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mummersblade · 2 years ago

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Jon’s heart in ADWD

Now we all know the iconic “What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?” line but looking through all of Jon’s chapter in ADWD (and in earlier books) it is interesting to compare all of his references to his heart and how it encapsulates one of the greatest struggles in the series, which is “love is the death of duty." It also helps us understand why this is the book where he finally chooses love.

Jon refers to his heart for just two people/entities throughout ADWD: Arya and the men of the Night’s Watch. We’ll start with the latter.

Every name was graven on his heart. Eight good men, he thought, and one…well we shall see. (Jon VI, ADWD)

Every name was graven on his heart. They were his men, his brothers. (Jon VII, ADWD)

In both instances the men are “graven” onto his heart. The repeated phrasing drives home that his brothers in the Night’s Watch do not make up his heart; they are rather an impression on it. It is surface level, his exterior devotion that hides the inner workings of his heart.

Jon's obedience to his vows for the Night’s Watch has been a burden for him and his character arc, starting from the very first book when he nearly deserts, again when he falls in love with Ygritte, and once more when he picks the Watch over being legitimized so he can rule Winterfell, marry a princess, and have trueborn children with her. The build-up of all these tests to his vows culminates in ADWD, when he finally and explicitly breaks them, a decision that leads to his death. Before making this ultimate decision, however, he tries to remind himself of his obligations against his wishes to save Arya, asserting that he can't help her because:

“Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard’s heart.” (Jon VI, ADWD)

He said the words, but an oft repeated phrase across the series is "words are wind." Maester Aemon says something similar himself in his love and duty speech:

"What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms... or the memory of a brothers smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy." (Jon VIII, AGOT)

Jon's heart has been written over by the vows he made in AGOT and the duties he's obligated to because of them. He sacrificed all that Aemon mentioned: a woman's love (Ygritte), a newborn son in his arm (Stannis's offer of Winterfell, Val, and legitimization), and his brother's smile (Robb) all for duty. Even in the case for Ygritte, who Jon undoubtedly loved, his heart is guarded from her:

The wildlings had taken him for an oathbreaker, but in his heart, he was still a man of the Night's Watch, doing that last duty that Qhorin Halfhand had laid on him. (Jon I, ASOS)

Wildling to the bone, he thought again, with a sick sad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand, and wondered what Ygritte would do if she knew of his heart. (Jon V, ASOS)

Ygritte is kept separate from his heart, even when they are at their closest physically and romantically in ASOS. In this book, his heart is still defined by his vows to the Night's Watch, but come ADWD, we see that in truth the Watch is just the exterior, the shell of his heart. It is the engraving on top, the words that are seen at first without a deeper inspection into what's beneath.

Meanwhile, all the other times he references his heart in ADWD relates entirely to Arya. His heart reacts based off his emotions towards her (see end of this for similarities to Dany and her heart's relation to Daario versus other POVs and their hearts' reactions in ADWD). He likens his heart so that it is synonymous with her. There is no engraving, no embellishment. She simply is his heart, and that is why she is enough to finally get him to break his vows.

His vows make up the surface of his heart. It's his armor that has given him the strength to make hard decisions about his family and Ygritte. But if Arya is his heart, she's already past the surface, past the armor, and only she can shatter the shield from within. To overview all the remaining references Jon makes to his heart in ADWD (both in terms of emotive responses and an ideological representation of himself in the truest form):

"Roose Bolton summons all leal lords to Barrowton, to affirm their loyalty to the Iron Throne and celebrate his son's wedding to..." His heart seemed to stop for a moment. No, that is not possible. She died in King's Landing, with Father. (Jon VI, ADWD)

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is the weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you."

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? (Jon VI, ADWD)

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. (Jon X, ADWD)

I want my bride back...Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it. (Jon XIII, ADWD)

"This creature who makes cloaks from the skins of women has sworn to cut my heart out, and I mean to make him answer for those words...but I will not ask my brothers to forswear their vows." (Jon XIII, ADWD)

All of these relate to Arya in one way or another.

Jon makes it explicit in his reveal of Ramsay's letter in the Shieldhall that he does not act to avenge Stannis or defend Selyse and Shireen. He will march on Winterfell because of the threat to his heart--to Arya. She is the final thought he has before changing his plan (just as she is his final thought before dying). And there is no way to argue that he isn't breaking his oath, when in the last quote above he equates his actions as forswearing his oath.

So basically all of this is to say that in ADWD Jon's heart only reacts to news and thoughts of Arya (the announcement of her impending marriage and the comparison with Alys Karstark at her own wedding). His heart is her, which is why only she manages to give him a strong enough cause to break his oath. No other mentioning of his heart is made in the book, except for the men of the Night's Watch, which is a repeated line that makes it sound all the more superficial and drilled into him. It is a clear juxtaposition of a heart hardened by duty versus a heart full of love. And Jon picks love.

Compare Jon and his heart to other characters taking about their own hearts in ADWD:

DANY (who already has a very similar story arc to Jon as she struggles in a position of power and making impossible decisions):

Daario. Her heart gave a flutter in her chest. "How long has... when did he...?" She could not seem to get the words out. (Dany IV, ADWD)

There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters. (Dany IV, ADWD)

When Ser Barristan told her that her captain desired words with her, she thought for a moment that it was Daario, and her heart leapt." (Dany V, ADWD)

"Daario was war and woe. Henceforth, she must keep him out of her bed, out of her heart, and out of her. If he did not betray her, he would master her." (Dany VIII, ADWD)

Almost all of her references to her own heart in ADWD relate to Daario, her romantic interest. He is already within her heart and she knows he runs the risk of ruling it complete, but she is reasonable enough to break off their relationship for the good of her people. She chooses duty over love, honoring her obligations to keep her people out of slavery and safe from the lingering presence of the masters. Jon does not make that same decision when he puts his heart first.

BRAN:

It was a woman's voice, high and sweet, with a strange music to it like none that he had ever heard and a sadness that he thought might break his heart. (Bran II, ADWD)

Bran saw great white snakes slithering in and out of the earth around him, and his heart thumped in fear. (Bran II, ADWD)

Both times Bran refers to his heart in one chapter, it's purely reactionary to an emotion he experiences, neither of which relate to a person.

"You saw what you wished to see. Your heart yearns for your father and your home, so that is what you saw." (Bran III, ADWD)

Bran's heart's desire is his family and Winterfell.

THEON:

"No," he insisted, shrilly. "No, I only want these clothes. Reek's clothes. I'm Reek is rhymes with peek." His heart was beating like a drum, and his voice rose to a frightened squeak. (Reek III, ADWD)

TYRION:

Tyrion listened to Illyrio's snores, the creak of the leather straps...but his heart was listening for the beat of leathern wings. (Tyrion II, ADWD)

He dreamt of his lord father and the Shrouded Lord. He dreamt that they were one and the same, and when his father wrapped stone arms around him and bent to give him his grey kiss, he woke with his mouth dry and rusty with the taste of blood and his heart hammering in his chest. (Tyrion VI, ADWD)

Other men's hearts in the story are used to express terror or sorrow. They do not relate to love, even in the instance of Tyrion longing to see dragons. This is unlike Jon's storyline. How Jon speaks of his heart Has the most in common with Dany, who is openly in love with Daario, though it is not enough for her to pick him in the end.

And of course, ARYA:

"Your heart is too soft to be one of us."

He means to send me away. "I have no heart. I only have a hole. I've killed lots of people. I could kill you if I wanted." (The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD)

Arya claims to have no heart, but this comes at her fear that she'll be cast out by the Faceless Men. We know how desperate Arya is for home and for safety, and the Faceless Men are all she has now. Even they know she still has a heart, one of compassion and love. I can only imagine in TWOW she'll find a reason to recall her heart...

#I started writing this out at the laundromat today now here we are #jon snow #arya stark #ygritte #robb stark #asoiaf #i'm sure someone has gone over this but hey this is my word vomit hehe #rambles #jonrya #jon x arya #needleheart

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tomakeitbeautifultolive · 4 years ago

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Something I've been wondering about: If Jon comes back as a fire wight like Beric Dondarrion and unCat, will he be able to get it up? Blood won't really be flowing in his body anymore, so would his dick be powered by fire magic or something like that?

I, too, have spent a great deal of time pondering Jon Snow’s dick, Anon. 😏 Jokes aside, I will admit right off the bat that most of what I have to offer is total speculation, but over-thinking the most minor details of ASOIAF happens to be my favorite pastime, so let’s go!

Like pretty much everyone who read the quote, I was totally thrown off by the “fire wight” revelation. Here’s the quote for reference:

“..poor Beric Dondarrion, who was set up as the foreshadowing of all this, every time he’s a little less Beric. His memories are fading, he’s got all these scars, he’s becoming more and more physically hideous, because he’s not a living human being anymore. His heart isn’t beating, his blood isn’t flowing in his veins, he’s a wight, but a wight animated by fire instead of by ice.”

So, an important distinction to make here is that this quote is about Beric Dondarrion specifically, not Jon Snow.

The condition of Jon Snow’s corpse might matter

George can be very clever with how he words things. Note that he goes into Beric’s deaths, describing multiple resurrections and how he’s falling apart before stating that his heart is no longer beating. It could be that a fresh “fire wight” might still possess bodily functions—at least at first. Catelyn, too, was a very sorry looking corpse by the time she was reanimated, therefore not a great comparison, either. Especially since it’s Beric rather than Thoros who, with very little life force to lend, resurrects her.

If nothing else, Jon will be “fresh”, and his location at the Wall means the low temperatures will help preserve his body even if the resurrection takes some time.

And speaking of the Wall… there happens to be a special lady there who could help Jon, and whose powers happen to be amplified by the magic of the Wall...

Melisandre is profoundly more powerful than Thoros of Myr

Thoros may be a red priest, but otherwise he seems to be a pretty normal human man. We get a clue about when he converted from Jaime:

“Jaime had once heard Thoros tell the king that he became a red priest because the robes hid the winestains so well.”

Relatively recently, one might guess, as most children aren’t yet drunks. Further, he was never very dedicated to his faith, even questioning it at times.

Melisandre, on the other hand...

“Melisandre had practiced her art for years beyond count, and she had paid the price. There was no one, even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames.”

While we don’t know much about her, this confirms that she spent countless years studying her craft, and no one in her order can match her skill. And no one believes in their faith more than Melisandre. Like in the television series, it’s a safe bet that she’s actually much older than the natural human lifespan, particularly if she managed to lose count of how many years she’s studied magic.

If Melisandre is the one to resurrect Jon Snow, she might not use a ‘last kiss’ method at all, or, if she does, it could be more powerful than anything Thoros is capable of.

Unlike Beric, Jon Snow is probably the prophesied prince

Speaking of Melisandre’s ability to glimpse secrets in the flames… there’s someone she sure seems to see a lot of:

“I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only Snow.”

“Skulls. A thousand skulls, and the bastard boy again. Jon Snow.”

“The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange.”

I know. There is some contention about who the Prince that was Promised is. Regardless of whether you agree that it’s Jon Snow, you’ve got to admit that Melisandre is seeing him in the flames for a reason. And if he’s not the prophesied prince, then perhaps his blood has something to do with it. It’s likely that, for some reason, the combination of Targaryen and Stark blood matters. At least, Rhaegar Targaryen seemed pretty convinced...

Whatever Jon Snow’s business is in Westeros… it’s unfinished. And part of that unfinished business might just involve becoming a father.

The emphasis put on Jon fathering a child is notable

Let’s go back to Jon’s first chapter ever. It opens with Jon at Robert’s feast, the author uses Jon’s eyes to describe the setting and multiple characters. And then enters Benjen Stark. This is when we really get to know Jon. When you read this passage, really consider the author’s intent here:

"You don't know what you're asking, Jon. The Night's Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor."

"A bastard can have honor too," Jon said. "I am ready to swear your oath."

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. "More's the pity." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel."

Jon trembled. "I will never father a bastard," he said carefully. "Never!" He spat it out like venom.

Suddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes.

This is how George R.R. Martin chooses to introduce us to Jon Snow. And gods, that always hits me right in the gut. It’s absolutely supposed to. Jon’s trembling, venomous anger is palpable. You feel the deep hurt and resentment in his words, right down to his core. Jon says he doesn’t care—but the bite in his words and the tears welling in his eyes tell us otherwise.

Jon Snow easily embraces his vow of celibacy. At first. And then comes Ygritte. And after getting his first taste of love and later flirting with the idea of becoming a lord when it’s offered to him by Stannis, Jon Snow begins to imagine what it might be like to have a wife...

“I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall.”

And look what happens the moment he does dare to dream of it...

“I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade.”

And the feeling transitions into an almost tangible hunger felt by his wolf, Ghost.

Speaking of Ghost…

Grab your tinfoil! ‘Cause Jon’s life might’ve already been ‘paid for’ ...By Daenerys

First… in case you didn’t know, Daenerys is probably a skinchanger:

“The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.”

Basically, it goes like this:

As Daenerys wanders the Dothraki Sea in search of food after being whisked away by Drogon, she hears a wolf’s howl.

“Will (Ghost) howl for me when I'm dead, as Bran's wolf howled when he fell?”

Feeling lonely yet no less hungry, she eats some strange green berries. Her stomach begins to cramp.

“My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.”

Unfortunately, Daenerys then experiences some horrible diarrhea. Poor girl! I don’t bring it up to be crass, but because this purge bears striking resemblance to an earthly drug called Ayahuasca—a substance that, aside from emptying your bowels, is often used as a means to ‘open your third eye’ (Just as Bran does in the crypts, and he can finally reach Jon and Ghost…)

Dany falls asleep and begins experiencing trippy dreams about her brother—perhaps even achieving contact with the other side? Then...

“When she woke, gasping, her thighs were slick with blood.”

Assuming it’s nothing more than her period, Dany begins to wonder the last time she bled—hinting that it might’ve been a little while.

“The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it's only my moon blood, but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow.”

Maybe a bit of a stretch, I know. But… this wretched and graphic scene of Dany’s loose bowels really made me wonder what in seven hells George was thinking. I was so embarrassed for Dany that I HAD to figure out why he’d do this to her.

And my best guess is that she’s using these latent skinchanging abilities to tap into this strange connection with the “blue rose” over at the Wall of Westeros and the silent wolf who finally howled for help upon his death… And so, Dany’s miscarriage may be the death that will pay for Jon’s life.

I might’ve found some more evidence to back this claim up, this is very new ‘evidence’, so bear with me:

“Fire”, in the world of ASOIAF, often translates to “life”. As is seen here in Sam’s speech following Aemon’s death (thanks, bridge4!):

“He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out.”

Further, according to the wiki:

“When a follower of the Lord of Light dies, priests fill their mouths with fire and breathe flame into the deceased”

In the House of the Undying, Dany receives a series of chilling prophecies, one of which happens to be about fires:

“Three fires you must light, one for life, one for death and one to love”

I know, I know. Drogo’s pyre, the Khals, etc etc. But George might be playing with double meanings here… So, if we think of fires as conceptions, this could maybe mean:

One in exchange FOR the Dragon’s lives (Life)

One in exchange FOR Jon’s resurrection (Death)

One conceived (likely with Jon) and carried to term (TO love)

Food for thought! Especially considering that, like Jon, Dany possesses the blood of Old Valyria, and these sacrifices are probably all the more powerful as a result. But even if I’m dead wrong about that prophecy, well, fire still broadly means life, which bodes well for our brooding ‘bastard’, who might just end up as a “fire wight”.

Hopefully something in this drivel has given any Jon fans reading this a little bit of faith that, despite the slight setback of death, Jon will still be able to exercise his, uh, virility when he finally meets Dany. 😅 Thanks for the ask!!

#answered #jon snow #fire wight #resurrection #jonerys #asoiaf theories #asoiaf speculation #my theories #loving the asks since I can't do much else while recovering #keep 'em coming if you got 'em!

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salty-wench · 3 years ago

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7, please!

I am sorry to say that this, at just over 1000 words, is nowhere near a drabble

It's Throbb and a prequel to sweet just like frustration so a prequel to a prequel... Probably T/M rated

Read Ao3 version (slightly less tame)

It’s a risk when he brings his buck fizz to his lips and asks from behind it, “you want to get out of here?” Theon knows that. But it wouldn’t be nearly so fun if it weren’t.

In the corner of Theon’s eye, while he pretends to be listening to what Theon assumes is supposed to be a rousing speech given by Melissandre, Robb scratches the stubble on his cheek with his index finger, the opposite arm crosses his body to hold his elbow. He almost looks like he’s taking an interest.

Theon takes a sip, hoping he comes across as self-assured, all the while dreading a rejection. He’s done some stupid things in his life. But propositioning a married new colleague at his work’s Christmas do? It’s a new one, even for him.

When Robb inclines his head, no matter how shallow the nod, Theon can’t keep his lips from curling.

He turns to walk round the back of the redhead, trailing his fingers over the small of his back just in case there's any uncertainty about the invitation. Weaving through their coworkers, he resists a look back over his shoulder, for three reasons. 1) He hopes it arouses less suspicion. 2) Robb knows very little about him and therefore is likely to have been at least partly drawn in by the confident airs he tries to cultivate. 3) It would be pretty rude of Robb to back out without letting him know. And he can’t do that if Theon can neither see nor hear him now can he?

Sara catches his eye with a scowl when he nears her by the drinks table on the way out. That was one such stupid thing. Not a wise move to hook up with and attempt to ghost one of the admin staff, he’s learned. If there’s anyone who can wreak havoc on your work-life - bar the boss of course - it’s them.

Choosing to continue the charade, he gives her a broad grin and holds up a hand in greeting as he swipes one of the bottles of cava. She rolls her eyes at him when he presses a finger to his lips and winks because people don’t snitch when they feel involved.

Only once he’s walking down the corridor does he glance into the reflections in the glass windows lining it to slyly check he’s being followed.

Robb’s mirror image smiles at him with a flash of white teeth, not fooled but looking a little bashful.

