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dunmeshi-darlings · 8 months ago

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Hello

Can I request a laios x reader, with the reader as laios ex-fiance, since their arrangements was broken off when he ran away without explanation reader have been sad and mad about it. But then someday laios mother told reader about laios become a new king after defeating a demon, reader decided to go there, because reader want to know why he ran away

I'm sorry if this is difficult to understand, English is not my first language, thank youuu

Oh you got no need to apologize its all ok. i understand what you meant. id be happy to do this. thank you so much for sending an imagine in.

Even though its been many years since laios cut off the arrangement and disappeared you still found yourself getting upset at him. He just cancelled it all and ran off to not be heard from again.

Of course over the years that anger and frustration faded greatly but every so often your mind would wander and you would feel your cheeks heat up at the thought of being abandoned like that. but over all you figure it was probably for the best anyway, you dont mind your life and that touden was always...strange to say the least even if he was a looker.

One day though as you are going about your day when laios mother approaches you, asking if she can come in. You agree and let her inside, despite your feelings about laios you had no bad blood with her. you get the both of you some tea as she starts speaking. "Did you hear about the rise of the golden kingdom?" she asks, you nod and say of course you had. it had been the talk of the entire world ever since it rose up out of the sea, seemingly out of nowhere one day. Apparently some group of adventurers defeated the mad mage and seemed like those rumors about becoming the new leader of it was true. You say casually as you take a sip of some tea. "yeah well apparently Laios was the one that defeated the mage and rules the golden kingdom now." she says so casually causing you to spit all the tea you were drinking out, shouting in confusion you ask her if you heard that right? she nods and explains what she had been told from letters from falin, you knew that falin had stayed in touch with there parents but laios had apparently cut them off a decade ago much to your surprise.

You decide to pay a visit, you feel like you almost HAVE to. you need to know why he just left you like that, why he did what he did all those years ago. It took you a bit to get to the new golden kingdom, laios definitely had travelled a far distance since your last time you saw him. By the time you reach the kingdom a full month has passed, you ask the guards to message the king telling him that "Y/N from his arranged marriage wanted to see him." of course you werent sure he would even respond, i mean why would he. he didnt want to marry you obviously so why should he care about seeing you, especially now that he is a KING of all things. However you were surprised when the guard came back and agreed to take you to the king.

When you entered you saw him sitting on a throne. To his left you see a young elf woman with twin braids beside him, This must have been his royal advisor maybe? you werent sure. However you did notice his sister beside her chatting with her...except she was different, she wasnt a tall man anymore..atleast not fully. you noticed a plume of fluffy white feathers poking out of the opening on her chest and down her arms. It was clear she had been changed by some form of magic.

As you walk closer laios asks if everyone can leave the room for a moment, he wants to talk privately with you as they agree and leave leaving only you and him. "So Y/N, how have things been?" He asks awkwardly, its clear he is uncomftorable and doesnt know what to say. You had thought of the things you would say to him for years now, over and over you had gone over in your head what you were going to say to the man that just up and left you like that. you would be furious and scream, sob and cry, all the words you planned to say just dissapear and all you can say is a single word. "why.."

He sighs as he rubs his neck and begins to explain, He tells you how he had began to despise his parents for how they let falin be treated, and how instead of supporting her and her talents they sent her away to the magic school on a different continent. He had grown to hate his parents (more so his father but he had no fond feelings towards his mother either) even though falin kept in contact with them. He also explained how he never felt comfortable around people, that he had always felt more comfortable around monsters...and that in truth he hated people. Plus he admits he wasnt the richest person in the world so would have been able to give you a proper dowry. All of these together made him feel like he wouldnt have been able to give you the life you deserved, he didnt want you to be stuck with a man that hated everyone around him and hated where he lived and wanted to leave and get as far away as he could. He figured that wasnt fair to you, and he didnt know how to properly convey this and let you down easily so...he ran.

The weight of his words hit you harder than you expected...all this time you thought he just didnt like you or hated you ever, or he didnt care about you at all. All this time you hated him for what he did and that you swore you would get answers one day...but these werent the answers you were expected. It would have been so easy to continue to be mad at him, if he said he just didnt like you or hated you that would have been fine..you expected it at this point, but no...he did this because he didnt want to subject you to a miserable life with him..he knew you would be miserable with him if he had stayed there and he didnt want to put you through that...god this was so much harder than you were expecting. "You know....now that im king of the golden kingdom money isnt an issue..and ive made sure the kingdom is a kind place that treats everyone with kindness." you see him slump down a bit. "and since monsters come nowhere near the kingdom...if you want, we can get to know each other better..and see how we feel about each other then?" he says softly, damn that man he was a looker. you sigh, almost relieved its turned out that way. saying you would like that

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #laios #laios touden #laios x reader

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quitealotofsodapop · 2 months ago

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Ooh, the Stone Egg coming out when Xiaotian is courtnapped by Ruyi? Xiaotian is already stressed out from being abducted by a creepy older guy and now having to deal with Demon Bull family drama and Ruyi's incel/conservative uncle behavior-

But-

*slides idea that DBK's parents still alive and FURIOUS when they learn that their great-grandbaby is being born early because their son's an idiot and adding to the drama when the grandchild they never met SLAMS down the door to get to his mate*

Best way to describe my idea of the Immortal Ruyi is somewhere between "Scar" from Lion King + a stereotypical dark wizard.

Ruyi feels inferior to his older brother, banished or not. He feels that he must scrounge and hoard whatever power he must in order to secure his position - everything except changing a thing about himself.

When the Pilgrims encountered Ruyi; he was busy extorting the Kingdom of Women for access to the Abortion Spring - water that acted as a 100% guaranteed birth control for women (and unlucky monks) who did not want to have children. It wasn't just a matter of money - Ruyi has some pretty backwards ideas of what women should be "thankful for".

Makes sense why the Pilgrims beat the crap out of him and steal back all the money and treasures he's extorted from the women.

The Underworld is pretty inuslar - not much commincation between Realms happens down there. Even in the capital city of Youdu, communities are pretty self-isolating.

Except ever since what happened with the Ten Kings...

Yama/Yanluo needs to hire new staff.

Ruyi thinks he'd be a shoe-in for one of the Ten Kings! If only he had a good piece of arm candy to show off to the court...

Ruyi has a Compliant Hook that acts very simialrly to Wukong's Staff - and he might just use it to "hook" himself a stolen bride.

MK: (*finally managed to sneak out of the apartment to get a limited flavour of cheese tea*) Ruyi: (*whisks him away like an old-timey dastardly villain*) The Stone Egg, waking up: "Oh? It's game time now?"

MK of course; is NOT HAPPY with being kidnapped by some old incel demon to a corner of the Underworld!

Even more so when he realises from context clues that this is Red's Uncle!

Ruyi thinks it's foolproof. MK is a creation of Nüwa herself, and helped stabilise all of creation with actions - having him as a spouse would be major Rep points!

MK: "Dude! I'm taken! By your nephew!" Ruyi, preparing a concoction of spring water: "Do not worry. I will remove that roadblock when we come to it. Now you be a good wife and stop scolding me." MK, growing more and more furious: "I AINT YOUR WIFE!"

MK's own kaiju-form tries to activate, but can't due to the immense discomfort he's in. Only he knows the real reason for the cramping. He whispers to his baby to hold on just a little longer, as he staunchly refuses every piece of food or drink his captor tries shoving at him.

The chaos of the courtnapping, plus MK's own loud objections - alert the true masters of the Underworld Ox Palace...

I imagine DBK assumed that his parents had passed in the centuries he'd been gone - only to realise that they weren't dead, just retired from the political scene.

Ránshāo/燃烧 ("to ignite") and Fādǒu/发抖 ("shivering") were an arranged pair from birth - the union of two royal oxen clans spanning both the Hot and Cold Narakas of the Underworld.

One a dense, long-haired plume of fire. One a stern pillar of ice. Unseparable. If DBK respected anything of his parents; it was their bond.

From their union came the one who would be named "THE Demon Bull King"... and their second-born Ruyi.

They try not to play favourites but... the incident in the Kingdom of Women has soured their opinion over Ruyi's political standings. They have tried hard to throw off the imperial politics their own predecessors had imposed, and return to the "old ways". But clearly their current heir isn't wise to change.

The only thing stopping them from welcoming DBK back into their home is ultimately; Pride. If he didn't seek them out, neither would they.

Cycle of bull-headedness.

Until they smell and hear that their second-born has courtnapped himself an unwilling bride. One already with child.

