “And how can I do that- “

Robbs’ next sentence caused all laughter within her to cease, her breath getting stuck in her chest. “By marrying me”, he said.

Another pregnant pause. Y/N stared at him in shock, becoming a stuttering mess, “R-Robb, I…”. Before she could finish, he cut her off, taking both her hands into his now, “I plead that you allow me to speak first”, he smiled but looked ready to cry, “I have never felt the way I have when I am with you. You truly have stolen my heart, and I don’t plan on asking for it back. Come with me to Winterfell— become my wife, my queen”. With affection, he raised her hand and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on it, “Grant me the wish to spend the rest of my life with you”. Robb had poured his emotions out into his speech, mistakenly only imagining what he wanted her reply to be. He was not prepared for what Y/N said next.

“No.”

Furrowing his eyes, he dropped one of her hands but still held the other. Shaking his head, he began to apologize profoundly, “I-I’m sorry. I thought maybe there was something between us. Did I ask too soon?”, he looked desperate in front of her, “I can take back the proposal. I can court you properly if that is what you wish – “

“No. No, Robb”, Y/N let her hand drop from his, both now becoming colder by the second, “I can’t marry you”.

The tension crackled in the air as Y/N words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. The room felt suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Robb’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the ground, struggling to contain his emotions and appear unaffected, “Can I ask why?”. Y/N bit her lip, her own emotions consuming her, never wanting more than to cry. “Robb,” she sobbed, “marrying me— being with me would only bring you hell”. Shaking his head, Robb grabbed ahold of her face, staring into her eyes, “What nonsense do you speak of? That can be far from the truth”. Y/N wanted to push his hands off her but was brought warmth by his touch, “But it’s the truth. My presence alone carries a curse. All those I have cherished have been harmed and taken from me”, he delicately removed the tears that were dropping from her eyes, “I’m not supposed to fall in love with you”.

Robb didn’t know what to say, how exactly to comfort her. His only reply being, “there is no such thing as a curse”, which angered her to some extent. Standing abruptly, she screamed out in sorrow, “Yes there is! My mother, my first love, my home— everyone suffered because of me!”, she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands, sobs echoing through the room, “You have suffered enough Robb. I do not wish to cause you more misery”. Robb sprang up quickly and encircled her with an arm, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. As she cried, he felt her body quiver against his chest. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. “Shhh…”, he tried soothing her, “Even if there is a curse, I won’t let it get to me, or you. I will protect you with entire life; you will never be subjected to such pain”, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her head, “I can’t let you go— living out the rest of my life thinking “what if?”.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed him away, “No, Robb”. Y/N stared at him, her eyes reflecting her inner sadness, “This is for my protection and yours. I would not have the strength in me to live if something happened to you”. Walking swiftly towards the door, she ceased her movements when Robb called out to her.

“Y/N. You deserve better”, he spoke truthfully and with sorrow, “You can’t live like this. Someone as extraordinary as you deserves to be happy. To be loved”.

She gripped the door handle, almost hurting her own hand from the pressure. Turning her head, she offered him a pained smile, “Maybe you’re right”, she opened the door, “But such fine things were not made for me in this lifetime”. And she was gone.

Y/N was unable to sleep the rest of the night, tossing and turning in her bed. Come morning, she mentally prepared herself for a conversation she knew she had to make. Standing in front of the chamber rooms Robb occupied, she knocked. A few seconds later, he opened the door, clear surprise on his face at her presence.

“Hi”, she spoke softly. Robb did not verbally reply to her greeting; opting to nod to her instead. “May I come in?”, she asked, and Robb moved to the side to allow her to enter. Looking at him, his tunic was unlaced— a clear indication she had interrupted him in the middle of dressing up. Y/N was informed that Robb and his men were to leave early morning; all they had to do was suit up and prepare their ships, and then he would be gone.

Facing him entirely, she gestured to his packed supplies in the corner, “I came to wish you a safe journey. I enjoyed our time together”. Robb registered her words, taking a deep breath, “Thank you, my lady”. She didn’t have the strength to correct him. All the while, Robb was struggling to tie up the last laces of his tunic. His hands were shaking. Walking slowly to him, she reached for his hands, moving them away to replace them with hers, “Allow me”.  Robb felt a fire ignite inside him as her gentle touch sent a chill down his spine. Focused on her work, Y/N laced up the complex pattern, her breath quickening as her fingertips touched his bare chest. Finishing up the last lace, she patted his chest and smiled up at him, “There. All done”. She only took one step back before Robb wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her back to him. Y/N gaze softened, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. Slowly and hesitantly, she placed her hand upon his cheek, caressing him. Stretching her neck, she placed a small kiss on his lips, pulling away in mere seconds before either of them could comprehend it. Robb did the same; the two now sharing their second kiss.

For a while, they stood in each other’s embrace in silence. Robb took the next step, closing the small distance and cupping her face in his hands. With a mixture of yearning and desire, she leaned into his touch, gazing up at him as her heart ached. Reaching down, he kissed her with longing and tenderness. Y/N reciprocated right away, moving her mouth with his to match his rhythm. This kiss was longer, both wanting to savor the moment a bit more. The kiss had started off slowly but quickly came alive as they both deepened it. Robb fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him; despite being as physically close as possible. Y/Ns’ body felt on fire; Robb’s touch both gentle yet firm as he traced her body with his other hand. Gasping into his mouth, she was taken by surprise (but did not fight off) at Robb picking her up by the thighs— walking to the small table in his room and dropping her on it. Opening her legs widely, he stood between them, both breathing heavily as they’re lips continued pressing together. Y/N did not know what to do with her hands, moving them all across his body and landing upon his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. Robb was the same; still opting to trace his hands across her thighs and up her breasts— igniting a moan out of her moth that he swallowed with his. Both their lips parted slightly, allowing them to slip their tongues into each other’s.

The room was heating up by the second. The only sounds that could be heard were their muffled groans and heavy breathing. Parting away, Y/N went to work to unlace his tunic— undoing her work. There was some urgency in the way her hands moved, Robb staring at her, intoxicated by her face contoured in rapture. He went straight for her dress, moving the fabric down to expose her shoulders, planting kisses on her. Y/N let out a loud whimper; the feeling of Robb biting into her neck sending a jolt of pleasure and goosebumps over her body. Grabbing his jaw, she returned her attack on his lips; their kiss now getting sloppier by the second, teeth almost clashing against. Y/N was readying herself to further pull her dress down but was interfered by Robb pulling away. Almost desperate like, she chased his lips but was denied.

“No,” Robb spoke, almost sounding to be in pain. His breath was ragged, chest moving up and down and fist clenched to his side, “Not like this”. Y/Ns’ common sense returned, slightly embarrassed that her hunger for him had taken over her completely. She was thankful that Robb had the strength and respect to keep her virtue safe. A few moments passed and their breathing became stable once again. Y/N watched as Robb gazed down at her, his lips red and bruised. Taking a hold of her face in his hand, Robb placed his forehead against her, “I love you”. Y/N could do nothing but nod, wrapping her arms around his torso, “I know”.

He smiled sheepishly at her, caressing her cheek, “Write to me at least. Please. Write to me about anything…even if you have nothing to talk about. I will always send a reply back. I promise”.  She gave him a tight-lipped smile, kissing his hand lightly, “I’ll try”. Robb knew she was lying. As they held each other’s gaze, time appeared to stop and the outside world became less significant. With one last kiss to her temple, Robb picked up his belongings and went out the door.

Y/N waited a decent number of minutes to pass before she exited the room— making sure there were no prying eyes around. She was hurrying towards her own chambers; wanting to be alone and allowed let all her tears fall free. She didn’t make it far, stopping in her movements at the sound of someone calling her name.

“Y/N”, Daenerys called out at the end of the hallway. Approaching her, she offered her sister a happy smile, “I was looking all over for you. I came to see if you wanted to bid the North men a goodbye- “, Daenerys stopped talking momentarily. Her eyes taking in Y/N disheveled appearance, and the obvious love mark on her neck. “But I can see you must’ve already given your farewell to the King in the North”, she teased.

Y/N nodding, staring down at the ground with her hands picking at the skin around her nails, “Yes, I have. So, I have no need to bid them a further goodbye. If you excuse me, I will retire for the day”. She was barley able to turn her body around before Daenerys grabbed hold of her forearm. “Hold on”, Daenerys said letting out a low chuckle, “It is still early morning. Why would you retire so soon- “. Her amusement dwindled into silence, fully grasping the emotions displayed on her little sisters’ face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”, she inquired anxiously and hastily, “Did that Stark boy do something to you?”, now anger appearing in her voice. Y/N was quick to deny her accusations, “No. He did nothing. It’s what I’ve done to him”. The queen placed a comforting embrace around her sisters’ figure, soothing her hair. “He offered me a marriage proposal, Dany” she sobbed into her shoulders, “And I told him no. I broke his heart”. Daenerys said nothing to the information given to her.  A short interval of silence ensured; disrupted by Daenerys taking in a deep breath.

“Do you love him?”.

She hadn’t expected such a direct question from Daenerys, especially about something she had been trying to conceal. Y/N hesitated for a moment— deciding there was no use in denying it, “I do”.

The older sister pulled away, smiling down lovingly at her, “Then why not go be with him?”. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling over her words, “Because I promised to stick by your side. To help you,” she defended. Staring back at the floor, Y/N inhaled deeply, “Because I am cursed- “

“That is a load of shit”, Daenerys cut in. Y/N gaped at her older sister in disbelief for her vulgar language directed at her. Daenerys persisted with her speech, “You are not cursed, Y/N. Our history might show that our ancestors without the inherited Targaryen traits suffered greatly, but that does not mean all of them will”. Putting both hands on her shoulder, she reassured Y/N, “I know that in their lives they were still able to experience contentment and love. And you should too”.

Whispering softly, Daenerys hold on her sister tightened, “You've gone through a lot, and life has made it difficult to look past your own suffering, I won't deny that. But you need not forget the positive impact that you have on others around you. You undoubtedly brought happiness and love into the lives of your mother as well as those from your pas, and me toot. I'm even more positive that you introduced that into Robb Starks' life as well”.

Daenerys took a moment to recover after her extended address; watching Y/N register every world she spoke. Placing a gentle hand on her face, Daenerys gave her final say, “So, why not go be with him?”.

Y/N expression mirrored her surprise at what she heard. Shaking her head, she repudiated, “B-But what about you? My promise to you- “. She was cut off once again. “I’ve been thinking it over”, Daenerys began, “And I’ve asked too much from you. You are my only family and I wish to keep you by me, but your life is not mine. You control it”. Y/N held her breath, a small tear forming in her eyes. A sense of déjà vu had come to her— those were similar words her own mother had told her. Daenerys smiled widely at her, taking both her hands into her own, “If I am to be a good queen and rule with fairness”, she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I should let you live your life. As your queen, I give you the order to go live a life of happiness with the man you love”. She sustained the cheerful curve of her lips, “Go to him— go be with him in the North. A change of scenery can be good, don’t you think?”.

Y/N didn’t answer her question; instead, she sprang and encircled her sister in a warm hug. “Thank you, Dany,”, she expressed her heartfelt thanks. Daenerys words had opened her eyes; Y/N was not brought into this world to fear it— she was brought in it to appreciate its gifts. The gifts being family, happiness, and love. Daenerys suppressed a laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Pushing the girl slightly, she encouraged her further, “Now go and tell him. Rhaegal will be sad but he’ll live”. Y/N was quick to turn and follow after Robb, but stopped abruptly at Daenerys calling out to her.

“Don’t marry him too soon”. Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that Daenerys was taking back what she said. The older sister waved her hand, shooing the girl away, “I just meant that I wish to be present at the wedding. Now, go”.

Robb stood beside a couple of his men and advisor at Dragonstone’s port. He watched his men load up the ships, trying to listen to what his advisor was saying but his mind was elsewhere. He came here to acquire the Dragon Queen as his ally— and now he leaves with that success and a broken heart. He traced back the memory of their times together, the warmth of her hands completely enclosing his, the way her eyes sparkled with every grin. A longing buried deep in his chest arose with every thought of Y/N. It was a bittersweet anguish. His advisor next to him cleared his throat, grabbing his attention when he nudged Robbs’ side, “Your grace”. Following the direction of his advisor’s eyesight, his own landed on Y/N— clearly out of breath and showing urgency.

“Y/N”, he called out. Robb was quick to grab ahold of her forearms, inspecting her body for any signs of injury, “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern shown deep in his eyes. Y/N nodded her head, calming down her breathing as she watched his men leave to give them privacy. Staring up at him, she confessed, “I will not write to you”. Robbs’ brows drew together in a frown, feeling as though she was taking a jab at his sorrows. A normal reaction would be to spit fire back, but he was too in love with her.

Swallowing thickly, he responded, “I figured that already- “

“No, let me finish” she interrupted him, “I will not write to you…because I am coming with you”. His eyes widened in disbelief at the statement— not given time to properly respond once again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her palms grw clammy, “Robb…I love you”. At last, he managed to respond, "You do?" with a tone that hinted at both surprise and joy. Y/N nodded, vulnerability showing in the blush of her cheeks and grabbing a hold of his hand, “Yes. I should’ve told you from the start and I should’ve said yes to your proposal- “, she sucked in a trembling breath, “I care about you deeply and I’ve never felt this much love for anyone”. Y/Ns’ heart raced as her words lingered in the crisp morning air. With a subtle shake of her head, she redirected the conversation. “Though I’ve come to see the foolishness in it; I still don’t know if my curse is real or not. All I know is that I wish to spend every minute— every second of my life with you”. Biting her lip gently, she broke eye contact with him, “It is a big risk, I kno- “.

“A risk I am willing to take”, Robb finally cut her off, “I would do anything for you.” In their moment of confession, they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. With their foreheads resting against each other's, a warm yet hesitant smile spread across Y/N face. “So,” she spoke shyly, “is that tour of Winterfell still up for grabs?”

Robb reciprocated her smile with his own, gently lifting his hands to touch her bottom lip. “Yes. It still is” he breathed out, “And my proposal too”. With a gentle tilt of her head, Y/N moved in closer, “Then I say you take me to Winterfell and make me your wife”. Their lips meet in a tender and heartfelt kiss— all their troubles now resolved. A quiet vow of eternity was spoken as their lips moved in rhythm. A familiar roar was heard; Y/N breaking the kiss and laughing as she took notice of Rhaegal in the sky. Robb found himself smiling even more at the sight of her joy; pulling her closer to him.