He slows his pace, turns to walk backward, swaggering as best he can, one hand in his pocket, and offering the bottle out by its neck with the other, encouraging Robb to chase him, no matter how slowly.

After checking for someone nearby, Robb slow jogs after him with a laugh, auburn curls bouncing lightly. He doesn’t even look at the door Theon backs him through once he’s caught up, but when he spins to survey the room, he does spot the name on the desk plate. Stannis Baratheon. He struggles to contain and chokes the mouthful of sparkling wine he’s just swigged from the bottle..

With a chuckle, Theon retrieves a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and offers his new playmate one.

Robb shakes his head. “I don’t,” he says, watching Theon pull himself up to sit on the desk and kick out the leather chair for him to sit on, doesn’t add ‘she’d know.’ His eyes remain fixated while he watches Theon light up, click the lighter shut, and take a drag. He only snaps out of it when Theon leans back to search their boss’ desk, comes up empty, and tips the pens from a ‘world’s best dad’ mug onto the table to use it as a makeshift ashtray.

Robb let’s out a laugh, somewhere between anxious and one of disbelief, and sits in the chair. He slouches in a way Theon is certain few can pull off, spreading his legs slightly, elbow on the chair arm, head propped up in the hand. Looking up, he smirks. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

Theon narrowly avoids the smoke escaping his nostrils as he tries not to snort and turns his head to exhale away from Robb. “Is ‘everyone’ the gossips on the third floor?” When Robb nods, so does Theon. “Mmm, they would.”

“Do you deny it?”

“Well,” Theon shrugs, nonchalant, “I wouldn’t say bad guy.”

“No?” asks Robb with a curious tilt of his head. “What would you say?”

“I’d say they knew what they were getting into.”

“I see,” Robb looks at him closely, “and why is that?”

Theon pauses. “Why are you here?”

Amused, Robb pulls his head up off his hand. “Excuse me?” He frowns.

“With me, why are you here with me?”

Pink forms on Robb’s cheeks. “I–... Well, you’re–…” Lips still parted, Robb pauses, knowing Theon will fill in the gaps with standard responses about him being attractive.

“Ok, let me put it another way…” He flicks ash into the mug. “You’re new here, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve heard I have a reputation, yes?”

Frowning, and no doubt wondering where this is going, Robb agrees again. “Yes…?”

“And when you were introduced to me you…?” Theon smokes as he waits for an answer, or for Robb to think about it at least.

“You tell me.”

“You looked at me with that look in your eyes because you had certain expectations.” One might call the whole thing marketing.

“That’s where you’re wrong. That’s not true.”

Theon arches a brow. “No?”

“No.” Robb shakes his head. “I looked at you like that because the reality exceeded my expectations and I knew I was in trouble.”

That’s the first warning that things are going to go astray from what he had in mind. The second comes when Robb stands, sending the chair flying back into the wall behind, takes the cigarette from Theon’s hand, stubs it out on the mug, and slides a firm hand up the inside of his thigh.

Theon doesn’t know what exactly does it. Whether it's the way his body moves instinctively to facilitate him, the rise of his eyebrows at the surprise, or the noise he makes. But when Robb places himself between his knees, takes his arse to pull him to the edge of the desk, and looks him in the eye before going in for the kiss, he doesn’t half look smug about it.

Send me a sentence or kiss prompt

#throbb #theon greyjoy #robb stark #my fics #ficlets

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a-libra-writes · 4 years ago

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How the GoT Characters React To You Walking In On Them

It’s been more than a month since I did a longass preference (yikes) aND THIS IS HOW I RETURN SEE YALL IN THE 7 HELLS very nsfw obvs

(for my mobile frens, masterlist is here)

In this preference, you’ll be interrupting: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Podrick Payne, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

It’s not that he had planned this; you two hadn’t had a chance to be together for almost three weeks, and he thought you’d be here in your shared chambers by now. He noticed one of your cloaks folded so neatly across the bed … Ned was fumbling out the excuses when you walked in, but eventually he just trailed off, asking you not to tease him too much and forgive him. You just smiled as you took his red face in your hands, and he gladly gave into you. “I’ll have to earn your forgiveness, won’t I? What would you have me do, love?”

ROBB STARK

His cheeks were as red as his hair, but he hastily called you over and tried to cover up his embarrassment with bravado. You laughed as Robb pulled you in his lap and instantly dropped his head to your neck. He tried to laugh with you, but it was cut to a groan as you took him in your own hands. Your king eagerly bit at your neck while you stroked him. “I missed you, love, I didn’t want to - I-I think about you all day, you know. It’s maddening when you’re away from me.”

SANSA STARK

You were hoping to make some sort of sexy entrance, but that was shot to the ground when Sansa yelped and nearly jumped off the bed. She was so mortified, she hid her face while you reassured her and rubbed her back. It took quite a bit of snuggling before she was able to face you again. To help her confidence, you let her unlace your dress while she took a deep breath. “I-I know it’s silly, because we’ve … we’ve already -- well, you surprised me! I thought my heart was in my throat. … Having you here is much nicer, though.”

JON SNOW

The blush went to his ears when you caught him and teased him, and he just sighed and called you over. He was going to calm himself and lace up his pants, but he was pleasantly surprised when you started tugging at his tunic and cloak. You were still teasing, though, so he made a point to distract you by removing your clothes and shushing you with a deep kiss. He was trying to be exasperated with you, but it was always difficult to think straight when you were around.

BENJEN STARK

He’d just have the nerve to smirk, like he was waiting for you to catch him, and he probably was. With absolutely no shame Benjen would grin and casually mention he was just thinking about you. While you’d try to scold him about being at least a little more careful at Castle Black, it was distracting when his hands were already running up your sides and unlacing your blacks. “Would you like to know exactly what I was thinking about? The night we stole in the Godswood. I loved having you that way, Y/N, all mine for the gods to see. Why don’t we show them again?”

JORY CASSEL

It took your poor love a few moments to notice you, and when he glanced over, he saw you grinning like a cat with a canary in its mouth. Jory nearly jumped out of his skin and jumbled out all sorts of excuses and apologies - he also didn’t notice how close you were until you were crawling on top of him and opening your bodice. He breathlessly laughed and felt very grateful for having such a pretty, loving wife.

EDDISON TOLLETT

Well, first he cursed loudly, because he hadn’t noticed you until you were right behind him. You were trying to be enticing by leaning on him and wrapping your arms around his neck, but it just served to startle your poor love. Edd sighed but melted into your almost instantly. He kept stroking himself while you kissed his cheek and neck. Eventually you’d slip your hand down his chest to his cock, and he startled and cursed all over again.

MANCE RAYDER

He’d just be amused that you caught him, although he really feels no shame in it. He was grinning as he called you over, and once you were pulled into his lap, he’d sigh against your hair and switch to touching your legs and stomach, gently slipping his fingers under the fur, but not quite pushing them aside. “I was thinking about you, but that isn’t good enough, is it? I want to look at you, and touch you. Can I do that, Y/N?”

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

If you knew Tormund, and you did, he wasn’t trying to hide what he was doing, nor did he feel an ounce of shame for it. You walked in and he loudly greeted you. By the time you walked over to him, he’d already be tugging at your furs and asking for your mouth, your hands - or better, your body. He’d ignore his cock in favor of stripping you down and pleasuring you first, and his enthusiasm only made you laugh and encourage him.

YARA GREYJOY

She didn’t care a bit that she was caught. Instead, she called you over to her side, insisting you come fix the “problem” you caused. You both had been busy running the ship as of late, and watching you order men around and take control of the ship yourself was driving her mad. Once she got her hands on you, there was no way you were getting out of her strong grip. “Fingers are fine enough, I suppose, but I’d rather have that sweet tongue of yours.”

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You felt bad for enjoying it so much - not just the show, but Dany’s sulking look when you walked in on her. The expression passed quickly and she tried to play it off like she meant for you to find her, but that was obviously not the case. Still, she was your queen, so you let her have this one. As you pulled her into your arms and she straddled you, she demanded you taste her fingers. You got “scolded” for teasing her the whole day and having the nerve to come home late.

JORAH MORMONT

You hadn’t anticipated him to be so embarrassed, especially when you were admittedly enjoying the show. The poor knight was fumbling for an excuse, and was surprised when you happily sat yourself on his lap and gave him a deep kiss. His shame seemed to melt as he held your waist and squeezed your ass to bring you closer. Jorah was clearly thinking about you, and you were happy to give him whatever he pleased, since he always gave everything to you. “You’re always too good to me, Y/N - I don’t deserve your sweetness.”

MISSANDEI

She blushed and sputtered so hard, you thought she was going to choke for a moment. You hurried to her side and tried not to be distracted by the gorgeous flush across her dark skin. She was mortified and uncomfortable, but you reassured her that it was fine, and apologized for barging in without knocking. You gave her several kisses and pet her hair as she recovered from her embarrassment. It wasn’t getting caught that bothered her; it was that she was having a very vivid fantasy about you and being pulled from it left her a little dizzy.

TYWIN LANNISTER

It was soft touches across your cheek, hair and hips that was beginning to pull you out of sleep. It reminded you of the dream you were having, and you thought you were still there, until the touches became a little more firm and you heard a familiar noise. As you stirred and tried to sit up, you felt warm, comfortable arms wrapping around you and before you knew it, Tywin was on top of you, pressing firm lips against your neck as something much firmer brushed against your stomach. It wasn’t until much afterward that you considered he hadn’t meant for you to see or hear him like that, but he certainly turned the situation to his advantage.

TYRION LANNISTER

He hadn’t meant to get caught, but your cheeky husband tried to make a joke of it and play it off like he was waiting for you to get back. He was ready to cover up and redirect your attention entirely, but you always managed to surprise him. It was a good day when you could get Tyrion flustered and speechless, and pushing the blanket aside to take his cock in your hand - and later your mouth - was a great way to do it. “Darling, you would tell me if you were some kind of figment of my imagination, wouldn’t you? I haven’t just dreamed up these years we’ve been together?”

JAIME LANNISTER

Jaime was brazen about this as anything else in your relationship. He probably knew you’d come in eventually, and didn’t care. He made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed and had one of your nightshifts in his free hand. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of much of his Kingsguard armor. He laughed at your stunned face and called you over. “Y/N, good timing. Look what you’ve reduced me to - this is a poor substitute for your mouth and your body. I couldn’t decide which to think about ... Why don’t you surprise me?”

SANDOR CLEGANE

He grumbled and cursed under his breath at getting caught, but just a few seconds later he’d tell you to come closer and get your arse over to him. Any teasing and grins you’d have would be quickly silenced by a harsh kiss, and the moment you kissed him back eagerly, he’d already be yanking up your dress. You’d tease that he was trying to distract you away from what he was doing, and he just growled. “Always running’ that smart fuckin’ mouth. I got a better use for it.”

BRONN

You had just walked into your bedroom and found him, and he kept at it while looking straight at you. Of course he had to make his stupid quips and jokes, telling you that you really ought to keep your doors locked, because who knows what kind of man could come in? Bronn kept up his sassing until you walked over and took his cock in your own hand. He still had that insolent expression, so you had no choice but to stroke him roughly and bite at his lips to shut him up.

PODRICK PAYNE

You aren’t sure who was more surprised, you, or your lover. Pod tried to both cover up and stand up, but he just ended up knocking things over in your chambers. It was a bit silly to be so fearful, since you invited him here, but you hurried to his side to reassure him and give him sweet kisses. You were able to push the squire on the bed and straddle him with confidence. “S-sorry, Lady Y/N, I hadn’t meant to -- well, I did, but - ah! Forgive me, love -”

PETYR BAELISH

Petyr could only chuckle when he noticed you there, and he even made a little joke about it. But when he beckoned you over, his eyes had that distinct hungry glint, one you were very familiar with. Once he had you in his lap, his hands would easily slip up your dress and feel the warmth of your legs. “Now you see what you do to me, Y/N. I think it’s only fair that should make you feel the same. Do you think about me, too? Hmm?”

STANNIS BARATHEONS

He tried to cover up immediately, and you never thought you'd see your husband's face so red. He gruffly mumbled and tried to sputter something out, but you sat behind him on the bed and soothed him. You had a gentle, distracting touch, and he was surprised by your affection, but he didn't turn you away. On the contrary, when you moved to face him, he pulled you into his lap with a surprisingly strong grip. He was still too embarrassed to look at you, though, so he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

He really hadn’t expected to get caught; it was meant to be quick, to get some relief before returning to his work. It was bad enough his thoughts immediately drifted to you, and now you were on the bed, trying to contain your grin. He felt silly for feeling so ashamed, since you clearly didn’t care. In fact, your enthusiasm to get the rest of his clothes off was flattering. “Right now? It’s the middle of the day, we both got things to -- fine, I did start it, but I didn’t expect ya to… alright, alright. Ya can do whatever ya want, love.”

MARGAERY TYRELL

She was only embarrassed by the fact she was getting a bit loud, and that’s how you stumbled upon her. She gave you her signature pout as she tried to cover herself up, bracing herself for the teasing you were going to give now and the next day… and maybe the day after that. She huffed and said it was your fault; since it was thoughts of you that brought this on in the first place. Her sulking was all a ruse, though: Once you walked over to her to insist it was okay, she pushed you down on the bed and straddled you. “Ha! Let’s see how long you can keep that cheekiness up.”

BRYNDEN TULLY

He hadn’t noticed you right away, and when he finally did, the only knight could only laugh at how quiet you were. He was only a little embarrassed, his cheeks just slightly red as he explained that he missed you. He’d take your wrist, kissing your fingertips and trying to urge you into his lap. Once you accepted, he could pick you up like you weighed nothing and adjusted your dress so you could straddle him. “Do you have time for me, Y/N? Ah, you’re too sweet. You shouldn’t let me be so selfish.”

EDMURE TULLY

He nearly falls out of his chair when you walk in - you hadn’t even noticed what he was doing until he made such a clamor - and his cheeks got as red as his hair as he stammered out some attempt at a greeting. When you inclined your head toward his trousers, he made a string of excuses that gradually stuttered out when you stood in front of him and sunk to your knees.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She flinches like she’s been hit when you walk in, and you weren’t even that loud. You hadn’t noticed what she was doing, but Brienne’s anxious expression and bright-red cheeks eventually sold her out. You went to her side and assured her it was fine, you two had been together for some time, and besides, you’d done the same thing when thinking about her … that’s when you realized you said that out loud and poor Brienne just became an embarrassed, blushing mess all over again.

RAMSAY SNOW

He didn’t bother hiding what he was doing, nor did he stop. He was in your room, and impatiently eyeing you up and down and urging you toward him. Nevermind you were coming here to get something and go back to what you were doing … Ramsay didn’t care. When you finally walked over to him and he pulled you to his chest with force, pushing you against the bed and kissing you hungrily.

ROOSE BOLTON

He didn’t care when you eventually woke up and noticed what he was doing. He just pulled you close, burying his face in your neck and letting you sleepily blink and try to shift out of his grasp. He easily pulled you back and placed you in his lap, looking very awake in spite of the hour. He was quick to give you plenty of attention, even if you were still tiredly leaning against him, and he was pleased when you closed your eyes and let him spoil you.

OBERYN MARTELL

He was actually just passing time while waiting for you, since you two had plans tonight anyhow. As soon as you walked in and gaped, he laughed and called you over. The eagerness was very obvious in his eyes and from the flush on his cheeks. You asked if that was your new shawl in his other hand, and he said no - the new one was in a gift box on the bed, along with some other … choice things he bought for you to wear. Oberyn ended up not being patient enough for you to try them on; he wanted you on the bed right away.

BERIC DONDARRION

Once he settled himself down - you really startled him when you snuck up like that - he just smiled bashfully and asked if you’d sit with him. He obviously missed you, given how he pulled you toward him and gave you several needy kisses. When you’d give into him, he’d get a little breathless, already starting to pull at your clothes. You just had to tease him for it. “I’m sorry, love, I was thinking about you, today and yesterday …. And before that… I know, I know. You’re just too sweet.”

GENDRY

Your poor love was so startled and embarrassed, he fell over trying to cover himself up, crashing ungracefully on the floor. You had to laugh a little before reassuring him that it was fine, you weren’t bothered. If anything, seeing him so bare was a treat, and you gave him a deep kiss while he was still sputtering and trying to cover up. You hadn’t expected the strength he used to suddenly flip you on your back and keep you under him, but you weren’t complaining at all.

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones preferences

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vampire-scones · 4 years ago

Text

Relaxation

Here I give you, STOZIER!! I hope you all like it

College life had its ups and downs and living in a small apartment with your best friend since childhood was definitely one of the ups. Stan and Richie didn’t always get along together, but they managed, and they always enjoyed the company of the other. Stan helped Richie sit down and focus when it was crunch time before an exam or before a project was due, and Richie usually helped Stan destress after exams or busy weeks.

Tonight was one of those nights. One of the nights where Stan had just finished a unit exam and was stressed out of his mind about what his grade in psychology was going to be. So the cure to this? Getting high and ordering pizza while they watched something. If Stan could scream to Richie how much this meant to him, he would.

Richie was rolling the joints on the couch as Stan came in with the pizza. He gave Richie a small smile as he watched.

“I still don’t get how you can do that so well. Every time I try and roll one I never make it tight enough.”

“Practice my dear boy. Not everyone can be a renaissance master on their first try.” Richie said with a wide grin.

Stan rolled his eyes but the smile stayed on his lips. He set the pizza box down on the coffee table before deciding that it would be too greasy and he needed to put it on a plate instead. Stan grabbed three plates from the kitchen and returned to the living room. He set the pizza box on one and put the other two to the side for him and Richie to use. Richie finished rolling his last joint and looked up at Stan.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten mad at me for rolling on the couch. You must really be stressed.”

Stan made a face at Richie before slowly sitting down on the couch and sinking into it. “I’ve grown to trust that you are somewhat careful and that you will clean up in the morning. But to answer that assumption, yes, I am incredibly stressed and ready to just let it all go.”