MK: (*terrified and heavily pregnant*) Ruyi, showing off his prize: "Well..?" (*both ox demons look at one another... before slapping Ruyi across the head.*) Ránshāo: "YOU FOOL. Courtnapping is only legitimate if the other party accepts your affection!" Fādǒu, leaning down to MK: "The poor thing is shaking! Did you steal them from their maternity nest!? Their birth clan will have our heads if talk gets out!" Riyu, scrambling: "Well uh- I feel that they would be the perfect spouse for the heir of the Underworld Ox clan! Sun Wukong's successor is-" Both Oxen, so loud it shakes the palace: "THE WHAT?!" Ránshāo: "Are you telling me, this child is the successor of the ONE DEMON able to match our family in battle!? And you dared to kidnap him for your own selfish desires!?!" Fādǒu, hugging MK to her cool fur: "And what of their mate? Surely the existence of the calf in their stomach signals an existing sire!" Ruyi, kowtowing: "The child they carry was immaculately formed! Like the waters of the Mother-Child River! If it is an issue, I will remove it using the Spring-" (*Ruyi receives angry huffs from both parents, their breaths combining to create a boiling mist that forces him back*) Ránshāo: "Get out of my sight. We'll deal with you later." Ruyi: (*scuttles away by a cockroach*) Fādǒu, voice soft: "Child, does your clan know where you are?" MK, calming down: "No... but I imagine that they won't rest until they find me. Macaque can hear for miles, and Mei put trackers on my phone." Ránshāo: "We should prepare for guests then. We must apologize to them for the distress our second-born has caused." Fādǒu: "Is what Ruyi said true? That your child has no sire?" MK, little embarassed: "Uh! Well! It's a stone monkey thing I accidentally did. Baby is technically being made by me alone, but with Dao my body absorbs from my closest peeps and mate." Fādǒu: "Then who is your-?" (*The gates of the Underworld Ox Palace burst open as a stampede of kaijus arrive on-scene; dragon, demon, and celestial among them. The lead of the charge is a fiery cloud in the shape of a bull - the eyes burning with True Fire. The bull crashes through the front gates and throne room, trampling any obstable in it's path. It's charge only stopping when they see the monkey demon.*) Kaiju!Red Son, bellowing deep: "RETURN HIM." MK, surprised but delighted: "Red!!" :D! Both Oxen: (*share same looks of confusion and wonder*)

The sight in the palace is adorable; the tiny monkey demon waddling as fast as he can to embrace their mate, their furry arms not even able to encompass the snout. The massive bull gently nudging their smaller mate's face and belly, as if to ask "Are you okay?" The fire receding back to it's natural shape and size as more desperate kisses are shared.

No arrows or swords drawn - the appearance of Sun Wukong in his War Form put the fear of Buddha in every single one of the Oxen Palace guards.

And the appearance of the prodigal son put joy in their hearts.

DBK: (*arrives seconds later in his regular form, PIF on his shoulder. He looks confused as he realises where Red Son's trail has lead them.*) DBK, seeing the royal couple: "Mother? Father?" The Oxen couple: "Jǐn Cài Niu!?"

Ránshāo and Fādǒu don't even question why their first-born is there. The fiery tornado that ripped through their palace was nearly identical to the kaiju-form of their elder son - only now sporting the True Winds of the boy's celestial mother.

PIF herself is caught in the embrace. She's shocked by the closeness. She had not seen her in-laws in millennia - but now they greet her as if she were beloved kin? She barely manages to squeeze out of the giants' hold to watch her husband reunite with his parents.

Fādǒu: "A grandson! Xiaoniu - a grandson! And you never told us!" DBK, crying with frustration and joy: "I assumed that you did not care for him! I sent many letters to Father's office over the centuries!" Ránshāo, angry growl: "My office... the same office your younger brother as occupied for the last eon?" DBK, realising: "That bast-" Fādǒu, pulls his ear: "Do not finish that exclamation, calf." Ránshāo: "Do not blame him, my snowdrop. If Ruyi is only responsible for what happened today, he should be so lucky to live to see the next one." PIF, floating above the oxen: "I take it you've met our son's intended?" Fādǒu, gasping: "The expectant one!? Oh dear... barely a moment to adjust to knowing we're grandparents..." Ránshāo: "Now we are to expect our first great-grandchild!" Wukong, leans in to whisper: "So. We aren't in a fighting mood now, right?" DBK: "No. Now is not time for quarrel... unless you wish to catch up with my little brother. Odds are; he's already fled the palace." Mei, racing past in dragon-mode: "I CALL FIRST DIBS!"

Reunions and curb-stomps are cut short however - as MK is forced to reveal something that has been causing him grief ever since Ruyi kidnapped him.

Macaque, ears flickering: "He's in labour." Everyone present: "WHAT!?" MK, smiling through winces of pain: "Surprise?" Red Son: (*turns Kaiju-form off and in a feral rush, carries MK to a soft surface*)

Everyone is panicking, even the ones trained in midwifery. Wukong is stammering as he tries to manifest supplies from his transformed hair. Pigsy and Tang are screaming - realising that they need to grab the Bodhisattva Kṣitigarbha just in case babies aren't supposed to be born down here.

PIF is holding MK's hand, coaching him through the contractions and kissing his sweat-soaked brow. She knows the pain he's enduring.

Red is holding MK's other hand, not minding that the bones are most certainly broken by the stone monkey's grip. He's silent with excitement and fear.

Nezha briefly disappears, returning with Guanyin and Xiwangmu themselves at his side.

Guanyin: "When Nezha told me you were due - I certainly did not expect to come here! It's been some time." MK, Wukong & Macaque: "Same!"

It seems that the second MK is assured everything is prepared; the Egg pretty much shoots out - cracked and ready to go. The other monkeys barely have time to collect the broken rainbow-quartz shell when the baby starts howling to the universe.

The Room: (*stunned silent*) Newborn Haoye: (*immediately chirping and clinging to MK*) Macaque: "Wow. That kid did not wait at all to be born." Wukong: "Stress from the courtnapping probably scared him out." (*angry growls radiate around the room. Ruyi will be lucky to be found alive after tonight.*) Red Son & MK: (*both unintelligible blubbering*) "He is so small!!" "And orange!"

Xiwangmu nearly roars at seeing her great-grandcub alive and so loud. Her fellow great-grandparents do not hesistate to embrace the Empress when she hugs them out of joy. ("He's beautiful!" "He is!" "His taigong would have adored him!" "Did he get his fur from you Empress?")

The Underworld and the Celestial Realm are united fully in this moment... all for a tiny orange puffball who's barely a minute old.

Tang faints obviously. Pigsy holds it together long enough to say hi to his grandpiglet before passing out on the nearest sofa. Wukong and Macaque get a few sniffs in before joining Pigsy on the sofa.

All is calm.

Then Haoye sneezes and rainbow-coloured flames shoot out.

The Room: ( 0_0)? MK, laughing nervously: "Oh yeah. The Five Stones! Ha ha ha-!" Nezha, defusing: "To be fair... I spit rainbows." Mei, taking photos: "Aww, our little rainbow monkey man!!" <3

Now the baby has another set of great-grandparents to visit!

If one of the Man Yue gifts is a familar ox skull - MK doesn't comment on it.

#MKEgged au #pregnancy tw #spicynoodles being parents #childbirth tw #stone egg talk #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #lmk red son #spicynoodles #spicynoodleshipping #lmk immortal ruyi #lmk demon bull family #lmk dbk #lmk demon bull king #lmk pif #lmk princess iron fan #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

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asa-do-your-thing · 11 months ago

Text

Burn me down

Michael Gavey x Reader

18+ Minors DNI WC: 4.6k Warnings: Cigarettes, Alcohol, Smut, Wax Play, dom-ish Michael, Nerd in the streets, freak in the sheets A/N: I've asked you to choose a little something for my Birthday and you chose this! Yay! Here's to my 22nd birthday and a rather sweet and kinky Michael.

You stood in front of the Pub, taking quick drags of your cigarette. You damned the horrendous british weather, you damned the fact that the student's exchange office apparently 'lost' your exams in the mail, making you re-sit everything in the winter break, but most of all you damned that Michael.

He was supposed to be your buddy - your mentor, showing you around campus and helping you connect with the other students, though all he did was invite you to the pub where he'd drink his pint in relative silence before leaving again.

It wasn't like you disliked STEM students, no; most of them were the chillest friends one could wish for. But he? He was a right royal pain in the ass, trying to convince you of his intelligence everytime you'd meet up.