A cheeky grin formed across her face, “I think Lady of Winterfell has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

Robb chuckled, caressing her face, “I think Queen of Winterfell sounds nicer. I also think the title of “Robb Starks’ Wife” suits you even more”. Y/N jokingly jabbed her elbow into his side, slightly squeaking as Robb reclaimed her lips in his. They both were filled with excitement and anticipation for what their future together awaited.

[prettyundeadgirl]

Crave The Rose

1st and 3rd gifs made by me :)

Summary: Throughout your time in King's Landing, you and the carelessly attractive Kingsguard grew fond of each other. Your sister Margaery believes you both suit each other exceedingly well, soon setting you two up, and beneath the moonlight, love unfurls.

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Tyrell Female Reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Tags: Fluff, Smut, 18+ MDNI

AO3 Link

From the moment he set foot into the lush gardens of King’s Landing, his pair of viridescent eyes, shot with gold, set themselves onto you with an untold and profound intrigue. 

He’d go to the gardens whenever the chance arose, knowing you frequented there. He first enjoyed admiring you from afar, and it soon led him down a luring path where he’d do anything possible to get closer to you. Whether it was a simple, “Pardon me,” to brush past your skin and hear your gentle voice apologize for ‘being in his way,’ or to simply greet you. 

Engaging conversations soon blossomed, and you grew rather fond of him, leaving your grandmother and sister early to catch up with him and walk through the endless greenery, scented with vibrant inflorescences.

–

The day was up early, new and fresh, yet the torrid heat remained the same. You strolled beside the pond’s stone borders, taking a seat on the edge and basking in the generous and unyielding rays of sunlight that brightened the strands of your hair and complemented certain aspects of your features. 

Jaime had arrived only moments after and spotted you in an instant. He gathered in the picturesque view—the delicate movement of your leg crossing over the other, the intricate, floral trim of your dress, and the way you hovered over the pond to see the fish swimming beneath the lily pads that lay afloat, graced with pearlescent water lilies.

When you looked at him, lashes lifting slowly with that smile you always gave him, everything in his peripheral vision was meaningless as he stared at you—the electric, captivating focal point. And like the white, casting moon, you had a gravitational pull on the ocean tides of his attention, distant yet somehow influential, tugging him along. It wasn’t until you broke the contact to face your approaching sister Margaery that he was then dragged onto the mundane shores of reality. 

Margaery was undoubtedly graceful, with her lustrous, long brown hair and soft doe-like stare.

“Grandmother wants to speak with us.” She stated, and as you stood up from your spot, she acknowledged Jaime with an inquisitive glint before interlacing her arm with yours. You asked her what she wanted as you both withdrew from the area, leaving Jaime with an indescribable and strange sense of longing.

Gone from his view, a smirk appeared on her face, and etched in her creases was a curiosity one couldn’t possibly deny, and it had been there for some time.

“He’s rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“Very.” You answered noticeably quickly. 

“He likes you, I’ve seen it. I think you’d make a beautiful couple.”

Disbelief flashed across your features and you expelled a scoff, “You’re all wrong, he’s a Kingsgaurd. Forbidden to love. And he swore an oath to the king, your king.”

She giggled at your reaction, “Dear sister, you have much to learn. Most men never keep their oath, and what I saw today, his mind was clearly breaking that oath.” She drawled the last few words, wanting you to hear every syllable.

She was right.

Out of his sight, involuntary images and thoughts of you embedded themselves into the crevices of his mind—some pure, most not. It lingered in the back throughout his day and grew in the night before he went to sleep, and when he awakened, the hazy memory would come to a clear. He spent many mornings and nights this way—starting and ending with you, and he almost felt himself go mad, but he never knew one to love it as much as he did.

–

Beneath the heavens, you were situated on a long stone bench surrounded by verdant bushes and flourished plants, gazing out to where the sky and sea touched. The golden hours of the afternoon drained into the horizon; the sun, already gone, succumbing to its own inevitable demise. Darkness swept away the remnants of daylight that lingered, until the night prevailed, and myriad pinpricks of white sparkling light, softer than satin, adorned it graciously. 

The glistening, tranquil waters lapped against the stone structure, its song melding with your blissful hums. It reflected the prideful moon hung above which watched as you held a flower you plucked from a nearby bush, stripping it of its petals until all that remained of it was the stem. You placed the petals into your hands, sending them off into the night where they swayed down for the vast expanse of water to claim, flowing away until they were no longer visible.

Before long, your attention is drawn to the familiar clattering sound of armor approaching your direction.

“Ser Jaime.” You greeted, rising from your seat.

“Lady (name).” 

“What did you wish to speak to me about?”

His brows slightly furrowed at your question, “I was told you had wished to speak with me. Did you not?”

“No,” You admitted with pure honesty, taking a few steps forward. “My sister told me you wanted to meet me here, said you had something you’ve been wishing to tell me for a while.”

A spark of realization pervaded you after you finished your sentence, and as if by magic, the realization traveled to him as he smiled and you let out a small laugh, a sound he never tired of.

Inches away from him with that gentle gaze that sent his heart to cease, you raised your arm and traced the indentations of his shiny, aureate armor. The world was quiet—just the two of you, surrounded by nothing but plants and gleaming stars.

“Do you have something you wish to tell me, Ser?” The sudden shift in your tone and closeness sent an unbidden tightness to his throat.

“Yes.” He admitted. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

Pulling him closer, your lips grazed and you kissed him, the rose of your mouth blooming against him. His hands, by nature, encompassed the curves of your hips, and the cool gilded fingertips of his false hand contrasted with the warmth of your exposed skin and sent shivers through you.

He sought the answer to a question that plagued his unsettled mind, rendering him incapable of thinking about anything else for the duration of your time here, and at the base of your tongue, the answer evades him: Your lips were as soft and divine as he conceived, and you tasted sweeter than any honey he’s ever had, making him smile against the orient pearl bone of your teeth. 

You pulled away, and his lips grew cold at your abrupt absence, “It’s late. Could you escort me back to my chambers?” You said against his mouth, words coated with a heavy implication.

His lips curled into another grin, “Of course.”

Arm looped around his as you were led into the Keep, where shadows draped against the narrow halls and slowly fell onto you. The silence was a symphony until your footfalls quick and sure echoed the halls akin to the beating of one’s heart. 

When you reached the door, he wasted no time, drawing you close, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he reconnected his lips to yours with a fierce intensity. In that moment of pure, unbridled passion, you both shared the same thought: I don’t want this to end. 

You craved each other, he was doubtless of it as you pulled him into your chambers with deafening haste, and once the door had shut, his hands moved with purpose, and your dress descended to the floor. You clumsily fiddled with his armor, removing the burdensome weight of his duties. 

With your bare bodies exposed to the night’s air, he propped you against the wall, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, never breaking the burning, sinful kiss. Your fingers entwined with his flaxen hair, and a carnal desire had curled its way through his veins, clogging his marrow and taking over him entirely. His kisses were rough and possessive as he moved to your neck, and you sighed those pretty, sensuous moans he tended to find himself imagining, yet they could never compare to how you sounded now. 

He carried you with ease, and the gentle river of bed sheets, brightened by the pale moonlight, creased as he lay you upon the bed and gazed at your flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, with your legs parted for him and him only. You were utterly remarkable, sculpted by The Seven themselves; and he briefly wondered if he was even worthy of your love, for his perceived flaws over the years tainted him, and the gold hand fitted on his arm reminded him of it.

Your eyes gleamed up at him with sincerity and love, not a trace of judgment or distaste. It was louder than his doubts and beckoned him.

He pressed his weight on you and planted seeds of sloppy kisses, starting from your mouth, and down to the cleft between your thighs. Your sighs were heavenly when his mouth met where you wanted him most, and he relished in your taste as his generous tongue performed a rhythmic undulation. You lifted your hips, pushing into his mouth, and further parting your legs to provide him better access, and when he heard whispers of his name fall from your lips like it was the only word you’ve ever known, it swept over him, defeating any worries he harbored.

His name floated in the air, and he felt you tremble and wither as he licked your sensitive flesh. A blissful wave had overcome you, your chest rising and lowering. It was nothing you had ever experienced, and you desperately wanted to feel it repeatedly.

He returns to your mouth once more, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. His fingers traced over your thighs before lifting your leg from your knee, leaving you completely accessible to him. You hummed when he placed himself inside you with much need, movements starting slow and soon quickening, desperate to let out the build-up of his release in you. Your hands clutched at his back, nails ever so slightly indenting crescents into his skin as you felt his cock grazing the spot that ached for him. He moved away to stare into your eyes, admiring you for a moment your eyes brimming with love and lips parted, trying your best to stay silent and not draw attention to your chambers if anyone walked by. Still, the effort was futile as your moans fluttered out of your throat.

He moved to your ear languidly and spoke breathless words. “Tell me… Tell me I’m yours and only yours.” The tension in your abdomen tightened at his gentle demand, and a weak smile pressed against your ear as you did as you were told.

You couldn’t contain it any longer, and you came hard and sweet beneath him. He soon followed, a soft, low groan escaping his chest, and his thrusts slowed as your breaths intermingled in the room of meager light, slowly coming back to awareness. You and him never wanted the Gods to let it be forgotten, and you remained in each others’ arms until the night turned day.

–

In the early morning, sunlight swept away the dust of stars, and you were awakened by a lightness in the bed and a chill to your body that wasn’t there during the night. A sullenness burdened your heart when you twisted to an empty side, but soon diminished and was replaced by a warmness at what had been placed on the pillow, leading you to replay the unforgettable event that occurred in the night.

A single rose.

[lumillsie]

ೃ⁀➷ all my life. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

jon snow x f!arryn!reader headcanons

╰┈➤ in which lady catelyn's niece is brought to winterfell as a ward, and grows to care for her misliked stepson.

a/n : I put jon's birth year as 283 ac, whereas in the show he was born in 281ac - so I struggled a bit on which to choose, but ultimately 283ac suited my outline for the story a bit better. the characters are still aged up as per their show versions. I've also aged down robin arryn, implying that both jon and reader would be in their adolescence during his birth, whereas in the source material, jon is only a few years older than robin.

massive, massive shoutout to @angelseraphines for being my greatest support as always, and I'm not sure if I would've gone ahead and published this if not for her encouragement 🩷

╰┈➤ in 285ac, lord jon arryn and his lady wife lysa welcomed the first of their living children.

╰┈➤ you were a beautiful babe, bright-eyed with a lovely smile, truly the apple of the hand's eye. lord arryn had been married three times in his lifetime, and you were the first of his children to live to term. the graying man was enamored with your newborn-self, and he wished for nothing but your safety and joy.

╰┈➤ for all his love for you, the hand of the king knew how venomous the environment of the royal court to be. the halls were dripping with the schemes of those who wished to advance their positions, and a man of his position knew that the only living child, let alone a girl, of his would be treated as no more than a tool of the court's most cunning.

╰┈➤ your father wished to see you happy and contented, and he wished to keep you safe from the treachery of red keep. and so, on the eve of your sixth nameday, your father wrote to the boy he once fostered in the vale, now a lord paramount in his own right. eddard stark was possibly the only man jon arryn trusted to the same extent he trusted his grace, the king. it was a difficult decision to make, but he was acting in your best interests. life at winterfell would suit his little falcon better, for you would grow strong and you'd be well-looked after. you'd be far away from the glances of power-hungry, lecherous men who wished for nothing but power. you would be with family as well, as the lady catelyn was your mother's only sister - and her children your closest blood. it was a great honour in westeros, to be trusted with the upbringing of one's child, and it was an honour lord arryn would bestow upon lord stark.

╰┈➤ lysa was resistant to the idea of sending away her only living child - the years of losing babe after babe had taken their toll on her, but she eventually relented. you would be safer in winterfell, and catelyn was still her sister - for all the distance between them.

╰┈➤ mere days after lord stark accepted your father's offer, you were sent to winterfell as a ward with a kiss on the forehead from your mother and an unusually tight hug from your father.

╰┈➤ the first couple of weeks were rough - for you were often coddled by your parents. you missed tugging on your mother's skirts and resting in your father's arms. you weren't used to the absence of them, and while you tried not to cause trouble for your caretakers - they could tell you had a hard time adjusting.

╰┈➤ there were two people in winterfell whose presence brought you comfort during that trying time. the first was your aunt, lady catelyn stark, your mother's only sister. you knew little else of winterfell, but you were comforted by the familiar shade of auburn that cascaded down her shoulders and the unique cadence to her voice that could only be ascribed to a woman born of riverrun. she wasn't your mother, but she was the closest to her anyone could get. she sung you lullabies only your mother knew, and the gentle manner in which she treated you was that of a mother towards her child. the second was the boy named after your father, jon snow. you latched onto him early on in your stay in winterfell, and nobody was quite sure as to why. perhaps it was for his name, for you often called for him - at first you were calling for your father, but jon always answered. he was two years your senior and still a boy unsure of his place in his own home - for all the love of his father and the acceptance of his siblings was matched evenly with pointed looks and whispers of bastardy, as well as lady catelyn's cold distance and her decision to ignore his existence the best he could. some would say that it was your insistence on seeking him out that helped reassure the dark-haired boy of his place. of all the nobles and commonfolk at winterfell, you gravitated towards him.

╰┈➤ at first you were content to spend your time with him in silence, and he never appeared opposed to that. within a few weeks, you were talking to him about your life back in the crownlands. you talked about your mother, and her watchful, protecting eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. you talked about your father, and his insistence on making time for your regardless of how pertinent his responsibilities may have been at any given point. you talked about the king too, and his tales of the valour and glory he experienced side by side with jon's own father. he spoke to you too, of how lovely his father and siblings were, of winterfell's hidden gems and it's most well-known attractions. he promised to take you to the weirwood tree in the godswood when the opportunity arose, and he followed through on his promise. jon snow had become, aside for the lady catelyn whom you'd grown to love as you loved your mother, your dearest person.

╰┈➤ your aunt catelyn was not fond of your budding friendship with the reminder of her husband's indiscretion - that much was plain to see by the harsh manner in which her brows furrowed and frown of her lips, and yet she made no move to disallow it. she could see that his presence helped you get used to your new home, and soon enough you were playing with sansa, teaching arya and bran how to say your name and often fetching robb to speak with him on the way to break your fast. it pleased to see your aunt to see you and her own children bond so quickly, and she kept her dissatisfaction of your bond with jon to herself.

╰┈➤ jon was there for many of the major moments of your life, with the most notable being the first letter you'd written your parents. you had just started learning how to read in the red keep, but lord stark made sure to place you with septa mordane alongside his daughters and he kept an eye on you to make sure your education was advancing. not to mention, lord and lady stark were adamant in ensuring that you remained in touch with your parents - making sure you became literate was the most important factor in that. early on, you would ask jon to re-read your letters before you were to show them to lord stark, and your friend was always glad to do it. the faint red hue that enveloped his cheeks as he read the parts where you mentioned him to your father went unnoticed by you, too focused on making sure that your letter was presentable to lord eddard.