Richie leaned over to Stan and held out one of his freshly rolled joints. “Then I think you get the honour of being the first one to take a hit tonight. Wait, I think I have the lighter somewhere.”

Richie felt around in his jean pockets as Stan took the joint from him. He smiled a bit as he watched Richie. There truly was never a dull moment with him, even in a simple moment like this. Once Richie had found the lighter Stan took it and went to light the joint that was now hanging between his lips. He sucked in and held the smoke for a moment before letting it out with a little cough and passing the joint to Richie.

“I can never do that right.” Stan coughed a few more times before sitting back and looking at Richie.

Richie effortlessly took in some smoke and held it, before blowing it right into Stan’s face. Stan quickly waved his hand to wave it away and groaned.

“Thanks for that, Trashmouth.”

“Any time Stanny,” Richie said with a smirk as he handed back over the joint.

This little game continued for twenty minutes or so. They worked their way through two joints and started to eat the pizza that had cooled off. Stan felt a lot of the stress from the day start to slip away as he melted back into the couch, his mind now a pleasant fog of nothing. He ate quietly for a while before looking at Richie.

“Why am I the only person you ever get high with?”

Richie let out a little laugh. “You think I only ever get high with you?”

Stan’s cheeks became pink but he nodded. “I never see Bev come over here or Bill, and they never stay and get high with you.”

“Oh Stanny, we don’t get high here. I get high over there with them. I don’t just save my weed for you. Believe it or not, I am aware that you don’t want to take care of two or three big hungry children while you are trying to get work done.”

Stan moved closer to Richie and threw an arm around his shoulders.

“That’s real sweet of you Richard. Didn’t think you cared so much about my school work like that.”

“I like coming home to a happy Stanny babe. I prefer that over an angry one that is on my case after I come to.” He leaned back in Stan’s arm and looked into his eyes, “y’know I like when I just get to do this alone with you. You feel less defensive.”

“Less defensive? What’s that supposed to mean? I let you get away with more or something?”

“Mmm, that and you aren’t going to tell me to shut up when I flirt with you because you think it’s a joke.”

Stan moved his hand up to fidget with Richie’s hair. His heart was beating a bit faster. “I only do that because you flirt with everyone. God knows it’s never genuine.”

Richie slowly moved a hand up to cup Stan’s cheek. “Maybe it is genuine. And maybe every time I look at you I feel like I’m seeing an angel or something better.”

Stan felt his cheeks heat up more. His heart was pounding. His stomach was doing flips and was releasing butterflies. Richie was so damn close to him that he could just lean in and kiss him. So he did. He closed the space between them and kissed Richie softly. He felt like he was on cloud nine as he let his body lean and sink into Richie’s. Everything about this felt right and perfect. When Richie kissed him back it made everything better.

Richie kept the kiss gentle and didn’t rush anything. Stan could feel Richie move an arm around his waist, wanting to pull him closer. So Stan moved closer and moved onto Richie’s lap. He brought his other arm around Richie’s neck and continued to play with Richie’s hair. God, this was perfect. Stan pulled away to look at Richie and let out a little sigh.

“I think I want to kiss you, like that more often. Not just when we are high. I want to kiss you like that every morning if you’ll let me.” Richie said when Stan pulled away.

“Sound’s like we’ll need to push our beds together then. Or get a bigger one.”

Richie let out a little laugh and leaned in to give stan a quick kiss on the lips. “You always have to think of that kinda stuff huh? We’ll figure it out as we go. Now just let me kiss you again, I’m not done yet.”

Stan just smiled at Richie and leaned in to kiss him again. Now, this was something he could get used to. A nice pick me up in his daily routine. With that thought in mind, Stan couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

#Stozier #richie tozier #stanley uris #Stan Uris #Stanley the Manley #It isn't my favourite that I have written #But it gives me feels #Critiques are always welcome #I hope you guys enjoy it!!

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

Text

heart eyes • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: no ;)

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem receiving), body worship!!, fluff, road trip w the losers, underage drinking, body shots, praise kink bc its me, a lil dirty talk, this one is kinda tame, its fluffy :) ALSO THIS IS SO UNEDITED SORRY

i was going through all my writing and i found this smut i wrote a while ago!! im p sure its the first smut i ever wrote n i never posted it, i figured i would rn :)

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

6.2k words lol

♡

“i mean this trip would’ve been fun, no matter what. listen! guys, i love you! and... and i fucking love that we don’t always have to be inebriated to have fun.” stan exclaims, gangly limbs sprawled on the floor as ben starts giggling. stan pays no mind, “but listen, listen. i am soooo happy that we brought this stuff though, you know?” stan continues to babble on drunkenly, eliciting giggles from all the kids in the room. he’s waving an almost empty bottle of smirnoff. you giggle softly.

thankfully, ben had actually managed to sweet talk a coworker from the diner in order to score the losers a few handles of alcohol, and you’d nearly finished off the smirnoff and all are a few hearty swigs into the bottle of strawberry burnett’s and fireball.

your cheeks are very red.

you know your cheeks are burning.

but bill’s loose arm around your waist has your skin burning even hotter. you don’t want to think of it as anything more than platonic, because with a quick glance to your right, you see his other arm holding eddie in the same fashion. you're just friends, and always have been.

bill is just a very outgoing and flirty person when drunk.

and if you had voiced this aloud, bill denbrough would probably have had to agree. he barely felt his arm where it lay across eddie, but his arm that was cradling you feels like it is dead weight.

god, he’s got it so fucking bad for you. the conversation lulls as a familiar tune plays through the speaker, making most losers scrunch their nose and laugh. y/n and richie, as always, have other plans.

not even a measure into the song, richie screeches and pulls you into his chest, already swaying you as your alluring voices blend together as perfectly as they always do.

the two drunkenly sing together for the entire duration of the song, serenading each other in a sweet, albeit weird (in a way, bill decides, that only richie and you can achieve) fashion. the lanky boy twirls you around, and you're giggling and laughing and smiling so brightly, and the others are all smiling happily.

and bill just knows, looking from richie’s face, to stan, then mike, bev, ben, and then to eddie right next to him, that everybody in the room has just fallen a little more in love with you.

you're a fucking angel. just like heaven…

and, knowing deep down that it was highly unlikely, bill still hoped he could some day call that angel his own.

bill takes a moment to breathe as the seven of his best friends huddle in the weak circle they’ve formed after quite a few drinks.

the speaker plays soft music. the kind of music - you recall loudly to everyone with a smile - that ‘stanny’ plays in his own car on days in the summer when he lets you roll down the passenger side window and stick your feet out as they speed down the town roads.

“you know why-“ mike starts, interrupting himself with a hiccup. he giggles, and bill smiles. “-you know why i love you?” he says, question directed at ben. ben chuckles, face red from the contents of his near empty cup, and shrugs.

“no, wait, i’m not drunk enough for the sappy stuff.” you whine, biting your lip as you glances over to bill.

he averts his eyes, chastising himself in his head immediately after for being a little schoolboy.

“fine, y/l/n. truth or dare?” mike says with a cheeky smile. richie hollers and you scoff, shaking your head. across the room, eddie does the same.

“c’mon, mikey… i haven’t played that since sophomore year.” you say, face revealing a teasing smile which betrays your tone. bev shrugs, leaning back into ben’s chest. “dunno, could be fun.” she says.

bill watches closely as y/n sends a long look to bev, who shoots her best friend a suggestive glance.

bill wishes sometimes that he could hear beverly and y/n’s thoughts and secret conversations, but after a flash memory of the time when he walked in (after listening to silence for nearly three minutes before entering) on the two girls staring at the other in complete silence, he shivers and retracts that wish.

those girls were creepily telekinetic.

y/n’s sigh pulls bill back to earth. “fine.” you say, rolling your eyes and sounding bored. bill knew better than to believe y/n could really be bored. he stares at your body as you take a hefty swig from your cup, wiping your mouth and slurring, “truth.”

“out of all the people in this room, whose clothing style would you choose to swap with?” mike asks after some moments of silence. you look like you're thinking very, very hard and this makes bill laugh in drunken stupor. his friends shoot him a confused look, but attention quickly lies back on y/n.

“stan, maybe. or eddie bear.” y/n says, flopping into eddie’s lap, making him blush and card his fingers through your hair. “I love all those cute shorts.” you say, throwing a wink in richie’s direction.

bill has to laugh at the expression on the curly haired boy’s face. he has to admit, though, that eddie looks fucking great in those shorts. the two boys both respond idly, though, and the game continues, getting dumber and more risqué the more drinks they share.

mike admits to wearing briefs over boxers, bev admits that the first girl she kissed was y/n. ben has to jump into the broken hot tub, and eddie takes a body shot off of richie.

"bill, who do you think is the best kisser?" bev smirks, shooting a look that he doesn't understand but, on a much more transcendental level, understands too well.

"if you don't say me, i'll be mad." richie says, making kissy faces that make ben push the side of his face away with a chuckle. bill laughs lightly, but his lips move quicker than his brain. "y/n, probably."

seven pairs of eyes land on him and he blinks, face heating until he's surely a tomato. "wh-what? you a-asked." he says awkwardly, and to change the subject, stan clears his throat, "y/n's turn!"

bill shoots him a grateful look, but stan gives him a stare that screams make a move, dumbass.

"okay, dare." you mumble, cheeks slightly dark and a sweet grin on your lips.

“'kay. i dare you...” richie trails off as something catches his drunken eyesight away in the kitchen. he starts to giggle to himself, then. “take a body shot off of bill.” he says, pointing a bony finger at the innocent girl to bill’s left.

bill’s face pales at this, but the liquid courage has him pulling off his shirt at the encouragement of the others merely moments later.

“i’ve yet to take an actual body shot before.” y/n mumbles, explaining how you've always done them off shoulders or necks.

“lick, shoot, suck.” bill mumbles, staring at the ceiling. bill hears bev giggle quietly.

“don’t forget that last part, y/n.” richie piped up from across the room, the words being followed by a thud and a soft grunt.

“i couldn’t if i tried, rich.” you mumbles as your face comes into view. bill can only smirk up at you when he feels liquid pour into his navel.

“he’s gotta be flexing right now. there’s no way he’s that naturally ripped!” richie complains, his voice looted in a joke. ben laughs as bev slaps richie’s arm.

"sh-shut up, richie." bill mutters with an easy grin.

bill slips a lime wedge into his mouth and his tongue falls upon the rind, tasting the muted citrus flavor as salt is sprinkled in the stretched of his skin between his belly button and his waistband.

if he wasn't drunk, he'd be a blushing mess.

and he has to try harder than he's ever tried for anything in his entire life to not get hard as you suddenly lean over him, your hot tongue poking out to lick a stripe up the salt.

he suppresses a groan and then you shoot the shot from his stomach, everyone screaming and cheering and laughing. you're laughing too, and bill's shocked into a stupor by how casually and effortlessly beautiful you are.

you're leaning towards his face now, a soft smile on your face as your lips fall to pluck the lime from his mouth. but before you pull all the way back, he feels your soft lips touch his around the wedge and his whole body ignites, cheeks turning red.

but just as quickly as you were there, you're gone and he's left with the faint taste of lime and a heaving chest, the feeling of your tongue on his body ingrained into his mind.

it was about thirty minutes later that all the losers retreated to their rooms to pass out, bill following you a few steps behind. of course, when eddie and bev had planned the sleeping arrangements, they'd insisted that you two share a room. not that he's complaining, not at all.

bill barely gets a minute into the door before you're turning and stepping closer to him. his hands fall to your arms, in his mind as an excuse to steady you, but he knows its because he really just wants to feel you in his arms.

“do you really want to kiss me?” you purr, voice uncharacteristically quiet. and wow, that was out of left field. bill almost laughs, but refrains in case the inebriated girl in his arms took it the wrong way. “yes, y/n. a-always.”

you beam, a slight hiccup escaping your cherry lips as you get on your tippy toes. you're still half a head shorter than him even on your tips.

his heart thumps as he takes in your beautiful features up close, and he longs to feel your lips against his.

but, instead he shakes his head gently through his drunken state. your face falls and you step back. bill swears the angel’s wings start to droop and wilt as you seem to sober up slightly. you look sad and embarrassed and bill’s heart shatters a fragment.

“y-you’re drunk.” he says lamely, wishing that own his drunk eyes would get on board with his brain and quit running over this girl’s beautiful face and enticing curves. “w-we both a-are.” he adds, biting his lip.

you huff, turning around and bending over to pull sweats out of a drawer. “okay,” you mumble and he can’t read your voice much but he can tell you're upset.

in a drunk thought, he realizes he may never fully understand you.

bill bites his lip at the sight of your perky ass displayed like that in front of him and he wants to smack himself as he feels the familiar heat in his abdomen, turning around to give you privacy as you change.

he doesn’t turn around, as much as you both want him to.

richie once claimed that bill was hornier than he was, and while then he’d laughed especially hard at that claim, bill currently cursed richie a million times for being correct.

“would you reconsider if we were sober?” when a hand lands on bill’s shoulder, he turns to see you staring up at him, wearing a plain blue and white baseball tee and sweats.

it’s quiet for a moment. y/n holds your breath. bill himself lets out a breath after a moment. “you’re fucking beautiful.”

it’s not an answer to your question, even, but he says it before he even realizes it and the look on your face suddenly makes bill wish he could say things like that without stuttering forever if it meant it made you feel like that.

you turn bright red, head dropping down bashfully. you fail to hide your smile drop, though, and it makes bill feel slightly sick. “you don’t have to say that bill.” you whisper, sounding insecure. and then you slip under the dark green duvet of the bed.

bill tells himself that if he were sober, he’d speak up; have the courage to say all the things to you that his mind is constantly screaming.

you are fucking beautiful, everybody knows it..

all our friends see it...

mike once told me you were the hottest person in the school and that was before we even met you, now he also claims you’re the most thoughtful person in existence...

ben thinks you might be the smartest person in our generation...

bev is confident that you are going to change the world some day...

richie calls you his platonic soulmate...and says that you have second most rockin’ bod (second only because he’s trying to mack on eddie)...

eddie tells me every day how much he looks up to you and how much he admires your strength...

stan once told me that he’d marry you in a heartbeat...

(i think i’m falling for you...)

(and i hope you feel the same...)

your eyes look so innocent...but i know you’re not...

your lips look like they taste like candy...

you are so fucking pretty...

i want to put my dick in your mouth-

his last thought snaps him out of his drunken stupor and he quickly pulls on flannel pants and tugs off his shirt, not missing y/n’s eyes on his bare torso as he pulls on a shirt.

bill. you’re drunk, go to sleep, asshole.

he lays on the edge of the bed, turning off the lamp light and rubs his eyes. your eyes are closed, and you lay on your side, back facing him.

“i’m lucky t’have you, billy. we all are.” you mumble, and bill doesn’t even fight the bashful smile that climbs onto his face. you can’t seem him, anyways.

“g’night, billy.” you finish dreamily, snuggling the comforter and making bill swoon in the dark.

“g-goodnight, y/n.” he says quietly.

the next night was much more tame; the losers were worn out after a day of exploring and decided to go to the outdoor pool in the backyard of the b&b you'd rented.

you sit on the couch by yourself, knowing bill was in your room because he didn't feel like swimming.

but you were nervous to go in there, because you and bill hadn't been alone since last night when you'd basically confessed to him. and yeah, he'd sort of confessed back, but you could tell he was just trying to be considerate and not make it awkward for you or the rest of the losers.

with a sigh, you rising to your feet and padding to the closed door. soft music plays from the other end of the door and you smile as you hear bill hum quietly to bowie.

when you push the door open, bill’s figure is silhouetted by the faint orange glow that soaks the bedroom in gold and yellow light. crossing through the doorway softly, bill lifts his head and smiles softly.

you bite your lip at bill, who is sat dumbly on the edge of the bed, and it's quiet for a few moments but you know you're both thinking the same thing.

he stands to meet you only a few paces from his doorway, and he's so close to you that you have to tilt your head and stare up at him through dark lashes. his breath comes out like a whisper, and you feel desperate to know his lips again. but not like last night. you want all of him now - always. sober, drunk, sick, healthy, forever.

“bill..” you start, doe eyes searching his, as if trying to read him. he looks like he doesn’t know what to say because you both know the reason that your friends made you sleep together on this trip in this dim room and why he’s looking at you the way he is.

“please...” he whispers, a half smile on his face. his own voice cuts through the faint music playing through the silence. your lips lift in a smile at this. bill thinks you look the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

he didn’t say anything but a plea, and yet you both know exactly what he’s saying.

your heart soars, and you grab his neck and he crashes his lips to yours desperately, letting out a quiet moan of relief.

you’ve never had somebody like him. of the few relationships you’d managed to keep up for a decent amount of time, you've never known someone like you know him - he's your best friend, the most important person in your life, and your first real love.

that used to scare you, but as you reach your hand to grasp his neck and pull him closer, you realize that this feeling in your stomach may not be as dangerous and innapropriate as previously thought.

because bill denbrough kisses like he’s taking his dying breath, like he’s drowning and you're the last bit of air left in the entire world. he kisses you like a starved writer desperate for a muse. his adamant tongue parted your shaking lips and sent tremors along your skin, as you clutch his chest.

his hands start on your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones as he tilts your head gently to deepen the kiss.

slowly, just as slowly as you fell for him, he slides his hands down your sides and grips your lower back with one large hand, the other squeezing your hip as he pulls your hips to him.

when you pull away for a second, he’s got an earth shattering, face-blinding smile on his lips that almost makes you want to cry.

you've never felt this breathless in your life, especially just by one boy, and all you can do is allow him to press you against dresser and catch your lips with his. his lips slot against yours hotly, moving with a kind of boyish expertise that makes your fingers tingle from all the way up to where they're nestled into his hair.

his plump red lips, slick and glossy, pull away from you and you watch with your hands carded through his auburn hair as he ducks slightly lower and kisses your jawline and your legs feel like jelly because you cannot believe it's happening. a song still plays through bill’s speakers.

one of your hands runs down his clothed chest and you gasp, having to bite back a squeal of pleasant surprise when one of his hands squeezes your ass. at your yelp of pleasure, bill chuckles and then his teeth bite down on the hollow of your throat.

he lifts his head to meet your eyes but doesn’t apologize, instead opting to shoot you a cocky lift of a brow at your reaction.

but before you can even roll your eyes, his lips are back to working magic and you're breathless, the heat in your stomach coiling and making you desperate.

you quietly moan his name as his tongue follows in his teeth’s wake; your neck slowly becoming the most beautiful piece of art bill has ever created.

eventually he raises his head again, his green eyes stuck on your neck, admiring the thunderstorm he’s started, and its everything you can do to not collapse when you get the courage to push bill softly and walk him towards his bed, your lips pressing needily to his.

bill gently spins on his heels around you and pushes you instead onto the mattress, and you're suddenly laying below him with wide eyes.

and you're grabbing his flannel and tugging him on top of you.

for a while, as bill holds himself up above you with his forearms, all that either of you can hear is the melodic tune of heart eyes by coin flowing from bill’s speakers and the sweet noise of their hands exploring each other.

honestly, the first time was unintentional.

while trying to move up, bill slowly rocks his hips against you. you gasp at the feeling of his semi-hard on pressing against your core, and bill almost moans at the noise of you alone.

a small moan escapes your throat again when he does it once more and he pulls away, clearly trying to hide his smug expression.

his eyes trail to your button up, admiring the trail of blossoming hickies reaching from below your jaw to the hem of your sweater, near the top skin of your breasts.