You shivered as the cold wind whipped around you, making your eyes water and your teeth chatter. The rain pelted down hard, turning the pavement into a slick, shiny mess that squelched beneath your feet with each step. You finished your cigarette quickly, flicking it away into a nearby puddle with a silent curse as rain dripped onto your fingers. The smoke from it mingled with the damp air, creating an acrid smell that mixed with the scent of wet earth and cobblestones underfoot.

You tucked the next one into your mouth, feeling the familiar burn as you lit it from a soggy match that barely stayed alight in the weather. Pulling out your phone from your jacket pocket, you frowned when you saw no new messages from Michael; he'd stood you up again.

Blowing out a plume of smoke, you sucked your teeth and were just about to turn back and head home when you just-about-avoided giving Michael a burn as he appeared out of nowhere, stepping way too close to you.

"Sorry," he mumbled and looked down at your shivering form. "You said to meet up at eight, why would you text me if I'm here at quarter to?"

You took a step back and offered him a cigarette, which he quickly declined. "It's rude to be on time, it's best to be early. Doesn't matter, you're here now," you said and gave him a one over. That man really did not have a single fashionable piece of clothing to his name, it was incredible. He looked like he'd raided your father's wardrobe. "What's the plan for this evening?"

Michael shrugged, his eyes clung to the glowing end of your cigarette as though the answer was hidden in the embers. "The usual, I suppose," he stammered. "Grab a pint, talk about... things?"

You chuckled, "Ah, the endlessly fascinating 'things'," you teased, flicking some ash off your cigarette onto the pavement. It mingled with the small droplets of rain on the ground like stardust on a cosmic canvas. "How absolutely riveting."

He frowned slightly and looked at you; his eyebrows knitted tightly with confusion. "I didn't mean to be vague," he explained. "It's just..."

"It's just...?" you repeated with curiosity.

"Everything," he muttered. "Everything has been so much more... complicated since meeting you."

You looked at him in surprise as your next words hung precariously in the cold night air. You weren't sure where this conversation was going, but it certainly wasn't in the direction you'd expected.

"Complicated?" you echoed his words, blowing a cloud of smoke into the wind. The bitter cold bit at your face and you withdrew back into your collar. His expression was unreadable underneath the dim wintry light, giving him an aura of mystery that was oddly arresting.

"Yes," he nodded slowly before rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Because you're so different from what I'm used to."

You raised an eyebrow at that comment but said nothing, intrigued by his sudden openness, a stark contrast to his reticent persona up until now.

"But it's not a bad thing," he quickly added, pulling up his shoulders.

God, he was so awkward. Watching two drunk, scantily dressed girls leave the pub, you could see into the establishment and shook your head, grumbling.

"That damned thing's full to the brim. Would you be cool with coming to my apartment and have a drink or two there? I should still have beer and schnapps." Tossing your cigarette butt away you gave him a small, cheeky grin. "Or are you afraid of being alone with a woman?"

Michael's eyes widened at your bold comment, but after a moment his face relaxed into a sheepish smile. "No, I'm not afraid," he admitted. His voice was quiet but firm. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes so you decided not to push any further.

"Good," you replied, slightly impressed by the unexpected admission. "It'd be a shame to go and drink my beer by myself." You proceeded to lead the way to your apartment, just a few streets away. The cold rain was unrelenting and by the time you reached your building, both of you were drenched to the bone.

As soon as you stepped inside however, warm, dry air greeted you like a comforting blanket. You hurried up the worn wooden staircase leading to your apartment, Michael following closely behind. He looked around with curiosity and slight apprehension as he entered your abode for the first time.

Your apartment was small but cozy. A worn-out sofa sat before a small TV set, a coffee table littered with textbooks and research papers spread out before it. The walls were filled with photographs of family and friends; some from home, some from university. The kitchen was compact but well organized, a fridge full of post-it reminders of upcoming exams and assignments.

"Make yourself comfortable," you told him as you headed into the bath to grab some towels for drying off. He hesitated for a moment before finally settling down on the edge of your sofa.

When you returned with two towels, his eyes were darting around your living room - taking in all the photos and personal items that adorned it - like pieces of a puzzle about yourself that he was eager to solve.

"Different..." he mumbled again, almost to himself while his gaze lingered on a picture of you posing with your old high school friends.

"What?" you asked, throwing him one of the towels and ruffling your hair with the other.

He fumbled to catch it and cleared his throat. "You're just... different from what I expected," he repeated, sounding unsure of whether he was complimenting or criticizing you.

"And how's that?" you quirked an eyebrow at him as you headed towards the kitchen, deciding to ignore any potential insult for now. "Want a beer or schnapps?"

"Uh... a beer, please," he said, trying to wipe the rain off his glasses with the towel you gave him.

You opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles. "And how exactly am I different?" you asked again, popping off the caps and joining him on the couch.

He took the offered drink quietly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "You’re more… real," he finally said, looking into your eyes earnestly. "I thought you're just another hippie lit student, but you do seem to be... uh, more scientific."

You burst out laughing at that comment, causing him to blush awkwardly. "Are you saying I am deep?" You took a gulp from your bottle before continuing, "Well, despite your stand-offishness and your slight academic snobbery, Michael," you said pointing at him with the bottle. "You are not so bad yourself."

He looked taken aback and looked away, taking a gulp of beer. Deciding that there wouldn't be much conversation from now on, which was usual for the both of you, you set your beer aside and walked to your wardrobe, pulling out an oversized T-Shirt and some short shorts, deciding to get out of your wet clothes. Not bothering to go into another room - you were still wearing your underwear, so there wasn't much to see anyways, you argued with yourself - you changed quickly.

When you turned back to Michael, he was staring at you with a startled expression, his cheeks flaming red. He quickly averted his gaze, muttering a soft, "Sorry."

"No worries," you replied nonchalantly, taking your seat back on the couch. You enjoyed his discomfort and couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

Silence hung in the room as both of you focused on your beer bottles, the familiar scent of hops and barley filling the room. The distant sounds of the city could be heard through the thin walls of your apartment as well as the constant tapping of rain hitting the windowsill.

After a while, you broke the silence, "So... about these 'things' we're supposed to talk about?" You smirked at him, noticing how he squirmed under your gaze.

He sighed heavily before looking at you directly; eyes full of seriousness. "I think... I think I like how things are complicated with you."

You were taken aback at his straightforward confession and blinked at him. He looked just as surprised by his own boldness, face paling slightly.

"Look," he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "what I mean to say is... I find it intriguing, being around you. You don't strive to fit in any mold and that's... refreshing. And after our... our... evenings, you don't go about shouting it from the rooftops."

You stared at him for a good few seconds before bursting into laughter once again. His obvious discomfort combined with his honesty was endearing in its own strange way. Of course he was mighty uncomfortable about your deeper, emotional talks once you were drunk enough, but who were you to hold it against him.

"You are one weird bloke," you said amidst your laughing fits.

His face reddened once more but this time he nervously stood up and sat down flush next to you, eliciting another round of small giggles from you. "What are you doing? Are you trying to cuddle me?"

"No, I'm not trying to cuddle you," he protested, looking both embarrassed and indignant. Yet, despite his words, he didn't move away. Instead, he found himself moving closer to you on the sofa, closing the distance between you two.

"Then what do you call this?" you asked, laughter subsiding as you turned to face him. His close proximity made your heart beat a little faster, to your own surprise.

"I call this... um... adjusting for... comfort," he said, sounding nervous and uncertain. But his eyes never left yours and there was determination in them that was hard to ignore.

"Yeah? And who's comfort are we talking about here?" you asked, looking at him with amusement. You wondered how much of his boldness was down to the beer or simply his genuine personality.

He hesitated before answering, "Yours. And mine."

Grinning, you set your bottle down and turned towards him, laying an arm over his shoulder (which wasn't very easy, that damned man was so much taller than you were) and licked your lips. "Oh really? Yours as well? I'd never have guessed." With that, you closed the gap between the two of you and kissed him softly, giving him the option to retreat from it if he'd wish to.

Much to your surprise, your kiss elicited a small groan from him and made him wrap his arms around you, tighter than you'd have thought. So your suspicions were true then - he was as interested in you as you were in him.

Michael's touch was warm, his scent of rain and musk mingling with your own, his unsure hands very rough on you, though you had to confess that you didn't mind it as much as you'd have thoought you would. He tasted like beer and something else, something uniquely him. As you kissed him deeper, you could feel his heart pounding against your chest. There was a spark that ignited between the two of you - a mutual curiosity and eagerness that had been brewing beneath the surface for quite some time.

