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k4marina · 1 year ago

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— Prologue: Dragonstone|| Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a trip to Dragonstone goes a little wrong, or does it?

game of thrones x modern!reader

4.5k+ word count

sereis masterlist || next part

"Why are we doing this during the hottest day of the year, again?" Daeron mutters, using the brochure that was given to us at the beginning of the tour as a fan.

If I could, I would've replied, but the heat was also getting to me, draining away my energy. And, on top of the scorching heat, I'd just finished the last of my water. I pursed my lips together, the line wasn’t that long and I’m sure I can buy another overpriced water bottle after we visited the caves.

The group tour guide turned back to us, just as exhausted, and somewhat bashful. He said something, but I couldn't be bothered with it as I was too focused to not tip over from the heat. It was probably something like “only a few more minutes and we’ll be outta the heat, folks,” with an awkward smile or something.

The line to the caves under the castles was stupidly long, but it's no surprise. So much history was in those caves and so many mysteries had come full circle there. And, the deeper they dug, the more they uncovered the history of the Targaryens that lived there from when Aenar Targaryen moved his entire family to Dragonstone after his daughter, Daenys “the Dreamer” dreamed of the Doom of Valyria.

"Who's idea was it to come here for our research trip?" I didn't bother looking over at him, knowing that I'd be blinded by the sun that shone directly behind his big head.

“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” I quipped. “Besides, almost everything on this island is connected to the Targaryens. It might come useful when we have to write our research paper.”

The line moved up until our group was at the front of the line. A small group of students, along with Daeron and I, were on Dragonstone for our research projects. Some of the other students had decided to stay in Kings Landing or go to other parts of Westeros for their research.

Everyone was to spend a week in their respective areas and gather all the information they needed before heading back to Kings Landing to write and then later present their topics. Some chose to do it themselves whilst others, like us, decided to go with someone else.

Today was the first day of our stay on Dragonstone. Daeron and I had decided to check out the caves and the island's beaches before we would explore the labyrinth-like castle.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a headache approaching. My hand reached up to my necklace that rested on my chest. The chain was long enough for it to hang in the dip of my breast.

Not only did I come here for my project, but also for me. The necklace around my neck has been in my family for generations, but no one knows from where. It’s made entirely of Valyrian Steel, which was rare back in the day, and even rarer now.

As a child, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I grew older and more curious that I started asking questions. First to my family, but all I got was even more confusing answers that led me nowhere. Then I turned towards the internet, scouring for hours until I had found it.

On the official Dragonstone website, I found pictures of the caves under the castle and possibly under the entire island. On one of the walls was a crude hand drawing of my necklace. Two dragons around a sword with a ruby in the middle –though, the ruby was replaced with a red dot. Regardless, the cave painting matched.

The line moved up and Daeron gently pushed me up while I was lost in my thoughts. “You good?” He asks. I nod, “Yeah. The heat’s just a lot.” He gives an understanding look. Once the tour guide is given the green light, he begins to lead up to the entrance of the cave.

"Ready?" Daeron asks. I nodded and we begin walking. Once we entered the cave, my jaw was on the floor. I had seen pictures of the caves, but seeing it in real life was far more beautiful.

The deeper we got we could see the cave paintings done by the Children of the Forest which Daenerys and Jon had found. As the guide droned on about the cave paintings, I could feel my headache intensify. Why was it so hot in here?

The deeper and deeper we went into the caves, the worse it got. My chest started to feel heavy. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The back of my throat burned and I felt like throwing up, but I pushed forward.

My eyes raked the the cave walls, Where was it? Finally, I was able to see it. The markings were next to a few unknown ones. A sign with some information was hung up next to it. Despite my head pounding I was still able to read the bold words.

Unknown markings made by who researchers believe are the Targaryens. The paint used seemed to be as old as when Aenar Targaryen moved his family to Dragonstone.

By the time I finished reading, I could feel my head pounding so loudly in my ear. It felt like an ice pick was being hammered into the side of my head. I could hear muffled voices call out, but to who I didn’t know. The room started to spin and a ringing sound filled my ears.

A hand, most likely Derons, reached out and turned me around. I could see his mouth moving, but no words coming out. My chest felt like it was overheating while my head continued to throb. Everything turned blurry and then it went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the cave. The cold stone floor had helped with bringing my body temperature down. And, my head didn't hurt anymore. After getting up, I looked around the cave. It was darker, and quiet.

Where was everyone?

Carefully, I made my way out of the cave. It was harder to walk out of the cave and the spotlights that were on the walls weren’t on. Once I was outside I was met with the night sky.

All the tents and other buildings around the beach were gone, as if they'd never been there.

Okay, this is weird.

"Hello?" My voice came out horse like I hadn’t spoken in a long time. "Hello? Is anyone there? Daeron?"

My feet moved on their own and I tried to find someone, anyone. But there was no one. How could a populated area with tents and buildings disappear within hours?

Retracing my steps, I found the stairs that would lead me back to the Help Center that were posted around for lost tourists, but like the beach, there was nothing. Matter a fact, even the lamppost that were posted into the ground, the banners, the signs –everything was gone.

"What the actual fuck?" Panic creeped up and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. "Gods, If this is some kinda sick fucking joke..."

At this point, I was running towards the castle. For what? I didn't know, but surely there had to be something there. The grand doors seemed to be closed so I tried to find another way in. I guess you could say I found something like a side door that took a little force to open.

The inside of the castle was grand. High walls, banners held high, candles and lamps lit all around. Truly, it was amazing. As I was gawking at the architecture I failed to notice unknown voices walking towards me.

“Halt!” Two unknown men dressed in what looked like armor cornered me, pointing their spears at me. “State your name! Who are you?”

I stuttered out my name, raising my hands up so they could see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to do anything, I swear.”

The two men shared a look and a few hushed words before one of them walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me along.

“Ow!” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. “What the fuck dude. I said I wasn’t a threat.”

“Khaleesi will decide if you are or are not a threat.” The man who wasn’t holding onto me said.

Khaleesi? What Khaleesi?

“Oh please don’t tell me I just walked into those real-life roleplaying things.” I groaned, earning side eyes from both of the men.

They led me down a series of hall ways, each one intricate as the other until we stood outside of a set of polished stone double doors. Another pair of men dressed just like the cosplayers that brought me here stood in front of the doors. Without having to say any words they opened the grand doors.

Slowly, I could see the inside being revealed.

There, on the elevated platform stood the Throne of Dragonstone, where all the Targaryen heirs of the Iron Throne sat as they took the title “Prince of Dragonstone.” A light push brought me back as I was dragged closer to the throne.

“Khaleesi,” the guard called out. Before I could ask who they were speaking to, an unknown voice answered.

“What is it?”

Light footsteps were heard from behind a wall and a woman emerged from behind it. Except it wasn’t just any woman. Even a child would know who she was. Everyone around the world knows her.

She was Daenerys Targaryen.

Mother of Dragons.

The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

The Unburnt.

The Breaker of Chains.

I could feel time slow down as I watched her walk over to the throne and sit down. My blood turned cold as she sat in front of me.

No.

She’s dead.

This can’t be happening.

It’s not possible.

It’s not. I have better chances of reviving dragons than traveling back in time-

“What is this?” Daenerys eyed me, confused at my appearance and why I was even here before looking at the two men.