╰┈➤ you remained close through your childhood and closer into adolescence, but it wasn't until one fateful evening that somebody changed between the two of you.

╰┈➤ the letter you received from your parents was unlike any other you had received in the past. the words seemed to swirl on the yellowed paper, and you could feel a headache in coming. your mother had given birth to a son - a proper heir to the vale. you should have felt happy, overjoyed even. a part of you, unfortunately, felt overwhelmed by misery and you could not quite understand why. you were content in winterfell, loved even - and you knew you were never to be heir to begin with, for you were a daughter and your father had plenty of nephews to choose from. so, why did you feel so unhappy? you couldn't quite figure it out, at least not until you spoke to the one person who understood why you felt the way you did, even when you yourself could not.

╰┈➤ you'd skipped supper in favor of spending the evening by the godswood, and truthfully, you expected aunt catelyn to send robb to retrieve you when it was due time for you to return to your chambers. instead, you were surprised to see that jon came for you instead. as you rose from beneath the weirwood tree, red leaves giving way to a darkened sky, you walked side by side with jon towards the great keep. he spoke to you quietly then, of things you never dared ask and he never dared to say outloud. he spoke to you of the mystery of his mother, of wanting to know who she was and if she had wanted him, of wanting to know what kind of person she was. it was only then that the truth of your misery dawned on you. you wished to truly know your parents, and your brother - but you never truly could. for all the letters in the world cannot bring you the closeness of having your family near. robin would know your parents in the ways that you never would, and they would know him in ways that they never knew you. it was a bitter pill to swallow, but you felt as if you could breathe easier - with the realisation clear in your mind.

╰┈➤ you were grateful to jon as well, for his vulnerability with you and for his kindness. you thanked him for walking you back to your chambers, and left a chaste peck on his cheek before retreating. "I am grateful... for you, and all that you are" were the words you spoke to him. a silent acknowledgement hung in the air between the two of you. he was still your dearest friend, and you were his - but something had changed. the way in which you regarded one another had changed.

╰┈➤ it was as if the wall that you two had carefully placed between yourselves had found itself with holes in it. you were still careful, chaste even - but it was apparent to those around you that you two loved eachother. you'd make handkerchiefs for him in your embroidery classes and he'd gently hold onto your hand in the privacy of the godswood.

╰┈➤ none were truly aware of the extent of your affections for one-another, for you were both aware of your positions. you were a noble-man's daughter, entrusted in the care of jon's father who was meant to find you a suitable match and marry you off well. you were considered a bride for theon greyjoy or willas tyrell, but not jon. not a baseborn son of your noble caretaker, with no titles to his name and no inheritance to claim. furthermore, were you to rebel and marry jon without anyone's knowledge - you would soil not only the reputations of your fathers, but the goodwill and bond they shared, for lord arryn entrusted lord stark with your upbringing.

╰┈➤ you two grew closer over the following year, and it was apparent to both of you that you would not have the time to properly court one another before pursuing a way to convince your fathers to allow marriage. you were a woman grown, of marrying age. not to mention, you were lord arryn's only daughter, and a marriage to you was the most effective manner in which a noble house could strengthen its ties to the vale. lord and lady stark, with minor interference from your parents, were close to making their decision - and your aunt made sure to consult you often in subtle manners, asking whether you'd prefer to remain in winterfell when you marry, asking if you'd like to return to the red keep once you are to have a family of your own. you could not avoid your fates any longer.

╰┈➤ you pondered over what to do for a couple of days, but you knew you had no time to wait. without informing jon, you decided to plea your case to your aunt catelyn - the person you'd always felt closest to in winterfell, from the day you arrived to the present. you knew of her mislike for jon, there wasn't a singular person in winterfell who wasn't aware of it - and yet, during all these years, she hadn't said a word to you of your closeness. you asked for an audience with her in the evening, and you told her everything as you sat with your hands in hers atop the fur carpets by the roar of the fire. you confided in her about how precious jon had always been to you, of how you felt the evening of robin's birth and of how you had love for jon in a way a lady should only have love for her husband. your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you spoke to her of how you feared a betrothal, as you didn't think you could bare being married to anyone else. she listened to you as you spoke. when you finished, she leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead and exited the room. you never got an answer from her.

╰┈➤ lady catelyn's heart ached from the weight of what she had to do. she resented jon, but she could never truly hate him as a person. she feared what his existence, and the way he looked, may mean for her own children but she could never begrudge you for befriending him. this, however, could be disastrous for all of you - and she needed to put a stop to it. she sought jon out the following morning, before it was time for the family to break their fast. she warned him of what his involvement with you could do to your reputation, and of how marrying him would cause you to lose all that you were born with. a woman has little choice in this world but to marry well, and your singular status as lord arryn's only daughter provided you with a privilege not many women could afford - a privilege you would lose were you to marry him. she urged him to put distance between the two of you, if he cared for you as you claimed he did. it was the first time she'd really acknowledged him, and her words stung - perhaps nearly as deep as her resentment and distance once did.

╰┈➤ you were unaware of the fact that this conversation had even taken place to begin with, and jon's insistence on ignoring you came as a shock. you couldn't tell what you had done wrong and you were unsure of how to reason with him.

╰┈➤ it wasn't easy for him to keep his distance from you either, but he took lady catelyn's words to heart. he truly believed that if he kept his distance from you, then you would have an easier time accepting a potential betrothal - as you were always meant to do. now that he was at a distance from you, he was free to confide in robb - and he found comfort in his brother. it was difficult, keeping his feelings from the man he trusted most to begin with and robb's brotherly teasing, as well as his unspoken understanding helped him cope with his decision. for a time at least.

╰┈➤ this tense situation and the distance between you was broken by the most tragic news of your life - your father and the hand of the king, lord jon arryn, had passed away. in addition to your grief, added pressure was placed upon your shoulders as the news of the royal family's impending visit to winterfell reached you. all of this proved to be too much for you, and you crumbled once again, for the first time since your arrival to the north. it was jon whom you turned to once again, and he couldn't find it in him to turn you down. he held you in his arms as you wept, and as you turned to look to him - you made the bold move you'd never dared to make. you leaned upwards and planted a kiss upon his lips, the salty taste of tears staining both of you. he gave in for a split second, before pulling away - remembering lady catelyn's words. "I intend to promise myself to the night's watch. I've already made my father aware of my decision" he confessed to you, his tone gentle yet final. it was then that you asked him why, your voice on the brink of shattering. he spoke to you of his conversation with lady catelyn, and of the steps he took to make sure your reputation wasn't soiled - of the steps he took to make sure you could still have a good life.

╰┈➤ you left him wordlessly then, anger coursing through every inch of your body. you were angry for a multitude of reason - at your father, for sending you to winterfell to begin with. at the world, for taking your father from you before you'd had the chance to see him once more. at your aunt catelyn and jon, for making decisions that concerned you without even thinking to consult you.

╰┈➤ you withdrew to yourself, simply going through the motions as you prepared for the king and his family to arrive at winterfell. you felt no joy at the prospect of seeing him once again, and the thought of his visit served as nothing more than a reminder that you were truly never going to see your father again. you were courteous but curt in all your exchanges, but you exchanged nothing more than pleasantries with all those around you. jon tried to speak with you often, to ensure that you two weren't going to go your separate ways on such poor terms - but he was unsuccessful. you had switched places, with you now ignoring his attempts to speak with you as he had done weeks before.

╰┈➤ the issues between you two and your pointed attempts to ignore him are once again put on hold with all the madness that follows the royal family's visit - bran's accident, your mother's letter to catelyn and the king's offer to lord stark all become topics much more pertinent than jon's upcoming departure and your potential betrothals, and the two of you settle into a peaceful coexistence within the last few days of his stay at winterfell. in truth, as you came to accept your father's death and the unfortunate fate that befell bran, you came to the conclusion that the short time you had with one another was a precious thing, not to be wasted - and you sought him out often, just as you once did.

╰┈➤ the morning he was set to leave for the night's watch, you rose early in the hour of the nightingale- and you sought him out. you walked to the godswood once more, your arm brushing against his. "I believe that I have loved you all my life. I believe that I will love you for the rest of it" you admitted to him as he reached out to grasp your hands in his, a sad smile making its way across your face. "I have loved you all my life, and I will love you for the rest of it" he vowed to you as he leaned down to press his final, gentle kiss upon your lips. you needn't have spoken words of forgiveness or talked much of anything else. you were overcome with a melancholic contentedness in that very moment. jon left his home with his uncle benjen within the next few hours, but he left his heart in winterfell with you.

╰┈➤ that very same evening, you wept in your aunt catelyn's arms. her kiss upon your forehead felt the same as your mother's on the day you last saw her - on the day you left your home behind.

a/n : and that's where I think I'm going to end this! if I ever feel like it, I may revisit jon and arryn!reader later down the line - perhaps with a quick rewrite of season and a happier ending than I gave them here. the original version of this fic is still in my drafts, but I legitimately hated the pacing and the dynamic between jon and reader felt rushed so I rewrote the whole thing - I'm still not fully happy with it, but I much prefer this version and I'm more comfortable publishing it. I hope you enjoy reading this, and please be sure to leave some constructive criticism as I do think there are some parts here that I think can be improved. please do forgive me if the pacing feels slightly off, I struggled quite a bit with this prompt and I legitimately could not write this fic a third time nor expand on it more to try and make it more sensible.

as always, I'm tagging several different characters to help get the post out to as many people as possible, but I do write for all of the characters tagged below so please feel free to request something for them.

[ransprang]

Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader Hcs

Fueling my Nikolaj and GOT brainrot~ enjoy

NSFW and SFW -

1. Man protects you like a dawg. He will not have anyone touch you or get too close without drawing his sword the second they take a step closer (Not even your parents).

2. Jaime loves having sex the second you both are alone, he just can’t help it. A quickie in the meeting room, in his chamber, after shower. He loves it when he stands tall and you’re on your knees sucking him off as a to thank him for protecting you.

3. Jaime loves carrying you over his shoulder. He’s strong, and you’re his. In the palace he will subtly tease you by carrying you over his shoulder to your room.

4. Jaime loves restraining you, he will tackle you down, pinning your hands above your head. He likes to be in charge, and fuck you to relieve his stress from the long day of managing Cersei.

5. Jaime would like to have children with you, and possibly favour them over Joffrey. As they are his to claim to the public, and he can love them freely also protect and raise them.

6. Jaime likes being just a boy around you. No pressures to fight or decisions. He likes teasing, making jokes and possibly be obsessed with building blocks which makes you look at him sometimes think, how at the core hes just. a. guy.

7. When you watch him fight or be an exceptional swordsman you want him to fight you similarly but in the bedroom, without his clothes on and definitely with a different sword of his. You could testify Jaime was skilled with his other not so miniature sword as well.

8. Cersei would love bullying you, in order to push you away from her beloved brother. Jaime wouldnt never rage at her, but would protect you from all her evil schemes and will never let anyone or anything harm you. They will have to face him before you.

9. Jaime takes off his metal hand and stares at where his wrist used to be sometimes, but he will only show such level of sadness and vulnerability in front of you.

10. Jaime loves pounding you with your legs over his shoulders, he loves to watch your breasts bounce bringing him closer to the edge faster.

Your twin,

Admin Sav

[sachaa-ff]

Daemon Targaryen x reader!nièce Targaryen

You just turned 18 and when it’s finally your time to be married, every suitor find a tragical ending..

Request are open 🫶🏼

“Claimed by Fire”

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a warm glow across the gardens of the Red Keep. Today marked a significant milestone—you had finally turned eighteen, and with that came an overwhelming number of wedding proposals from eager suitors. Yet, a dark cloud loomed over the festivities. Whispers echoed through the halls, tales of vanished men and those found dead under mysterious circumstances.

Each proposal left you feeling more uneasy than the last. It seemed like every time you entertained a suitor, his fate was sealed. As much as you yearned for love and companionship, the dread of what might happen hung over you like a shroud.

You spent hours in the gardens, finding solace among the blooming flowers, hoping to escape the suffocating pressure of court life. Your sister, Rhaenyra, often came to visit, her presence a comfort, but even she couldn’t quell the unease that gnawed at you.

On one particularly quiet afternoon, you were lost in thought, staring at the vibrant petals of a rose when the heavy doors of the garden swung open. Daemon, your uncle stormed in, his usually playful demeanor replaced by a palpable fury that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Uncle, what’s wrong?” you asked, instinctively taking a step back.

“Wrong?” he spat, his voice laced with anger. “Those bastards think they can toy with you, and I will not allow it.” He stepped closer, his violet eyes blazing. “They want to marry you, but I know what’s really happening.”

Before you could respond, Daemon produced a bloodied cloth, unfurling it to reveal the severed head of one of your suitors. You stumbled back, horror coursing through you. “Daemon, what have you done?”

“Done?” he echoed, incredulous. “I’ve done what needed to be done. He was a coward, seeking to claim you while others plotted against you. No one will threaten what is mine.”

Your heart raced with a mix of fear and exhilaration. “What do you mean, ‘what is mine’?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

Daemon stepped closer, the air thick with tension. “You belong to me. I have loved you since you were a child, and now that you are of age, I will not let anyone else take you from me.”

His words hung heavily between you, igniting a storm of emotions. “But Daemon, this isn’t how it’s done,” you protested, feeling both fear and an undeniable pull towards him. “You can’t just kill suitors because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he said, a dangerous smile creeping across his lips. “I’m protecting what’s rightfully mine. They will learn to fear the name Targaryen.”

A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside you—fear, excitement, and a thrilling attraction. “Is that all I am to you? A prize to be won?” you challenged, struggling against the intoxicating pull of his presence.

“Not just a prize,” Daemon replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You are my heart, my fire. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means bathing my hands in blood.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. The tension between you was palpable, electric. “And what if I don’t want this, Daemon?” you asked, searching his eyes for any sign of compromise.

He paused, the intensity in his gaze softening momentarily. “You think you have a choice? You’re not just a pawn in this game. You are my blood, a Targaryen. You are meant for greatness, and I intend to ensure you know it.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “You can’t just take me,” you whispered, but deep down, a part of you craved the very protection he offered, even if it came at such a high cost.

“I will not let anyone take you from me,” he vowed, his voice low and serious. “You are mine, and I will prove it to the realm.”

With that, Daemon closed the distance between you, capturing your lips with a searing kiss. It was fierce and demanding, a clash of passion and power that ignited something deep within you. You melted against him, overwhelmed by the heat of his body and the depth of his desire.