When you broke the kiss, you both gasped for air, eyes locked on each other's. "I think we should take this to bed," you whispered huskily, leaning in for another kiss before standing up and offering him a hand to help him up too. He took it gratefully, his palm soft against yours as he rose from the couch with you guiding him through the darkened room towards your bedroom door. Once inside, you turned lit one of your copious scented candles, casting a soft yellow glow across the space.

You both undressed slowly, shedding layers until all that remained were your underwear and his slightly damp shirt clinginging to his broad shoulders. His tall, lanky frame towered over you as he sat down heavily on the mattress, pulling you into his lap with an easy strength that made your heart race faster than before. The wet shirt clung to your skin as it rubbed against yours during every movement.

As you lay in his lap, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, his fingers tracing your spine and shoulders, you couldn't help but notice how warm and safe you felt in his embrace. He kissed your neck softly, the stubble on his chin brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your back. You moaned lightly as he nibbled on your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His other hand slowly found its way to your breast, cupping it gently as he explored its softness beneath the padded fabric, causing you to gasp. "You're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin. You held your breath as he kneaded it gently, his touch sending sparks of desire straight to your core.

You couldn't believe how comfortable you were with him already; with someone you barely knew but somehow understood on a deeper level than anyone else ever had. The alcohol maybe? Or maybe it was just him—his innocent yet bold nature? You'd never know. All that mattered was this moment—his hand on your breast, the heat radiating from his body, the wet shirt clinging to both of you as if they were magnetized—made every nerve ending tingle with anticipation.

You pushed yourself closer into his touch, arching your back slightly when he pinched the nipple between his fingers teasingly before licking and sucking it softly. A groan escaped your lips at the sensation. You thought he'd be a virgin, but much to your surprise by the way he expertly unclasped your bra behind your back with a single hand and guided you gently onto your back it seemed like he did have a fair amount of practice.

His cock was throbbing against his pants, begging to be freed, but it seemed like he knew that wasn't the only thing that mattered right now. He wanted to get to know you in every way possible - and not just physically. He loved the taste of your lips on his, tangy from the beer but still sweet and soft. Both of you were shivering with anticipation. His hands traced up and down your sides slowly, feeling every curve and edge of your body as if they were made for each other. His fingers brushed against your underwear-covered mound and he gasped slightly at the wetness there before moving upwards to cup one of your breasts, holding it gently.

Your lips trembled as you whispered, "How long have you been wanting this?" Your breath caught in your throat as he clumsily lay next to you, his throbbing arousal pressed against your chilled skin. The way his fingers expertly teased and twisted your nipple made it clear that this was not a spontaneous decision, but rather a burning desire that had been building up inside him for a while. And making out with someone like Michael Gavey would never be just a spontaneous act - he would've started planning this weeks before.

"I... uh...", he muttered, clearly trying to conjure up a lie that he'd never thought about it, so you gave him a small smile. "Didn't mean to offend you," you mumbled as you moved a bit closer to him. His lips met yours again, hungrily, his tongue digging deep into your mouth as you felt his arousal press against your leg. You reached down and grasped it through his pants, feeling the warmth and length of him beneath the cotton. He groaned into the kiss, pressing himself against you harder. You could feel his heart racing as much as yours was, and it only fueled your desire even more. You could taste the beer on his lips and feel the barely-there stubble against your chin as he traced nervous kisses down your jawline, across your collarbone, and lower to your breasts.

When he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently at first and then harder as you gasped, you arched your back off the mattress. He moaned into your skin, humming quietly as he continued to tease you with his lips and teeth. His free hand slid down between your legs, pushing aside the damp fabric of your underwear to touch you directly. Your hips bucked up towards his hand instinctively as he found your already slick folds and began to rub gently. The softness of his touch only added to the intensity of the sensation that coursed through you both.

Your breathing grew heavier as you ground yourself against his hand, needing more contact but also not wanting to beg for him. As Michael's tongue danced around yours, your kisses became more intense, your bodies pressing closer together. His heart was racing, his breathing heavy with anticipation. His hand slid up your side, tracing the curve of your waist before landing softly on the lace of your black panties. You caught your breath as he ran his fingers lightly over the fabric, feeling the softness against his skin. He leaned away from the kiss gradually, smirking at your flushed face and parted lips as he pulled the delicate garment down to reveal what lay beneath.

"Oh," he breathed out, taking in the sight of you - already wet and ready for him. He gave a mocking chuckle, "So ready for me, like a little slut." You blushed even deeper and looked away, unable to meet his gaze. His free hand found its way to your chin and tilted it up gently until you met his eyes again. There was a twinkle in his green irises that made your stomach flip-flop uncontrollably.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips once more in a slow kiss that lingered for far too long before pulling away. A teasing smirk lifted the corners of his mouth as he took in another deep breath and sat up, straddling you, effectively trapping you under him. "Now tell me, how long have you been wanting this? How long have you been moaning my name before you went to sleep?"

Opening and closing your mouth, you blushed heavily and licked your lips as he gingerly picked up the candle and let a tiny droplet of wax fall onto your belly. "Michael!" you gasped and blushed even further, especially as you could see him biting his lips. Shit, you thought, he likes to see you writhing under him. "Michael, I... I... didn't want to bother you, I..."

To that, he only lifted an eyebrow and grinned, letting more hot wax drip onto your chest, which was echoed by a yelping moan. "You still haven't answered my question."

The heat from the candle wax dripping onto your skin sent shivers down your spine, but you didn't flinch away from him. Instead, you inhaled sharply and arched into his touch, feeling every inch of his presence against yours. His hands gently caressed your skin as he waited for your answer, his thumb brushing across the sensitive flesh where he had dotted it with hot wax. You licked your lips nervously, trying to gather enough courage to speak the truth. You couldn't lie to him anymore - you felt like you might explode at any second and were this close to begging him to fuck you senseless.

Oh yes, you knew he'd do that. These shy, standoffish nerds - you knew for a fact that they had the biggest cocks and were willing to use them.

"I've wanted this for weeks," you finally admitted in a barely audible whisper. "Every time I saw you at Uni or when we sat together in the library, I could feel myself getting wet just thinking about what it would be like to be underneath you." Your blush deepened at the admission, but at least now it was out in the open. He was looking at you with such intense curiosity that you could feel yourself melting under his gaze.

As if in response to your confession, he set the candle down again and kissed a trail from your collarbone to your other nipple, nipping softly before catching it between his teeth and sucking gently. Your back arched off the mattress as pleasure coursed through you; he knew exactly what he was doing to make you lose control. His other hand moved lower still, fingertips dancing over your clit. "Hm," he mumbled, "I think I still haven't heard enough."

Whimpring, you tossed your head from one side to the other, trying your hardest to form a coherent sentence, or even just a word, the way he was circling your nub with an ever quickening pace. Losing all your dignity, you looked up at him and whined needily. "Please, Michael, fuck, fuck me... I need you, I..."

You felt his hot breath on your skin as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your earlobe before whispering, "You need me?" He nibbled softly, sending shivers down your spine. "I think that can be arranged..." His voice was trembling with anticipation, giving away his own nervousness and excitement. He trailed his tongue along the edge of your earlobe, grazing it gently as he slid off of you and stood up.

You couldn't help but watch him as he pulled down his underpants. His cock sprang free, hard and ready for action, glistening with his precum as it lazily slapped up ointo his his stomach. He was certainly well endowed - not the thickest, but by god that must've been at least twenty centimetres. You licked your lips unconsciously, wanting nothing more than to taste him, to feel him inside you. He smiled shyly as he quickly rummagged through the pile of discarded clothes and pulled out a condom from his wallet.

"On your hands and knees," he commanded in that same low voice that made your insides melt as he opened the package and rolled the rubber quickly over his cock.

Obediently you complied, presenting yourself to him in a way that only heightened the anticipation building between the two of you. The room was dark now as he extinguished the candle, casting eerie shadows on the walls as he moved behind you. His warm breath fanned over the nape of your neck making you shiver again as he ran a hand through your hair teasingly.

A sharp intake of breath escaped from you when he lightly skimmed a kiss over your spine before tracing it back up, holding tightly onto your hair as you could feel him positioning himself in front of your pulsating pussy.

Without another word, Michael's cockhead pressed against your entrance, teasing and stretching it before he finally found the sweet spot. A low moan escaped from his lips as he sank in to the hilt, filling you up completely. He pushed further inside until he was fully sheathed within your tight heat. You felt him to the core, his length stretching and filling you up completely.

The feeling of his length inside you was both exhilarating and overwhelming, making you moan out in pleasure as he gently began to move within you. His hands cupped your breasts, massaging them gently as he slowly withdrew and thrust back in again. Every inch of him flexed inside you, rubbing against your walls as if trying to find that perfect spot that would make you scream his name.