“We found this unknown woman wandering around the castle, Your Grace.”

She eyed me, as if wanting me to plead my case, but the words died in my throat. Why wouldn’t they when Daenerys fucking Targaryen was right in front of me. A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t rack my brain to find one answer.

Daenerys squinted before speaking again, this time directly towards me. “Who are you?” The High Valyrian rolled easily off of her tongue like a true Targaryen. Those three words held so much power and conviction, like a true Queen.

“Y/n Vellarys!…” I rushed to reply in Valyrian.

“You speak good Valyrian.” She praises, but it's quickly pushed away. “But that doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

What should I do? I bit my bottom lip as nervousness filled my body.

Knowing that if I lie, I’ll be fileted, I took a deep breath before responding. “I don't know. I.. I,” I paused, not knowing if I should continue. If this was real then I only wanted her to know, “Can we be alone.. please?”

The two men besides me visibly tense up, but don’t speak up. Daenerys looks down at us, seemingly in thought before she nodded. The two men bow before turning around to leave. The double doors closed with a loud thud.

“We’re alone now, you may continue.”

I nervously swallowed. Here we go. “This might sound weird, but.. I don’t know how I got here. I.. I woke up in the caves under the castle… alone.”

Daenerys’ face stayed neutral as I relayed the information. She seemed to take some time to process what I had just said. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

I could feel my heart fall all the way down. Fuck.

“You woke up in the caves alone?” She repeats. “Not even a child would come up with such a stupid story like this.”

“N-n-no, Daener- I mean, Your Grace. I swear to the Gods that I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Especially when you could get rid of me with your dragons in a second.”

She seemed to mull over my words, as if weighing her options. “Alright, let's say you’re telling the truth. Your story still doesn’t make sense. How do you just “wake up” in a cave?”

Now or never, I guess.

“Actually,” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not from here. I come from-” The future. Fucking hell, how cliché. “-I come from a different… time.”

Daenerys squinted and I could see the clogs in her brain moving. “You mean you’re from the future?”

Jeez. Ripped the bandage right off.

“Well –uh, yes,” I say. “I was touring the caves and then I –I fell unconscious or something, I still don’t know, I just know that when I woke up I ended up here.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. What if this was just a dream and that all of this is just my imagination running wild.

“That necklace.”

Huh? What is she talking about?

I looked up, confused. “What?”

She pointed towards my chest. I looked down and I could see my necklace was out. “What about it?” I asked.

“Where did you get it?”

“It’s mine.” I replied. “It’s been in my family for generations. Why?”

Now it was Daenerys’ turn to look a little nervous.

“I’ve seen it in my dream.”

“Your dream? Like, one of those Dragon Dreams?” I ask. She gives a nod, “While we were sailing to Dragonstone I had a dream of a woman with silver hair and that necklace. Because I couldn’t see her face, I thought it was me. I’ve turned the treasury over looking for them; however, it seems that I dreamt of you.”

Ho-ly Fuck. Daenerys’ dreamt about me. What the hell. I’m about to throw up.

“What?” Now it was my time to be skeptical of what was being said. “You dreamt about me and my necklace?”

She nodded. “It seems odd, but a Dragon Dream has never been wrong.”

“Ture, but that still leaves a lot of blanks.” My hand subconsciously went up to hold my necklace while I tried to think back.

The deeper I walked into the cave the more my head started to hurt, but that was most likely because of dehydration… probably. But then there was a burning feeling on my chest when I looked at the symbol on the wall that matched my necklace and the burning feeling got even more intense and it felt like it was about to burn my skin-

“Fuck.” I groaned, letting go of the necklace. The outburst made Daenerys frown, “Are you alright?”

I looked down at my hands and at my necklace before looking into her eyes. “I think my necklace tried to burn me, like last time.”

“Last time?” She frowned. “How can a necklace burn someone?”

“I don’t know. It happened before I passed out in the cave.” I let out a sigh. “Gods, what is going on.”

“It seems that this was the God's doing,” Daenerys says, as if it was a fact. “They’ve brought you here.”

“The Gods?” I repeat. Sure, in some sense they did bring me here. “But why?”

“That may be something for you to find out.” Daenerys stood from the throne, walking down the steps until she was right in front of me. “I was lost once, but then the Gods gifted me my children to show me my true purpose.”

“The Iron Throne.” I thought back to my history classes where I learned that for the fight for the Iron Throne, Daenerys lost her life as she fell into what historians said was “Targaryen Madness,” but I’ve always felt that there’s more to it.

“It’s late, I’ll have the servants bring you to a spare room for you to rest in for the night.” As if on cue, the guards from before stepped up to us. “We can talk further tomorrow morning.”

Daenerys turned to leave from where she came from. The guards bowed as she left. Once she was gone they brought me to a spare room somewhere in the castle, this time without having to pull me around.

The hallways were nearly empty, meaning there weren’t a lot of people living here or servants working in the castle. The most I’d seen was guards posted around. Once we were in front of two thick double doors the guards stepped back waiting for me to open them.

It took a little force to open the door, but once I was inside, my jaw was on the floor. Despite everything being made of stone, the walls were covered in rich tapestry. There was a giant bed with lavish looking furs laid atop the bed and maroon bed sheets.

Behind me, a servant walked in with a few sets of clothes and laid them on the bed. “We’ve prepared you some clothes,” she said. “Would you like to change now or take a bath?”

As if on cue, I could feel how dirty I was since I was practically on the cave floors for Gods knows how long.

“A bath would be fine, thank you,” I replied. It honestly felt weird watching servants work. Not that it was bad, just the fact that in the modern day you don’t have them. Sure maybe someone who cleans your home or makes you food, but servants?

Once they had pulled out the massive tub and manually poured in the hot water they led me to the tub. One of their hands went up to my shirt's edge and the other to my pants.

“W-wait!” They all looked at me confused.

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” One of the servants asked.

No it’s not. You’re taking my clothes off. And sure, it’s your job to do practically everything for a highborn, but that ain’t me.

“Uh, there’s no need for… all of this. I can do it myself.”

“Are you sure?” Another girl asked. “It’s our duty to serve you.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I replied awkwardly. “Just not really used to all of… this. Um, anyways I can take it from here. You guys can go…”

I internally cringed at my words. Gods, I sounded like an idiot, but could you blame me?

The girls reluctantly agreed, leaving me alone in the room. Once they were gone I let out a sigh and began to undress myself. The water was hot, but it was fine since I practically liked showering in lava every morning.

Settling into the tub I finally relaxed. This entire thing was just so… bizarre. At first, I thought it was some sort of dream, but that searing pain I felt wasn’t something I could just imagine.

My necklace burned me.

And it burned me when I first saw the markings on the cave walls. I looked down at my chest and hand, but saw nothing.

Okay, weird.

That aside, why was I even brought here? Why me? What do I have that made me so special that I had to be flung into this era of time?

“Think, y/n, think,” I muttered to myself. The dream. Daenerys’ dream about the necklace. But wait, no history books said anything about her having a dragon dream. Could this maybe be connected?

For the next hour, I mulled over my options while I soaked in the tub that had turned lukewarm. Having enough, I got up and grabbed the towels that the servants had thankfully set close for me.