When he pulled back, his expression was intense, a mix of pride and possessiveness. “We will face whatever comes together,” he said, his voice husky. “I will protect you, and in time, you will understand why I do this.”

Your heart raced, torn between the danger and the thrill of being with him. You stood on the precipice of something new and terrifying, unsure of how to proceed.

As the days turned into weeks, the initial shock of Daemon’s violent declaration settled into an intense connection between you. The danger that once terrified you now felt like a tempest of passion, stirring your heart in ways you never expected. Daemon was not only fierce but also vulnerable in his own way, and you found yourself drawn to him more each day.

The whispers of court life continued, and the mystery of your suitors’ fates loomed larger than ever. Every glance, every whispered comment became a reminder of the peril surrounding you. Yet, with Daemon by your side, you felt an odd sense of security, as if you had stepped into a world where the rules no longer applied.

One evening, as you strolled through the moonlit gardens, Daemon caught your hand, pulling you close. “You should be careful,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “You never know who’s watching.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, trying to sound confident. “I’m not afraid.”

His laughter was rich and deep, echoing in the night. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But bravery can lead to foolishness.”

You turned to face him, challenging him with your gaze. “And what would you have me do? Live in fear? Hide away while you fight my battles?”

Daemon’s expression grew serious. “It’s not about fear. It’s about protecting what’s mine. And you, my dear, are worth fighting for.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his words. “Do you really think I’m worth all this trouble?”

He leaned closer, his gaze locked onto yours. “You are more than worth it. You are my heart. I’d slay a hundred men to keep you safe.”

Your pulse quickened, the weight of his promise sending a thrill through you. The danger, the passion—it was intoxicating. But still, a small voice in your head warned you. “And what if it’s you who needs protecting, Daemon? You can’t take on the world alone.”

His smile was sly, and he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “Perhaps you underestimate me. I thrive in chaos. It’s in my blood.”

Just as you were about to respond, a rustling in the bushes caught your attention. Your heart raced as a shadow moved, and Daemon instinctively pulled you behind him, his posture protective and ready for confrontation.

“Who goes there?” he called out, his voice low and commanding.

A figure stepped into the moonlight, revealing itself to be one of the guards. “My lord, there have been rumors of more suitors arriving. They’re eager to win the lady’s favor.”

“Let them come,” Daemon replied, his voice dripping with disdain. “They will find only death at my hand.”

The guard nodded, backing away. As the tension in the air settled, you turned to Daemon, feeling the weight of his possessiveness. “You can’t keep doing this, Daemon. You’ll only draw more attention to us.”

He smirked, his expression both devilish and charming. “Good. Let them see. Let them know what happens to those who try to claim what belongs to me.”

The heat of his words ignited something deep within you—a mix of fear and excitement that left you breathless. “And what if I want to choose for myself?” you challenged, daring to look him in the eye.

Daemon stepped closer, his face inches from yours, his expression serious. “You don’t understand, do you? In this game of thrones, choices are often an illusion. I am fighting for you, and in return, I want you to accept that you are mine.”

His words sent a thrill coursing through you. “But what if I want to make my own choices?” you whispered, unsure if you were ready to surrender to this fate.

“Then choose me,” he urged, his voice low and sultry. “Choose to be with the one who will always protect you, no matter the cost.”

The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, and for a moment, you were lost in the promise of his words. The idea of surrendering to him, of being claimed in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying, was becoming increasingly tempting.

As the moonlight bathed you both in silver, you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. But with Daemon, there was also a promise of fire and passion, a fierce loyalty that stirred your heart. Maybe, just maybe, you could learn to embrace this destiny he laid before you.

Days turned into a whirlwind of courtly intrigue and tension, each moment drawing you closer to Daemon and the fire that burned between you. As your relationship deepened, you found yourself balancing fear and desire, caught between the love that was blossoming and the darkness that surrounded you.

You began to understand that in this world of power plays and bloodshed, love could be both a weapon and a shield. And as you faced whatever challenges awaited, you knew one thing for certain: you were no longer just a pawn in someone else’s game; you were a Targaryen, and you would fight for your place in this world—right alongside Daemon.

[halles-notebook]

bathing with jon snow

(suggestive blurb?)

hear me out. he would be so unbelievably gentle with you, your body’s both engulfed in steaming water with flushed cheeks. (from the heat or each other?) he would tentatively brush your hair over your shoulder and away from your smooth back, lightly grazing it with the sopping bath sponge filled with flowery-scented soap over every ridge and tiniest crease of your skin.

his mind would be so foggy and his eyes glazed because everything smells undeniably like you and your so so close and he just can’t take it. he’d rub in your shampoo so delicately, taking care not to pull on any knots or cause any discomfort. rinsing it out might just be his favorite part, watching your blissed expression as he gently scrunches the water out of your soft hair.

poor baby wouldn’t know how to act when you turn and give him your prettiest grin, doe eyes staring up at him in admiration, telling him that it was his turn. he just about short-circuits. when you reach for the more “manly” smelling suds, he grabs your wrist carefully, eyes pleading with you to just not.

you would giggle, “you wanna smell like me, baby?” and his cheeks would flame but he’d nod anyways. “mhm, every one’s gotta know ‘m yours, don’t they?” and now it’s your turn to blush. the GROANS he would let out as you rake your small hands through his knotted curls would be enough to send any woman to heaven.

and when you set down the sponge and instead decide to use your hands to rub your scent all over his scarred skin and ridged abs? oh yeah he’s done for

[thebadboyfanclub]

The Lover Of The Seven Kingdoms (Tywin x Reader)

First of all, I’m sorry but you cannot tell me anything when it comes to Tom hiddleston being the perfect young Tywin Lannister. Second, I love writing morally grey female characters and I wrote grant maester pycelle and mushroom in cause I wanted to show how a lot of male historians portray women in one way cause it’s just easier.

The lover of the seven Kingdoms” grant maester Pycelle had used as a description of (y/n) Martell, the second wife of Tywin Lannister, the symbol of femininity for a plethora of men in kings Landing, the mother of lord Ezra Lannister and lady Asena, the scandalous twins and one of the few bastards that later became legitimate and inherited Lannisport, then they had three more, lady Nymeria, Lady Zara and Lord Sorin, (y/n) was the secret passion of Tywin since she stepped foot at court, she was to be Joanna’s lady in waiting.

Her appearance was one carved by the Gods, long dark raven hair that curled down to her waist, olive skin, and almost black eyes, her lips thick, and a body as juicy as the fruits of her land, her twin brother Dorian had sent her to Kings landing as a way to show respect and also expand her horizons.

“Princess (Y/n) had relations with one of the bastards of house Dayne when she denied him the man gutted himself in front of her, Doran sends her away to avoid more scandals caused by her lustful appetite”

Mushroom note, Joanna liked her, she was smart and endearing, and she knew how to play her part, however, what Joanna had not taken in mind is that (y/n) stopped at nothing to get what she wants, in this case, it was the young Tywin Lannister, the tall man with muscles everywhere, blue eyes and blonde hair was the subject of desire for a plethora of ladies, none of them had the guts to go after him, (y/n) was not like them, she had her eyes set and the game had begun.

“My lord”

(Y/n) called for Tywin, the hour was quite late but Tywin was the hand of the king, the hour did not matter when they were things he needed to pay attention to, papers to be signed and payments to be settled.

(Y/n) had studied his schedule, Joanna was already in bed and Tywin was free, most of the servants were dismissed so they were no prowling eyes to catch her.

Tywin halted and turned to look at the girl that called for him, she wore a rather sheer dress which was unlikely of hers, Dornish people were always costumed to very light choices in clothing, still, this was a step further, if the candles burned a bit brighter Tywin would have been able to see… well everything.

“Princess (y/n), is there something wrong?”

“No, not exactly, I was hoping to talk to you, in private”

Tywin hesitated, (y/n) was just outside her chamber, she was holding the door open which meant that her choice of privacy was her room, still, curiosity about what it could be that needed to be discussed in such a secretive way was enough for his feet to go one and then the other inside.

(Y/n) closed the door before she spun to rest her back on the wood, a smirk playing on her lips as her plan was going smoother than she expected, the room was decorated in cherry red and gold colors, some orange as well and the intense smell of vanilla and musk took over Tywins senses.

“So, I would prefer it if you started talking”

“Do you like being the hand of the king?”

“You summoned me to ask me if you like my occupation?”

“No, I summoned you because I have a pair of eyes, eyes clear enough to see that something has been bothering you”

“Well I am flattered that the princess cares to ask for my well-being, however, I must go”

“You can’t lie to me Tywin, if it’s not your duty then it has something to do with me, you have been avoiding me, you can’t even look me in the eye”

Tywin once again chose to not speak he only made a b line for the door to which (y/n) was resting, she had managed to think of everything down to reaching for the handle when he did, making their hands touch, Tywin did not pull his away, he let it rest on top of hers as he towered over her and she looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Is it me, my lord? It is my presence that is bothering you?”

“No”

“No? You are breathing quite heavily, your eyes travel below my lips, and… dare I say you could have moved me if you truly wanted to, no one is here, my lord, you can confess to me”

“(Y/n)-“

“Go on, confess”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she gawked at Tywin with lustful eyes with a hint of innocence, she had done this before, Tywin was a mere puppet, a bug that got caught in the spiders' web and was now waiting to experience her poisonous bite.

Her kiss could be described as venom, it made his entire body feel like it was burning and her touch was the only remedy, his addiction started and ended with her, he had been fantasizing about her every night, haunting him like a succubus and stealing the life out of him, at an instant he forgot everything, his wife, his status, his entire life would crumble if someone were to find them, none of it mattered, all that he cared about was to see her, take her.

He took her right on her window, some servants had even reported that they could see the young princess bareback as her moans grew some attention, alas none of them thought something of it, most of the castle had seen a generous amount of men go in and out of (y/n)s chamber at all hours of the night.

Tywin was in utter awe with (y/n), he almost felt like he would faint as he reached his high, it was the only time Tywin considered that (y/n) was a practitioner of dark magic. No other woman had held such power over him in this act.

“My lion”

She had whispered in his ear before she kissed him,(Y/n) was the perfect lover, every night he would slip from his chamber and knock on her door, she would be waiting for him, take him up to the sky, and wrap him with her fire that burned as bright as dragon fire.

Tywin was entirely himself around her, she allowed him to be in control and gave him the euphoric theatrics of prowling on her, which made (y/n) giggle a little, it was refreshing and borderline hilarious to move the strings in the background while Tywin thought he was moving them only because she let him touch them.

“I have exciting news”

“Which is?”

“Princess (y/n) is pregnant, how lovely would it be if we get to marry our children? We could secure Dorne and bind my friendship with her”

“We will do no such thing”

“Tywin, think about it if we-“

“You are forgetting an important thing Joanna, the princess is not married, who knows who the father of that bastard is, my child will not marry anyone of such low status”

What else could he have said? We can’t marry them cause they are siblings? Joanna would be crushed, Tywin had run to her chamber that night, not even bothering to knock as he burst into the room startling her, still once she laid her eyes on him she smiled, she dared to smile as if nothing has happened.

“How dare you announce your pregnancy without even telling me first”

“I thought you had noticed”

“No, I hadn’t and Joanna wants to marry your child with one of our children”

“I am sure we will find a way around it”

“Find a way around it? How are you so calm when the world is crumbling on your feet? You are not married nor betrothed, this child will be declared a bastard”

“This child will be my firstborn, a child created by you and me if you remember, that is all that matters to me”

“Not to the rest of the realm”

“I do not care about the rest of the realm Tywin, that is your problem, it will be royalty in Dorne, I do not care what they call my child here”

“Some said she bathed in goats blood every full moon, she would burn candles and speak in foreign languages to make Tywin stay by her side”

Mushroom claimed, it could be true or just whispers since no one understood the powerful hold that she had on the young lord, Tywin was a fearsome man, calculated and ambitious, yet (y/n) could sway him in any direction she wished with a bat of an eyelash.

It was such a peculiar moment, (y/n) gave birth to twins four moons after her lady Joanna, Ezra and Asena, both of them had their fathers' eyes, sapphires that shined in the light of the sun as (y/n) fed them from her breasts, Tywin had held Asena first, she looked nothing like Cersei still something in him knew that the two girls were born to be each others nemesis, fate had played him like a fiddle.

“I was thinking of going back to Dorne”

“Why?”

“My brother said it is not safe for us, people will talk and I do not want my children to grow up in a venomous environment”

“No, no you will stay, Ezra and Asena Hill has a nice ring to it”

“They are Martells, my love, they shall be called that”

(Y/n) was not ashamed of her children, on the contrary, she adored them and kept them by her side at all times, she taught them how to walk, talk, sing, and dance, a endearing mother with a backbone made of Valyrian steel, a combination made straight out of the seven rings of hell.

“Push, my lady”

“I can’t, (y/n) please make it stop”

“Maester, what is taking so long?”

“The babe has breached, it will not let me pull it out”

“It hurts (y/n)”

“I know, my lady, just one more push”

Joanna fought tooth and nail to survive, unfortunately, her labor did not harvest any fruit for her, the son survived but Lady Joanna did not even get to hold him, grant Maester pycelle held Tyrion and presented him to lord Tywin who was utterly disgusted by the ugly creature.

“That is no son of mine, throw him in the river”

“You will do no such thing”

“This matter does not concern you, princess”

“It does, you may be excused maester”

Pycelle only nodded and left them alone, a strange aura surrounded both of them, Joanna was gone, a deformed babe had taken her life, and (y/n)s belly was ready to pop any minute, what was to be done now?

“Does cruelty excite you?”

“Cersei and Jaime are both healthy and Lannister featured, that… thing could not have been created by me”

“It was not the babes' fault, so I have to remind you that you are also guilty of the thing you are accusing a dead woman of?”

Tywin was a man but that meant little to nothing, if Tyrion was a bastard then there was no difference between him and (y/n)s children, Tywin was in no place to frown upon such an act since he was having another child on the way, a bastard.

“Listen to me, my love, I know you loved Joanna and I loved her too, but the babe survived, it’s the last thing we have from her, grief is a strong emotion, but we have each other to lean on, don’t you want this for us Tywin? for me?”

There it was, her secret weapon, that sweet voice that dripped of honey and the big doe eyes, she knew how to play the damsel in distress down to every detail, Tywin put his lips in before he shook his head in defeat, his wife had departed but his mistress stood before him, demanding a place at his table and life, which he was willing to give her.

-

Cersei was frantic, the announcement of her father's betrothal to the princess (y/n) and the reaffirmation of her bastard children had brought her to an utmost stage of rage that she was going around her room like a hurricane, she was throwing things and cursing as loud as her lungs allowed it.