He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you hard, forcing a gasp from your lips. His hips pounded into you with unyielding force as it seemed like every muscle in his body tensed up with desire. The sound of skin smacking against skin echoed around the room, creating a rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of your hearts in your ears.

He looked down at your exposed ass cheeks while he kept pounding into you, admiring how they shook and clenched with every thrust. One hand moved around to caress them in tandem with his hips, making sure those cheeks received some love too as he slapped them harshly.

Your legs trembled beneath him as he startet grunting more loudly, his fingers clenching around your hips, pushing and pulling in a way that made you feel like he was using you like a toy. Fuck, who would've thought that Michael Gavey was such a freak. Though as soon as that thought had run through your mind, he wrapped his arm around you, quickly rubbing your engorged clit while he pistoned into you at an impossible pace. That was enough for you to scream into your pillow and to half-collapse, him following you almost instantly as your cunt squeezed his cock dry.

He collapsed onto your back, panting heavily against your neck. His heart hammered against your spine, matching the erratic rhythm of your own. He remained in you for a few more moments, his pulsating cock still buried deep inside you; you could feel him twitching with every throb of his orgasm.

Finally, he rolled off of you and onto his side, pulling out of you carefully as he did so. You whimpered at the sudden lack of contact, your body feeling oddly empty without him filling you up. He looked at you then; his eyes soft and full of wonderment as he took in the sight of you lying there—sated, flushed, and thoroughly fucked.

You turned to face him on the bed, reaching out to touch his chest as if to make sure he was really there beside you. His skin was damp with sweat, and he shivered as your fingers traced the contours of his chest and abdomen before finally coming to rest on his softening cock. You gave it a gentle squeeze, making him groan and buck into your touch.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” he stammered shyly after a moment’s silence. “I… um… didn’t mean to be so…” He trailed off uncertainly, looking rather sheepish as he glanced down at you.

But instead of chastising him or laughing at his awkwardness—as any other woman might have done—you simply smiled up at him before leaning in for a kiss. It was sweet and tender—a stark contrast from the roughness that had transpired between you two moments ago.

"Michael," you murmured against his lips once the kiss broke, "do you think I didn't enjoy it?"

He looked a bit taken aback, his brows furrowing in confusion as he met your gaze. "I-I mean... I just..." he stammered, clearly still embarrassed by the sudden shift between his lustful and awkward side. It was endearing to see him this flustered, considering moments ago he had been a commanding force.

"Hush," you cooed, pressing a finger to his lips to silence his ramblings. "I enjoyed every single breathless second of it," you reassured him. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at your words, but his eyes sparkled with relief and satisfaction.

You saw him gulp down his lingering nervousness before he finally managed to utter something coherent again. "I'm glad," he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. "Really glad."

#asas fics #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #happy birthday to me #michael gavey smut

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literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

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The Lady of Shalott is a painting of 1888 by the English painter John William Waterhouse. It is a representation of the ending of Alfred, Lord Tennyson's 1832 poem of the same name.

The Lady of Shalott (1832) By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Part I

On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; The yellow-leaved waterlily The green-sheathed daffodilly Tremble in the water chilly Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver. The sunbeam showers break and quiver In the stream that runneth ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.

Underneath the bearded barley, The reaper, reaping late and early, Hears her ever chanting cheerly, Like an angel, singing clearly, O'er the stream of Camelot. Piling the sheaves in furrows airy, Beneath the moon, the reaper weary Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy, Lady of Shalott.'

The little isle is all inrail'd With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd With roses: by the marge unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken sail'd, Skimming down to Camelot. A pearl garland winds her head: She leaneth on a velvet bed, Full royally apparelled, The Lady of Shalott.

Part II

No time hath she to sport and play: A charmed web she weaves alway. A curse is on her, if she stay Her weaving, either night or day, To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be; Therefore she weaveth steadily, Therefore no other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear. Over the water, running near, The sheepbell tinkles in her ear. Before her hangs a mirror clear, Reflecting tower'd Camelot. And as the mazy web she whirls, She sees the surly village churls, And the red cloaks of market girls Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot: And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, came from Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead Came two young lovers lately wed; 'I am half sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Shalott.

Part III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flam'd upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down from Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down from Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over green Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down from Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:' Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom She made three paces thro' the room She saw the water-flower bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; 'The curse is come upon me,' cried The Lady of Shalott.

Part IV

In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; Outside the isle a shallow boat Beneath a willow lay afloat, Below the carven stern she wrote, The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight, All raimented in snowy white That loosely flew (her zone in sight Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright) Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot, Though the squally east-wind keenly Blew, with folded arms serenely By the water stood the queenly Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance— Like some bold seer in a trance, Beholding all his own mischance, Mute, with a glassy countenance— She look'd down to Camelot. It was the closing of the day: She loos'd the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott.

As when to sailors while they roam, By creeks and outfalls far from home, Rising and dropping with the foam, From dying swans wild warblings come, Blown shoreward; so to Camelot Still as the boathead wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her chanting her deathsong, The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy, She chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her eyes were darken'd wholly, And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot: For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony, By garden wall and gallery, A pale, pale corpse she floated by, Deadcold, between the houses high, Dead into tower'd Camelot. Knight and burgher, lord and dame, To the planked wharfage came: Below the stern they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest, Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest. There lay a parchment on her breast, That puzzled more than all the rest, The wellfed wits at Camelot. 'The web was woven curiously, The charm is broken utterly, Draw near and fear not,—this is I, The Lady of Shalott.'

#literature #poetry #art #the lady of shalott #alfred tennyson #john william waterhouse #writeblr #oil on canvas

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egypt-museum · 1 year ago

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Statue of Queen Iset

New Kingdom, mid 18th Dynasty, ca. 1479-1425 BC. Karnak Cachette. Egyptian Museum, Cairo. JE 37417; CG 42072

The Queen Iset or Isis, was the mother of King Thutmose III, second great royal wife of King Thutmose II. The Queen wears a large wig, with two uraeus at the forehead, the left one wearing the White Crown of Upper Egypt and the right one wearing the Red Crown of Lower Egypt.

The base of a crown can be seen on top of her wig, it is covered in gold leaf and once held two large plumes. Iset is known to have held the titles King's Mother (mwt-nswt), King's Wife (ḥmt-nswt), King's Great Wife (ḥmt-nswt-wrt) and God's Wife (ḥmt-nṯr). All probably posthumously.

#ancient egypt #18th dynasty #new kingdom #sculpture

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hemipenal-system · 1 year ago

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casually remembering that post like "i need to be a dragon pinning down a royal"

i need to subvert a kingdom to run behind the scenes. i need to be sprawled out on a massive throne custom-built for me, heated from underneath by furnaces fueled by servants dressed in golden chains and silk.

i want to pull the king against me and trace a curved claw longer than his knights' daggers and sharper than an arrow against his neck as i purr hungrily in his ear and remind him that everyone is replaceable and i can always install a ruler who's a bit more suited for my purposes.

i need to hold the interim prince against me, wrapped in my wings, his bare chest rising and falling as the torchlight glints off the brand new scratches and bite marks that adorn his body. i want to thank him with a hard rough-tongued kiss along the back of his neck to remind him just how much more powerful than him i am as he promises me he'll double my allowance of mead and dried meat, mind dysfunctional from being treated so well.

i need the king of the enemy country bowing before me, swearing fealty as i snarl at him. he's worthless and may serve better as a black oily stain against the cut stones, melted by a plume of fire, but his mistreated wife who kneels with him, face ever so slightly bruised, could be useful. she's smarter than she looks, and i need a new advisor. the last one tried to poison me, and in a way he did. my stomach was upset for days.

i want to hold my new advisor tenderly, tail curled around her legs as i hold her with a delicacy i've never shown anyone else, especially not a human. she's led me to great financial success, but also is just a joy to be around... and in. her chestnut brown hair looks gorgeous against my deep green scales. she kisses like a dragon, tiny tongue caressing my neck gently as she snuggles into me, and in exchange i push my snout into her forehead and kiss her like a human.

life is good.

#terato #monster fucker #terato blog #monsterfucker #teratophillia #dragon #wlw post #wlw #wlw love #sapphic #sapphic love #dragonfucker #dragon x human

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novaursa · 5 days ago

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Flames in the West (a marriage and a lannister)

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Paring: trag!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: a sad lion

- Next part: a proud lion

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The courtyard of the Red Keep was a whirlwind of banners, fine carriages, and knights in gleaming armor. At the center of it all stood Lord Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, who was charged with the unenviable task of greeting each arrival. His sharp eyes scanned the line of approaching carriages with the efficiency of a man accustomed to tedious obligations.