The clothes that they had laid out for me were a bunch of nightgowns. Thankfully, they were my size. I decided to wear a simple white nightgown.

Laying under the mountain of covers and blankets, I finally let myself completely relax, falling asleep. Hopefully tomorrow’s discussions can help this situation get better or at least easier.

I woke up to the sun glaring down into my face. Groaning, I turned to my side, hoping to get some more sleep. But the damage was done.

I could hear light shuffling in the room and things being moved around. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly flash-banged. All the windows (that are floor to ceiling length) were opened and the curtains were drawn back.

A few servants from last night and a few new faces worked around the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, catching the attention of one of the girls.

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?”

“Morning,” my voice came out a little low and rough. “What’s going on?”

“We’re getting you ready for the day,” the girl replies, matter of factly. “You will be having your morning meal with the Queen. We’ve already drawn you a fresh new bath and arranged a new set of clothes.”

I looked at where the tub was last night, nothing that was gone, along with my clothes.

“Where are my clothes?” I asked.

“We’ve sent them to get washed,” the servant replied. “My Lady, if i may…”

I nodded for her to go on. “We’ve never seen such clothes like yours before. They remind us of what the men wear however, yours are a bit more.. different.”

“Oh, that. They’re just something that I made.” I lied. Thinking back to last night, I’m confused I didn’t get as many weird looks as I should have wearing my jeans and shirt. It's not really the typical Westerosi fashion for this time.

“The bath is ready.” Another girl says.

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, following them to another room adjacent to this one. The room was a massive bathroom that could function as a bathhouse.

There was a massive tub nestled into the floor. The windows were also huge but a little higher up, letting in some natural light. I could tell the water was hot just by how much it was steaming.

Carefully, the servants began to undress me. They led me into the water and began adding what I can only assume are oils and salts. Truthfully, it felt like I was at some fancy spa with how they washed my body and hair.

Once that was done, they helped me into a beautiful white dress with a dark teal and gold design. I felt like a model wearing such a beautiful dress. I let my hair down, not wanting it in any style (or knowing any styles of this period).

A servant walked me to the dining room where Daenerys was waiting for me. She wore a light blue dress with her hair braided and her three headed dragon pin.

“Good Morning,” she greeted.

“Morning uh, Your grace.” I replied. “Sorry, I’ve never called anyone “your grace” before.”

She brushed it off, motioning for me to take a seat next to her at the table where the food was already prepared.

“How did you sleep?” She asks, beginning to eat.

“Fine, surprisingly.” I reached down to grab a fork for my food. “How about you?”

Was I really making small talk with Daenerys Targaryen?

“Mine as well,” she smiled. “I was hoping we could talk a little before I had to go meet my small council.”

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” I wanted to smack myself. Every time I spoke it was full of nerves and anxiety.

“Let’s start with you. Your name and where you’re from.” Daenerys says confidently. “Judging by your looks, you’re of Valyrian descent.” She says, eyeing my silver hair.

“Yes,” I nodded. “My family moved from Volantis to the Eyrie. My family is known to be of the Old Blood in Volantis.”

“The Old Blood?” Daenerys says, surprised.

The Old Blood are a group of people in Volantis that have proven to be the last remaining families of Valyria. They live in a perched area of the city that only they can walk. All the families in that area still continue their Valyrian traditions and practices, just minus the dragons.

I nodded, “My father is the youngest of four sons, so he thought ‘why not move to westeros and start something there?’ knowing that he wouldn’t have to really carry on the family name.”

“And your family name is Vellarys?” She recalled from last night.

“Yes. We’re known for our jewelry making in Volantis. That’s why my father moved to Westeros, to open a shop there without having to take over the business and stress like his older brother.

“As for myself, I have two older brothers. One is working to be a doctor,” Daenerys frowned at that, confused, “uh, it’s like a Maester. The other is helping my father run the shop.”

“And what about yourself?”

“I’m in school. I go to the University of Kings Landing.”

“The.. University of… Kings Landing?”

“Well, after the monarchy was sorta let go, they turned certain parts of the Red Keep and other castles into Universites -places to go for higher studies, like the.. Citadel for example.”

Daenerys nods, understanding some of it.

“I study the era of The Game of Thrones as well as Targaryen History.”

“The Game of Thrones?” She repeats. “What is that?”

“It’s, uh, what we call this time period. It ranged from the death of King Robert to,” the death of Daenerys Targaryen, “to now, and a little later. We look into how the events after Robert’s death played out and how people fought for the Iron Throne.”

“Like a game.” She says.

I nodded. “Yes, like a game. There’s this quote that Cersie Lannister said to Ned Stark that summed it up, “When you play the game of thrones, You win or you die,”.”

“I see,” Daenerys looks down at her plate in thought. “And what about me?”

Oh fuck.

“What about you?” I say, acting innocent.

“What happened to me?”

I purse my lips together. Should I say it? I mean, it’s a good segway to what I want to really say… if this part goes well.

“You…” I nervously swallowed. “You die… before you could even claim the throne.”

The fork in her hand hits the ceramic plate with a loud clunk.

“What?”

Nervously, I looked into her. “You were killed… after you burned Kings Landing to ashes.”

She frowned. “You're lying. I would never do such a thing. Me? Burning down Kings Landing?

And the Red Keep, but I’ll keep that to myself.

“I’m not lying, Daenerys. After you died, Drogon picked you up and flew you away. We still haven’t found your or his body.”

Daenerys' hands started to shake at the information I had just thrown at her. Carefully, I placed mine over hers.

“Daenerys,” I said softly. “Breath. You’re fine, nothing has happened so far.”

Slowly, I could feel her hands stop shaking and her breathing seemed to steady.

“What do you mean so far?”

I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze although, I can’t tell if it was for me or her.

“Meaning, I can help you.”

She looks at me, puzzled.

“Daenerys, I can help you take the Iron Throne.”

okayyyy so it's finally here after many rewrites. let me know if you guys liked the first person POV. its my first time writing it like this, typically i do second POV. more to come in later chapters. also, i will be changing a few things, nothing major. one personal head cannon that i have is that jon isn't really named aegon, but jaehaerys. makes a lil more sense in my brain. also, i'll maybe be using some info from the books. and if you guys have any suggestions with y/n's character and other stuff please feel free to let me know. don't worry there will be more story and character development in the coming chapters.

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novaursa · 4 months ago

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Fire and Gold (the consequences)

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

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

- A/N: This is the last story for today.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep is silent, an oppressive stillness weighing on the air. Dread crackles like a storm about to break as King Aerys II Targaryen, known to many now as the Mad King, sits upon the Iron Throne. His fingers, thin and white as bone, drum restlessly on the armrests, the sound echoing through the chamber like the ticking of a clock counting down to catastrophe.

The hall is empty save for a few trusted guards and the towering presence of Tywin Lannister, who stands at the foot of the throne with his head held high, his face an inscrutable mask. It is a rare sight to see him without his customary calm, but even he knows the volatility of the man before him.

“You dared to think your lioness could strike my blood, my daughter, and there would be no retribution?” Aerys’ voice is soft, almost gentle, but it carries a terrible menace. The flames of the torches lining the walls flicker, casting shadows that seem to dance with the madness in his eyes. “Your precious daughter dared to lay hands upon my Y/N. My most beloved child.”