How could he do this to her? To her family? That woman had slithered her way into their life like a snake and was now feasting over her mother's dead body, this was just plain disrespectful to her mother.

Tywin found Cerseis handmaidens outside her chamber as the sounds that came from it could put to shame any wild animal, the ladies looked frightened and not one of them dared to go in, however, all of them tried to warn him in leaving the lady be, suggesting that this has probably happened before.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Get out”

“Young lady I advise you-“

“Shut up! I don’t want to listen to you! How could you marry her?! How could you do this to my mother?”

That was the last thing she said before a harsh slap landed on Cerseis's cheek, the girl was taken back by the act since her father had never hit her, he would discipline her but mostly by raising his voice or finding peculiar tricks of punishment, for Tywin to get physical with his daughter meant that she had gone too far.

“You do not get to judge my decisions, you will welcome your brother and sisters and you will be nice to my wife whether you like it or not, did I make myself clear?”

Silence only looks that could kill were exchanged

“Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes Father”

“My love?”

(Y/n) walked into the room, she had heard everything although she chose to reside in the act of being clueless, Tywin had turned away from his daughter and walked to his soon-to-be wife’s side, his hand found hers and brought it up to his lips, (y/n) smiled fondly before she scanned the room with her eyes, a puzzled look on her face as the room was upside down.

“What has happened? Is the young lady alright? The handmaidens were stuttering when I asked about the noises”

“Yes, no need to worry, my dear, Cersei was just redecorating”

“Oh, well if she wishes I can help with that”

“No, no, Cersei is quite specific, she prefers doing things her way, hence this scenery, we should live her”

“As the young lioness wishes, but before we leave”

(Y/n) took a few steps so she can stand ahead of Cersei, Cersei truly felt like a lioness, one that was trapped in a cage to be exact, as much as Cersei wanted to believe she could outsmart anyone (y/n) had years up on the horse, so naturally she was now trotting past Cersei with her caring smile and eyes that lit up, Cersei was left to looking like a kid that threw a tantrum whilst (y/n) looked like a mother that did her best to keep the peace.

“I know you are angry at me, I would be too, I will not try to be your mother, I do however hope that one day you will view me as your ally or your friend even”

(Y/n) went to caress Cerseis cheek which Cersei flinched away from that earned her a cold hard stare from her father, (y/n) only bit her lip in defeat, then it was replaced by a smile of hope, (y/n) genuinely wanted things to go as smooth as possible, to keep all of Joanna's children close to her, it was the least she could do she wasn’t a complete monster, as much as Cersei liked to think of her as one.

“Perhaps it’s too soon, I am asking way too much of you, I hope you have a great day, sweetling”

“Put everything back in its place, now”

Tywin instructed in a stern voice before they exited the chamber that Hurricane Cersei was occupying, Tywin was sure that she would throw something at the door once it was closed and he stood correct when a loud bang was heard.

“She is a young girl that lost her mother, having an attitude with me is inevitable”

“Cersei is not a normal young girl, she has a superiority complex over everyone, our children will not interact with her yet”

“That won’t be a problem, Asena is not… fond of Cersei either”

“I wonder why, let us not think of Cersei right now, it is time for Nymeria to be fed”

“See how beautiful it sounds when it rolls off the tongue? And you wanted to name her Lydia”

Since this babe was the first legitimate child of Tywin and (y/n) he had the suggestion of picking the name of the beloved girl, on the contrary (y/n) was not budging, she was adamant on naming her daughter after the biggest warrior queen Dorne has ever known, her precious Nymeria.

“The princess never wanted to marry lord Tywin, she was far more interested in keeping their relationship private, howbeit Lord Tywin was too consumed by his emotions for her to consider the fact that the princess could have been wed, she simply chose not to”

Grant maester Pycelle added when asked about their wedding. (Y/n) did not care about her children being legitimate or owning land, Dorne was her home, her brother had congratulated her on the birth of her twins and even offered to have them in Dorne, and her family was delighted by (y/n) bringing forth new heirs for the Martells, it was only Tywin that wanted to make it official, to let everyone know that the princess was now cloaked by the lion, her life as the lady of the rock had begun and Dorne had entered a land that they never really thought of earning.

“In a day you will be my wife, therefore, my children’s good mother, I expect them to treat you as such”

“I do not, Tywin they are in mourning, you cannot expect them to make it easy for me”

“I am not dimly witted my dearest, I know they will have some thoughts over our marriage, albeit I will make sure they keep it to themselves”

Requests are open!

[justanoasisimagines]

Fluff Alphabet - Jaime Lannister

Warnings; A/N; Requests are open! Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner and the divider

A = Affection - How afectionate are they? Do they like recieving affection etc?

Jaime is moderately affectionate. He hasn't been show how to be affectionate by his father. Jaime actively tries to be more affectionate with you. Men are not judged by their words but by their actions. Jaime doesn't believe your relationship should be any different.

B = Bathing - Do they like to bathe or shower alone? What's it like to share a bath or shower with him?

Jaime is moderately affectionate. He hasn't been show how to be affectionate by his father. Jaime actively tries to be more affectionate with you. Men are not judged by their words but by their actions. Jaime doesn't believe your relationship should be any different. C = Cooking - Can they cook? Do they like to cook? Would they cook for you? What type of dishes would they like to cook? Jaime can't cook. He's had every meal prepared for him his entire life. Even if he wanted to cook for you, he would have no idea where to start. He wouldn't know how to prepare or cook something until it was edible. Would he learn how to cook if you offered to teach him? Absolutely.

D = Dates - What type of dates would they like to go on? Do they like to plan dates? Be taken on dates? How frequently is date night? etc Dates are not frequent with Jaime. Both of you are always so busy. However, when Jaime does surprise you with tea in the gardens or dinner within your chambers away from everyone's prying eyes. Jaime would also take you horseriding, either separately or sharing. E = Effort - How much effort do they put in? How do they show their efforts? Are they either an all out or all in kind of person? Jaime would put everything into the union. He's never going to do anything without putting one hundred percent into things. Jaime would be devoted to getting to know you. He'd be supportive during social events. He would defend you in front of his family. Jaime would shower you with gifts and pleasantries. F = Family - Do they want to have children? What would family life look like? How many children do they want? etc? Jaime must have legitimate children to continue his family's legacy. However, Jaime does want to be a father. He wants to have a family so he can raise his children the way he sees fit. Jaime would be a more attentive and tolerant parent. He'd pay attention to his children's interests. He would remind his children frequently how loved they are. G = Gentleman/Lady - How much of a gentleman/lady would they be? Would they hold out doors for you? Pull out your chair? Walk on the road side? etc

Jaime is every aspect of a gentleman. He's from a noble family. He's been taught how to behave respectfully. He will put out your chair for you. He does enter rooms before you searching for any dangers. He offers his cloak to you when it's cold. If he has to travel then he will a token back for you to prove he's been thinking about you. H = Honeymoon - Where would they like to go on honeymoon? What would it look like? etc

You and Jaime would travel to Casterly Rock for your Honeymoon. Since Jaime is set to become Lord of Casterly Rock, it would give you time to familiarize yourself with your future home. Jaime would appreciate the time away and the opportunity alone time with you. You'd both spend the time enjoying the alone time. I = I love you - How long would it take them to fall in love with you? How would they confess? Is it a big deal to them etc?

It takes a while for Jaime to fall in love with you. However, when he realizes he loves you it's like a punch to the stomach. He doesn't look at you the same way again after that. He doesn't tell you straight away. He allows himself to be consumed by this new revelation. He eventually tells you and it's spontaneous. When you're doing something nonchalant. J = Jealously - How easily do they get jealous? What makes them jealous? How do they react when your jealous? etc,

Jaime gets jealous easily. He doesn't appreciate someone being brazen to believe they could be a better suitor for you. Jaime is always clipped with his words, his tone neutral yet threatening. Jaime is very good at being threatening while appearing calm. When you're jealous Jaime's smug because he loves seeing you get as petty as him.

K = Kisses - What kisses are they more likely to give? What kisses do they like to recieve? etc

Giving; Morning kisses, loving kisses, against the wall kisses, forehead kisses, come to bed kisses.

Recieving; Neck kisses, cheek kisses, good night kisses, giggly kisses. L = Love Language - What's their love language(s)? What languages are they most receptive to?

Jaime's love languages are words of affirmation and gift-giving. He's going to shower you with compliments, terms of endearment and countless gifts especially when you're courting. As far as receiving, Jaime would prefer receiving actions rather than words. So his love languages would be Acts of service, quality time and physical touch would be those he's most receptive to. He wants your words to be backed up with action.

M = Marriage - Do they want to get married? What would being married to them look like? Do they want a large or small wedding? etc

Marriage is often a duty rather than a want. He's the eldest son, so he's expected to continue on the Lannister line. When Jaime did get married Tywin would create a massive event. Tywin uses it to reinforce the power of his house. When Jaime falls in love, however, he would want to get married for the right reasons. N = Nicknames - What nicknames would they use for you? Do you give any to them? You; Darling, Love, Beautiful, Sweetheart, Husband/Wife

Him; Love, My Lion, My Knight/Husband

O = Obvious - How obvious are they? What gives them away? Their face or actions?

Jaime is extremely difficult to read. His face nor his actions give him away. He struggles to process his feelings because he hasn't had feelings for anyone before. When he realizes, however, he's a softer more nervous version of himself. Soon enough he's going to start showering you with compliments and actively seeking you out.

P = Public Displays of Affection - Do they enjoy PDA? How comfotable are they with PDA?

Jaime isn't overly affectionate in public. He's cautious of treading the fine line. He doesn't want anyone gossiping about you, two being inappropriate. Jaime's not worried about himself. He can handle what the court says about him. However, he does worry about you.

Q = Quality Time - How do they like to spend quality time with you? How do they make time? Can they communicate effectively when they need quality time with you?

Jaime loves to spend time with you in your shared chambers away from everything and everyone. He also loves taking walks with you in the gardens. Jaime makes time with you by putting his foot down. He'll decline duties if he's been too busy as of late. His duty as a husband is just as important to him. When Jaime wants to spend time with you, he'll simply have you excused from your duties. R = Romantic - Do they consider themselves romantic?

Jaime considers himself a romantic. He knows how to flatter and compliment a lady. He knows how to make them feel special. Jaime also understands sometimes it's not the grand gestures, but small things. Showering you with affection. Buying you something they've mentioned in passing; shows he's been listening.

S = Security - Do they feel secure in your relationship? What would they do if they didn't feel secure?

Jaime does feel secure because he has to be able to trust the person he's with. He cannot have doubts about the person he's with. If he didn't feel secure, Jaime would pull back from them. he wouldn't confide his feelings or what was going on. He'd eventually let things reach boiling point before confronting them.

T = Tease - Do they like to tease you? If so, how?

Sometimes, while Jaime has to be serious the majority of the time, he'll occasionally let his hair down. He'll playfully pick you up and spin you about. He'll playfully creep up behind you to scare you. Sometimes Jaime will engage in some flirtatious banter with you. It's always light and Jaime prefers to do it in private.

U = Umbrella - Would they hold an umbrella for you? Would they kiss you in the rain? Dance with you in the rain?

It doesn't rain in Kingslanding, however, if it did Jaime would hold an umbrella out for you. Jaime would prioritize you with the umbrella over himself. On the odd occasion Jaime was feeling playful, Jaime would kiss you in the rain. When lost in the moment, Jaime would kiss you once and then twice and so forth.

V = Vanity - How do they see themselves? Positively or negatively? What's their favourite part of their body etc?

Jaime sees himself positively before the loss of his hand. Afterward, however, it takes him a minute to find his confidence again. When he does it's less arrogance and more self-belief. Even on the days he's not feeling confident, you wouldn't be able to tell. He's built up a facade to make his true intentions in court. His favourite body part is defnitely his face.

W = Whole - When you're apart do they feel like part of them is missing? How do they deal with being apart from you?

The longer you're together, the more Jaime despises being apart from you. Primarily due to Jaime preferring to spend time with someone who hasn't got ulterior motives. Jaime would write you letters every couple of days while he was away. Even if you don't get them all at once. Jaime will also take a piece of your clothing so he can have the familiar smell with him.

X = Xtra - An extra headcanon

Jaime is fiercely protective over you. Especially over his own family. He doesn't want to hear their criticisms. He doesn't want you brought into their scheming. Jaime will go against his family for you. He might not have done enough to have to achieve his Father's approval but he refuses to let them break you down. Y = You - What do you they like most about you? Favourite body part etc?

Jaime adores your resilience. Being in Kingslanding is not for the faint of heart. However, Jaime is in awe of how you navigate it with such grace. He loves the way you smile. It lights up his day, especially when it's towards him. His heart lights up.

Z = Zzzz - Sleeping headcanons

Jaime always sleeps closest to the door as a precaution to protect you. He prefers to sleep beside you. Either with his arm draped around you or you lying on his chest. Jaime likes seeing the sunrise over the two of you. It's his favorite way to start the day, waking up, knowing he has you by his side.

[sarahisslytherin]

the hour of the wolf.

jon snow x reader

summary: your nightmares of king's landing follow you to castle black. jon does his best to comfort you.

contains: angst, talk of sa, ptsd, crying, hurt/comfort.

a/n: this one's bittersweet, also first jon and official got fic!

word count: 0.7k

Wind howled outside your cabin at Castle Black, the sound not unlike a ragged scream. You had heard screams like it, had heard them leave your own lungs on several occasions over the past years. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying for sleep to drag you away from your thoughts. But in the pitch black of your chamber you saw the face of every man who tried to hurt you, tried to put their hands on you. You squirmed and writhed and howled but they gripped you all the same. It felt real, too real. You choked on a gasp as you shot up in bed, the cold hitting you like a wall of ice. You were covered in only the thin layer of your smallclothes and the furs that blanketed the bed. You would find no rest here, at least not tonight.

You laid on layer after layer, preparing for the day ahead even though it was the middle of the night. But you had to do something, anything but lie there and relive the horrors you experienced in King’s Landing. You tugged on your furs as you left your room, the harsh northern winds paralyzing you momentarily. Your boots thudded against the wooden floorboards as you made your way through the corridors and down to the courtyard. 

There he was, cloaked head to toe in fur. His sable curls ruffled in the wind, snowflakes catching in them as they fell. Your friend from childhood, the first person you thought to run to once you’d escaped the claws of King’s Landing. Jon Snow. How he had held you when you arrived at Castle Black a fortnight ago, your eyes sunken and your skin pale. You had run to him with a fervor you hadn’t felt in years. You had wept onto his shoulder, nestled deep into the furs as he held you like he would never let you go again. And now here he was. Awake, like you, during the hour of the wolf.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice gravelly and laced with concern as he watched you trudge towards him through the snow. You shook your head in response. “I know the feeling”.