But even Otto wasn’t prepared for the arrival of House Lannister.

The first sign of their approach was the resounding blast of horns. Not one or two, but at least a dozen golden trumpets heralded their entrance, echoing across the courtyard and turning heads in every direction.

“Oh, gods,” Otto muttered under his breath, already suspecting who was responsible for the fanfare.

Moments later, the gilded Lannister carriage rolled into view, its wheels polished to a blinding shine and pulled by a team of pristine white horses adorned with crimson plumes. The Lannister sigil—an enormous roaring lion—was emblazoned on the doors, glinting in the sunlight as though to declare its superiority over every other house present.

Jason Lannister, naturally, was the first to emerge, stepping out with the practiced ease of a man who knew he looked good. His attire was a masterpiece of crimson and gold embroidery, and his golden hair practically sparkled under the midday sun. He turned to offer his hand to you, his wife, who accepted it with a regal grace that belied your amusement at the spectacle.

You descended from the carriage in a gown that shimmered like molten silver, embroidered with subtle accents of red and gold to signify both your Targaryen and Lannister heritage. Your silver hair was artfully arranged, and the faintest smirk tugged at your lips as you caught the subtle twitch of Otto Hightower’s jaw.

Behind you, a retinue of Lannister knights dismounted in perfect unison, their crimson cloaks billowing dramatically in the breeze. Servants scurried to unload chests of gifts while the horns sounded again, as though the first round hadn’t made enough of an impression.

“Lord Jason,” Otto said as he stepped forward, his tone polite but clipped. “Princess Y/N. Welcome to King’s Landing.”

Jason grinned, bowing slightly but with enough flair to make it clear he thought himself an equal to the Hand. “Lord Otto! A pleasure to be here. I trust our arrival wasn’t too… overwhelming?”

Otto’s eyes flicked to the trumpeters, still lingering nearby as though waiting for another cue. “It was certainly… memorable.”

Jason beamed. “Good. That was the intent.”

Otto turned his attention to you, inclining his head. “Princess. It’s an honor to welcome you back to the Red Keep.”

“Thank you, Lord Otto,” you replied, your voice calm and measured. “It’s good to see the capital again.”

“And to bring a lion with you,” Otto added, glancing pointedly at Jason.

“Ah, but not just any lion,” Jason interjected, stepping closer with his characteristic charm. “A lion with a dragon by his side. Surely a sight to behold, wouldn’t you agree?”

Otto’s smile tightened, though his tone remained diplomatic. “It is… certainly unique.”

Behind you, Martyn Lannister leaned toward one of the knights, muttering, “Unique? That’s the kindest way to describe this circus.”

Jason, oblivious to the quieter commentary, turned to the growing crowd of onlookers. “A fine gathering of lords and ladies! I must say, the Red Keep has outdone itself. Though,” he added, glancing around theatrically, “it could use a touch of something more.”

You elbowed him lightly, your smirk widening. “Behave, Jason.”

He grinned, leaning closer to murmur, “Never.”

As Otto led you and Jason toward the entrance of the Red Keep, Jason couldn’t resist continuing his commentary.

“I must say, Lord Otto,” Jason began, gesturing around the courtyard, “the arrangements are splendid. Though I do hope the feast matches the grandeur of our arrival.”

Otto shot him a sidelong glance. “I’m sure it will meet your expectations, Lord Jason.”

“I’m sure it will, too,” Jason replied breezily. “After all, nothing but the best for my dear sister-in-law.”

You shook your head, though you couldn’t entirely hide your amusement. “Jason, must you antagonize everyone we meet?”

“It’s not antagonizing,” Jason said with a grin. “It’s making an impression.”

“And what impression do you think you’ve made on Lord Otto?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jason tilted his head, pretending to think. “That House Lannister knows how to arrive in style.”

Martyn, who had caught up to you by now, chuckled. “And here I thought the lions were the loudest thing about this family.”

As the Lannister retinue finally moved inside the Red Keep, whispers and laughter rippled through the crowd left behind.

“Did you see the carriage?” one lady murmured to her companion. “It looked like it belonged in a legend.”

“And the trumpets,” another said, giggling. “I half-expected a bard to jump out and sing his praises.”

Otto, still in the courtyard and watching the Lannisters disappear into the castle, let out a long sigh. “Why do the gods test me so?”

One of the stewards beside him coughed. “Perhaps because you always rise to the occasion, my lord.”

Otto shot him a withering look. “Or because they enjoy seeing me suffer.”

Back inside, Jason walked beside you with a swagger that bordered on absurd, whispering, “We’ll be the talk of the wedding. Just you wait.”

You shook your head, though your smirk hadn’t entirely faded. “We already are, Jason. For better or worse.”

“Better,” Jason declared confidently, his self-assured grin firmly in place. “Always better.”

The Lannisters had been shown to their chambers in the Red Keep, a sprawling series of interconnected rooms overlooking the Blackwater Bay. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, glinting off the crimson-and-gold banners the servants had hastily hung to make the family feel more at home. Jason, ever the gracious lord, immediately began inspecting the accommodations as though he were the one hosting.

“These chambers will do,” Jason declared, running a hand over the polished oak table. “Though I must say, a few more lion sigils wouldn’t hurt.”

Behind him, Tyland Lannister entered the room, his measured steps and sharp gaze a stark contrast to Jason’s dramatic flair. He carried an air of cool amusement, as though he had been expecting this exact scene to unfold.

“Jason,” Tyland said, his voice dry, “must you always critique the Red Keep as though you own it?”

Jason turned, grinning. “I’m not critiquing. I’m offering suggestions. It’s called improving the ambiance.”

“Improving,” Tyland echoed, setting down a satchel with a pointed glance at the lavish furnishings. “The royal palace. Of course.”

Meanwhile, you were busy adjusting your cloak, preparing to leave the chamber. Jason caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and immediately turned his attention to you.

“Where are you going?” he asked, stepping closer.

“To greet my sister,” you replied, smoothing the fabric over your shoulder. “I’d like to see her before the festivities begin.”

Jason frowned slightly. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” you said firmly, though there was a faint smile on your lips. “You’ll only cause a scene. Stay here and make sure Tyland doesn’t redecorate in your absence.”

Jason sighed dramatically, but Tyland chuckled. “Don’t worry, my lady,” he said, inclining his head. “I’ll keep him in check.”

You gave Tyland an approving nod before glancing back at Jason. “Try not to antagonize everyone you meet.”

Jason placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “When have I ever done that?”

“Every day since I’ve known you,” you said without missing a beat, earning a laugh from Tyland as you swept out of the room.

As the door closed behind you, Jason turned to Tyland, gesturing grandly at the room. “So, what do you think? A bit drab, but we can work with it.”

Tyland ignored the question, settling into one of the plush chairs by the hearth. “Never mind the drapes, Jason. How did the trip go? I’d imagine a pregnant wife doesn’t make for the easiest traveling companion.”

Jason’s expression shifted immediately, softening into something resembling concern. “She handled it well,” he said, though his tone betrayed a hint of lingering worry. “I made sure she was comfortable the entire way.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Comfortable? You, the man who insisted on a carriage gilded in gold and a parade of trumpets to announce your arrival?”

“That was for us,” Jason said defensively, crossing his arms. “For her, I made sure we stopped frequently, kept the best blankets, and even sent riders ahead to arrange the finest accommodations.”

Tyland smirked. “And let me guess—she found all of that unnecessary.”

Jason sighed, sinking into the chair opposite his brother. “She’s impossible to please sometimes. She even complained about the carriage.”

“What about the carriage?” Tyland asked, genuinely curious.

“She said it was too shiny,” Jason said, throwing up his hands. “Too shiny! Who complains about that?”

Tyland chuckled, shaking his head. “Your wife is a Targaryen, Jason. She rides a dragon. Do you think she cares about shiny carriages?”

Jason huffed, leaning back. “I was just trying to make her comfortable.”

“And yet, she still made it here without strangling you,” Tyland quipped. “That’s an accomplishment.”

Jason shot him a look, though there was no real malice in it. “She appreciates my efforts. Deep down.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Tyland said, his tone light with amusement. “And I’m sure she also appreciates how you hovered over her like a worried septa.”

“I did not hover,” Jason protested, though his tone lacked conviction.

“You absolutely hovered,” Tyland said with a grin. “I can already see it—you fretting over every bump in the road, asking her if she’s comfortable every five minutes.”