“c-can i?” he asks softly, and your face flushes pink as you nod shyly.

his hands reach out and slowly he undoes the buttons of the sweater, lips pressing sweetly on each bit of skin exposed as he slips the sweater off your frame. his lips against your skin leaves goosebumps in their wake.

you swoon at this action, but as the garment falls from your shoulders, you cross your arms and looks away softly.

“you don’t have t-to huh-hide from me, sweetheart.”

a piano melody plays softly in the background as bill coos quietly, turning your jaw with his forefinger so you're forced make eye contact. “hey. you’re s-so perfect. a-and i’m so fucking l-lucky.” he whispers sincerely.

and even through the expiring sunlight, the golden streams illuminating your face reveal a smile- a genuine, toothy, blushy, bashful smile that makes bill beam in return.

“please. luh-let me show you how m-much you mean.” he whispers.

you're glad you have enough self control to not burst out crying at bill’s words. if you were unsure if he wanted you before, this was the confirmation you knew you didn’t even need. and you love it all the same.

“please,” you whine softly, blushing harder at the pure look of love and lust on bill’s handsome face.

as his lips and hands flutter around your torso, you take in his figure and the god-like aura created by the music and the atmosphere of the world around you.

one word keeps circulating through your head, and as his fingers softly pinch your left nipple, you mewl and pull him up for a passionate kiss, deciding to let the word sit pretty in your mind.

you trails your fingers along the hem of his shirt and he leans back to let you unbutton it slowly. your lips find themselves against his hot skin, trailing in small kisses and bites down his chest as they follow your nimble hands. you cherish his smooth skin and taught muscles.

he soon turns to catch your lips with his, this time feverishly and deeply. he feels hungry against your lips, his tongue winning dominance instantly and smoothing around your mouth as he sighs against you, his hips rocking against you as your hands roam from his hair to his back and chest.

he pulls away, hands trailing down to your jeans, lips following his hands yet again, slower this time.

you whimper quietly at the feeling of white hot pleasure coursing through you and bill shoots you a smirk. “e-everybody is o-outside, y/n/n. we can be as loud as w-we want.” he says in a low tone, and you bite your lip in bliss. you feel yourself get wetter at his words, his voice sounding like royal velvet.

he stops his lips right at the button of your pants. “do yo-you want this?” he asks, his eyes welcoming, and you knows that if, for some absurd reason, you didn’t want him right now (or ever, honestly) you could be honest and he would be forever respectful of that.

“yes, bill. please.” you plead, hands carding into his hair as you watche him smile from in between your legs.

you watch as he unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off and tossing them somewhere across the room. you have to bite back a giggle at the boy's eagerness and he bites his lip as he stares up at you, green eyes sparkling and true as his head sinks lower.

he kisses the inside of your knees slowly, trailing his lips closer and closer to the apex of your thighs where you need him the most before switching to the other side. you groan at his teasing and his quiet huff of a laugh leaves his lips and fans over your thigh.

he’s done this before, it’s obvious.

and it’s probably also very obvious to bill that you are not used to this kind of praise, this kind of approval, and this much intimate attention on your own body. he loves it - loves that he can finally show you how you deserve to feel after years of watching you, his best friend, and waiting for the day that he could put his lips on yours.

his lips finally press a soft kiss over your red lace-clothed clit, and you let out a strangled moan, hips jilting involuntarily at the tease.

his eyes meet yours and all he does is wink.

cocky bastard, you think as bill slides your lace undies off your legs.

it suddenly dawns on you that you're completely naked and vulnerable in front of this boy, and yet somehow you feel more comfortable and at home than you've ever felt in a situation like this.

and you're not totally sure when exactly that fucking word starts to circulate in your mind again- perhaps it is when he licks the first, bold stripe from your entrance up to your clit, or maybe it’s when he uses one hand to gently pin your hips down while his tongue does wicked tricks. or perhaps it’s when he first slips a single finger in.

or maybe that word has been there, hiding in your mind, on the tip of your tongue, the whole time.

but you suddenly can’t think of anything besides bill, because he’s building a rhythm with his tongue and fingers and you know that if anyone is awake in the house besides you, they’d know exactly what was happening in your room currently. and you can't find it to care as you look down at bill, eyes staring back at you with a cocky look on his face as his face is buried in your heat.

your wild moans pick up in pitch and you clench around his fingers tightly, the feeling of bliss having never felt this strong before. your toes curl and you let out whimpers, one hand tangling in his lush hair and the other twirling in the sheets.

his fingers pick up pace, curling and pumping in and out of you as he sucks your clit.

“bill, fuck, i’m close-“ you start, groaning in pleasure as he smirks slightly. you whimper when he pulls back, a devious smirk playing on his shiny, slick lips, his fingers sliding out of your heat. you groan at the sight of him, shirtless and hair missed up from your fingers, his mouth sinfully shiny from your juices.

he reaches his hand up to you and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking up yourself from him. he watches with his mouth slightly open and eyes dark. "g-good girl, y/n."

the sharp warmth in your chest and the heat straight down to your center show you how much you like his words, and you preen when he tucks your hair behind your ear. "you taste p-perfect, baby." he whispers into your ear, your jaw going slack in shock that words like that would dare fall from his lips, your thighs clenching together. you bite back a moan at the feeling, wanting nothing more than for bill to fill you up and make you scream his name.

it doesn’t get long before you pull him out of his boxers, and soon you're rolling a condom onto his hard cock.

you almost, almost blush when your mouth waters at the sight of bill’s cock, hard, leaking with precum, and much larger than you'd anticipated.

rich was fucking right, you think, they do call him big bill for a reason.

he’s looking at you like you're the only thing that matters as you pull him onto you. he's letting out breathy moans that you realize you could listen to on repeat forever.

but suddenly he’s pushing you hard against the mattress, kissing you like a sailor returning to see his first love, and he’s lining himself up at your entrance, slowly teasing your entrance with his tip. you whimper at the feeling, your over-sensitive clit throbbing as you tug at his shoulders. he grins into your mouth. "u-se your words, baby." he mutters, and you go red.

“god, bill, please fuck me. need it so bad." you whimper breathlessly. he smiles at you, kissing your nose.

"i kn-know you do." he mutters and you want to smack the back of his head but then he pushes in agonizingly slow and you're gasping. simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, eyes staring deep into each other. his are lidded and yours are blown wide, taking him and whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you out.

you can feel the blush on your cheeks when you realize this is one of the most intimate experiences you've ever had in your life. and when bill's finally buried to the hilt inside you, you let out a low moan at the feeling.

thank god he warmed you up so well, because he was big and felt perfect buried inside you like this, his lips ghosting over your face as you clench your legs around his hips. his fingers rise to roll on your nipple and you let out a gasp of pleasure followed by a small moan of his name. he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“please, bill, move. please, fuck, i need it-“ you beg, eyes closed in need and lust.

you feel a strong hand grab your jaw suddenly, and your voice stops as you open your eyes to be met with deep green ones shining fiercely.

“look at me wh-while i fuck you.” he says, more a command, and you involuntarily moan at his words.

the power he has over you feeling foreign and incredibly enticing. never did you expect for bill denbrough to be anything more than vanilla in bed - but you're all here for it as you look back at him submissively, trying to hide your smile.

you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out just as slowly as he eased in, before pushing soundly back into you and coaxing a long, low moan from your lips. your head dips back, your spine curving and eyes fluttering before snapping back to his. he starts to thrust as you've adjusted to his size and you can feel him filling you up perfectly, the feeling euphoric. your toes curl in pleasure and you determine that his melodic moan itself could push you over the edge right now.

he builds a rhythm, your legs tightening around his waist as his lips catch yours in a searing kiss. "y-you're so fucking g-good for me, huh?" he asks, but the feeling of him fucking you into the mattress renders you almost speechless, your lips in an 'o' shape as you watch him. you nod, whining as your hands roam his chest and slide to his back.

"god, yes, bill. don't stop," you say breathlessly, whimpering as you pull him down to you by the neck. he kisses you soundly as he pounds into you, his hands roaming your body and making you blush.

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a couple deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your legs slightly to hit another angle. “f-fuck...” he mutters, eyes trailing over your whole body yet never shying from your face for more than a few moments.

and now the word lingers in your mouth, on the tip of your tongue, but you're in so much pleasure that you can’t form words that aren’t his own name as they leave your mouth like a prayer.

his thrusts are deep, rough, and yet somehow sensual as if he’s trying to convey thoughts or feelings through his actions, and the combination has you slamming your hand over your mouth to conceal your loud moans, eyes finding his as you remember his previous words.

his eyes make you feel more special than any other human on this earth ever has. you've had a fair share of sexual encounters, but never have you ever experienced something like this with someone like your bill denbrough.

and as one hand grasps your breast and the other holds himself above you, his lips pressing against yours like he’d die if he wasn’t touching you, bill can tell that you're close. “y-you close, baby?” he purrs in your ear, and through his thrusts you can only nod your head and mewl.

his hand suddenly grabs your hands and lift them up above your head, pinning them there and rendering you unable to move our touch him; the feeling of being restrained makes you moan wantonly, moving your hips with his. he hums deeply, a delicious sound, "oh, you l-like that, y/n/n? g-good, so g-good." and then he moans into your collarbone. his words and the feeling of him hitting the perfect spot inside you, fucking you deeper than you could imagine, has you nearing the edge.

his large thumb snakes it’s way into your mouth then, and you look up in his eyes as your lips wrap around his digit. he groans, hips stuttering inside you. "good g-girl." he mutters, eyes glued to your lips as they suck on his thumb.

he drags his thumb out of your mouth and you release with a small pop. he lowers his hand, moving it down to rub sensual figure-8’s on your clit, a stark and delicious contrast to his hip’s motions. you yelp in pleasure, your sensitive clit throbbing.

“c-cum for me.” he whispers, and you're wrecked. your climax, after a slow, burning build, hits you hard and you clench around him, moaning out his name as your eyes barely stay locked on his. your voice cracks in pleasure as your body pulses in pleasure.

bill cums not even three thrusts after, a mess of groans and your name falling from his lips. he pulls out and you quietly hiss at the sudden absence of him, watching with exhausted eyes as bill tosses his condom and turns back to you.

you're fucked out and so out of breath that all you can do is grasp bill’s hand. he smiles softly at your naked, glowing form as the last of the afternoon light seeps through the windows.

he pulls on boxers quickly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing out of the room, leaving an empty feeling in the hollow of your stomach.

you're pretty was used to the people you sleep with not wanting to stick around much, and yet you can’t help the deflation in your chest as bill leaves the room. is he going to sleep on the couch? was it that bad for him?

you pull on underwear just as he comes back in, a cup of water in his hands.

when he softly offers it to you, you tear up slightly but cover it up with a yawn. you know you've never had someone care this much about you. that word lingers on the tip of your tongue, begging to drip from your mouth like honey.

“y-you tired?” bill asks shyly, his body dipping down as he sits next to you. you wonder why bill all of the sudden is acting so shy- as if he didn’t just provide the most incredible sex of your life.

“you wore me out.” you says with a little smile as you lean slightly against him and kiss his cheek.

his cheeks blossom at the simple affection. "i love you." he says suddenly, no stutter. his eyes widen in shock as he realizes what he'd just slipped.

you turn to look at him and he's bright red, looking more scared than you've ever seen him. you can't help your smile, though. "bill... i love you too." you admit, stomach fluttering in excitement. he smiles softly, exhaling, "h-holy shit, thank god. that would have m-made the rest of this t-trip so a-awful."

you giggle, hand falling to his jaw. "i love you so much." you mutter, pulling him down with you so your heads hip the pillow, his hands falling on your bare hips as you kiss sweetly. you can't stop smiling into the kiss, and neither can he, so it's full of quiet laughs and teeth knocking, noses brushing together.

"i love y-you so much, y/n." he whispers into your lips, his mouth wide with a dopey smile. you smooth the hair from his eyes and kiss him again. "be mine, p-please."

"i already am, denbrough." you whisper softly.

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough smut #bill is 🤤🤤#losers x reader #losers club x reader

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itsmionet · 4 years ago

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Challenge accepted

Fake dating AU

Robert Baratheon is retiring from politics and the Lannisters throw a little retirement party. Out of courtesy and politeness, Eddard Stark forces his family to go. After a while, Joffrey starts poking fun at Sansa until Margaery sweeps in to save the night by pretending to date Sansa.

“So I’m standing there barefoot, my lasagne only mid-eaten, the car has caught on fire and my boyfriend is coming out of the portable toilet with a roll of toilette paper rolled up his torso-“

Sansa walked past Arya as fast as she could. She didn’t want to listen again to that unrefined story of hers. The first time she had to sit through that story had scarred her enough for life. She did not want to hear it ever again.

Sansa made her way over to the table where the drinks were being served. She hated the party. The only reason she was there is because her father had forced all Starks to go. ‘It’s important that we all attend. To show our gratitude to Robert for his services.’ Sansa could still hear Robb’s snort and Arya mumbling disgruntledly upon their father’s words.

This year Robert Baratheon retired from politics after nearly 40 years in the office. Everyone at the Stark household except for Ned had cheered upon the news, but their bliss had quickly faded away as soon as they learnt whose name was among the candidates running for the open position. The list was pretty dreadful as it were –with names like Baelish, Stannis and Euron Greyjoy– but when you added Joffrey to the bunch, it only made it that much worse. And because Eddard Stark had a place on the council, he had been invited to Robert’s retirement party, which the Lannisters pretty much singlehandedly organised, aided with the Tyrells’ money.

Sansa poured herself a double whiskey and downed it all in one go. The drink burnt her throat but in a pleasant way. She sighed contently whilst filling her glass up again.

“Thought I’d find you by the alcohol stand.” A voice called out from behind her. Sansa pursed her lips together and clutched her glass tightly in her hand. “You picked up that trait from your father, surely.” Cersei Lannister chuckled dryly as she stood alongside Sansa. She didn’t cast her even once glance before she grabbed the closest bottle of wine and emptied it all on her glass.

“Nice party.” The redhead forced a smile on her face but she knew Cersei could see right through her. Not that she particularly cared, but she still had to put on a façade for her father’s sake.

“Oh, is it? You’ve barely been here for 10 minutes, most of which you’ve spent drinking my alcohol.” Cersei had drank half glass by the time she turned to face Sansa. Once she did, she looked at Sansa up and down, as if searching for something in particular.

“You can scarcely call it ‘your alcohol’ when it’s meant for the guests, can’t you?” Sansa flashed the blonde woman her brightest smile, albeit it was a fake one. Both women knew. Still, they both had to keep up the appearances.

“Hmm, I see that, unlike your dress, your boldness has grown larger.” The redhead was wearing a navy blue cocktail dress, with a golden strip on both shoulders. She’d found the exact dress that combined perfectly sophistication with a hint of sexiness. It was cut right above her knees, which meant it was short enough to be considered seducing, but still long enough to be an appropriate option to wear among her father’s colleagues. She completed the look with a pair of black heels.

“What can I say?” Sansa titled her head to the side casually. Her tone was polite and even borderline playful. “Time does wonders to a person, wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed, it does.” Cersei tried to suppress the growl out of her voice, but she didn’t hide it quite as well as she would have wanted. “So” the woman scanned the room lazily when a thought popped into her head “is that uncivilised sister of yours around?” Cersei smirked, thinking she’d hit the nail on the head to get a rise out of the girl, but instead Sansa’s eyes lit up. She titled her head towards where Arya was standing.

“Hmm” she hummed “I believe she’s telling an uncivilised story to your kids.”

Cersei’s head couldn’t have spun faster. She looked across the room until her eyes landed on Arya. She was with Tommen and Myrcella and it seemed both kids were extremely enjoying themselves. Cersei didn’t like that one bit. Not only were her children getting along with a Stark, but by the hand gestures Arya was making Cersei knew that story was not for kids.

Before Sansa had the chance to add some witty remark, Cersei sprinted across the room to snatch Tommen and Myrcella away from Arya. The brunette blinked at the abruptness at which Cersei had taken the kids away, but she didn’t give it much thought and made her way to the alcohol stand instead.

Sansa grinned once Arya was by her side. “I take it Cersei didn’t like your story?”

Arya shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t see why not. That story had everything: action, drama, suspense...”

The redhead chuckled and shook her head “I’m sure once you think it through you’ll know why she didn’t find it so amusing.”

“What about you?” Arya redirected the conversation as she grabbed another beer. Sansa was not entirely certain, but she could’ve sworn that was Arya’s fourth. “Anything I missed?”