You came to stand beside him, observing the snow-covered railings. “Does it ever get easier? Sleeping, living?”

He was quiet for a moment, considering his words. “It does.” he decided. “The wounds heal over time. They become scars. You remember how you got them but they don’t sting the way they once did.”

You prayed he was right, prayed the gods would be merciful with you in a way they hadn’t for so torturously long. “I have tried to be strong, Jon. But I feel I can’t go on anymore. It is all-consuming. I lie awake at night and I see their faces.”

Jon’s whirled in your direction. You hadn’t spoken to him about what you’d suffered just yet, though he was dying to know. “Whose faces?”

Your mouth went dry. “Joffrey, Cersei, Meryn Trant, the executioner. Men who had taken me and tried to have their way with me. They flash before me when the world grows too quiet.”

Jon’s eyes did not leave you as you spoke. “If I had known, I would have put a stop to it.”

“How would you have stopped it?” you snapped, glaring at him in a way you knew deep down he did not deserve. “There was nothing you could do, nothing I could do.”

Jon came up close to you now, a gloved hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You are strong. Six hundred men here and you might be the strongest of us all. Aye, we might be able to cut down our enemies, but none of us would have endured a fraction of what you did. You are as much a warrior as any man here, do you hear me?”

A single tear slid down your cheek, and Jon was quick to wipe it away. “I hear you.”

“If anyone touches you, calls you a name or so much as looks at you a certain way- you come get me, and I’ll take care of it. Understand?” he pleaded with you, and when you looked into those deep brown eyes of his you wanted to cry.

“Thank you, Jon.” you whispered, burying yourself in the crook of his neck as he cupped the back of your head. He shushed your quiet sobs with all the patience in the world, placing a ginger kiss on your temple.

“I love you.” you sighed into his ear. It was the first time you had ever spoken of the sentiment you knew existed between the two of you. And you decided to breathe life into it with words. “I have always loved you.”

“So have I, love.” he choked out as he held you flush against him. “You’re safe now. Try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You knew you would sleep easier in the hours to come, but for now you just held onto the one thing in your life you knew you could trust.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @shemisseshome

[anaskinned]

Petyr Baelish X Reader

Professor Baelish Au

TW: Smut, degradation, age gap, fingering, teacher x student, bullying, stalking, slapping, spanking, choking.

This is my first smut! Get cozy :)

——————-——————————————————

Y/N has been avoiding going to class for a week straight now.

Professor Baelish never used to take attendance, but the girl who always sat in the front, the girl whose eyes followed him like a shadow, had not been showing up to class. He had grown strangely amused by her eager nature. She was undeniably stunning, possessing a truly gorgeous physique. She diligently took notes without pause, arrived a steadfast ten minutes early for every class, and consistently scored above average on every test. His curiosity only grew with each day she didn’t show.

The first day he noticed almost immediately. He glanced at his watch as her usual arrival time passed, his gaze flicking back to the classroom door expectantly. Five minutes later, a sense of unease crept in, prompting him to reach for his laptop bag placed neatly beside the desk. He unzipped the bag and withdrew his sleek laptop, his fingers tapping the power button to awaken the screen. The soft hum of the device filled the quiet classroom as he waited for it to boot up. His eyes scanned the inbox, but there were no new emails to distract him from the growing mystery of her absence. She never arrived so he let it go. A one off.

The next day, he arrived early, positioning himself in the hallway a full fifteen minutes before the lecture was scheduled to begin. Leaning against the corridor wall with an almost obsessive determination, he crossed his arms tightly, his posture rigid yet filled with an undeniable intensity. Every passing student received a nod from him, but his gaze remained fixed on the door through which she should have walked. The minutes stretched on, and despite his early vigilance and the magnetic pull of his expectation, she never appeared. His curiosity now tinged with a hint of obsession as he couldn't shake the thought of her absence. The third day, consumed by an escalating obsession, he delved into the school's database, meticulously searching for her schedule.

On the fourth day, his patience with her reached an all new low. Anticipation coiled tightly within him as he positioned himself discreetly outside her class before his own. He watched intently as she emerged hurriedly from the classroom, her steps quickened by some unseen urgency. With a swift and calculated move, he intercepted her path, his hands reaching out to grasp her wrist firmly but gently, halting her in her tracks. Her surprise was palpable, mirrored by the intensity in his eyes as he faced her.

“Y/N.” He grabbed her wrist firmly, stopping her in her tracks.

She stood frozen, her mouth gaping.

“Professor Baelish.”

“Why are you avoiding my class?”

“I’m not - I wasn’t.” She stammered.

He studied her face intently, scanning for any hint of deception or evasion. "Pretty girls shouldn't lie. Explain to me how you've managed to attend every class for the last four days and yet remain conspicuously absent from mine." His tone was measured, yet beneath it simmered a blend of curiosity and a hint of something more personal.

“Professor.” She squeaked, gesturing her eyes to the crowd forming around the two in the hallway.

Baelish sighed, releasing his grip on Y/N’s wrist.

“You, my dear, are coming to my office. Go.” He hissed in her ear and held her gaze. His piercing blue eyes bore into hers with a mix of scrutiny and calculation before he turned abruptly, striding away in the opposite direction.

She hurried to his office, her heart racing with each door she passed along the way. As she approached his department door, she stole a cautious glance through the glass pane, only to find his office empty and devoid of any sign of him. Pausing uncertainly for a moment, she wrestled with indecision before abruptly turning on her heel and retreating in the opposite direction.

Thump

Professor Baelish stood silently behind her. He observed her every move with a penetrating gaze, his expression unreadable yet filled with an unsettling intensity.

“Wrong way.” He huffed impatiently.

He held his arm out, and with his other, he opened and waited for her to enter the office.

She pushed passed him and sat in the chair opposite to the desk.

He took his place across from her, effortlessly shedding his suit jacket to reveal a physique that bespoke strength and refinement. With a graceful movement, he crossed one leg over the other, his demeanor exuding a captivating blend of confidence and intrigue.

“You know why I have brought you here. Now tell me the truth.”

"I was sick," she stammered, her voice wavering slightly as she met his unwavering gaze.

"Darling, we all lie. You happen to be the worst one I've ever encountered," he remarked coolly, his words carrying a mix of admonishment and fascination.

“Sir, I really can't do this.”

“Such proper obedience for a disobedient girl.” He sucked his teeth while watching her thoughtfully. “Why do you sit in the front for my lectures but sit in the back for every one of your other classes?” he inquired, his tone a blend of curiosity and a hint of playful challenge.

“Sir - I”

“I watched you cry after checking your phone multiple times.”

Her face bursted into an embarrassed flush.

"I want to know who has you so captivated," he pressed, his voice carrying a mix of intrigue and a subtle edge of possessiveness.

"I… I love your class, and I find you so… charming," she confessed softly, her words hesitant yet tinged with genuine admiration.

“Go on.”

“And some people have been starting rumours about me.”

“Saying?”

“That I - I fuck you… to get good grades.” Her voice trailed off and her eyes faltered to the floor.

"What a story that would be," he mused absent-mindedly. "No kidding," she replied, a hint of nervousness in her voice. The pair made heated eye contact and when neither of them laughed, they settled into an uncomfortable silence.

“Give me names.”

“Seriously Professor, I don't want to make myself a bigger target. Can we just drop this?”

“Y/N, I'm not going to let them sully your academic achievements. You're too smart to be labelled a whore.” He watched her for a long moment before dropping his voice and bending over the table. “Are you a whore Y/N?”

She was embarrassed by the question because she had to stop and think. Is she a whore? No, not overtly, but she was undeniably enthralled by the man, captivated by his presence alone. Thoughts of him consumed her mind constantly, and she eagerly anticipated each class they shared. The thought of him following her all day made her thighs clench in ways that were wrong.

"Lost in thought. For such a simple question," he remarked, his eyes fixed on her with a hungry intensity. He circled the desk slowly, the sound of his tsking accompanying each deliberate step.

“Sir, please let me go.”

“Well now I'm not sure Ms. L/N.” He now stood behind her chair. “How can I condemn this behaviour when I can't place you? Either you're a good girl, or you're a whore.”

“I am not a whore!” She bit out.

“Very good girl, Y/N.”

“Sir… I - don't know what you want from me?”

"Names," he demanded, his voice tinged with anger and authority, cutting through the tense atmosphere in the room.

“I can't. I really don't mind.”

“Should I force them out of you?”

“You can't.”

He laughed callously. "Bend over the desk," he instructed, his tone firm and commanding, his demeanor unyielding.

She sat there, looking up at him in pure shock, her expression a mix of disbelief and uncertainty.

“Now. Whore.”

He allowed the fear to shake her to the core. Retrieving a large wooden ruler from behind his desk, he held it firmly, the weight of his intention palpable in the air.

“Let’s start simple, Y/N. How many students are involved in the rumour?”

She didn't speak.

He wound his arm back, striking her round ass with a hard smack.

“Fuck!” She cried out.

“Good girls wouldn't use such colourful language. Now, how many students are involved?”

“Five!” she hissed.

“Why would they start such a nasty little rumour?”

She shook her head.

Thwack!

“Ah.” She threw her head back, finally making eye contact with her superior.

“Why Y/N?”

No answer.

Thwack.

"Where there's smoke," he murmured, bending down to gently rub the sore spot on her rump, "there’s usually fire." His voice held a mixture of warning and curiosity, probing for more information beneath the surface.

Oh, there was definitely a fire; she could feel it between her legs, her back arching slightly as she leaned into his tender touch.

He let his hand fall to his side before spanking her again.

“God, I started them, Sir.”

He paused, absorbing the information slowly, his expression unreadable as he processed the revelation.

“Now why is that?”

“I left my fucking note book unattended and they read it.”

“Where is the notebook now?”

Her eyes dropped in a mix of sadness and shame. Without a word, Baelish had a sneaking suspicion that the notebook resided in her backpack. Straightening his posture, he proceeded to search through her bag until he found the notebook she carried into every class.

Y/N bowed her head, holding her bent position on the desk. She looked like she could burst into tears at any moment.

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the girls former seat.

He flipped through the pages of notes, maintaining deliberate eye contact with her before turning each page. He couldn't help but be impressed by how diligently she recorded every word he uttered in class. However, as he reached the back of the notebook, he discovered something more provocative stored there.

He looked up at Y/N, his eyebrows raising with each smut-filled page he read. Some of its topics included hair pulling, choking, fucking raw, and degradation. A smile couldn't help but cross his face, and he couldn't help but notice his pants growing tighter. These were all categories he not only enjoyed, but excelled at.

“So this is a crush?”

“Yes sir.”

“How does crushing escalate to fucking?”

“Sir I don't know.”

“I can't help but imagine the way he would stand over me and call me nasty names.” He said in a dull tone, his voice tinged with exasperation and annoyance.

“Stop!” She cried, the tears running down her face. “Just report it to the dean and let me leave with dignity.”

“And why would I do that?” He perplexed. “So the school can investigate me? So you can evade punishment?”

“You know I have way more to lose than you.” She sobbed. “I would lose my scholarship and the school would have me expelled.”

“Thats not real punishment. You know why?”

Her eyes blazed with anger now, a fiery intensity that matched her frustration.

"Why, Professor Baelish?" she bit out, her voice infused with defiance and fake curiosity.

“Because if the rumour is, that I fuck my young students?” He said, now getting in her face. “I better get to fuck said younger student. Get on your knees.” He demanded.

“Sir-”

“Now.”

She felt the fire spreading from her cunt to her head. She knew this was wrong but her body couldn't help but submit.

He reached for the book and flipped through several pages before decisively tearing out a specific page and tossing it before her eyes.

“Read it out loud.” He barked.

“Today I came into class and watched Professor Baelish-”

He towered over her, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. “You know what part.”

She cringed, absolutely tortured by the private words she had written, and took a shaky breath before continuing.

“Today I imagined him reprimanding me in front of the class, and sitting on his lap, everyone watching as he stroked me.”

“Good girl.” He cooed. “Keep going.”

“I - I would let him do anything he wanted to me to be honest.”

"That's it, finally some truthfulness," he remarked, his tone laced with a mix of satisfaction and intrigue.

He looked deeply into her eyes as he began to undo his belt buckle and pull down his pants.

Y/N watched in bewilderment as the moment she had fantasized about for half a year unfolded before her eyes.

“Keep reading, whore.”

Her eyes fluttered to and from the page, as if she didn't want to miss anything.

“I wish I could stroke his cock, licking and slipping my mouth around the head.”

“Do you now?” He said, letting his member free and bounce against his lower stomach.

Y/N’s eyes lit up like giant saucers, staring directly at his cock.

“You have my permission.”

She lurched forward eagerly, her warm breath huffed before taking in his head. She made eye contact, watching the way his mouth twitched and hissed with each slow movement of her tongue.

He became impatient with her slow pace, snatching her hair by the base of her neck and saying “open wide.”

Her eyes watered as he impaled her mouth and relentlessly fucked her mouth with need. She hummed against his member, taking another inch with each stroke. It wasn't long before she took him in completely.

“Fuck you are such a dirty fucking whore, Y/N.” He cooed, relishing the sensation.

After a couple minutes, he pulled her lips off his cock and brought her to her feet.

"Stand by the desk," he instructed firmly.

Y/N stood, but Baelish stopped her abruptly, yanking her back with a tight grip on her wrist.

“You forgot your smut.” He said impatiently.

Y/N couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the whole scenario. She reluctantly bent over to retrieve the piece of paper and reported behind his desk.

“Read.”

“I wish he would grab me by the neck and push me onto the desk.”

He fixated on her, pushing her chest onto the desk while the base of her neck was pinned to the mahogany.

“Like this?”

She didn't say anything but let out a pathetic whimper.

He tightened his grip on her neck and used his other hand to smack her tender bottom.

“Fuck - yes - like this!”

He laughed curtly, grinding his hard cock against her ass.

He used his full weight to immobilize her tiny body; letting his tongue lick the outside rim of her ear.

She moaned loudly, huffing a cloudy wet stain on the desk.

“Keep reading.”

“He would lick my pussy till I cried, while calling me horrible names and making me beg for it.” She felt so naked while being fully clothed.

He removed the weight of his torso before pulling Y/N’s jeans down, and inspecting the outline of her pussy lips through her panties.

“Your needy cunt is dripping, little whore.”

She rested her forehead against the table as she huffed, her thighs clenching in need.

He peeled her wet garment off her soaked pussy lips, pressing his digits to her sensitive clit.

She gasped, urgently bucking her hips to gain more friction.