Jason opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. “Alright, maybe I hovered a little,” he admitted, running a hand through his golden hair. “But can you blame me? She’s carrying my child, Tyland. I just want her to be safe.”

Tyland’s grin softened into something closer to a smile. “It’s good to see you taking this seriously, Jason. Even if you’re doing it in the most Lannister way possible.”

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “Well, she deserves the best. And I’ll make sure she gets it—even if she insists on teasing me the entire time.”

Tyland raised his goblet in a mock toast. “To the lion and his dragon. May you survive each other.”

Jason clinked his goblet against his brother’s, his grin returning. “Survive? Tyland, we thrive.”

Servants darted between chambers, arms laden with silks, flowers, and enough candles to light up the Seven Kingdoms. But your focus was singular as you made your way to your sister’s chambers, one hand on your swollen belly as the weight of your pregnancy reminded you with every step.

When you reached the familiar door to Rhaenyra’s rooms, the guards opened it without question, and you stepped inside to find your sister standing near the window. The light streamed in, catching the silver in her hair, which cascaded over her gown.

At the sound of your footsteps, Rhaenyra turned, her face breaking into a radiant smile. “Y/N!” she exclaimed, crossing the room in a few quick strides to pull you into an embrace.

You returned the hug as best as you could, given your condition, before stepping back with a faint sigh of relief. “It’s good to see you, Rhaenyra.”

“And you,” she replied, her gaze immediately dropping to your belly. Her expression shifted from joy to mock alarm as she tilted her head. “Gods, Y/N, you look like you’re about to explode!”

Your eyes narrowed, though there was a faint twitch of a smile on your lips. “Charming as ever, I see.”

“I’m serious,” Rhaenyra said, circling you with the keen eye of someone inspecting a warhorse. “How are you even standing upright? That poor carriage must have creaked all the way from Casterly Rock.”

You sighed, lowering yourself into a chair by the fire. “The carriage was fine, thank you. Jason, on the other hand, was insufferable.”

Rhaenyra smirked, taking the chair opposite you. “Oh, I can imagine. Let me guess—he stopped every hour to make sure you were comfortable?”

“Every half-hour,” you corrected, rolling your eyes. “And that’s not counting the times he insisted on rearranging the cushions or interrogating the servants about the road conditions.”

Rhaenyra burst into laughter, shaking her head. “I can see it now—Jason hovering over you like a fretful old septa. Poor man probably aged a decade on the journey.”

“Poor man?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the one who had to listen to him. Every bump in the road, every creak of the wheels, he’d ask, ‘Are you alright, my love? Is the baby alright?’ By the time we arrived, I was ready to throw him out of the carriage.”

Rhaenyra’s laughter grew louder, and she leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach. “You’ve married a lion, Y/N, but he sounds more like a worried lapdog.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “He means well. But by the gods, if he brings me one more blanket I didn’t ask for, I might actually breathe fire.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And how are you managing being surrounded by his family? I can only imagine what it’s like with a castle full of Lannisters.”

“Imagine a room full of golden-haired jesters who think everything Jason does is a stroke of genius,” you replied dryly. “Even when it’s not.”

“That sounds… exhausting,” Rhaenyra said, smirking. “But at least you’re here now. And we’ve both got weddings to deal with.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Yes, but only one of us has to fit into a gown for the occasion.”

Rhaenyra’s laughter echoed through the room again, and she reached across to squeeze your hand. “You’ve always had the sharpest tongue. I’ve missed this.”

“So have I,” you admitted softly, squeezing her hand in return. “But let’s not make a habit of reminding me how large I’ve grown, shall we?”

Rhaenyra grinned. “No promises. After all, what are sisters for?”

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was a spectacle of light and sound, the flickering glow of thousands of candles reflecting off silver plates and goblets. The tables were piled high with roasted meats, exotic fruits, and delicacies from across the realm, while minstrels filled the air with lively tunes. Laughter and chatter echoed as lords and ladies from every corner of Westeros celebrated the union of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Jason Lannister, of course, had found his way to the heart of the festivities. He stood by your side, his scarlet doublet catching the light as he scanned the royal table with a grin that could rival the brightest sun. You, meanwhile, stood with a slightly weary expression, one hand resting on your swollen belly as Jason prepared for his grand approach.

“Come, Y/N,” Jason said, gesturing toward the head table where King Viserys sat beside Rhaenyra. “Let’s go congratulate your sister. And, of course, remind everyone that I’m part of the royal family now.”

You rolled your eyes, though there was a faint smirk on your lips. “Do you always have to make everything about you?”

Jason grinned, offering you his arm. “Not everything. Just most things.”

With a resigned sigh, you took his arm, and the two of you made your way toward the royal table. Heads turned as you passed, whispers trailing in your wake about the golden couple of Casterly Rock—though whether those whispers were admiring or exasperated was anyone’s guess.

“Ah, my daughters!” King Viserys exclaimed as he spotted the two of you approaching. His face lit up with genuine joy, and he rose from his seat, arms outstretched. “Come here, both of you!”

You smiled warmly, stepping forward to embrace your father. Jason, not one to miss an opportunity, followed closely behind, his grin widening as Viserys clapped him on the shoulder.

“Your Grace,” Jason said, bowing slightly. “A magnificent celebration, as expected.”

“Jason,” Viserys said, laughing. “You’ve been part of this family for a year now. There’s no need for formality.”

Jason straightened, his smile turning even brighter. “Of course, Your Grace—Father.”

You shot Jason a look, suppressing a laugh as Viserys chuckled, clearly amused. “Father, is it? Well, I suppose I should get used to that.”

Rhaenyra, seated beside the king, leaned over with a smirk. “Jason, you do realize that sitting at the royal table doesn’t automatically make you royalty?”

Jason placed a hand over his heart, feigning mock offense. “Princess, I’m wounded. I’m simply here to celebrate this joyous occasion and bask in the presence of such esteemed company.”

“Bask?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “More like bask in your own self-importance.”

Viserys laughed heartily, gesturing for the two of you to sit. “Come, sit with us. It’s been far too long since I’ve had both of my daughters at my side.”

Jason all but beamed as he pulled out a chair for you before taking the seat beside you. He sat straighter than usual, clearly savoring the view from the royal table. Servants immediately approached, filling goblets and offering platters of food.

“This is quite the view,” Jason remarked, glancing down at the hall where the lords and ladies of Westeros feasted below. “I could get used to this.”

“You’re not supposed to get used to it,” you said dryly, spearing a piece of roasted pheasant with your fork. “We’re guests, not new monarchs.”

Jason leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But don’t I look the part? Golden-haired, impeccably dressed, sitting beside my beautiful wife—who happens to be a princess.”

“You look like a man who’s about to spill wine on his doublet,” you retorted, smirking.

Before Jason could reply, Viserys turned to the two of you, his expression soft. “Y/N, it warms my heart to see you here. And Jason, I must commend you for taking such good care of my daughter.”

Jason straightened even more, puffing out his chest slightly. “It’s my greatest honor, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra, overhearing, leaned closer with a sly grin. “And yet, Y/N seems to do most of the work keeping you in line.”

“Marrying a dragon does require a certain level of resilience,” Jason replied with a wink, earning laughter from both Rhaenyra and Viserys.

As the feast continued, Viserys raised his goblet, the hall falling silent as he prepared to speak. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the union of Rhaenyra and Laenor but the strength of our family and the alliances that bind us.”

Jason raised his own goblet enthusiastically, cutting in before Viserys could continue. “And may I add—a toast to the dragons and lions, for there is no force greater in all of Westeros.”

The hall erupted into laughter and applause, though you shook your head, muttering under your breath. “He’s impossible.”

Rhaenyra leaned over, smirking. “You married him. That makes him your problem.”

Viserys laughed, clapping Jason on the back. “Well said, Jason. Well said.”

Jason grinned, clearly in his element. “Anything for family, Your Grace.”

As the night wore on, the royal table became the heart of the celebration, with Jason at the center of every jest and toast. And while you occasionally rolled your eyes at his antics, you couldn’t deny that his enthusiasm was infectious. For all his dramatics, Jason Lannister was exactly where he wanted to be—by your side, among the family he had claimed as his own.

The feast continued in full swing, with the sounds of music, laughter, and clinking goblets filling the Great Hall. Jason, his confidence bolstered by the royal table’s attention, had somehow engaged Lord Jasper Wylde—known for his dour personality and penchant for legal minutiae—in a heated and thoroughly absurd debate.

“I’m just saying,” Jason declared, waving his goblet for emphasis, “a lion would undoubtedly defeat a stag in combat. It’s not even a contest.”