“Not really. I only made small chat with Cersei.”

“Nothing with Cersei is ever ‘small chat’.” Arya puffed. “How much longer must we stay here?”

“I don’t know.” Sansa scratched her chin. “I believe Father wants us to stay at least long enough to hear Robert’s speech.”

Arya growled audibly at that. “Well, that’s gonna take forever then.” Sansa agreed.

Both sisters turned their back to the stand and looked at the attendants. There was Robb chatting amicably with Theon Greyjoy, who hadn’t been previously invited but Robb had essentially begged their Father to let the boy come and so after much pleading he’d reluctantly agreed. If only for Robb’s sake. His son had said Theon would be the only thing that would keep him sane for the night. Sansa believed Greyjoy would have the contrary effect on her brother, but she didn’t say anything. At least he had a friend to keep him company.

Then there was Jon, standing awkwardly in a corner. He was talking with some other boy Sansa did not know but he seemed comfortable enough around him so she was happy for him. And because of their young age, Bran and Rickon had been left at home with Hodor, their sitter.

Lastly, the remaining Starks, Ned and Catelyn, were stood next to Robert Baratheon himself. The man laughed loudly at something her Father had said and Sansa was glad that, despite being surrounded by Lannisters, Ned had found somewhat of a friend.

There were more people than Sansa would have expected, still she only knew a handful of them, half of whom were her own family. As for the rest, Sansa either straight up didn’t like them or didn’t deem none of them interesting enough to strike a conversation with.

“I’m gonna go pee.” Arya said, ever so ladylike. “If I haven’t come back in 5 minutes, don’t come looking for me. Presume me dead.”

“Ugh, please do come back instead of sneaking off with Gendy again!” Sansa called out after Arya as the brunette walked away. She didn’t know if her sister had heard her or not. She supposed she had.

Sansa sighed and finished her drink. She turned to the table and started to pour herself another one, already planning on joining Robb and Theon when someone came up beside her. Sansa prayed to the Old Gods that it wasn’t Cersei again.

“That’s a bold choice for a dress.” It was not Cersei who spoke, but at that moment Sansa wished it had been. “That’s too slutty even for you.”

Sansa turned around slowly, whilst displaying the fakest smile she’d ever put on. “Joffrey” she said lightly. “How are you?”

“Better than you, that’s for sure.” He snickered. “What’s up with the whore attire? It’s not like you’ve got someone to impress. Unless” his eyes gleamed in a way that made Sansa shiver “you’ve dressed up like this for me”.

“I’m afraid that would not be the case.” Sansa pursed her lips together. Being around Joffrey always made her feel uneasy, even while they were dating. There just was something that was not right with the boy. After everything that happened, Sansa believed she’d grown stronger but being there, alone with him, she felt every hair at the back of her head stand up. Her whole body already tensing.

“Oh?” Joffrey furrowed his brow, his tone growing unkinder by the minute. “What then? Are you trying to rig the elections by showing off your cunt? So that dear ol’ daddy will win? I hate democracy.”

“My Father is not even running for the position.” Sansa’s hand closed around the glass tightly. She was determined not to lose her temper if only for her Father’s sake. Even so, Joffrey was making that task very challenging for her.

“You’re doing it for me then?” Joffrey took a step closer to Sansa. His breath reeked of cheap vodka and Sansa had to suppress a grimace. She noticed the glass on his left hand was full, which meant that was not his first drink of the night. “You know, tonight after this, I could come pay you a little visit-“ He grabbed her arm forcefully as he inched even closer.

“Joffrey, don’t-“

“Sans, darling!” Both heads turned around and were greeted by the sight of one Margaery Tyrell, who has approaching them with a beaming smile. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You had me worried.” She hugged Sansa tightly and planted a soundly kiss on her right cheek as she withdrew away. Her eyes never leaving Sansa’s face. “What a beautiful dress! You look absolutely stunning.”

The fact that she’d completely ignored Joffrey made the boy furious. “Margaery” he called, malice dripping off his voice, but he tried to disguise as courtesy. Only he didn’t fool anyone. “I was not aware you were coming.”

Finally, Margaery looked at the boy. She smiled easily at him, as if she was actually pleased to be talking to him. “Oh, I would’ve arrived sooner, but Grandmother ran into an old friend of hers by the entrance and we were held back a few minutes.”

“I see.” Joffrey nodded his head. He didn’t match Margaery’s smile, opting instead for a scowl. He had planned to have his fun with Sansa for a while longer, but it didn’t look like Margaery would be leaving them alone anytime soon. Instead, the brunette slipped her arm around Sansa’s waist and pulled her flush against her.

Sansa for the life of her didn’t know what to make of it. Joffrey and Margaery were staring each other down, not saying a word, and the redhead felt as if the lion and the rose were silently trying to scare the other away.

“I’m sorry I had to make you wait for so long” Margaery told Sansa casually after some time, as if the latter had been actually waiting for her.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Sansa smiled back at her. She realised Margaery’s smile seemed more sincere when it was directed at her, in contrast to the one’s she threw at Joffrey which –in Sansa’s opinion– appeared to be mocking the boy.

“I didn’t know you two were friends.” Joffrey spat at them. At that, Margaery actually threw her head back and so laughed loudly you’d think she’d just heard the greatest joke of all time. “Did I say something amusing?” He growled. Sansa could feel rather than see the tension between Joffrey and Margaery. She didn’t like it one bit and wanted so desperately to make it stop. But she didn’t know how to cut in. It looked like they were playing at a game Sansa did not know the rules of.

“Well, yes.” Margaery chuckled as her laughter died down. Then, she turned to Sansa right as Joffrey chose the worst possible time to try and end his drink in one go. “I thought you would’ve told him by now we’re dating.”

If Sansa hadn’t been so busy choking on air, she would’ve laughed at the way Joffrey accidentally spat out half of his drink on his clothes and his eyes bulged comically. Margaery noticed straight away Sansa’s confusion, so she took advantage of the fact that Joffrey was distracted drying the alcohol stains on his clothes and inched close to Sansa’s ear. “I can get rid of this little bastard in no time, just play along.”

Sansa nodded her approval and silently thanked her lucky stars for Margaery. She’d known the girl for a few years now, and ever since the beginning, she’d looked up at the older girl with such admiration. Everything about Margaery fascinated Sansa.

A couple of months into their friendship and Sansa was already enamoured with everything the brunette did. It wasn’t until Margaery casually told the redhead about her preference for women that Sansa’s mind began to wonder whether she had a shot with her. The thought scared her at first, back when she deemed herself to be as straight as an arrow, but as weeks and months passed, she realised she’d started to see Margaery in a different light. Or maybe it wasn’t a different light at all. Maybe her feeling had always been there but she had not realised it until then.

The thing is, ever since Sansa found out this new piece of information, she couldn’t help but notice every single little thing about Margaery. Like the way her nose would scrunch whenever she smelt something she didn’t like –like curry, smoke or gasoline– and the way she would close her eyes and breathe in contently when she smelt something she fancied –like roses, fresh pastries, the sea or Sansa’s perfume, although Sansa tried not to think too much about the last; lest she allowed herself to get her hopes up when she was certain a girl as stunning and perfect as Margaery wouldn’t notice a silly girl like herself.

Still, from time to time, she would let herself dream about what it would be like to be with Margaery, to be able to wake up next to her every day and be the reason behind her smiles and giggles, to be the first and last thing on her mind, to be the one Margaery wanted to spend her days and nights with.

It was Joffrey’s voice that brought Sansa out of her trance and back to reality. “You what?!” He was looking directly at Sansa as if she’d done him a great wrong. His face was bright red and his hand gripped too tightly on the glass. “Just when I thought you couldn’t be more disgusting, you do this.” He gestured at Sansa’s general direction, as if that would be explanation enough. “You dragged poor sweet Margaery into this fucking mess of yours. You perverted her with your deviating ways.”

Sansa had kept her cool this long and she had intended on doing so until Joffrey got bored and walked away on his own, but the very same moment he had demeaned Margaery like that was all it took for Sansa to snap at him. She took a daring step closer to him. “You talk to her again with such insolence and I promise you’ll regret it.”

“Oh, yeah? And what are you going to do?” Joffrey mocked.

“I’ll send Lady whilst you sleep to make sure you’re reminded of your place.” She gritted her teeth together.

“You, bitch.” Joffrey spat. “You can’t talk to me like that!”

“Of course I can” Sansa countered. Her blood was boiling and she felt like she was seconds away from doing something her Father would without a doubt chastise her later for. Still, she didn’t find it in herself to care. Not when Joffrey had insulted Margaery so blatantly. “If you knew what’s best for you, you’d walk the fuck away.”

Margaery widened her eyes and turned her head towards Sansa. It was the first time she’d ever heard the Northerner curse.

“Last time I saw you” the boy foolishly charged once more against the redhead, thinking he could still win the argument “you were dating that Bolton boy; so what happened that turned you into a dyke?” He snarled “Wasn’t his cock good enough?” Sansa didn’t know whether it was the remark or the laugh that came after that infuriated her most. She clenched her fists as her shoulders began to shake. It wouldn’t take long before she lost whatever remained of her composure. But Sansa had long lost interest in looking calm and collected, her sole attention being now focused on the boy.

“Pardon me” Margaery’s voice came out mellow and calm, but she was ready to throw hands. She let go of Sansa in order to stand between Joffrey and the redhead. She would’ve blocked Sansa’s view if it weren’t for Sansa’s height. Still, she intended on becoming some sort of human shield for the Northerner. “And who do you think you are to talk to my girl like that?” She took a defiantly step closer to the boy “she can dress however she pleases” another step “say whatever she pleases” another one “and date whomever she pleases.” Joffrey ended having to recoil a couple of steps back in order to maintain his balance. “Let this be the last time you disrespect Sansa, because so help me Gods, if I ever hear you say a single bad thing about her again I will hunt your ass down and beat you up so badly your own mother won’t recognise you.” Margaery was normally a very diplomatic and collected person, but Joffrey was managing to push every single one of her buttons.

“Come on, Margaery. You can’t possibly want to be around her.” He pronounced the last word as if it actually physically pained him to say it. “Let me take you out instead. I’ll show you what a real relationship looks like.”

“I’ll say this one more time and I swear it will be the last.” Margaery blinked almost flirtatiously. Her tone was soft but her eyes left no room for misinterpretation. She was furious. “Step the fuck away from my girl.”

Realising now Margaery had also turned on him, he decided to back down. “You know what? I have no use for her anyway.” Joffrey took a step closer to Margaery, which was compensated by Sansa stepping forward as well. The action resulted on Sansa being pressed firmly against Margaery’s back; the latter had to use some strength to hold the redhead back, lest she lost her nerves and pounced on the blonde. “You can keep your bitch.”

And that was that. It was then, right as the boy laughed cruelly at his own comment that she lost it. Even though Sansa’s anger was off the roof, it was Margaery’s punch that collided with his face. He threw some insults her way but Margaery couldn’t make out the words, given that his hands were cupping his bloody nose.

“You fucking dykes! You’ll regret this! You both will!” He yelled before storming off. As he ran to the bathroom, the brunette noticed the silence surrounding them and she casted her glance to the side in order to see the other attendant’s reaction.

The first person she saw was Cersei Lannister. The woman pursed her lips together but said nothing. She just stared at Margaery down for a few seconds before running after her son to aid him. Robert Baratheon cursed aloud and begrudgingly went to the bathroom as well. Margaery also noticed both Tommen and Myrcella offering her a tiny smile, displaying no kind of sympathy for their brother before Jaime Lannister was by their side. He calmly told them to go with him outside.

On the other end of the room was Theon, wearing a shit-eating grin and no doubt already planning on congratulating Margaery afterwards. Stood by his side was Robb, and although his face betrayed no emotion, he gave the brunette a subtle thumbs up.

“Wooooo!” Arya suddenly yelled, throwing both her hands up in the air, as if celebrating a touchdown. Her beer long gone. “Now this is a party!” Her smile matched Theon’s.

“I wouldn’t have done that if I were you.” Came a voice from behind Margaery. “I mean, I would’ve, I definitely would’ve because that douchebag had it coming but” Sansa grabbed Margaery’s bruised hand with much delicacy “I’m not sure that’s gonna sit well with your Grandmother, and much less the Lannisters.”

“Well” Margaery chuckled despite what happened “someone had to shut him up. Let me worry about them later.”

“Thank you” Sansa relaxed now that Joffrey was out of sight; her smile was timid but sincere “really.”

“No need to thank me, sweet girl.” Margaery smiled brightly at the redhead. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages, if I’m being honest.” That earned her a chuckle from Sansa.

“Margaery.” The brunette’s smile faltered away as soon as the voice came. She turned around slowly.

“Grandmother.” Margaery pursed her lips together. She knew her act would have consequences and even though she was well aware Grandmother Olenna didn’t like the Lannister boy one bit, she knew she’d have to deal with the result of her actions.

“May we speak alone?” It was a question, but the tone of voice with which it was accompanied left no room for objections. Margaery nodded, muttered ‘Sorry’ to Sansa and started to walk behind her Grandmother.

Not a full ten seconds had passed that Arya was by her sister’s side. “So, you two banging?” Arya bluntly asked Sansa once Margaery was out of earshot. She grabbed a beer from the table and took a large sip. “I heard Joffrey muttering something about you two dating. Although” she added “he used a much crasser terminology.”

For the second time that night, Sansa choked on her spit. “Wha- we’re not- I mean” she corrected herself, remembering Margaery had indeed referred to herself as her girlfriend. Not wanting to blow the Highgardener’s cover she quickly said: “We started out as friends!”

“Your point?” Arya tilted her head to the side and watched her sister expectantly. She didn’t particularly care about who Sansa was or wasn’t shagging, but she figured watching the redhead ramble would be a close second to the most fun she’d have that night so she was determined to stretch this conversation as much as she possibly could.

“I mean, you know…” Sansa was visibly struggling to find the right words but given that Arya was in no rush she watched amusedly as the taller girl gesticulated ambiguously with her hand in the air. “We were friends, so we decided to take it slow.”

“How come none of us knew you two were a thing?” The shorter girl asked.

“It’s still pretty new. We didn’t want to jinx it.” Arya hummed, seemingly content with the answer.

“I have to say” she paused to take another sip of her beer “your girl does clean up pretty nice. She’s caught the attention of every single man –and some women– since the moment she entered the building.”

The jealousy that coursed through Sansa’s body then was both unexpected and foreign. She had definitely noticed how extremely beautiful Margaery looked that night. The dress she wore was a shade of deep forest green and whereas Sansa’s straps had been relatively thin, Margaery’s were fairly broad, to make up for the plunging neckline she was showing off. The top half of her back was bare but her hair cascaded down flawlessly and covered some skin.

Sansa couldn’t blame the attendants for staring, because the sight was truly mesmerizing, what she did disapprove of, however, was how most of those looks seemed to only be directed at her cleavage. When the realisation crossed her mind Sansa felt a sense of possessiveness and, although she wouldn’t admit it even to herself, the thought ‘mine’ did come to mind.

As Arya cleared her throat, it occurred to Sansa that her sister was still waiting for an answer. “No surprise here.” Sansa shrugged casually as her gaze was directed at Margaery. The older girl was at the far end of the room, speaking with Lady Olenna. “She’s beautiful.”

Arya followed Sansa’s eyes until she saw Margaery. It did not go unnoticed by her sister the fact Sansa’s expression softened upon seeing the older girl. Arya smiled softly –mostly to herself. She’d known from the very first instant that Margaery had lied about dating Sansa, but she also knew about her sister’s feelings for the Tyrell girl. The redhead was pretty good at disguising her emotions, so only a very observant person would notice it. And despite her many flaws, if Arya was one thing was observant.

“You’ll still want to be careful around Cersei, though.” The shorter girl warned after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence. “She’s gonna want to strangle you as soon as the bastard is okay. The Lannisters are going to take Joffrey’s ex-girlfriend dating a lesbian as a great insult. It hurts their pride or some shit.”

“I know” Sansa sighed. She turned around and poured herself another glass of whiskey. “Let’s worry about that later, okay?” Arya nodded. She was about to add something else when she spotted out of the corner of her eye Margaery and her Grandmother approaching them. Arya excused herself in order to give her sister some privacy.

“Sansa, I would like you to meet my Grandmother.” Margaery offered her Grandmother a glass of wine and poured herself another one.

“Olenna Tyrell, dear.” Sansa was expecting her to hold out her hand but the woman never did. “I take it you’ve heard about me.” She took a sip of her own drink which prompted Margaery to do the same.

“I have, ma’am.” Sansa nodded. “I apologise for causing such a scene tonight.” She lamented.

“Nonsense.” The woman shook her head, taking the heat out of it. “The only thing I’m sorry for is that you couldn’t take a swing at him yourself as well.” Sansa smiled timidly.

“Grandmother!” Margaery snickered. “What will Sansa think of us? You raised me to be well-mannered.”

“And so I’ve done, dear.” Lady Olenna solemnly said. “You did well by your girlfriend when you knocked the troubled boy off his high horse.” Sansa blushed as she noticed Lady Olenna had referred to her as her granddaughter’s ‘girlfriend’.

“I take it you’re not angry at Margaery, then?” The Northerner sheepishly asked.

“I would have preferred my granddaughter to have had the decency to wait to pull off something like away from so many prying eyes, but” Lady Olenna sighed “I know just how loyal the girl can be to the people she loves and if your honour was on the table, well then, there was nothing nobody could’ve done to stop her.”

Sansa glanced at Margaery and was surprised when the older girl blushed and refused to meet her gaze. “That’s very kind of you to say, ma’am.” The redhead thanked the woman.

Lady Olenna hummed. “Anyway, I’m spotting the cheese plate I was promised about 10 minutes ago” She looked over her shoulder. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’m going to eat the food I paid for.” The woman bid her goodbyes, leaving the two girls alone.

“Sorry about her.” Margaery shook her head. “She can be a tad blunt sometimes.”