Tywin’s face remains impassive, though you can see the faintest tension in his jaw. “Your Grace, there must be some misunderstanding. Cersei—”

“Misunderstanding?” Aerys’ voice rises sharply, and he stands, the movement sudden and jerky. His robes billow around him like the wings of a dragon. “Do you take me for a fool, Tywin? My daughter returns from your encampment cut, shaken. My Y/N, who has never known such disgrace, such insult!”

Tywin’s green eyes meet the king’s blazing violet ones. “Your Grace, if there has been an offense, I assure you it was unintended. Cersei—”

Aerys’ laughter rings through the hall, a high, grating sound that sends a shiver down the spine of every man present. “Unintended, he says! The Hand of the King claims his daughter’s treachery was unintended. She openly shamed my daughter before the eyes of our people. Your daughter, who has been nothing but a viper in this court, tried to poison the hearts of our subjects against their rightful queen!”

The Mad King steps down from the throne, his gaze never leaving Tywin. The guards stiffen but do not move, knowing better than to interfere. “You think your children are safe because you are my Hand? Because you have served me well in the past?” He leans forward, eyes glittering with a wild light. “I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Tywin. I could order Cersei to be burned alive and no one would dare stop me. I could burn your golden boy Jaime as well, see how well your lions roar then.”

Tywin’s composure does not falter, but a muscle twitches in his cheek. “Your Grace, I beg you to consider—”

“Consider?” Aerys hisses, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “I have considered. You think yourself so high, Tywin. So far above us all, above your king. But you are nothing without me. Nothing! You swore to protect my family, to serve the realm. And now, your blood turns against mine.”

He straightens, drawing himself up to his full, regal height, his presence a blazing fury. “I strip you of your title as Hand of the King. You will leave this court immediately and take your poisonous brood with you.”

Tywin’s eyes narrow, the only sign of his anger. “Your Grace, I have served the realm faithfully for—”

Aerys cuts him off with a savage gesture. “For too long! Too long have you schemed and plotted under my nose. Did you think I would not notice, Tywin? That I would not see your ambition, your pride?” He leans forward, his face a mask of twisted rage. “I see everything. I know everything. And I will not have it.”

The King’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “If your daughter so much as breathes near my Y/N again, if she dares to touch a hair on her head, I will burn her alive. I will burn you all. The lions of Casterly Rock will be nothing but ash.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. Tywin stands there, a statue of marble and iron, the weight of the King’s words settling on his shoulders. But he does not bow, does not flinch.

“As you command, Your Grace,” Tywin finally says, his voice steady. “We will leave the capital at once.”

Aerys’ eyes gleam with triumph. “Good. Go back to your Rock, Tywin. And remember this day. Remember what happens when you think to cross a dragon.”

With that, he turns away, dismissing Tywin as if he were nothing more than a bothersome fly. The former Hand of the King bows, a shallow, mocking dip of his head, before turning on his heel and striding from the hall. His back is rigid, unyielding, but you can sense the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

As the heavy doors close behind Tywin, Aerys slumps back onto the Iron Throne, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The madness in his eyes dims, replaced by a strange, almost childlike weariness. He leans his head back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling, a smile curling his lips.

“My daughter,” he murmurs to the empty hall. “No one will ever harm you. Not while I am king.”

But even as he speaks, you know that this is only the beginning. The wolves are circling, the lions crouched in the shadows, and the dragons? The dragons are restless, their flames licking at the bonds of peace that have held the realm together for so long.

And now, with Tywin Lannister cast down, those bonds threaten to shatter.

Storm’s End looms ahead, its ancient walls stark against the darkening sky. Tywin Lannister rides through the gates, his face as hard and unforgiving as the stone fortress that now houses his daughter. His entourage is small—just a handful of guards and his most trusted men. He has no intention of lingering here longer than necessary. He has come for one reason, and one reason alone.

As Tywin dismounts, his cold green eyes scan the courtyard. Servants scatter like frightened mice, aware of the tempest in his gaze. He strides purposefully toward the main hall, his boots striking the ground with a grim, unyielding rhythm. He does not slow his pace as the great doors swing open, revealing the grand chamber within.

Cersei stands at the center of the hall, her posture rigid, her face a mask of defiance and fear. She is dressed in her finest gown, a deep crimson that mirrors the color of Lannister pride, but the color does little to hide the trepidation in her eyes. She knows her father’s wrath is like a storm—merciless, relentless. And today, she is caught in its path.

“Father,” she greets him, her voice steady, though there is a tremor beneath it.

Tywin does not acknowledge her words. He looks past her, dismissing her greeting as if she were nothing more than a child who had disappointed him. His gaze sweeps the room and lands on Robert Baratheon, who lounges on his lord’s chair, a goblet of wine in hand. Robert’s eyes narrow as Tywin approaches, but there is no welcome in his expression.

“Lord Tywin,” Robert says, his voice slurring slightly. He shifts in his seat, a smirk playing at his lips. “Come to collect your troublesome daughter, have you?”

Tywin’s eyes, icy and penetrating, fix on Robert. “This matter does not concern you, Baratheon.” His voice is cold, precise, each word sharp as a dagger. “Leave us.”

Robert’s smirk falters. He glances at Cersei, who stands silent and still, and then back at Tywin. For a moment, he looks as if he might argue, but something in Tywin’s gaze—something deadly—makes him think better of it. He pushes himself up from his chair with a grunt and stumbles toward the door.

“Whatever,” he mutters, waving a hand dismissively. “Handle your family, Lannister. I’ve had enough of this.”

The doors close behind him with a heavy thud, and the hall falls into a silence so deep it seems to swallow every breath, every heartbeat.

Tywin turns his full attention to Cersei. The fury in his eyes is a burning, unyielding force, and she feels the weight of it like a physical blow. She straightens, lifting her chin, trying to summon her usual haughty confidence, but it feels brittle, fragile, in the face of his wrath.

“You dare,” Tywin begins, his voice a deadly whisper, “to jeopardize everything I have built, everything I have planned, for your petty pride? Do you have any idea what you have done?”

Cersei’s mouth opens, a protest ready on her lips, but Tywin’s hand lashes out, striking the table beside her with such force that she flinches. The sound echoes through the hall, a harsh, jarring noise that sets her nerves on edge.

“You drew dragon blood,” Tywin continues, his voice rising, each word a thunderclap. “Do you think that means nothing? Do you think you can strike at the heart of House Targaryen and there will be no consequences?”

“Father, I—”

“Silence!” His roar shakes the very walls, and she falls silent, her heart pounding in her chest. Never, not even in her childhood, has she seen him like this. The cold, controlled fury she is used to, but this—this is something else. This is rage stripped of all restraint, all reason.

“You have put our house in peril,” Tywin hisses, his eyes burning with a cold fire. “The Mad King threatened to burn you, Cersei. To burn Jaime. Do you think I will allow you to destroy everything I have worked for?”

Her defiance crumbles, the words she wants to say dying in her throat. “I—”

“You,” he spits, cutting her off, “are a foolish, reckless girl. You think yourself a queen, a lioness. But all you’ve done is make us vulnerable.” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, every word enunciated with chilling clarity. “You forget yourself, Cersei. You forget your place. You forget that your actions reflect not only on you but on all of us.”