Lord Jasper frowned, his bushy eyebrows drawing together. “A stag is agile and strong. Its antlers are formidable weapons.”

“Formidable?” Jason scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Against what? A blade of grass? A lion would have the stag pinned before it even knew what hit it.”

Viserys chuckled into his goblet, thoroughly entertained, while Rhaenyra leaned toward you, murmuring, “This is what he chooses to debate?”

You smirked, though your amusement was tempered by the growing discomfort in your lower back. “He could argue with a rock if it insulted his pride.”

“Well,” Rhaenyra whispered, “at least he’s amusing.”

Jason continued, gesturing grandly. “And let’s not forget, lions hunt in prides. Imagine an entire pride of lions against one lonely stag. The poor creature wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Nature has its balance, Lord Jason,” Lord Jasper replied, his tone bordering on exasperation. “The stag may not always win, but it has its strengths.”

Jason grinned. “Strengths? The only strength a stag has is being delicious on a plate.”

Laughter rippled through the royal table, but your faint smile faltered as a sharp pain rippled through your abdomen. You inhaled deeply, gripping the edge of the table.

Rhaenyra’s sharp eyes caught the movement. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

You forced a smile, though it was strained. “I’m fine. Just… a bit uncomfortable.”

Jason, oblivious, leaned closer to Lord Jasper, his grin widening. “Let’s settle this once and for all. Your Grace, what do you think? Lion or stag?”

Viserys chuckled but raised his goblet in mock surrender. “I dare not get involved. Both are noble symbols of their respective houses.”

Jason huffed, turning back to Lord Jasper. “See? Even the king agrees it’s—”

“Jason,” you interrupted, your voice unusually sharp. “I think we have a more pressing matter.”

Jason turned to you, his brow furrowing. “What is it, my love? Another ridiculous argument you’d like me to settle?”

You shot him a withering look as another wave of pain hit. “Unless you’d like to debate the speed at which our child plans to arrive, I suggest you stop talking and start helping.”

Jason blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to dawning realization. “Wait… now? You mean… now?”

“Yes, now!” you snapped, gripping his arm as the contractions intensified. “Unless you think I’m doing this for fun.”

The realization hit Jason like a thunderbolt. He shot to his feet, knocking over his goblet in the process. “She’s in labor! Someone do something!”

The hall fell silent for a moment before erupting into chaos. Servants scrambled, lords and ladies exchanged startled glances, and Rhaenyra stood quickly, her expression a mix of concern and amusement.

“Jason, calm down,” Rhaenyra said, trying to steady him. “She needs to be taken to her chambers.”

“Yes, of course,” Jason said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “To the chambers! Quickly! Why is no one moving fast enough?”

Martyn, who had been sitting a few tables away, appeared at Jason’s side, grinning like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. “You’re going to faint, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” Jason snapped, though his pale complexion suggested otherwise. “This is my child we’re talking about. My heir. My—”

“Jason!” you snapped, your tone cutting through the chaos. “Less talking, more moving.”

Jason immediately snapped into action, barking orders at everyone within earshot. “You! Get fresh linens. You there, fetch a maester. And you—why are you just standing there? Move!”

Rhaenyra helped you to your feet, her arm steadying you as Jason darted ahead, clearing a path through the crowd like a lion defending his pride. Viserys, watching the scene unfold with a bemused expression, raised his goblet again.

“To my future grandchild,” he said, chuckling. “May they inherit their mother’s patience.”

As you were escorted toward your chambers, Jason alternated between fretting over you and yelling at anyone who didn’t move fast enough.

“Careful with those stairs!” he barked at the guards. “Do you want her to trip and—”

“Jason,” you said through gritted teeth, “if you don’t stop shouting, I will have this child right here just to spite you.”

Martyn, following close behind, burst into laughter. “I think she’s serious, cousin.”

Jason ignored him, turning to the maester who had finally arrived. “What do we do? Is everything ready? Does she need—”

“She needs calm,” the maester said firmly, glancing at you with a reassuring nod. “Let’s get her settled first.”

You shot Jason a look as you reached your chambers. “See? Calm.”

Jason nodded rapidly, though his fidgeting hands betrayed his nerves. “Right. Calm. I can do calm.”

Rhaenyra smirked, patting his shoulder as she guided you inside. “You’d better, Jason. The real work hasn’t even begun.”

And with that, the doors closed, leaving the Great Hall buzzing with laughter and speculation about the dramatic arrival of House Lannister’s newest lion—or dragon.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was still in a chaotic state following Jason’s dramatic outburst. Servants scrambled to clean up spilled goblets and toppled chairs, while guests exchanged amused whispers. In one corner, an elderly Lannister aunt appeared to be having her own kind of meltdown.

“This is why she shouldn’t travel in her condition!” the aunt wailed, clutching at her pearls as she swayed dramatically. “What if something happens? Oh, the baby, the poor baby!”

Tyland Lannister, ever the pragmatist, stepped in to steady her. “Aunt Cecily, I assure you, everything is under control.”

“Under control?” Cecily repeated, wide-eyed. “Did you not hear her screams? This castle is cursed!”

Tyland pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before speaking in a soothing tone. “She wasn’t screaming, Aunt Cecily. She was simply… forcefully communicating with Jason.”

Cecily clutched his arm tighter. “That poor girl. Married to him and now this. It’s too much, Tyland. Too much!”

“I assure you,” Tyland said dryly, “she’s handling it far better than Jason is.”

At the far end of the hall, Queen Alicent sat beside her father, Lord Otto Hightower. Her expression was calm, though her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her goblet as she glanced toward the scene of the commotion.

“Do you think they’ll survive each other?” Alicent asked, her voice quiet but laced with amusement.

Otto didn’t look up from his wine, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Which ones?”

Alicent tilted her head toward the door where Jason had disappeared moments ago. “Jason and his wife.”

Otto let out a faint snort, though he quickly masked it with a sip of wine. “The question isn’t whether they’ll survive each other. It’s whether the Red Keep will survive them.”

Alicent smirked, leaning closer. “You seem to be in a rare mood tonight, Father.”

Otto glanced at her, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smile. “It’s hard not to be when watching a Lannister unravel in front of the entire court.”

At a nearby table, Laenor Velaryon sat beside his sister Laena, the two of them thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Laenor leaned back in his chair, his goblet of wine untouched as he watched the chaos unfold with sparkling eyes.

“Now this,” Laenor said, grinning, “is how you make a wedding memorable.”

Laena smirked, resting her chin on her hand. “I don’t think Jason intended for his wife to go into labor during the feast.”

“No,” Laenor admitted, laughing, “but it’s still the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all night. Did you see his face? He looked like someone set his hair on fire.”

Laena chuckled, swirling her wine. “It’s a wonder he didn’t faint. Though I suppose he’s too vain to collapse in public.”

Laenor clinked his goblet against hers. “To Jason and his dramatics. May their child inherit all of it.”

“And to the poor Maester Mellos,” Laena added with a grin. “May he survive the night.”

At the royal table, King Viserys was in rare form, laughing heartily as he recounted the scene to a nearby lord. His cheeks were flushed from the wine, and his eyes sparkled with genuine joy.

“Did you see him?” Viserys said, shaking his head. “Jumping up like a startled rabbit! ‘She’s in labor!’ he shouted, as if the entire hall couldn’t already tell.”

The lord chuckled, nodding. “It was certainly… memorable, Your Grace.”

“Memorable?” Viserys repeated, raising his goblet. “It was hilarious! My son-in-law has a flair for theatrics, I’ll give him that.”

Rhaenyra, (who returned to the feast and was seated beside her father and Laenor once again) smirked as she sipped her wine. “Jason does have a way of commanding attention.”

Viserys turned to her, grinning. “And what about your sister? Calm as a dragon in flight. She barely flinched.”

“That’s Y/N for you,” Rhaenyra replied, her tone fond. “Always the steady one.”

“Well, she’ll need to be,” Viserys said, chuckling again. “Married to him.”

As the hall gradually settled, the minstrels resumed their lively tunes, and servants brought out fresh trays of food and wine. The lords and ladies returned to their conversations, though the topic of Jason and Y/N’s dramatic exit remained the highlight of the evening.

Tyland finally managed to guide Aunt Cecily back to her seat, where she continued to mutter about curses and carriages. Alicent exchanged amused glances with Rhaenyra, while Laenor and Laena continued to laugh over their shared goblet.

Viserys, still in high spirits, raised his goblet once more. “To family!” he declared, his voice carrying across the hall. “May they bring us joy, laughter, and a little chaos!”

The hall erupted into cheers, and though the feast continued, it was clear that the night’s true entertainment had already taken place.

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