“It’s okay.” Sansa shrugged. “I like her.”

“I’m glad.” Margaery smiled easily at Sansa.

There was something at the back of her mind that was nagging Sansa. She didn’t know how to subtly approach the subject so she just dove right in. “Why did you say we were dating?” The question and the boldness with which Sansa said it took Margaery aback. “I mean, if you wanted to defend me” upon the lack of a direct response Sansa decided to clarify “you could’ve just done so without telling him we were a couple.” Sansa tilted her head to the side expectantly.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Margaery winked flirtatiously. The gesture made Sansa blush once again. “Besides, you look marvellous, darling. It would only be fit for you to have a date for the night.” Sansa tried not to think about the fact that her heart was beating faster with every word Margaery spoke. “Unless” she added on second thought “you wanted to be with someone else?”

“No!” It was almost embarrassing how quick Sansa declined the suggestion. She felt her face turn even redder, so she cleared her throat. “So, does this mean we have to keep up the charade all night long?” She chuckled to cover up her eagerness.

There was a gleam in Margaery’s eye that made Sansa shiver, but in a good way. “Wanna find out how many people we can scandalise by being extra affectionate in public?”

And if there was something Sansa was unable to do was deny Margaery anything. “Game on.”

Chapter 2

#sansaery #sansa stark #margaery tyrell #sapphic sansa fest #sansasource #sapphicsansafest

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kafka-ish · 4 years ago

Text

stuck between a rock and a hard place | s.u.

after one fateful night, stan uris finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place when him and his friend like the same girl.

word count: 5,428

warnings/included: pining, love triangle, fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “could you write a bill denbrough, reader, and stanley uris love triangle? maybe where they’re always trying to one up each other for her attention? ty”

“I don’t get what you see in her.” Stan was eyeing y/n from across the cafeteria while Bill droned on for what must have been the fourth time that week about how amazing she was.

“Wuh-well, you wouldn’t under-st-hand.” Bill shook his head. He wasn’t about to try to convince his friend how amazing she made him feel. It was just how he felt.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t get it.” Stan squinted at the girl’s figure. Sure, she was pretty, but looks aren’t everything. “And I don’t get why you insist on sending her things anonymously.”

“If yo-you liked some-someone, wuh-wuh-wouldn’t you want t-to sh-show them?”

Stan’s gaze which was previously fixed on y/n switched to Bill. He gave him a glare because he didn’t understand. “If I liked someone, I would tell them,” he scoffed.

Bill could see where Stan was coming from. The only issue was that he was just too nervous to tell y/n, let alone talk to her. The two shared chemistry and a study hall period together but Bill still hadn’t found an excuse to talk to her. He also hadn’t found a way around his stutter. He wanted his moment with her to be perfect; no stutter, no embarrassment; just the two of them sharing a mutual conversation about whatever… and her finally realizing he’s the perfect match.

He shrugged at Stan’s remark. So, what if his friend didn’t understand? That only meant less competition.

“Hey guys!” Beverly drew both boys’ attention away from Bill’s crush. “There’s a party tonight. Whatd’ya say we all go together?”

“Count me the fuck in!” Richie was the first to reply, enthusiastically at that.

“I have a test tomorrow.” If Stan had a nickel for every time the Losers wanted to do something irrational, he’d be loaded.

“All the more reason to get drunk off your ass.” Richie Tozier had a grin on his face that there was no use wiping off.

And if Stan had a nickel for every time the Losers had convinced him into doing something stupid, he’d be stupid loaded.

The party was at who-knows-where’s house serving who-knows-what.

“Stanny! Stan the Man!” It was Richie Tozier, the convincer himself. He slurred Stan’s name and tripped his way over to the corner Stan was huddled in. “Yougottatrythis.” Richie’s words were incoherent and if he hadn’t been friends with Stan for so long, or were shoving a red solo cup full of something Stan didn’t want to know was in, Stan may have never guessed what his friend was trying to say.

“No thanks—”

“C’monnn.” Groan. “Don’t act like you’re above us, just cos yer sober.” Richie gave him a mopey look that Stan was sure was just another way to mock him.

‘Stan the Man’ did eventually take the cup. Not because he wanted to, but because of the way Richie was jerking it so much, he was afraid some of the contents may spill on his shirt, which he just pressed. Curiously, he brought the plastic cup closer to his nose so he could examine the contents inside better.

His nose twitched at the scent.

It reeked of stale beer, vodka, and was that someone’s mom’s wine?

And although the thought of drinking alcohol before an important day was tempting… Stan knew better. Making an appearance at a lame party rather than studying would be the worst of his crimes tonight. He held the cup away from his face, as far as possible, and started watching the morons around him.

They were drunk to their stomachs; happily grinding against each other to the beat of the music that blasted on the radio. They wouldn’t remember this night if they tried.

Stan, however, would remember. He would remember every detail of this boring party, where no one talked to him; where there’d be throw up in the pool to clean out the next day; where the cops would show up in an hour because the houses next door called in complaints. And Stan would be able to pass his Algebra test with ease the next day while everyone else would be using what was left of their braincells to remember how to factor an imaginary number.

“Hey!” Oh god. It was y/n. What was she doing next to him? The two barely knew each other. In fact, if Bill hadn’t taken a liking to her, or if Stan weren’t friends with Bill, he doubted he’d even know of her existence.

“Hi…” Stan looked skeptically at the girl who was practically throwing herself at him. “Do you need something?”

y/n only hummed in response. She was swaying to the song playing in the background, but her movements didn’t match the beat at all, and she looked just as wasted as the rest of the room.

“Do you speak English?” Stan’s eyebrows furrowed. He leaned down to meet her height. His eyes widened with surprise when she, once again didn’t reply, but wrapped her arm around his neck. Her touch was velvet and she smelled like roses.

Until she opened her mouth.

The potent stench of that cheap alcohol potion, Stan had briefly been intrigued by, hit his nose. He wanted so desperately to get away from her—pass her on to Bill, or something. But she placed a sloppy kiss on his lips just in time.

He’d been embarrassed to admit that was his first kiss.

You were supposed to have your first kiss with your girlfriend, or the girl next door, or best friend. Not with a stranger at some raunchy house party you were dragged to by your idiot friends. And certainly not with the girl your friend liked. But here Stan was, breaking all the rules.

There was something encapsulating about her cherry lip gloss which was smeared from when she kissed him and the way she stumbled terribly because of her inebriated state. Maybe Stan did understand.

y/n’s arm was still wrapped around his neck and her lips were dangerously close to his. He thought she was about to go in for another kiss until words made their way from her lips.

“Take me home?” Stan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This girl who he’d never met before was taking a chance on a total stranger to take her home, trusting that he wouldn’t kidnap or murder her.

“I don’t even know you.” Stan tried his best to look bored when, in reality, this offer was tempting.

“Pleaseeee.” She was now clinging to him for dear life. “I think all my friends left me.” Her pouty expression was the final catalyst to Stan’s reaction.

“In that case… How could I say no?” It was as if his whole personality flipped a switch. His once stone cold and albeit, annoyed, features washed away, revealing a kindhearted guy only the Losers really got a chance to see.

A drunken giggle left her lips and y/n’s arm removed itself from Stan’s neck only to find itself tightly coiled around his arm. This was y/n’s signal for Stan to start making his way through the crowd in order to search for the front door. A task the boy already knew would be horrible.

He started awkwardly shifting and contorting himself just so he wouldn’t have to feel the sweaty bodies surrounding him. He also made sure not to lose y/n, but that task served pretty much impossible due to how fixed her grasp on his arm was.

It didn’t take long for Stan to finally reach the front door (which was somehow trashed). Thank god his shoes, and none of the other items on his being, for that matter, had come into contact with sticky liquid or bodily fluids. But the doorknob was covered in a substance that made Stan visibly cringe when he touched it.

“God, what do people do here.” y/n, still lazily hanging on was about to open her mouth. “I don’t want to know,” Stan said, quickly, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

A laugh so pleasant it made puppies look like beasts fell from y/n’s perfect lips. The longer Stan spent with this girl, the more he found to like about her.

A crisp breeze blew its way to the two of them and Stan wondered how it was this cold already when just last week it reached the seventies. The transition from summer to fall always bewildered him, no matter how many times he’d experience it.

“How far did you park?” She grew impatient and Stan couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he wouldn’t even want to stand. Fortunately, he could see the hood of his car peeking out from behind a someone’s Ford.

“Only a few more steps.” Stan reassured. His pace picked up and before another complaint could slip out of y/n’s mouth. “Oh, look at that, we’re already here.” He opened the door for her, but she didn’t budge. “Are you… gonna get in?” Stan waited rather impatiently for the girl who was lollygagging in front of the open door.

Wordlessly, she turned to face him and held her arms open and Stan understood.

Even though he sighed, Stan still picked her up and placed her gently in the passenger seat of his car.

“Such a gentleman,” she mumbled into his neck before he parted from her. Stan couldn’t help but smile at the remark.

It took awhile for him to find her address. y/n was too out of it to form any coherent sentence besides “you must be the coolest guy ev-ur” and what happened to be the lyrics to Highway to Hell. But after (uncomfortably and frantically) rifling through her purse, after asking where her house was and y/n only pointing to inside her bag, Stan had found the tag of the purse marked with her address in pink sharpie also signed with a heart.

Neither said much on the drive there. Stan was inexperienced with talking to drunk girls, besides Bev, and y/n looked like she was inexperienced with talking. Nonetheless, he tried to make the best of it. He turned on the radio to his favorite station and let the songs carry him through the night.

“Thanks—thank you.” y/n said once Stan had arrived at her place. He walked her up to the porch; her figure stabilized by his arms. Her eyes burned holes through his under the moonlight and Stan was rendered speechless. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She started to sway again like she did at the party, but there was no music to dance to.

“You’re welcome.” Stan had finally mustered the courage to say, but he scolded himself internally for how lame he probably sounded.

“Well… goodnight.” y/n giggled drunkenly before her lips grazed his left cheek softly. It blossomed pink once she touched him. Could it even be considered a touch? It was so light, almost feather-like, and if Stan weren’t watching her like a hawk, he would have missed it.

The door shut with a slam and he cursed in his head for doing this to Bill and he cursed in his head the next day when his mind drew a blank on his functions test.

This was just great.

He scratched his head, as if that would somehow release the numerical knowledge he needed in order to at least get a sixty percent. Alas, it did nothing but relieve the itching on his dry scalp.

He silently racked his brain, yet nothing came. The only thing that came to mind were the events of last night. Are you kidding?

The bell rung.

Stan looked down at his paper only to find his name written neatly and compactly on the line reserved for it in dark lead and a measly ten questions out of the twenty answered. He pressed his lips together so hard, he thought they may bruise. Everyone else was already out the door, except for the slower kids in the back who took their sweet time.

“Uris.” The hairs on Stan’s arm stood to attention when he heard his name being called. He looked around to find the classroom was empty except for him and Mr. Burgess.

“Yes?” Stan looked up to the authority figure and he was wondering if he should pathetically ask for extra time on his test during another period or if he should turn it in as is.

“Don’t you have another class to get to?” Mr. Burgess was patient, but there would be another round of students filing in any minute now.

“Yeah.” Stan stood up and gathered his things. He was hasty but took enough time to put each item in their designated place. “I didn’t get a chance to finish.” Stan was aware third period was now replacing the empty seats and he lowered his voice.

“I see…” Mr. Burgess eyed the paper, both front and back, and then set it on a stack of papers from Stan’s class. “You can finish tomorrow. Either come in early or stay late.”

And at that, Stan was on his merry way to Mrs. Baker’s World Civilization class- or would be. He stopped dead in his tracks when his path crossed y/n’s, a detail he never noticed. Her hands were covering her face to hide the blush that quickly raced to the apples of her cheeks. She was admiring something in her locker, but he couldn’t tell what. One of her girlfriends was standing with her, sharing the same giggles and same look of awe in her eyes.

Stan soon found out her blush was the work of Bill Denbrough’s when the Losers met up at lunch. They were sitting together like they always did, too engrossed in conversation to worry about what the lunch ladies’ specialty was today.

“I h-h-hope y/n luh-likes wh-what I g-guh-gave her,” Bill said all too suddenly.

“I’m sure she will,” Beverly reassured.

“What’d you get her.” It was hard for Stan to contain the jealousy that leaked from his words and instead of a question it sounded more like a demand.

“W-wuh-well usually I ju-just stick a skuh-skuh-sk-hetch in there or-or flow-flowers or something st-stupid an-and sm-small.” Bill cleared his throat as if that would rid him of his speech impediment. “Bu-but thi-this t-t-time I told her-”

“Did’ya sign your name?” Richie inquired. Usually he wouldn’t be interested in this sort of sappy stuff, but he was eager to see the development between Bill and his crush—rather, if Bill would ever grow the balls to reveal himself as y/n’s admirer.

Bill swallowed and kept silent.

“So, no.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised.”

Bill gave his friend a skeptical look. He was confused. While Stan was usually the most passive aggressive of the group, he was never this… insolent. But he shrugged off the countless possibilities for why Stan was acting this way.

“Are you ever gonna tell her?” Richie seemed about just as annoyed as Stan was.

“Wh-when the t-t-time’s ruh-ruh-right.” Bill looked to both Stan and Richie sternly, but the two knew better than that. When the time’s right.

Yeah right.

Stan thought back to the scene at y/n’s locker from earlier. The morally sound thing to do would be to tell Bill. Tell Bill how y/n and her friend gushed at the sight of what was inside of her locker. Tell him how y/n’s knees were practically weak while she hid her face furiously with the sleeve of her shirt.

But nothing came out of his mouth. In fact, his mouth never opened. Stan stayed quiet for the last fifteen minutes that the Losers all had together. He stayed quiet as he stared at his salad and thought of y/n.

The y/n who was in an inappropriate state when he took her home. The y/n who was his first kiss. The y/n who was Bill’s crush.

Stan sat on this fact for a while.

He was at his desk, his eyebrows furrowed, and nose scrunched, while thinking this ridiculous inner conflict over. Something in his gut told Stan that Bill was never going to tell y/n how he felt. Bill Denbrough was not someone you’d label a coward, but god, when it came to girls, he was a pussy. On the other hand, there was something else that twisted his insides in another manner, telling Stan even if Bill never told y/n how he felt, that doesn’t mean he should swoop in either.

Stanley Uris was in a pickle.

His lips, once again, pressed against each other tightly, so tight he could feel bone. The mental wheels in his mind were turning, but no matter how far they spun, he still reached no conclusion.

An hour had passed when Stan finally looked at the analog clock that stood on the edge of his desk.

“If I tied a noose around my neck, I bet I’d come to a better conclusion,” Stan said darkly under his breath. He was still staring at the clock. It was getting late, but Richie Tozier would say that’s just when the fun’s starting.

Personally, Stan liked getting a head start on his bedtime routine. The other Losers made fun of him for it, but it kept him sane. He stretched, still sitting down and a yawn left his mouth. He padded his way to the bathroom just across the hall so he could brush his teeth and then change.

When his head full of curls hit his wrinkle free pillowcase and his arms pulled over his comforter to his chest, he assumed all thoughts of y/n would be gone. He would go to sleep, leaving the unconscious to take over his mind and body and he would forget.

He would forget the flowery scent that lingered on his shirt that night because she pressed herself so close to him. He would forget the feeling of her fingers that swept against him in the gentlest way and he would forget how he ever longed to feel them against the rest of him. He would forget that she kissed him—twice. When he would wake, he would have no recollection of that night and for all he knew, he’d never been kissed.

But Stan woke up to the burning want—no. The burning need to tell y/n how he felt. He knew he’d only known her for a fleeting moment, and it was absurd to catch feelings for someone you barely knew. But telling her would be the only way to ease the funny feeling in Stan’s stomach which seemed to be in knots lately.

At least that’s what Stan told himself as he walked up to y/n’s locker during the five-minute passing period they had between second and third period.

Luckily, y/n was there, and he wasn’t just about to confess to a slab of metal. She was chatting up the same friend from yesterday and the same glow lit up her eyes as she was explaining something to her.

“Isn’t it so thoughtful?” Stars replaced her pupils and she ran her fingers over the inked piece of parchment that was slipped into her locker from today.

“There’s no name,” her friend deadpanned. She, too, was looking at the note with y/n. But instead of fawning over the piece of work, she stared unimpressed—bored, almost.

“So?” y/n huffed. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“I think it would count more if you knew who it was from.” Stan wanted to smirk and tell Bill I told you so as he overheard their conversation.

“Yeah but—” y/n’s friend was waiting for her to finish but she stopped once she recognized the boy in front of them. “Hi!” She smiled at Stan and it was now his turn to say something.

“Hello.” He looked between y/n and her friend to which her friend then spoke up.

“I guess I’ll be going now.” And then three became two.

“What’s up?” y/n was oddly cheery considering it was eleven a.m. on a school day.

Where should I start?

Stan looked to her awkwardly and scratched his shoulder. He then noticed the piece of paper that most likely Bill had slipped in her locker that morning. It was a landscape drawing of Main Street, but there was a hidden message written within the building signs. Stan couldn’t quite make out what the message said, but he was sure it said something along the lines of: my heart beats for yours. Something Stan would never understand.

“Can you make this quick? Or maybe you can tell me at lunch?” y/n offered. The drawing was now out of sight—either back in her locker or tucked away in her backpack which was slung over her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you at lunch.” Stan felt his toes curl in his shoes and his heartbeat quicken under his skin.

y/n nodded and walked off. They didn’t need to say goodbye to each other because they’d be meeting each other in an hour, give or take.

y/n would be sitting by herself at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria. Stan spotted her easily because ever since that night it was as if the image of her was ingrained in his brain.

“I’ve been on the edge of my seat ever since you came up to me at my locker,” y/n admitted. There was sort of a shyness that carried itself through her voice that Stan didn’t recognize. She was different under the influence. Confident. Bold. Affectionate. Different. But here she was, in front of him; hunched over, exposing her insecurity of the situation. The fact that she had told him she was anxious for this moment was big for her.