Her pride, her vanity, have always been her armor. But now, under the force of her father’s anger, it shatters. Tears sting her eyes, and she blinks them back, refusing to show that weakness. But he sees, of course. Tywin sees everything.

“You will not defy me again,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less dangerous. “You will remember who you are and what you owe this family. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father,” she whispers, hating the quiver in her voice, hating the way he makes her feel—small, insignificant.

Tywin’s gaze holds hers, his eyes as cold and unfeeling as the stone walls around them. “You will return to Casterly Rock. You will stay there until I say otherwise. You will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father,” she repeats, her voice barely audible.

“Good.” He steps back, the distance between them a chasm she cannot cross. “Remember, Cersei. The only reason you are still alive is because I will not allow House Lannister to be destroyed by your stupidity.”

She flinches at the harshness of his words, but she nods, holding her head high despite the tears that threaten to spill over. He looks at her one last time, his gaze filled with cold contempt, before turning and walking out of the hall, leaving her standing there, alone and broken.

The doors close behind him, and she sags against the table, her hands gripping the edge as if it is the only thing keeping her upright. She feels the rage burning inside her, mingling with the pain and humiliation. How dare he speak to her like that, treat her like a child?

But she knows, deep down, that her father is right. She has overstepped, has endangered everything. And now she will have to live with the consequences of her actions. She will have to endure the punishment he has decreed.

But as she stands there, trembling with the effort of holding herself together, she vows that one day, she will make them all pay. Tywin, Rhaegar, the Targaryen whore who has taken everything she wanted—one day, they will all suffer as she has suffered.

One day, the lioness will roar again.

The chamber is filled with the sweet scent of lavender and the faint, sterile tang of healing herbs. Soft light filters through the high windows, casting gentle shadows on the stone walls. You sit on the edge of the bed, the cold air brushing against your bare skin as Grand Maester Pycelle carefully unwinds the bandage from your side.

“Almost done, Your Grace,” Pycelle murmurs, his voice trembling slightly with age. He peers at the now-healed cut, his expression one of clinical detachment. “The wound has healed well, though the scar will remain.”

You nod, your eyes not on the maester but on Rhaegar. He stands nearby, his gaze locked on you with a mix of concern and anger that he has not yet managed to let go. His silver hair, caught in the afternoon light, seems almost ethereal, and his violet eyes soften as they meet yours.

“I should have been there,” he says, his voice low, filled with regret. He steps closer, his presence a comforting warmth against the chill in the room. “I should have protected you.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing his hand in a reassuring gesture. “You couldn’t have known, Rhaegar. Cersei’s malice was not your fault.”

Pycelle finishes his work, dabbing a final bit of ointment over the scarred flesh. “You must continue to rest, Princess,” he advises, though his eyes flick nervously between you and Rhaegar. “And avoid any strenuous activity.”

You nod absentmindedly, your attention still on Rhaegar. “Thank you, Grand Maester.”

Pycelle bows deeply and shuffles out of the room, leaving you alone with Rhaegar. He moves closer, his fingers gently tracing the scar that mars your skin, the touch as light as a feather. You can feel the anger simmering beneath his gentle exterior, the barely contained fury at what has been done to you.

“I hate that this happened to you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You should never have had to suffer such a thing.”

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes. “I’m still here, Rhaegar. A scar is just a mark. It doesn’t change who I am.”

“But it shouldn’t have happened at all.” His tone is fierce, and you open your eyes to see the torment etched in his features. “I failed you, Y/N. I let that woman hurt you.”

You shake your head, taking his hand in yours and pressing it to your lips. “You didn’t fail me. You saved me by standing with me, by being here now. You are my strength, Rhaegar.”

He exhales shakily, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you,” he breathes, the words a soft vow. “More than anything. More than life itself.”

You smile, your heart swelling with warmth despite the pain and the memories that linger. “And I love you. We’ve faced worse than this, haven’t we?”

His lips curve into a small, rueful smile. “We have.” He lifts your hand, his lips brushing across your knuckles. “But I swear, no one will ever hurt you again. Not while I still draw breath.”

There’s a fierceness in his voice that sends a shiver down your spine, and you know he means every word. You pull him closer, your arms wrapping around his neck as you bury your face against his shoulder. His embrace is strong, protective, and you feel the tension in his body, the barely suppressed urge to take revenge for what has been done to you.

“I don’t care about the scar,” you murmur against his neck. “I’m just glad to be here with you.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze searching your face. “You are the strongest person I know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair from your forehead. “Stronger than I could ever be.”

You smile, a quiet, private smile meant only for him. “I’m strong because I have you.”

His expression softens, the anger fading as he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It’s not the fierce passion that sometimes flares between you, but something deeper, a promise of love and devotion that will withstand any storm.

When he pulls away, his hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Rest now,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

You nod, feeling the exhaustion finally catching up with you. He helps you lie back, his hands gentle as he adjusts the blankets around you. His presence is a calming, steady anchor, and as your eyes drift shut, you know that whatever comes, whatever challenges you still have to face, you will not face them alone.

Rhaegar presses one last kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there, as if to imprint his love and protection onto your very skin. “Sleep, my love,” he whispers, his voice a soft caress. “I’ll guard your dreams.”

#a song of ice and fire #asoif/got #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #house of the dragon #game of thrones #got x y/n #got x you #got x reader #rhaegar x y/n #rhaegar x you #rhaegar x reader #rhaegar targaryen #ceresi lannister #tywin lannister #jamie lannister #aerys ii targaryen #house targaryen #house lannister

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lislemons · 5 months ago

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asoiaf charaters as posts that remind me of them part 18

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loving-family-poll · 11 months ago

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Ultimate Incest Tournament - Final

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Cersei/Jaime:

they're literally womb-to-tomb lovers. they feel that the rest of the world is beneath them and they're the only ones that matter. the fact that they're twins is fundamental to their attraction to each other

they’re blonde they’re evil they crossdress they’re fucked-up mirrors of one another they serve cunt they’re both bisexual probably and they’re TWINS who FUCK. who said that.

"if I were a woman, I'd be Cersei."

"I'll kill [...] the whole bloody lot of them until you and I are the only people left in this world."

"I am sick of being careful. The Targaryens wed brother to sister, why shouldn't we do the same? Marry me, Cersei. Stand up before the realm and say it's me you want."

"'Do you have a little wife, ser?'" No, I have a sister."

#tournament polls #tumblr polls #incest poll #samdean #wincest #spn #cersei/jamie #lannicest #game of thrones #asoiaf #final #tw incest

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0bsessiv3s0ul · 6 months ago

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Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen

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starryfox0 · 1 year ago

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my roman empire are jamie lannister and brienne of tarth. these two istg i loved them so much, so so much, why did they take them from me

#game of thrones #jamie x brienne #jamie lannister #brienne of tarth #braime #they make me sick to my stomach

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fantasydreamland · 7 months ago

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Where did I get such high expectations of men?

I have no idea…

#jon snow #jamie fraser #james fraser #edward cullen #game of thrones #outlander #twilight #jon snow ygritte #jamie and claire #edward and bella #bella and edward #shows #fantasy shows #jon snow x reader

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j-k-writes · 1 month ago

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Soulmates!au with Jaime lannister x stark male (benjen's twin brother) reader pretty please?🥺

With prompts: you're a demanding little thing, aren't you? And i will never be able to carve you from my heart. you are embedded too deep.