Baelish didn't appreciate the gesture; he tsked disapprovingly and smacked her hard on the ass.

“Let me explain this to you right fucking now. Any pleasure you receive, will be because I wanted you to experience it. The same goes for pain.” He smacked her ass harder. “Apologize for being a greedy slut.”

“I’m sorry.”

Thwack.

"Apologize for being a greedy slut!" he demanded, his voice stern and uncompromising, echoing in the dimly lit room.

“I’m sorry for being a greedy slut!” She grated out.

“Good girl.” He hummed. His fingers splayed against her pussy, his middle and ring finger plunging into her cunt. His thumb rubbed in tight circles around her clit as she squirmed on the desk.

Her moans were getting louder and louder as she grew closer to her climax.

“Good girl, Y/N.” He leaned down, smashing his lips into hers.

His lips were heavenly, his tongue a lubed weapon, and his saliva was hot, like a warm shot down her throat. The kiss was pure electricity.

“I’m so close.” She wept.

“Are you?” his demeanour, sweet and inviting.

“I’m going to cum.” She wailed.

“No you're not.” and just like that, he removed his fingers, leaving her so empty and needy.

“But-but-”

“But - but..?” he mimicked her whiny voice. “Any pleasure you receive will be because I wanted you to experience it.” He smacked her bottom again, the stinging red mark branding her ass. “Greedy whore.”

Y/N huffed in frustration before Baelish thrusted his cock into her pussy.

“Fuck!” she cried.

“Fuck, that is a nice tight cunt.” He groaned, placing both hands on either side of her ass.

Y/N’s pussy swallowed his cock, the girth alone igniting a sweet pain; sweeter than she could ever imagine. He pumped in and out of her effortlessly, letting his hands roam her breasts from behind.

She turned her head to the side, watching his facial features contort in erotic ways that made her lower body flush with butterflies.

“Fuck you're so beautiful.” He drawled, savoring each syllable as though he had effortlessly plucked the words straight from her lips.

His hand reached around her neck as he yanked her hair towards his chest, asserting control and dominance. He was now in a better position to grind deeper into her wetlands.

“Is this what the little whore wanted?” He whispered in her ear, slightly out of breath.

“Yes sir.” She moaned.

"Are you going to leave your book and those lacy panties in my possession?" His voice held a strong dominant tone.

“Yes sir.” She wasn't sure what made her cunt clench. Was it the thought of him jacking off with her panties, or him delving into her every desire? Either way, she melted.

“Good fucking whore.” His thrusts were growing faster and more erratic. "You have detention with me for the rest of the semester," he murmured, his voice lowering. "I own you."

“Please sir, I promise to serve my punishment!” Y/N could barely take it anymore. Her climax was so close, but she knew he would deny her release if she dared to push too far. She clenched her teeth, desperate to hold on despite the overwhelming need pulsing through her.

"Beg me to cum," he whispered, his tone thick with lust and dominance, his eyes locked onto hers, commanding her submission.

“Fuck sir, I'm sorry I brought you shame. Please let me cum, I will obey you - please!”

His hand found her clit and began toe-curling circles on her sensitive nub.

“Please Sir!” she squealed frantically.

“Cum all over this cock little girl.” He groaned, pounding her cunt desperately.

The pair climaxed at the same time, their sweaty bodies collapsing into a hot heap on the desk. It wasn't till five minutes had passed had he shifted off of her back. He walked towards the cabinet on the wall and pulled out a fresh towel, his movements deliberate and controlled. A momentary distraction from the tension that lingered in the air between them.

He began to clean her up, wiping any fluids that didn't exist prior to this entanglement.

"I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you, but mistook it as naivety," he chuckled softly, a hollow amusement in his voice.

Y/N laid on the desk in thought, pondering why he had singled her out, questioning if it was intentional or mere coincidence.

"Why choose me?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension, as if probing into the depths of his fixation.

"You are special," he whispered softly, brushing a loving finger down the apple of her cheek. His touch was tender, his words sincere, as he gazed into her eyes with affection.

"Why?" she asked, searching for understanding in his words and touch. "I am a private man," he began, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of regret. As he sat down on the chair, he gently pulled her down beside him. "The moment you left that book unattended was the moment you jeopardized my privacy. That is why you have been punished." His words hung in the air, conveying both his need for personal boundaries and a sense of consequence for her actions. He sighed, “If you break our agreement or miss a class again, I will show up to your dorm room and fuck you senseless. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she replied softly.

"Now, hand over your panties," he ordered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And the book."

Without hesitation, she heeded his command and stepped away from the lace panties. They were damp to the touch, embarrassingly so, but nonetheless, she handed them over, along with the book.

"Now get to class, you have ten minutes." He spoke sternly, pushing her off his lap and pulling her jeans back up. He got up from his seat and kissed her tenderly, his lips lingering softly against hers. "See you soon, Professor Baelish." She blushed. "Goodbye, pet."

[coryosbaby]

𝑀𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑀𝓎 𝐻𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹

Ramsay Bolton x fem! Reader

Content warning . Acts of manipulation, arranged marriage, Stockholme syndrome, nsfw. Reader is implied to be plus sized but perceive her however you want. 18+, MDNI !!

*. ੈ♡*ੈ⸝⋆

Ramsay Bolton was never someone you intended to love, but it wasn’t long after your arranged marriage that you started to fall for him.

As much as you hated to say it, the man had a specific… softness for you. You knew deep down that it was probably a manipulation tactic to make you more vulnerable towards him, but it was working like a charm, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. When you were both asleep in your chambers— see, he had had a room specifically designed for you to both sleep in the same bed— you would curl up onto his chest, sleepily smacking your lips and muttering a “g’night, Ramsay,” as you drifted off into slumber.

A slumber that you always felt safe in, for some strange reason.

Ramsay would only hum, his grip around your waist almost possessive even as you both slept. If you got too uncomfortable when staying in that position for too long, you would flip over. Ramsay would soon follow suit, his arm slinging itself over your waist, mumbling something like, “keep still, pup,” as he pulled you close against his chest. That was your routine every night after the first month, curled up in each other’s embrace.

During the day he would go hunting. You didn’t dare ask what he hunted for, though you had a vague suspicion. You didn’t mind the handmaidens gossiping around you so you could learn more about your husband, and so far, it wasn’t anything good. Not that there was anything good that you heard to begin with—It was no secret what Ramsay Bolton did behind closed doors. When he would come back from a hunt, he would be giddy, proud, caked in blood and gore, an almost violent smile on his face. You would smile back at him, glancing up with sweet eyes as he pulled you into his arms. He would kiss you hard on the mouth, hands traveling down to the hem of your dress— “Shouldn’t I get a reward for my hard work, lady wife?”— and then he would bend you over the nearest surface and make you cum on his cock for hours, ridding you of any apprehension or thought.

You didn’t mind these things. You were married, after all, and Ramsay Bolton was definitely skilled in a lot of aspects. This included playing your body like a violin, rubbing and licking and pushing in ways that made you squirm. He loved to be in between your thighs and eat your cunt like a man starved, or thrust his fingers into your needy hole until you were releasing messily all over his mouth. He’d bend you in half instead of over on a lot of nights, putting all his weight on top of you so you couldn’t move away from him.

So you couldn’t escape him.

There were hardships sometimes. Ramsay would be in a very angry mood, and you would do something very minor and it would upset him— he’d yell at you, call you names and laugh in your face when you began to cry, or he’d scream some more if you decided to snap back at him. But it was all because he was a blind person when he was angry; you didn’t try and judge him too harshly for that. He had a long fuse when it came to you, compared to the others.

Regardless, he would always return to you the night of the argument, covered in blood once again, with apologies on his tongue and a gift on occasion. Like the wolf pup he had gifted you on your twentieth name day— “A protector for when I’m not around. You look so perfect when you smile, my beautiful girl.”— or his head between your thighs. Whichever worked, really.

When he asked you to accompany him on a hunt one day, your eyebrows had raised in surprise. What could he have awaiting in those woods for you to shoot down with a bow and arrow? You wondered about it, and honestly dreamed of the day when you as a lady would have the freedom to learn the ways of hunting. But when you got there, there was no prey to be found.

None except you, of course.

It wasn’t as scary as it sounds. Ramsay had left his weapons behind, which you noticed once you got a decent way into the woods. Such a ditzy little thing you were, always in your own world and too far gone to even notice. Ramsay had told you to run, that you were both playing tag. When you were It, he had shoved you down onto the forest floor and lifted up your skirts, a growl evident in his throat as he claimed you.

“Mine.”

You had came back to the castle, shy, your dress’ bodice ripped from Ramsay’s rough manhandling. No one said a thing, and Ramsay gave you the reward of keeping his cock warm while you slept.

When you bathed, he loved to watch you. You never understood why, but you assumed it may have been some weird sort of intimacy that only Ramsay Bolton would want with his partner. He would sit in a seat reserved just for him, and he would watch your body sink into the water, bare breasts supple and soaped. He would watch the curve of your ear as you pushed your wet hair out of your eyes and the Cupid’s bow above your lip. Sometimes he loved to admire the thatch of hair between your legs, covering the place he loved most, or the soft tummy you had grown to have because he fed you good, hearty food.

Other times, he would listen to the tinkling of your laugh as he told you something that was funny. He would pass on his information of Philosophy and the fine arts which Roose had forced him to learn, and he would adore how excited you got when he taught you these things. It seemed like everytime, eyes wide with fascination, you would bloom, like a pretty orchid or a wild rose.

Ramsay swooned when you presented your psyche to him this way, but you never knew that unless he told you such.

One night he had even helped you bathe. He had gathered a sponge and a bar of soap, had asked quietly if he could do the work for you. You had been exhausted from the previous day and had nodded your head, sighing in content when he begun to gently rub the sponge over your back. He had ran it over your shoulders, arms, thighs, every nook and cranny just to watch the contortions of your form. He had washed you off, and with a soft voice as sweet as honey, began to speak.

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t know how to reply to him, though you knew answer already.

“Yes.”

He had tilted his head, something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. He resumed his tasks, now moving on to massage your scalp with soft fingers. He had gently pushed your head under the water so he could rinse your hair, and his hands had held you under. Not forcefully, it seemed, but he wanted to.. keep you there. And you let him. Your body relaxed against the warmth of his hands and the waves, and it was then that you realized he could hurt you at any moment. Drown you, hold you under and water board you, beat your head against the tub until your brain splattered to mush.

But he didn’t. And as you stared at him, eyes wide through the water, watching his blue eyes staring back at you, you knew then that you were completely and utterly fucked.

You hated yourself for it, for this revelation that overcame you in that moment: You were basking in this man, in the complete darkness that was Ramsay Bolton. You didn’t know how or why it became this way, but you liked your husband, big and strong, there to keep you and hold you and gift you small trinkets and whisper sweet nothings. It was almost too much.

But that night, you curled up onto his chest anyway, like a kitten, purring in a soft lilt, “I love you, Ramsay.”

He had squeezed your hand tight, a small smile on his face. This is exactly what he wanted.

“I know you do, little dove.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[luvinescent]

Stealing Time

Pairing: Modern!Robb Stark x fem!Reader

Summary: Weddings should be an event full of joy and happiness for everyone involved. Especially for the bride and groom, who are the main focal point of it all. So, what is the reason for celebrations if they both have gone missing?

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v, dirty talk, etc.

Word count: 3933

Additional: M/H/N stands for Maid of Honors Name.

A soft melody of a strong quartet could be heard through the air like a soft breeze as more guests continued to arrive. The venue was decorated with fairy lights that cascaded down, a crystal chandelier in the middle of it all, creating an inviting and dreamy atmosphere. The celebratory music pulsated on the dance floor, enticing visitors to sway and swirl in a joyful celebration. The air was filled with laughter and lively discussions that mixed with the sound of glasses clinking as toasts were being offered in honor of the newlyweds.

The only problem was that neither one of them were present in the room.

Catelyn Stark, mother of the groom, stood scanning the room next to the wedding planner— a young girl who looked to be on the verge of pulling out her hair. Catelyn could hear the small anxious mutters of “we’re off schedule now” as the girl kept analyzing the clipboard she held in her hand. Excusing herself from the girl and her husband, Catelyn went towards the hallways connecting to the venue. She was stopped in her travels by a distant relative on her husbands’ side, smiling at the old man.

“Catelyn!” he greeted heartily. “Where is that boy of yours? I haven’t seen him or the new Mrs.”. He let out a great laugh, holding onto his rounded beer belly for support. Catelyn returned the laugh, nodding at his question, “I was just about to go get him. I’ll be right back”.

She turned around; the sound of her heels clicking on the shiny floor echoed, causing any guests in her path to quickly shift aside. Catelyn walked with a confident stance, her chin up, shoulders back, and a big smile covering her face. A smile that was very deceiving and Jon Snow knew this when she came faced with him.

“Where is your brother?”

He stared wide eyed at her, caught off guard by her presence and her question. His face was a ballet of nervousness, revealing the false confidence he was trying so hard to keep up. “I-I, uh… I don’t know...”, Jon shrugged his shoulder, wincing a little at the look she gave him. Catelyn smacked her lips, grabbing a hold of Jons ear, “Don’t lie to me. Where is Robb? The nerve of that boy! Disappearing at his own wedding, and you covering for him. I thought I raised you both better than this!”. The entire time, the bride’s maid of honor had stood next to Jon, witnessing him get a scolding from his mother, but Catelyn could care less about his embarrassment. Before Catelyn could continue her interrogation, she was stopped by the sound of a familiar voice within her distance. “Have you seen Y/N?”.

Turning around, Catelyn saw the mother of the bride asking a family member before she turned and saw her. “Oh, Cat!”, the mother rushed towards her, “Have you seen my daughter? I can’t find her anywhere”.

Putting back on that wide smile, Catelyn turned her head to Jon and the maid of honor. “What a coincidence. I can’t seem to find my son either.”

The two looked like deer’s caught in headlights. Both their words jumbled out fast, inaudible to the human ear. Thinking fast, M/H/N leaped into action, her words both a hasty attempt and holding a somewhat truth to them. “Y/N went to go change from her wedding gown to her reception dress”. Jon nodded vigorously in agreement at her explanation, “A-And Robb wanted to change his shoes”. M/H/N whipped her neck and gave Jon a glare, his add on not helping as Robb did not bring extra shoes. Y/N’s mother did not have time to question any of what they said—being brisked away to go greet a great aunt.

Catelyn stood in front of the two adults once again. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by their statements.

“Y/N went to go change?”

“Yes”, M/H/N said instantly.

“And Robb went to go change his shoes?”

“Yes”, now it was Jon.

“…and they went together?”