“Really?” Disbelief marked Stan’s face. Girls didn’t usually jump at a chance at Stan and Stan didn’t usually jump at the chance at girls. His studies took too much time away from his social life and the Losers proved to be enough social interaction for him, no matter how many times they’d encouraged him to get out there.

Bill, Stan, Eddie, and Richie were all hanging out in Bill’s room. Richie leaned against the cracked window while he smoked and Eddie sat next to him, taking puffs from his inhaler similarly to how Richie took breaths of the cigarette. He was cautious of the secondhand smoke he feared would enter his lungs. Bill was busy messing with his new record player.

“Record players are so old.” Eddie’s nose scrunched when The Cure started playing but no sign of malice could be detected from his voice.

“Sh-sh-shut up.” Bill laughed and joined the other three, crossing his legs as he sat.

Stan faintly recalled him then going on about y/n and he could sense the others internally groaning with him.

“T-today, her h-h-hand brushed uh-against mine when we were g-getting beakers… ff-for our lab.” His lips curled into an even bigger smile just thinking about it. But he was always smiling at the thought of her. He was now laying on the hardwood floor. His fingers were laced together and stretched behind his head.

It was just a simple interaction, but Bill remembered every detail. He felt his body transport itself to dream world.

Bill was sitting at the lab table with his two other partners—a football player named Jack and a blonde girl named Stacy. He knew as much about them as they knew about him and it wasn’t in his plans to make buddy-buddy with the two. He took the cue to leap from his stool when their teacher announced that one person from each group gets supplies and y/n y/l/n was the designated supplies-getter.

Hastily, he walked over to the cabinet where the beakers were stored. There was already a crowd of unenthusiastic students lined up to get their share and luckily, they cleared the air soon enough. It proved no difficulty for Bill to reach the top shelf, as he had done many times before, but he found it hard to breathe once another, smaller, hand came into contact with his own. Her nails were filed perfectly and painted a deep shade of blue that were chipped to infinity, reminding him of Richie. A silver band hugged her ring finger that felt cold compared to the rest of her hand that pressed against his.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, and Bill gladly stepped aside.

“You can be a sap sometimes, Big Bill,” Richie said, shaking Bill from his daydream.

Bill rolled his eyes and sat up. He wasn’t in the mood to make a jab at Richie, but it would’ve done him good. “I-ih-t’s called having a h-h-heart. You sh-should t-t-t-try it sometime.”

“Oh, it hurts me that you think I’m heartless.” Richie sighed and leaned a little too close for Eddie’s liking. “You don’t think I’m heartless, do ya, Eds?” He started making kissy faces before he doubled over into his lap.

“Shove off.” Eddie pushed him so his side was pressed into the floorboard as he continued to laugh.

“Wuh-wuh-what ab-out you Stan?” Bill turned his attention towards Stan who was listening quietly. His back stood straight, and he hadn’t changed his position since he sat down.

“What about me?” Stan wondered. He was sure this conversation was going to lead into some sort of back and forth girl talk that he had no business being apart of. It wasn’t like Stan wasn’t attracted to girls. He just hadn’t found the right one yet.

That was, until now.

The sound of her backpack unzipping made his ears perk. She was digging for something Stan couldn’t see. Maybe if he was at a different angle…

“You did this, right?” She shoved the neatly folded drawing from earlier in front of his face.

“Wait, what?” Stan looked at her incredulously and took the paper in his hands. Carefully, he unfolded it and smoothed the wrinkles out—not like there were many. He studied his friend’s work. It was obvious Bill had put great effort into it; into liking y/n. To take his credit would be a new low, even for him.

“You’re the one who’s been putting stuff in my locker!” y/n insisted. “I wasn’t really sure until a few nights ago…” Her eyes broke contact from him, all the sudden becoming nervous. “You know… When you took me home?” She faced Stan again and this time Stan was too nervous to look at her.

“No,” He finally said. He wasn’t looking at her so he couldn’t see her confused expression. Stan passed the paper back to her.

“No?”

“I mean…” Stan was wondering how to word this. He didn’t have all day, but he also didn’t know how to get himself out of this dilemma.

How do you tell someone you like them, but you’re not their secret admirer—your friend is?

“I’m not the one who’s been sending you stuff,” Stan said smoothly. Like that.

“You… aren’t?” y/n’s voice started to falter but was soon swallowed by a chuckle. “Well, this is embarrassing.” She haphazardly shoved the parchment into her bag only for her to smooth it out later in the day when she got home.

“No, it’s not.” Stan’s monotone voice served no reassurance for y/n, no matter how much she wanted to hear those words. But she didn’t say anything, only cocked her head, prompting for him to continue. “I’m not the one who’s been putting stuff in your lockers but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

y/n’s already tense muscles relaxed at this, but she was still left with a problem.

“I was so sure of it,” she said in a mumble so low Stan almost didn’t catch.

“What’s wrong?” Stan asked. “I like you. Don’t…” Embarrassment crept up the back of his throat as the next sentence spilled out. “Don’t you like me?”

y/n nodded but didn’t say anything. She readjusted herself on her seat, robbing him of an answer.

“Do you remember what happened that night?” Nothing bad happened. Nothing even remotely, as Richie would put it, hot, happened. But it was the night that changed everything.

“Yeah.” y/n sucked in a deep breath as she remembered.

y/n hadn’t planned to get so drunk off her ass that she couldn’t walk. In fact, y/n hadn’t even planned to go out. But there she was, on a Tuesday night. Her friends had left her to suck the skin off each other’s faces and y/n had become a little too good at beer pong.

Whoever was in charge of the alcohol had no taste buds, but she needed all the liquid courage she could get, because tonight was the night. Tonight, was the night y/n y/l/n was going to face Stanley Uris.

Of course, she had known of the boy. She’d gone to the same school as him ever since she could remember. It wasn’t until this year when she was aware of his existence.

He usually stayed behind the scenes; his nose burrowed in a textbook whenever she saw him alone and when she didn’t, he was usually hanging out with the same group of friends from middle school.

Lately, however, something about him just seemed to make sense. The idea of her and him together made sense. Coincidentally, her infatuation with the boy had picked up around the same time anonymous drawings and knick-knacks had found their way in her locker.

Was it so wrong to believe that it was destiny working its magic?

Or maybe the belief of Stan being anonymous was just the workings of her silly little school crush.

Either way, she took the chance; finding the perfect time to fall into his arms. If she had confessed to him any earlier, she would’ve gotten an unwanted response.

“Can I ask?” y/n started, but Stan knew she was going to ask the question afterwards anyway. “Do you know? Do you know who’s been sending me the stuff?”

Stan swallowed. He swallowed so hard his throat burned. He didn’t want what they had to end like this.

What they had. They didn’t have anything.

“Bill Denbrough.” He looked down even though he had nothing to be ashamed of. “Do you like me or do you like the person who’s been sending you the stuff?” Stan asked. It was a fair question. An easy question. But y/n, for some reason, couldn’t tell the difference between the two.

It was clear as day that Bill Denbrough and Stanley Uris were two different people. y/n just couldn’t fathom Stan not being her secret admirer—as cocky as it sounds. For two months, she’s imagined him as the one sending her landscape sketches and confessing his love for her. Her heart couldn’t help but fall into an endless pit, also known as the void.

“I guess I just thought of you as the person sending me the stuff,” y/n answered honestly, and an odd sort of sadness washed over Stan when she said that. They were truly stuck in a catch twenty-two and he still failed to understand how he got there. “Do you like me?” The question was ridiculous, but it was reasonable for her to ask.

“Yes,” Stan said, but he was hesitant. His mind couldn’t help but track back to Bill and the countless times he had swooned over y/n. Stan may be the one telling her how he felt but he wasn’t the one who never failed to stutter her name in conversations and make googly eyes at her from across the room.

What Stan had felt these past few days was what Bill felt these past years.

If y/n were stupid she would have accepted Stan’s answer. She would have given him his third kiss right then and there and proclaimed they were dating as they left the lunchroom. But she wasn’t stupid. She was anything but.

“I really like you.” Stan swore this was something she’d said before, but it wasn’t. It was new. It seemed as if everything was new. “Or… liked you,” y/n spoke again, and maybe the rose-colored glasses she was wearing were coming off.

Stan nodded. He knew what this meant and stood up from his seat. There were only five minutes of lunch left when he looked at the clock that hung from the brick wall and he was going to make perfect use of it.

“Good news.” Stan walked up from behind Bill who was sitting with the rest of the Losers. He ignored Beverly’s where were you’s and took a seat facing his friend. “y/n likes you back.”

#it 2017 #it2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it x reader #it imagine #it fanfic #it fic #stanley uris #stan uris #stan uris x reader #stan uris x reader fluff #stan uris x reader angst #stan uris imagine #stan uris fanfiction #stan uris fic #stan uris fanfic #stan uris fluff #stan uris angst

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little-lazuli · 3 years ago

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So many questions... Do you have a rough outline of the timeline for the OC, Benjen, and kids? Like who lives, who dies, and when? I just love this whole mini plot, it's got me really invested. Casually going through all of your other what if's and fics as well. 😁-M

I love you so much 😭😭😭😭 so a rough timeline of benjen’s au life would look like:

tw / cw : m*scarr*age and possibly gory

267 AC: Benjen Stark is born to Rickard and Lyarra Stark.

267 AC: Iduna Stane is born to the Magnar of Stane on Skagos.

281 AC: Benjen attends the Tourney of Harrenhal alongside all of his siblings.

282-283 AC: Benjen is the Stark of Winterfell throughout Robert’s Rebellion.

284 AC: Benjen declares he wants to join the watch, Ned’s low key disappointment prompts Benjen to visit all three castles of the Night’s Watch before making his oath.

284 AC: Benjen meets Iduna during his visit to Eastwatch; Iduna usually travels to Eastwatch to trade with the watch every now and again with her people. Benjen entertains the idea of having some nighttime fun before joining the watch and Iduna finds Benjen attractive. The two quickly become infatuated with one another and at this point their relationship is nothing but lust.

284 AC: When Iduna is timed to leave for Skagos weeks later, she becomes too sick to sail. A maester from Eastwatch is asked by Benjen to check on his new “friend” and reveals she is pregnant.

284 AC: Benjen is devastated at the idea of dishonoring her but she couldn’t care any less cause she reveals that she’s a “true born Stane” and she doesn’t really have a mom and is set to inherit her father’s domains as his only issues (Benjen realizes her case is similar to that of Maege Mormont and her daughters).

284 AC: To please his own morals and nerves Benjen proposes to Iduna Stane and she accepts, for the sole fact that she’s still infatuated.

284 AC: word of the marriage spreads eventually. Benjen and Iduna go to Skagos because it was closer and Benjen wished to make ammends for possibly offending Iduna’s family. Magnar Stane is more annoyed but is glad his daughter finally has a husband.

284 AC: Benjen and Iduna choose for their marriage to be recognized as matrilineal, but Benjen will keep his stark name.

285 AC: Benjen travels back to winterfell alone and confronts the news head on to Ned and his growing family. This is when a big fight ensues between Ned and Benjen. Ned’s “honorable” persona clashes with Benjen’s hidden emotions throughout his life. Benjen leaves on a sour note and returns to Skagos.

285 AC: Jocelyn Stane is born at Driftwood Hall to Benjen Stark and Iduna Stane; the birth is so harsh on Iduna that it is recognized as the reason for Iduna’s numerous following miscarriages.

285 AC: Benjen adjusts to all the swift changes in his life. While on Skagos, he learns of its history from Iduna, he sees the said unicorns which are not as pretty as the stories say (the skagosi unicorns are based off of Elasmotherium) and he explores Driftwood Hall, he also adores his daughter Jocelyn.

285-289 AC: Overtime Benjen and Iduna has become true lovers through their love for their daughter, their stories they tell each other and of course their time together in bed. Over this time, Iduna has suffered two miscarriages and is currently pregnant once again.

289 AC: Benjen is recalled to Winterfell by Ned at the start of the Greyjoy Rebellion; he returns and remains distant but for the most part kind to his winterfell relatives. Throughout the war, Benjen and Ned make up. Though they don’t agree with each other completely, they have made up.

289 AC: Along with Ned, Benjen returns to the North; he’s happy for Ned and cat with the birth of Arya. When he arrives to Skagos, he is met with the news of Iduna birthing a stillborn. The two go to sleep holding each other.

290 AC: Beron Stane is born to Benjen Stark and Iduna Stane; his birth is a welcomed surprise by his parents and he immediately becomes Magnar of Stane’s favorite because he’s a boy. Jocelyn isn’t entirely pleased about that.

That is where I’m stuck at with the defined parts of Benjen and Iduna’s story. In the aftermath of everything however, I wanted:

- Hostage Benjen is killed by the Boltons at the Battle of Winterfell, he dies in Jocelyn’s arms.

- Jocelyn flees with Bran and Rickon after the Ironborn take Winterfell and they meet Jon on the way (he doesn’t take the black at the last second). Jocelyn takes Bran’s place as three eyed raven and defies Bloodraven at his cave. Bran and rickon escapes to Skagos and stay with Iduna and Beron. She and Meera Reed head back south just in time to be captured by Stannis who is marching south on the Boltons.

- Iduna is killed in the Battle of Driftwood Hall; Stannis Baratheon tries taking the Stark boys hostage for his campaign in the North and only manages to take Bran. Iduna dies from her wound sustained from the attack.

- Beron becomes lord of Driftwood Hall after Stannis leaves, keeping Rickon as his guest.

- Jon heads south after splitting from Jocelyn and the boys and is backed by Wyman Manderly in retaking the North from the Ironborn and later the Boltons. At the Battle for Winterfell he leads a secret force to betray the Boltons when they fight the coming Stannis. However Jon breaks his covers when Bran and Jocelyn are forced to watch Benjen Stark be killed by Ramsay Bolton when Stannis refuses to surrender. Eventually, Jon and his Manderly force occupy Winterfell. Jon is declared king by his people. Bran refuses Jon’s calls for him to be lord or king instead.

At this point the story ends at around Game of thrones season 6ish and the start of Winds of Winter. This is as far as I got and yeah, I hope you like it. let me know what y’all think, hope you’re having a beautiful day/night take care 💗

#lazuli answers #what if benjen stark married

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

Post Work Work

Sonny Carisi x reader

Word Count: 900

Warnings: talks about rape cases

Author’s Note: I did Barba you know I wasn’t about to leave out my mans Sonny

Summary: based in season 21 with ada carisi

Genre: fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Sonny sat across the table from you. He had his feet up on your lap, flipping through the papers on the table. He put down his fork to really look into one of the papers. You watched him look at it, slowly taking out the take out chinese you had gotten the two of you for dinner that night.

“You see something you like?” you asked him, pointing your fork at the papers. He let out a sigh and shook his head.

“The opposite actually.” He moved the papers over so that you could look at them. They were sprawled across the table. “Liv said that we were able to apprehend this guy but when we look at that, I’m not quite sure.” You swallowed the bite of food and leaned over.

“Invalid search warrant? Liv would never.” He shook his head.

“This was taken over by the new detective, uh Kat?”

“Ah yeah. Hoops.”

“You can’t just call her hoops because of her earrings-”

“I like her Sonny. You really think she got some off judge to sign it just so you could have some evidence to try?” He shrugged.

“Maybe.”

You leaned back against the chair behind you.

“Are you going to hand this over?”

Sonny was still trying to get his grip on his new job. You and him had been dating for a few years now, since you met when he joined your job as a detective. You were work partners that quickly became life partners.

When he got the new job as the ADA everything changed a little bit. You had different work hours and you were doing different things. But it wasn’t all bad. Now you were able to really dig into his job as a lawyer which meant you knew exactly what was needed to make his job easier on him. And he was also able to ask you for things he wouldn’t ask of from anyone else.

“I gotta right?”

You nodded.

“Sorry. Detective brain versus ADA brain.” He laughed a little bit.

“Guess I really have to remember we’re in different offices now,” he said. You nodded. He took his feet off of your lap and leaned back, taking a deep breath.

“Deal with it tomorrow. We should just relax tonight,” you told him. He nodded. He seemed all too happy to have an excuse to just forget about his job. You both tried your best to seperate your lives from your job but it was kind of hard when you worked together.

You really enjoyed being together and there was no way you would change it but it was a lot sometimes. Coming home to work on occasions when one of you was on a busy case.

“I agree. Thanks for dinner,” he muttered. You nodded, standing up and starting to clear the table so that you could head to bed or watch a movie or something. Sonny stood up, walking over to the couch and sitting down. You had both changed into comfier clothing and purposely left your phones at the dinner table.

You sat beside him and turned on the TV. Some TV show was on that you barely recognized but neither of you changed it. You were cuddled into his side and his arm was over your shoulder, pulling you closer as though you could get any closer.

“Sonny?” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever think about how we spend most of our days together and never fight?”

“We fought like last week about the Stannis case.”

“That is beside my point,” you said, laughing.

“I think that you’re the best thing that could have happened to me,” he said sweetly. You smiled into his side.

“Don’t flatter me Carisi.”

“Hey, us Italians are very loyal.” You shook your head.

“Yeah well I’m just as loyal. You’re pretty great too. The only reason I would date someone from the office.” He squeezed you.

“We’re from different offices now,” he muttered. You shook your head.

“We have the same paper work!”

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t see you everyday so it is a different office.”

“You do see me everyday. We live together.”

“Shh.”

He smiled, kissing your forehead and leaning back again, rubbing your arm.

You both continued to watch the show and laughed when there was a laugh track and talked a little bit about something that didn’t matter for the rest of that night until you had to get up the next morning and do your jobs, just a few offices away from each other.

#sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi imagines #law and order svu imagines

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markeffie · 3 years ago

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a-libra-writes · 5 years ago

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How the GoT Characters React To Your Pregnancy

I was super on fire for this?? I just love fluff, I might follow up with a part two or something once I finish up more requests.