Summary - Jamie Lannister does not remember much of the first night he spent with Y/N Stark, but the night still haunts him for years after he stormed out of the younger man's chambers.

Warnings - General GOT warnings, implied sexual content, drinking

Jamie scarcely recognized Winterfell as he rode through the open gates.

The castle he had spent weeks in all those years ago was loud and full of life, but the one he took in now was on its last breaths. The people who bustled around the keep had no life in their eyes, their posture and eyes giving away the impending doom that was coming their way.

Jamie made himself scarce amongst the Northerners, sticking mostly to his brother’s side as war plans were made and the castle was fortified. It was during one of the war councils, that Tyrion was welcome at but Jamie was not, that he saw him.

If someone asked, Jamie forgot about Y/N Stark the moment the door slammed behind his back in a fit of rage all those years ago. But the truth of the matter was that Y/N Stark had plagued Jamie’s every waking thought and dream for the last three and half years. Jamie remembered next to nothing about his last night in Winterfell, but the feel of Y/N rough stubble against his skin and teeth against his neck were forever burned into his mind. The Northerner’s chest was impossibly warm pressed against Jamie’s skin, and his lips had tasted like the very same wine that got Jamie into his bed in the first place.

Jamie made eye contact with him across the yard, the gooseflesh that crawled down his arms had nothing to do with the cold when Y/N’s eyes lit up in recognition. From the look of him it was clear to the ex-kingsguard that he was not the only one of them to have a rough few years. His face which had been rough from labor at the wall yet still full of life and humor was scarred and lacking the warmth that Jamie remembered. All of the life that Y/N’s presence had brought to Winterfell's halls all the years ago was dead; it seemed as Jamie watched him from afar for days.

Y/N spent his days moving almost mindlessly, preparing Winterfell for siege and talking in hushed whispers to Jon and the other commanders. He didn’t join the rest of them for meals or training, and the time he did spend out of his chambers he spent with the Wildlings, comfortable enough with them that Jamie could tell there was a story there. It wasn’t until the night before the Long Night, possibly their last night, that Jamie worked up the balls to track him down and talk.

“Jon I alre-” The door the chambers opened with a clang as Y/N threw the door open, he paused at the sight of Jamie standing there, a pitcher of wine in his hand. “Jamie?”

“I brought wine.”

Y/N shook his head, letting out a short laugh, “Come in.”

They ended up splitting four pitchers of wine between them before Y/N cut them both off, “We’re fighting a war tomorrow. We’ll be no use drunk.”

Y/N leaned over to place the empty pitcher back on the table and Jamie could smell the wine on his breath as the man entered his space. The smell of wine and the sudden closeness brought Jamie back to the last time they’d been left alone drunk with each other.

Jamie could never figure out just exactly how Y/N had convinced him into his bed, but he remembers the moment where Jamie decided that it was what he wanted.

‘You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?’ The man had whispered in his ear, pressing up against the door and pushing the breath out of Jamie's lungs. Jamie had been drunk, arrogant, and controlling throughout their journey up to the room, making snide comments about Y/N’s vows that Y/N had returned tenfold with taunts of Jamie and Cersei’s relationship that he had been too drunk to deny. As soon as Y/N’s rough laugh and taunting words had reached Jamie’s ears his resolve had broken and his knees had gone weak.

“Jamie?” Y/N said cautiously, snapping the man out of his memories.

“I still think about that night.” The words tumbled out of Jamie’s mouth before he could stop them and Y/N froze. Before the wine induced bravery could leave him, Jamie continued. “It’s been three years since and you still plague my dreams. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to speak to you since I arrived, can you imagine? The Kingslayer, scared of a conversation.”

Y/N laughed, “You’re drunk.”

“No.” Jamie shook his head. “If being drunk is what makes me think of you this way, I've been drunk every waking moment for the last three years. I know what I said to you all those years ago, but I was wrong. I will never be able to carve you from my heart. you are embedded too deep.”

Y/N’s breath caught, but before Jamie could regret opening his big mouth Y/N surged forward. He grabbed Jamie’s face, bringing their mouths together. Nothing about the way Y/N was claiming his lips was sweet, it was rough bitten kisses and rough hands grabbing his hair and bringing him closer to him. It was so familiar to the way that Y/N had claimed him all those years ago that Jamie couldn’t do anything but smile and melt into the man as he dragged him toward the bed.

Jamie was hyper-aware of the war looming over them as Y/N undressed him, lips trailing down his body with each new piece of skin that was revealed. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset by the deadline, content to finally take something for himself even if it was just going to be one last time.

#x male reader #x reader #x y/n #game of thrones x male reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #jamie lannister #jamie lannister x male reader #jamie lannister x reader #jamie lannister x you #jamie lannister x y/n

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aphroditelovesu · 11 months ago

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Could you rank the GOT yanderes on a scale of 1-7 based on how they treat Modern!Reader, 1 being beneath the yan, 4 being like an equal, and 7 being above the yan?

Hmm... It's a complicated question since there are several characters, but I'll list a few specifically. If you want others, just send them!

Cersei Lannister: 7 because we're talking about her. She's a scary yandere. Cersei is very possessive and controlling and if Modern!Reader doesn't do what she wants, it could end in disaster for them.

Daenerys Targaryen: 6. She's not as scary as Cersei, but she's not calm either. I think it depends on the stage at which you find her. If it's before her arrival in Westeros, then it would be a 5 but if it's after, a 6 almost a 7. Just be careful with her temper.

Jon Snow: 3. Jon is a soft yandere and you can't change my mind. He is very easygoing and due to his low self-esteem, he would never want to inflict harm on Modern!Reader. He cares a lot and one of the only overwhelming feelings he has is overprotection.

Joffrey Baratheon: 7. This one doesn't even need explanations. Joffrey is a sadist by nature and although he may adore Modern!Reader, I still see him wanting to hurt them as a way of breaking their affection. Besides being possessive.

Tywin Lannister: 6. Tywin is complicated, although he can be a dangerous yandere, he wouldn't be for Modern!Reader but for others. He would never hurt them, he cares about them too much for that. Tywin can punish them, but it would never be physically.

Tyrion Lannister: 4. Tyrion is very calm about his obsession and would hardly do anything against Modern!Reader. He likes them and sees them as a kind of friend and confidant. Tyrion is not demanding or overprotective, but he tends to protect Modern!Reader from several things, one of them being Joffrey.

Jaime Lannister: 5. Jaime is very calm too, he's not exactly possessive but he likes having Modern!Reader's attention on him. He likes to impress them and is protective. Jaime would never do anything to hurt them and often joins his brother in protecting them.

Margaery Tyrell: 6. Margaery is extremely manipulative and because of this, she sees no reason to try to hurt Modern!Reader because she knows she will have your attention. She is possessive too, wanting them for herself, but she is not demanding. She takes whatever she can.

Jorah Mormont: 5. Jorah is a worshipful and desperate yandere. He wants to be loved by his darling above all else and he will be willing to do whatever it takes to get that. Mormont would never hurt his darling, but he can become aggressive when provoked.