“…yes”, they both replied. Humming to herself, she continued observing them, knowing very well they were hiding something. “How long ago did they leave?”. They once again exchanged looks with one another, face flushed with embarrassment, “Uh, not that long ago…they’ll be here soon”. Catelyn’s skepticism deepened, her eyes darting from M/H/N awkward performance to Jon’s increasingly guilty expression. Letting out a sigh and rubbing her temples, she turned to return to the party, “Fine”.

With one hand tangled in his auburn curls, you panted against Robb’s lips, “mm you’re insane”. Robb chose to ignore your words, his lips choosing to instead attack your neck and his fingers gripping hard on your thigh— surely to leave bruises come morning. Craning your neck back for more easy access, you tried reasoning, “they’re probably looking for us now—“. You couldn’t even finish your sentence, his cock having thrusted into your walls so deep it left you gasping for air, “f-Fuck, Robb!”

He groaned against your neck, his hips moving in rhythm against yours, “Who cares what they’re doing when I get to have you like this to all to myself”.  You almost bit your tongue when his hand slipped between the two of you, fingers rubbing at your sweet spot, “Fuck, I love it when you moan my name”.

It was almost close to an hour ago when your maid of honor took you to change out of your wedding dress into your reception dress. Coming out of the dressing room, you were met with both your newly brother-in-law and newly husband. While M/H/N and Jon engaged in some conversation about the band arriving soon, Robb and you took to wrapping each other up in arms. With a huge grin on his face, he planted small kisses all over your face, “My gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, wife”. Laughing at how his stubble tickled against your face, you laid your palm up against his cheek, “Aye, watch the makeup”, quickly giving him a kiss on the lips before pulling away and looking into his blue eyes, “but thank you my very handsome, good-looking, very very very attractive husband”. You two shared a moment of silence and intense gaze before you both broke out in giggles, capturing each other’s lips in one another, moving tendering and deeply. Pulling away, Robb stared down at you, both love in his eyes but also a hint of something else.

“You know you really do look gorgeous. You look equally as beautiful in this dress as you did in your wedding dress”. You thanked him once again but gave him a puzzled look when he said he had other opinions, however.

“And what other opinions are those?”, you said, smiling while waving at a cousin who just entered the building. Turning back to Robb, you noticed the way his eyes had slightly shifted in emotion; something more carnal behind them. Bending down his head towards your ear, he whispered softly, “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have you naked with my head between your thighs”. His voice brought chills up your spine as he blew a soft gust of air on your earlobe before going back to height. Biting your lip and playing with his tie, you titled your head to the side and chuckled softly “You would, huh?”. His only reply was a nod, watching your every move like hawk and gulping as your fingers started to trail along his neck now. Robb was being unfair; he knew just how much his words had an effect on you. But yours did too. Bringing him down by his tie, you’d thought best to return his teasing—fighting fire with fire.

Slowly, you leaned up, “…I want you inside of me. I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do right now”. You could hear his breath hitch behind his closed mouth. Both of you were once again stuck in an intense stare down, this time only desire and want in your gazes. You were quick to fix yourself up, distancing yourself a bit from Robb and plastering on an innocent smile as more guests arrived, “Hi. Thank you for coming”. You snickered to yourself; feeling Robbs eyes on your back as he hadn’t moved a single inch from his spot. Jon and M/H/N ended their conversation and turned to face you both, nodding their head in the direction of the main area, “Alright, let’s get going”.

You took one single step before Robb came up behind you, grabbing you by your forearm and pushing you towards his chest. “Actually”, he started, “Y/N told me her dress is bothering her”. M/H/N had stepped up, examining you from head to toe, “Oh, let me help— “. Robb had interrupted her by raising his hand and shaking his head, “No, it’s fine. I got it. Besides, we want to spend some quiet time together, don’t we babe?”. Looking up at him, you quickly assessed the situation and nodded along, “R-right, yeah. We’ll be right back. You guys go and have fun. Who cares about us anyways.”

Jon and M/H/N didn’t have time to argue back— the new couple running down the halls of the building, hand in hand with laughter being echoed throughout it. Jon tsked his tongue, shouting at his brother and sister-in-law who were still in view, “What do you mean who cares about you guys?! This is your wedding!”. They both turned to flip Jon off, turning the corner and disappearing to the next connecting hall. Sighing, Jon rubbed his face as M/H/N came to stand next to him in silence.

“You know there was nothing wrong with her dress”. “… Yeah”.

And that’s how you found yourself with Robb in some random office room in the building of your wedding reception. Robb’s patience was running low as he pushed you up against the wall and against the corner of what some seemed to be some bookshelf. Both your lips hungrily going at each other very frantically. A loud moan was swallowed by his mouth when his fingers went down, pushing your panties to the side and starting to play with your wet folds and opening. Wasting no time, you trailed your hands down towards his belt, quickly trying to undo it. Robb pulled away entirely from you, using the distance to unbutton a bit of his dress shirt and to take off his belt. Breathing heavily, you grabbed him back down by the neck for another kiss, biting his lip and sucking on his tongue. Pulling away, you raised an eyebrow at Robb with a smirk present on your face and his lips darkened and wet with saliva, “I’m almost positive this kind of tradition is reserved for tonight. You know, after the reception, not during”. Robb laughed slightly, pushing up against you and grabbing a hold of your thigh, wrapping your leg around his waist while the other stood for balance. His other hand was used to bunch up the fabric of your white party dress and to pull down one of its straps. “What can I say”, he bit along your neck, “you’re just so damn beautiful. So damn sexy. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold myself back when I saw you walking down that aisle”. His lips returned to yours. This kiss was messy with teeth almost clashing and tongues fighting. Both your hands were everywhere they could be felt; his on your thighs, ass, hips, breasts, and yours on his chest, neck, and back. Pulling away, Robb looked at you from head to toe and gave you a teasing smile, “And what’s all this?”. With both your body movements and clothes shifting, Robb had finally taken noticed of the white lace lingerie you had underneath the entire time of both your wedding dress and your reception dress. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a pointed look, “It was supposed to be for tonight. Way to ruin the surprise”.  He pouted mockingly at you and let out a small chuckle, kissing your forehead before his previous lustful look returned, “We can keep it on for now. And for tonight, I’ll just pretend it’s my first time seeing it”.

The way he spoke and stared at you had sent something straight to your burning core and had made you shifted closer to him unconsciously. “Such a gentleman”, you spoke running a thumb along his bottom lip and started kissing him again. With his belt already undone, it only took a few seconds to push down his clothing layers just enough to free his cock. As a brief warning, sliding your panties to the side, he slid his tip through your wet folds for a couple seconds. The whine you let out was all he needed before he pushed entirely inside you. You gasped loudly and screwed your eyes shut as Robb gave you a few seconds to adjust to the sudden fullness. Shaking your head, you bit down on your lip, “Don't be gentle with me—I like it when you're rough”. Robb wasted no time, gripping your thigh and fucking deeply into you, “Ah, fuck”, he moaned out, “you feel so fucking good. My good girl. My fucking wife”. He moved his lips along your collarbone, groaning and biting down. “Mm, fuck” you muffled out as your pussy clenched around his hard cock with every thrust he made. Robb took a second to look down, watching the way you took him in and your sleek and arousal that coated him every time he reentered. He was in heaven. Looking back up, you stared at Robb whose pupils were dilated in rapture with a little sweat coating his forehead. You probably looked the same to him as well. Your standing leg was starting to lose balance, causing you to slightly shift. Robb was quick to grab a hold of you, causing the tip of his cock to hit your most sensitive spot and just what he was looking for. “Hmm!”, you moaned out, “fuck Robb, right there!”, you truly felt like you were seeing stars. He started to fuck into you even faster and harder, increasing his movements, your pussy clenching even more, indicating your release. Eyes rolling back, you let your head fall back against the wall as you let out a mixture of curse words, moans, and Robbs’ name. Your body filled with warmth and pleasure, trembling as Robb held onto you and continued trying to reach his own climax. His movements were starting to get sloppy; you knew he was reaching his dissolve soon. However, he had to stop his movements abruptly; the doorknob to the room shaking vigorously.

Despite having locked the door beforehand, it was Robb’s natural reflex to reach over and hold onto the knob. At the same time doing so, he had let out a groan, and you a squeak as he slightly pushed you with his body. You were caught off balance but were able to hold onto the corner of the bookshelf, giving Robb a glare while he raised his finger up to his lip.

“Is somebody in there?”

Both your eyes widened in mutual shock; mouths agape as you two exchanged a horrified glance. You both recognized that voice as Robb’s Aunt Lysa.

She started banging harshly on the door now, “I know that someone is in there. I can hear you! This is a private event! If the cops need to be called, I have no problem- “.

“It’s me Aunt Lysa”, Robb spoke out, slightly cringing. Your face was flushed red; both because of your current activities and because of shame. Looking down, Robb’s left hand still had your thigh wrapped around his waist and his cock still buried inside you.

“Robb?”, Lysa questioned, “Is that you? Your mother has been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing in there?”

Robb gave you a once-over before clearing his throat, “I’m just…changing”. Your grip on the shelf was losing itself, causing you to readjust and move — which caused you to slightly sink down onto Robb’s cock. He was quick to bite his lip to stop the moan coming from his mouth, almost drawing blood in the process. Robb knew you too well and covered your mouth with his hand, knowing you would do the same. The only probably was that he wasn’t as quick.

“Now, hold on,” Lysa loudly said from the other side of the door, “I can hear another person in there and it sounds like a woman. Robb Stark you may be my nephew but I swear to God if you’re doing what I think your doing - “

“It’s me Mrs. Arryn”, you finally spoke out too. There was a moment of silence from the other end before Lysa started speaking again, “Oh, Y/N. Of course… Your mother was also looking for you…”. There was some awkwardness to her tone as you tried your best to clean up the situation, “I’m just changing too. Robb’s helping me”. Another awkward silence passed, “Of course he is…”. You and Robb gave each other a side glance; it was clear she didn’t believe you two and knew what you two were really doing. “Well”, Lysa began, “I best let you two get back to uh…changing…oh, um, where are the bathrooms?”. Robb was the one to answer her question, “On the other side of the building”. With a quick thank you and goodbye, you could hear the distant sound of her heels from the other side before she was gone entirely.

Turning back to Robb, you slapped his chest, groaning into your hands, “Ughhhh, that was so embarrassing”. He only laughed, making you peek at him from the gaps of your fingers. “What are you laughing at? You heard her; our parents are looking for us, so we better go”. Robb’s only response was to kiss you sloppy, pushing back once more inside you. You gasped into his mouth, his tongue playing with yours. Robb then pulled out of you completely, making you whimper from the sudden emptiness. Grabbing you by the forearm, he dragged you towards the desk in the room, bending you over it, pushing your dress up and your panties down— exposing yourself fully to him. He caressed your ass before smacking it hard; making you huff, “Let them wait a few more minutes”, his fingers played along your glistening folds. Standing up behind you, he pushed himself back into you, thrusting in, and out, and in again. Each time rougher than the other as he stretched out your cunt. Grabbing ahold of your hair and arching your back for him, he spoke into your ear, “This is our special day, isn’t it?”. Your only answer was a loud moan, his fingers being placed in your mouth to suck on. “Besides, I’m not fully done with you”.

About twenty minutes later (some of which took up of M/H/N fixing your makeup and concealing your bite marks), you and Robb entered the main room holding arms. Guests were raising their glasses up to you in cheers— some already clearly starting to get tipsy. A close friend of yours came up to you both, hugging you and giving you your congrats while Robb shook hands with her boyfriend. Once they pulled away and moved aside, you both had clear sight across the room of the one person who was looking for you two the most: Catelyn Stark. To make matters worse, she was also conversing with her sister; both whispering and giving you two the side eye.

“Crap” both you and Robb said in unison, watching Catelyn with her wrath make her way towards you. Your sight was cut off by the wedding planner standing stressed and tired in front of you, “Okay, we can get back on schedule if we just follow with the original plan. Bride, it’s time for the father-daughter dance”. Your ears perked up at the familiar sound of the music you had chosen for this occasion and turned to see your dad already on the dance floor. Turning back to Robb, you gave him a sheepish smile, “Would you look at that… gotta go”. He was quick to grab a hold of your hand, “You can’t leave me. You vowed to be with me through anything”. Pulling your hand back, you raised both hands up in defense, “I had my fingers crossed when I said that”.

Seeing his pouted puppy look made you laugh, quickly blowing him a kiss, “I’m kidding. I love you”, turning to go dance with your father. Robb didn’t even have to turn around— already feeling his mother’s presence behind him. Wrapping arms with him, many passersby would see the scene as a mother coddling her son. But Catelyn was actually pinching Robb’s side, and hard. “You are so vulgar I swear. At your own wedding Robb, really? You couldn’t wait until after?”, she spoke through gritted teeth.

Robb winced a little at the pain, but his eyesight was also focused on you. Smiling and laughing with your father. “Why are you getting only me in trouble? Y/N was equally in on it”. Catelyn could only roll her eyes at her sons’ immature response, “Please, knowing you and knowing her it was probably all your doing”. Staring up at him to continue her scolding, she stopped momentarily at the look in her sons’ eyes. Following his line of vision, she was meet with you. A tender smile graced Catelyn lips. Nothing short of captivating was the way he gazed upon you. His unspoken proclamation of love seemed to go beyond words, and his eyes radiated an undying commitment. “Are you happy?”, she asked Robb. The song was coming close to the end. Robb turned to face his mother, a stern look on his face and nothing but seriousness was his tone, “Yes. I am”. From the corner of his eye, Robb could see your father leading you to him. Standing up higher, Catelyn gave him a quick peck on the forehead, “Good. That’s all I’ve ever wanted”. You and your father came face to face with the both of them, Catelyn giving you a peck on the cheek and your father handing you over to Robb, “She’s all yours’ son,” he patted his shoulder, “take care of her”.

Robb led you to the dance floor where the band had started to play a slower and more romantic song. Swaying to the tempo, you spoke up, “So, was she angry?”. Robb let out a small chuckle, smiling down at you. “She was,” he began, “but she said she’d forgive us if we gave her a grandchild”. Staring at him agape, you slapped his chest with a small gasp, “She did not say that!”. Now you both were laughing. The world around you two seemed to fade into a soft blur as you moved, lost in the embrace of your love. Resting your head against his chest, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I love you”, Robb spoke up, his hand tenderly placed on the small of your back. Sighing deeply, inhaling his scent and allowing yourself to bask in his warmth, both of you feeling safe in each other’s embrace, you let him know your feelings, “I love you too”.

Enjoying the moment's beauty, you both stayed in each other's arms as the music softly faded into the night. You both understood that this dance was only the start of an endless journey together.