Sansa Stark: 4. Sansa poses no danger to her darling, but can pose a threat to others depending on the situation. She is not possessive but can get irritated if she doesn't have her attention.

Arya Stark: 6. Arya is very intelligent and has violent tendencies and although she will never hurt Modern!Reader, she is not against the idea of keeping them to herself. She just wants to protect and take care of them and in her own way.

Sandor Clegane: 5. Sandor is not the demanding or really possessive type of Modern!Reader, he spends as much time as he can with them and accepts anything. The biggest danger is how protective Sandor is over them, having no qualms about killing anyone who looks the other way at Modern!Reader.

Gregor Clegane: 7. Gregor is violent, aggressive and very possessive of Modern!Reader. He will beat anyone to death just for breathing the same air as you. Gregor could also be willing to inflict pain on you and will feel good about it.

Khal Drogo: 7. No explanation per se, Drogo is violent by nature and extremely possessive. While he's not going to inflict pain on Modern!Reader, Drogo can be a very scary yandere.

Viserys III Targaryen: 7. Viserys is out of control and easily irritated, making him willing to hurt Modern!Reader if he deems it necessary. In addition to being possessive and petty.

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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

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Jamie Lannister*Extra Credit

Pairing: proffesor!Jamie x f!student!reader

Kinktober Day thirty: teacher student au with Jamie Lannister – he knew it was wrong to ask you to stay after class but after one too many short, short skirts he could no longer keep his thoughts at bay

Word count: 3014

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

There was not a student who didn’t groan when they realised, they were stuck with Professor Lannister. The only saving grace was hot fit he was, well that’s what he heard the students whisper about him while they waited for him to begin the lecture. He was strict, he knew that, but he thought fair. After all, if you just did the work what is the issue? Even if he pilled the work sky high.

He’d been teaching here for five years now with no issues. Not a single problem. That was till your flashy legs waltzed into his class with a short, pleated skirt and iced coffee in hand three minutes late. “Sorry professor,” you said, squeezing past him as he went to lock the door like he did at four minutes past every lesson. He had no time for late commers.

The students who saw his eyes follow you assumed it was a glare of contempt and feared for your next mark, but Jamie was trying desperately not to let his eyes wander down before turning his attention back to the door.

“Welcome to Military History 101 I am Jamie Lannister, your professor, and I accept nothing but greatness so if you came here for an easy pass,” he said, letting his eyes wander around the room, basking in the scent of nervous freshman sweat, “you are in for an uphill battle,” he said, his eyes landing on you. “And don’t even think of trying to make up for mediocrity with extra credit since I don’t do it,” he added making half the freshman groan.

You however seemed unfazed. You were scrawling in a notebook, pink pen with fluffy top in perfectly manicured hand, and a smirk tugging on your lip at the last line. Jamie felt himself swallow hard as he realised it was not just his students who’d be fighting uphill this year.

Every lesson you did not fail to disappoint. You came in exactly 3 minutes past with a coffee cup in hand just before he would lock the door. he wondered if it was deliberately spiteful or if you just enjoyed squeezing past him. Only once did you ever show up in sweats and the way the juicy letters hung over your ass had just as much of an affect on him as your favourite short skirts.

Usually, you left as the bell rang however as all the tired zombie freshman shuffled out, he noticed you lingering back with a friend before waving them off and walking up to him. “Sir?” you asked, not noticing the shockwave the word sent through your professor. “I was needing some help on something,”

Jamie however was thinking of the ways you could help his growing trouser problem he discussed by pulling his chair closer to his desk, “What seems to be the matter?”

“It’s the assignment due Monday. I was wondering if I could submit it Friday instead?” you asked, no reasoning, no added context. Just asking with a pretty smile.

Usually, Jamie would scoff or roll his eyes but for a moment, perhaps just to be able to see your face up close a few moments longer, he entertained it, “May I ask why? Do you plan on nursing a hangover this weekend?” he asked, raising an eyebrow but you only chuckled at his words.

“No professor. It’s basically done I just know I can make it perfect with an extra couple days. After all you said you expected nothing but greatness,” the smirk on your lips should’ve been your cocky nail in the coffin but Jamie couldn’t tell if he respected your thought process or just wanted to feel what those lips could do.

He chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair, “Do you think the Targaryen’s got an extension when they decided to conquer Dorne?”

“No,” you said, tilting your head to the side, “but I thought setting the classroom alight would send the wrong message,”

Another chuckle left him. Gods he was mentally hitting himself for that. At least no one else was here to watch him grow soft because of a random college girl. He paused, allowing his eyes to scan your face before snapping himself from his daze, “Fine. But you better deliver on your word,”

“I always do,” you grinned, “Thank you sir, I’ll see you later,” you said before turning to leave. Jamie allowed himself to watch how your hips swayed out the door however as soon as it closed his head fell back and he groaned loudly as he contemplated whether the things, he imagined doing to you were morally wrong. After all you were his student.

Sure, as fate he got your essay in on Friday and decided to mark it as soon as the class had ended. He sat back in his chair shocked at the 99% he wrote in red ink on top of the paper. When Monday came the freshman nerves raced through the room as the waited for their papers to be handed out. Jamie usually delighted in telling them he’d hand them out as they were leaving but today, he was bored and hungover from a long weekend with his brother who had tried to find him girls to get his mind off of you.

However, as he was calling out names and handing them their papers as they scurried out the door Jamie found himself moving your paper to the side. “Robb Stark,” Jamie called the second last name and the Stark boy all but flung himself out his chair to grab his paper, sighing of relief when he saw the 89% on the corner.

“Its okay if you didn’t get round to mine,” You said, standing from your chair as Robb left the room.

Today it was a short red, black plaid skirt that clung to your hips that swayed as you walked down the stairs of the lecture hall to his desk. The black high neck top should have in theory been modest, but it made your chest pop in a way he wondered if was intentional. “I did,” he said, letting his eyes scan your body for a moment, as discreetly as a desperate man could. “I must say you live up to your word,” he said as he held out the paper.

He saw a real smile, though small, cross your lips at the red pen. “Thank you, sir,”

“Don’t thank me, you did the work,” he said, moving to sit on the corner of his desk, “Though next time I expect it to be in on time,”

“Of course, sir,” you said, moving to tuck the paper into your backpack which gave him another chance to look at the curves of your hips. however, your light laugh snapped him out of his dirty thoughts as he realised, he had been caught. Before he could stutter anything out you spoke again, “Do you have a girlfriend sir?” you asked, eyelashes batting.

Jamie stammered for a moment before laughing, trying to cover himself but failing miserably, “No I don’t um why do you ask?” he eventually managed out.

You shrugged, shoving your backpack over your shoulder, “Just wondering is all,” you smiled before turning to leave. Like second nature his eyes moved to your ass however just as you turned back to say, “Bye sir,” with a smirk before shutting the door behind yourself. He was officially fucked.

A few weeks had past, and Jamie wondered if everyone in the room could feel the tension or if it was just him. He was sat in his office grading papers for his post grad class when a knock came from the door. “Come in,” he called, not looking up from his papers.

“Sir?” his head snapped up at the sound of your voice, “I was wondering if you could help me with something,” you said, holding an open notebook in your hand. Jamie nodded but you had already came in, moving to stand beside him behind his desk. Even when not in class you were still in one of those schoolgirl skirts and Jamie wondered how many you could possibly own.

“I was wondering if this argument seems right,” you said, placing the notebook on his desk. Jamie leaned forward, his eyes attempting to scan the page, but he could feel the way you leaned in, watching his movements. However, he didn’t see the way your eyes scanned his body and the way his perfectly tailored trousers showed his bulge or how sexy his arms looked with the sleeves messily pushed up.

Jamie did his best to talk his way through the argument, explaining in monotonous details where you had gone right and wrong all while feeling your hot breath tickle his skin. “Does that help?” he asked, looking up at you before realising how close your lips were.

They curved into a smile as you leaned in only to grab your notebook and stand up. He knew you were teasing him, he just knew, but how was a man supposed to cope with this? “Yeah, it does. Thank you, sir,”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell from a moment, your tongue briefly wetting your lips, “I don’t know sir. Is there?” you asked, looking up again through heavy lashes.

Jamie felt something snap in himself. he moved before he thought and soon his hand was on the back of your neck and his lips were slammed against yours. the kiss had caught you off guard, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up, your hands moving to pull at his hair making Jamie groan into the kiss.

He moved the chair back, not breaking the kiss, as you moved to climb into his lap. His hands moved to squeeze your ass, moaning against your lips as his tongue slipped in not that you would have stopped him. Your hips moved, grinding yourself down onto his hard bulge making his fingers dig in deeper.

Jamie broke the kiss. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, his voice ragged as his hot breath fanned across your face making your skin tingle.

“Do you not want to?” you asked, your lips moving to kiss along his sharp jaw.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands slipping up to the small of your back, pressing your body against his, “You know you won’t get extra credit for this?” he asked.

You giggled against his skin, lifting your head to face him as your hands slid to his shoulders, “I don’t need the extra credit. Just you,” you added, your eyes flickering down to his shirt, your hands slowly moving the unbutton the top button.

Jamie watched you silently as you undid 3 of his buttons before suddenly standing, his arms hooked around your thighs. You gasped as you felt your butt hit the desk and Jamies bulge press against your clothed core. His lips crashed down onto yours, his hands sliding beneath your skirt to finally feel your hips properly.

Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in closer making him grind against you, his bulge rubbing against your clit. Your fingers scrambled to undo his buttons, quickly making there way down till they were all undone and you were able to run your hands along his toned abs.

His hand squeezed your thigh before slipping between your legs, rubbing your clit over your panties making you moan lightly into the kiss. This only made him want this more as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, running a digit up your slit, “So wet for me,” he mumbled against your lips, “Such a good girl,” he praised sending a spark through your core.

Before you could try come up with a sassy comment or teasing remark you gasped as he pushed two fingers in slowly, stretching you out perfectly. His lips moved to your neck, kissing down all the exposed skin he could as his fingers began to curl perfectly as his thumb moved to rub slow circles onto your clit.

You felt your hips begin to buck, his free hand moving to hold them down against the desk as you felt a growing knot in your stomach. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching but you didn’t wait so long for a bit of fingering. Your hand moved to grab his wrist, feeling just how strong he was as you did. He lifted his head, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, “I need you. please sir,” you whined, your voice strained as you felt yourself clench around his fingers.

Jamie muttered curses under his breath and if you didn’t see him unbuckling his belt you’d wonder if you had taken it too far. Suddenly a look of defeat dawned on his face, “Fuck I don’t have a- “

“I’m on the pill just please,” you practically begged, grabbing his bicep and squeezing it lightly, “please just fuck me already,” you’d barely got the words out before he had his cock in his hand.

It looked painfully hard, but you didn’t look long as you felt his lips against yours again and felt him line himself up, rubbing his tip over your clit making you whimper against his lips. He knew what he was doing, you realised, but so did you. perhaps the way he slowly pushed his tip in then out again was pay back for all the short skirts you’d deliberately worn just for him.

“Please,” you whined against his lips.

You felt them curl into a smirk, “I like when you beg,” he mumbled, pressing his tip in again. “Been imagining this all semester. Bending you over a table right in the middle of class,” he said, finally pushing in deeper making you whimper, “Bet you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you moaned as you tighten your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper.

“Fucking love when you call me that,” he said, his eyes closing tight as your cunt squeezed around him, still not fully in, “and these skirts of yours. tiny fucking skirts. For a good girl you really are such a tease, aren’t you?” he said, finally pushing all the way in before giving you a second to adjust. He waited a moment before adding, “I asked you a question,”

“Yes sir,” you said, your voice shaky as he got his revenge on all your teasing.

Jamie smirked again, that annoying cocky smirk you loved so much, “Good girl,” he said before suddenly beginning his thrusts. His hips snapped at a perfect pace, deliberately hard so he could watch your tits bounce under your shirt.

Deciding he’d looked at them over the fabric too long he reached out, pulling the t-shirt up above your tits to reveal a pretty red bra you’d chosen for the occasion. It only made his pace grow harder.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, trying to keep your moans down but it became hard as you felt his hand move so he could rub quick circles into your already sensitive bundle of nerves. You could feel orgasm rapidly approaching as your legs wrapped tight around his waist, making his thrusts even deeper.

The groans and grunts coming from his lips only worked to spear you on as Jamie felt his eyes tighten as he desperately tried not to cum in two seconds. His hands moved from your hips to your tits, groping them over your bra and seriously wishing he had done this sooner. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off for as he felt your walls tighten around him.

“Fuck I can’t I’m gonna,” you panted, your moans hard to contain. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you forward so your head landed in the crook of his shoulder. The new position allowing him to hit a new spot that had you muffling moans into his skin. You felt the knot in your stomach explode as your teeth sunk into his skin as your orgasm crashed down around you.

Jamie however was not far behind, and his thrusts became more sporadic as he chased his high. As you came down from your own you could feel his muscles tighten. You placed a kiss to the skin you had bitten just as you heard Jamie gasp out curse words before feeling him finish.

His head crashed into the crook of your shoulder as he caught his breath. “That was- just fuck, wow,” he panted, his voice hoarse as he lifted his head to look at you.

“Yeah,” you smiled, a dopey fucked out your mind smile that just made Jamie wish he could do this over and over again.

Suddenly Jamie remembered where he was though with a panicked, “Fuck,” as he quickly opened his desk drawer and grabbed some tissues to help clean you up.

As you jumped off his desk, readjusting your skirt and pulling your top back down, he quickly worked on the buttons of his shirts. You glanced at his desk, noticing the crumbled paper you had accidentally ended up on, “Sorry about that,” you grimaced but Jamie just laughed.

“Don’t worry about it. that kids a cunt anyway,” he said making you laugh as well.

You picked up the notebook you had used as an excuse to enter his office in the first place and headed for the door, “Thanks for the help, sir,”

“Anytime love,” Jamie said, settling back into his chair like nothing had happened. Part of you wondered later on that night if it had really happened or if it had just been one amazing sexed out fever dream. That was until you got the email saying extra credit had been applied to your course. you couldn’t help but laugh as you settled in for the night, wondering what else you’d pretend to struggle with to end up in that office.

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#jamie lannister imagine #jamie lannister smut #jamie lannister x reader #jamie Lannister #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #game of thrones kinktober #kinktober

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