In this preference, you'll be having a family with: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

Your husband smiled as he teasingly asked if you were sure, only to pull you into his arms a moment later. He’d always wanted a big family with you, after all, and now you two could properly start. There would be a notable happiness to his normally dour and serious mood. He wouldn’t be the sort to fuss over your health or treat you like you were fragile, instead he’d be more affectionate than ever. He’d want to hold you in the evening as you both discussed names and what the child would be like, and his desire for you would be stronger than ever - of course he’d get a little red in the face if you teased him about such a thing. He’d want to go with you on your check-ups with Maester Luwin, and the closer you were to your due date, the less he’d leave Winterfell for any amount of time.

ROBB STARK

You knew he would be happy, but it was still so cute to see his weary face light up. Robb lifted you up and spun you a little, excitedly asking all sorts of questions. Unbeknownst to you, he often asked his mother and Maester Luwin how he could better help you, since this was all very new. Whenever you were feeling especially bad, Grey Wind would relax next to you and keep an eye out. Robb was grateful for his direwolf’s protective presence, especially as you were further along and his duties kept him away. While he cared about your health more than anything, Robb couldn’t help but daydream about a son. Robb hoped to be as patient and wise as his own father, and he wondered who the child would take after the most.

SANSA STARK

She was initially hesitant about the plan, not enjoying the idea of you having a donor, but she was still supportive during your initial sickness. As the months passed she began to delight in talking about the child, what they’d be like and the names you (tried) to agree on. She made sure that you were receiving ample care from a maester and you had whatever you wanted to eat or wear. It was cute how she began to develop protectiveness that you hadn’t seen before; the further along you were, the more she’d glare down any men bothering you and politely redirect them somewhere else. The closer you were to delivery, the more confident Sansa would become. She trusted that you would be well, especially if you were properly provided for.

JON SNOW

Jon would be stunned both by your announcement and how casual you were about it. You had to reassure him and steady him as he finally explained his worries, not liking the idea of fathering a bastard because of what he went through. He was greatly soothed by your touches and the plan you had for the baby to stay at Eastwatch. Jon would often fret over you, which was sweet and made you feel loved after a long, tiring day. When you began to get bigger, he liked curling his arms around you and nuzzling your neck while touching your legs and stomach. He enjoyed thinking about what the baby would look like, and liked to hear what names you had in mind.

BENJEN STARK

He was only somewhat reassured with the knowledge that the child would be kept at Eastwatch and that the Commander knew; he’d eventually ask if there was a chance you’d allow the child to be fostered at Winterfell. While he was trying to stay practical, you kept seeing a smile break through and he couldn’t help but hug and kiss you more than ever. He didn’t care about the broken vows so much as he cared about you and the child’s safety. Benjen would tease often, insisting the child could hear you when you scolded him or yelled at the hapless new recruits. In the more serious moments in the evening, he’d snuggle you close to him, touching your growing stomach. One evening he’d finally ask if you could name the child after his father or sister.

JORY CASSEL

He was excited by the news, wanting to tell his uncle and Lord Stark right away - after he gave you a big hug and kiss, after all. Jory hadn’t thought much on marriage until he met you, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about being a father. While he initially fretted over you a bit too much, especially after the early rough months, his worries began to subside as you and Maester Luwin assured him. Anytime he went to Winter Town for something, he made a point to pick up a wooden toy or warm blanket the child could use. He knows it’s important for his family to have a son, but he couldn’t help but think about an adorable daughter who looked like you. No matter what, Jory was looking forward to teaching the child to ride once they were old enough.

EDDISON TOLLETT

You watched Edd go from surprised, to happy, to worried in a comically short amount of time. Right off the bat he asked questions and you calmly answered that the Commander knew and the child would be with you at Eastwatch, and he could be stationed there as well. Edd often alternated between feeling guilty for putting you in such a state, and being happy that you two could share such an experience. He was greatly comforted by you talking about names or what the kid would look like, and you’d finally get some of his usual wisecracks as he’d become more comfortable in the coming months. Edd would be surprisingly stubborn and no-nonsense about ensuring you were eating properly and were staying warm; anytime you’d snark about him being a mother already he’d just roll his eyes and shove an extra serving of meat on your plate.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

From the get go, he was immensely proud, picking you up and loudly proclaiming to everyone in the camp the good news - never mind most of them didn’t listen. Even when you told him it was too soon to get so excited, he’d have the same level of happiness all the way through. Tormund would be sure you had good meat to eat and plenty of water, and although he’d have some concerns about you continuing to hunt in the early months, he wouldn’t stop you. Once you were further along he’d get some herbs from the wise women around the camp to settle any ailments you might be feeling. And lastly, no matter what, he’d find you more beautiful with each day, telling you so often and desiring you more than ever.

MANCE RAYDER

A sweet smile crossed his face when you told him the news, and he gladly sat you on his lap in front of everyone to later give the news. Mance wouldn’t be the type to fuss or fret over your condition, he knows how strong you are and you have the help of the wildling women in the camp. Instead, he’d be sweet and spoiling with his touches and kind words. While you curled into his arms, he’d string some notes on his lute and hum, insisting the baby was a fan. When you were further along in your pregnancy he’d feel your stomach after his little performance, amused by the baby’s kicking.

THEON GREYJOY

At the beginning, Theon was very cocky about it all, proudly telling anyone that there was a new prince in you and you ought to be treated with respect. Yara was the one who scoffed loudest at those proclamations, but you thought it was kind of sweet how glad he was. Theon still desired you and made no secret of it, but he was also aware of your discomfort and nausea, and was quick to go out and find teas or herbs that would help. He’d be excited at the idea of teaching the child how to ride and use a bow, how to swim and properly row a boat. He’d get so ahead of himself that you just had to laugh and remind Theon that it would be several years before the child could do any of that.

YARA GREYJOY

This sort of thing disinterested her, so she was glad it was you who was going to balloon up and deal with a kid. Yara wasn’t crazy about the idea, but she respected your choices and she’d support you no matter what. She made sure you were looked after properly and had to admit that the changes to your skin and body was pretty damn attractive. Once you were further along, you had to stay on Pyke, and she was surprised by how much she missed you. When she returned from the sea, she’d wrap her arms around your waist and pointedly tell your child to “hurry up already”. She didn’t think much of things like nurseries or names, but she liked the way your eyes twinkled when you talked about it, so she’d just listen and give her usual sassy quips to make you laugh.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

The two of you had been discussing the idea of a child for a while, and while you’d taken in several children before, Dany understood your decision. As she’d already undergone much of a pregnancy, she helped you be more comfortable and told you what to expect. She thought it would hurt more, but it was oddly cathartic, helping you with morning sickness and rubbing your back when you felt sore. Daenerys had several names that she was stubborn about, and she was positive the child would grow up strong - you both had so much to teach them, after all. Daenerys said she wasn’t thinking about the child riding a dragon, but that glint in her eyes was telling you otherwise. To Dany’s delight, she noticed her dragons were unusually gentle with you, even allowing you to come close and touch their noses. She would stay close by your side just in case, but they never tried anything.

JORAH MORMONT

The smile that crossed his face melted you completely, and you only had a chance to see it before he pulled you in his arms. Jorah would be so grateful and happy, thanking you for giving him such a gift. Given his duties to Daenerys and her journey through Essos, it would be challenging to raise a child, but Jorah was more than ready to give everything he had. He’d always find little things at markets for you, like fruit you liked, herbs to ease any discomforts and good health charms he thought you’d find cute - he was still looking for a toy carved like a bear. He’d be more protective than ever, wanting to accompany you even if you were just going down the road from the Great Pyramid. Whenever you two were curled up in your shared bedroom, he could talk for hours about names you liked and what you were looking forward to.

MISSANDEI

Missandei was so pleased when you gave her the news, and it was then she revealed her elaborate plans she’d been making. She had it all; what sort of things you should eat, the best way to sleep and the right exercises to do. It was information she’d gathered from all over Essos, and some of it was a bit … questionable. When she wasn’t attending to Daenerys, she was positively hovering over you, noting any changes. If she could make spreadsheets, she would. You were able to temper Missandei’s fretting by discussing things like what the baby’s name should be, or what they’d be like. It would stop her in her tracks and fill her with so much joy; she couldn’t help but talk about it. Missandei would be fine with a boy or girl, she just wanted you and the child to be healthy, but she did hope they looked more like you rather than the father.

GREY WORM

It took him some time to be fully comfortable with a surrogate, but he understood it was something you wanted, and he always did his best to ensure your happiness. Much of his apprehension came from just how new it all was. The concept of “parents” had long been beaten away, and while Grey Worm had come a very long way in his relationship with you, he really did worry about this. He didn’t know the first thing about children, even being around grown ones made him unsure. How he channeled this anxiety was just looking after you more than ever. He became more protective and learned to brew tea and fix medicines that would soothe any aches and nausea. When you began to show, he loved touching your stomach and talking to it. It brought him ease and comfort, allowing him to better picture an actual child he’d hold and speak to.

TYWIN LANNISTER

He was pleased, knowing it would only be a matter of time, and you noticed that in spite of him trying to maintain his usual cold facade. Being the Lady of Casterly Rock, it went without saying that the best would be provided for you. There would be regular check-ups on your health and you’d have every comfort, from handmaidens to new dresses to whatever you wanted to eat. Tywin would see to some of these personally, even if you told him you didn’t require so much fuss. In private, you thought it was amusing how he’d look after you in his own way, with gentler, lingering touches as you undressed or bathed. Obviously, Tywin vastly preferred a son, but your safety was more pressing. Tywin would never want to express it to you, but he privately worried about your health, all but threatening the maester to ensure you had an easy delivery.

TYRION LANNISTER

Tyrion was an absolutely nervous mix of happy and beside himself; the happiness came first, then the anxiety hit him hard the next day and you had to bring him some wine. On one hand, he absolutely loved the idea of having a child with you, a son or daughter who he could cherish and be proud of. They’d have all the acceptance he never did, anything they could ever want. On the other hand, he worried the child would take after him too much, having his condition. He knew his sister and especially father would never accept an heir like that. You had to reassure Tyrion often, and he dealt with his fears by fretting over you. He ensured you had whatever you desired, that you had a fine bed and comfortable, stylish new clothes. He secretly loved it when you were farther along and glowing in the court, happily telling everyone you were with your husband’s child. You were positive that Tyrion would spoil the child no matter what.

JAIME LANNISTER

As if your husband needed any more ego, he was all smiles and cockiness when you told him, almost reminding you of his old self. He’d pull you in his arms and wouldn’t let go until he was content, he did this whenever that happiness would strike him all over again. Jaime was surprisingly irritable with the maester and servants when you were feeling sick, not liking the idea of you being like this for months. Once the worst of it was over and you were really showing, he made a game of saying the most silly things to your stomach. You’d scold him for making you laugh too hard, and he’d want to feel the baby to insist that the child found him hilarious. Jaime called the child a boy and girl interchangeably, and he used all sorts of names you two thought up, figuring he’d eventually settle on one before the time came.

SANDOR CLEGANE

Anxiety shot through him when you told him, even if it shouldn’t have been surprising, given how often you two were together. You weren’t married, but that wasn’t what was bothering either of you. You took Sandor’s hand and comforted him, assuring him he’d be a wonderful father no matter what. His protectiveness was a lot before, but it was even moreso now, and you often scolded him that you weren’t some helpless girl. He worried most in the beginning when you were sick and had no appetite, hoping it wasn’t something worse. The best times were when your nausea and fatigue had passed and you were really showing. Sandor loved holding you close to him and feeling the baby kick; sometimes he buried his face in your neck and kissed you so you wouldn’t see how emotional he was getting.

BRONN

Bronn asked you if you were sure, then did the same thing the next day, and then again until you smacked his arm and told him to give it a rest. His apprehension was obvious, and you were dealing with enough stress, so you cornered him and made him tell you the truth. Bronn had shit for parenting, if one could even call it that, and he wasn’t so sure he could be even a partially good example to a child. You were comforted to know that his affection for you was stronger than ever, and he’d try to help, even if he was sure he’d screw it up somehow. The farther along you were, the more he’d bring you foods you asked for, or just coincidentally finding that specific Essosi tea you like so much. He had all sorts of ideas about the baby, how it was probably a boy and would look like him, even talking to your stomach as if the baby was right there and a full grown adult, besides. It made you laugh and alleviated any worries you had about him early on.

PETYR BAELISH

He would try to play it cool, giving you a sweet kiss and a congratulations, but it was easy to see how satisfied Petyr was. Even if you were married, it seemed like this was a final step he’d been waiting for, confirmation that you wanted him completely. He’d be so pleased that he’d make sure you had whatever your little heart desired, giving you lovely gifts and delicious sweets he’d bring in from all over, even if you insisted you didn’t need such things. Petyr wouldn’t mind what sort of child you had, he was happy enough watching you discuss names and plans with your friends. Once you were farther along and showing, he was more than glad to take your arm and walk you around the Red Keep, all but showing off your smile and glowing beauty. He secretly hoped you wouldn’t be content with just one child; the more he thought about it, the more Petyr considered he wanted two or three.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Even if it was part of your wifely duty to provide him with children, Stannis couldn’t help but be privately pleased at how happy you seemed. He’d ensure that right away, you’d have whatever you needed, even before you realized you needed it. There would be new dresses delivered to you before you noticed your current ones were getting a bit tight, and medicine to help with your appetite and nausea before you experienced such symptoms. He would also be very stubborn about making sure you limited your activity and rested; sometimes it’d be annoying how protective he was. You’d bluntly tell Stannis you weren’t a helpless girl all of a sudden, and he’d respond with equal bluntness that he just wanted you to be safe. Stannis actually had a few names he liked, and he’d try to hide how appreciative he was at you seriously considering them.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

He’d be so glad with the news that he’d scoop you in his arms at once, giving you a sweet kiss and thanking you. While Davos would occasionally worry about the age gap between you, the idea of having a child together would start pushing those doubts away. He loved getting to have a family with you, and hoped you would want more after this. He was good at finding teas and herbs to soothe your nausea and help you sleep better, and just for fun he’d give you several motherhood trinkets from Essos. He didn’t completely believe in their charms, but he figured they’d amuse you. You quickly made a habit of resting against him while he whittled and you two chatted about names and what the child might be like. By the time you were close to delivery, Davos had already made several cute wooden animals and ships for the baby.

MARGAERY TYRELL

The way Margaery doted on you, you’d think you were married to her and not the proper lord your parents arranged for you. Well, she didn’t mind the rumors. Ever since you were her handmaiden at a young age, you and Margaery had a close bond, one that some marriage to a man - or even this pregnancy - would get in the way of. She fawned over your glowy skin and curves, loving how your cheeks flushed at the compliments, and she ensured you had every comfort when you visited her. You lived close to Highgarden, and as of late you all but lived there. Margaery would ensure you two were alone so she could try to rub the soreness out of your back and chat about the baby’s name and what they’d be like. You knew once you had the child, especially if it was a girl, Margaery would be more of a second parent than an “aunty”.

BRYNDEN TULLY

Brynden was very taken aback when you told him, he asked if you were sure, and you confirmed it with a smile. It didn’t take long for him to get over the surprise, and soon he was amused at the idea of finally being married and having a child “like a proper lord”, what his brother nagged him about for years. Brynden was worried about being too old to be a father, and you were good at reassuring him about such a thing. Brynden wouldn’t have a preference for a boy or girl; he’d just be pleased to have an opportunity like this, although he would try to casually suggest names and pretend he wasn’t completely interested in your opinions on them. He’s the best at rubbing your aching feet and back when you’re tuckered out, and he’ll shamelessly insist how lovely you look with each day.

EDMURE TULLY

Edmure had been patiently awaiting the good news, he knew he wanted a big family and he was so glad to get started. He did have some worries about your health, since he knew Lysa had trouble conceiving, so he tried to overcome that by being doting and affectionate. To anyone else, this was his usual way with you, but you could tell there was some nervous energy behind his actions. Edmure wrote to Catlyn a few times, asking for her advice to deal with his nerves; he even wrote to Brynden (and promptly scoffed at the response he received). He made sure your favorite handmaidens were close at hand to help with anything you needed, but when he was home for the evening, he wanted to bring you whatever you needed. He got a knack for preparing your tea just the right way for when you were feeling woozy.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

Brienne’s happiness at your announcement was almost immediately placed with worry. She couldn’t help but think of how deadly it could be, how you’d gradually become more helpless and what things could go wrong once delivery came. She’d endlessly pester the maester with questions of what you should be doing and how she could help. Whenever she noticed you lifting something or going out to get something, she’d quickly volunteer herself to do it instead. It would get exhausting some days, but she would see her over protectiveness as justified. A good way to settle her down was to talk about all the things you two would teach the baby, like swordplay if it was a girl and how to clean a damn pair of boots properly if it was a boy.

RAMSAY BOLTON

He was fairly indifferent to the news, as he had no interest in family, but at least this would keep his father from giving him another tired lecture about an heir. Ramsay was actually the one who noticed it before you told him, seeing how pale and nauseous you were getting as of late. He did like to bring you back fresh deer and boar from his hunts, pleased with how heartily you ate it once it was cooked, and he liked how you’d hold to him when he carried you back to bed. As you began to get further along, he started to actually think what it’d mean for you to have a child. He became impatient and curious, wondering if the child would take after him or you, and the things he could teach them. You agreed to the archery and hounds, but only after the child was old enough.

ROOSE BOLTON

He made it very clear early in your marriage that he wanted an heir soon as possible, but you’re sure that was just an excuse to have you all to himself. He had the maester report to him as soon as it was confirmed, but he was still pleased to hear it from you. Roose was pleasantly surprised by how happy you were, and he was going to make sure you had everything you needed. His desire for you would be even greater, and he’d love to see the changes in your body as he touched and bathed you. He’d still play at his usual aloofness around his men, but his touches and affection once you two were alone said otherwise. Roose wouldn’t mind the gender of the child, even if a male heir was the “ideal”. He’d just want you and the child to be healthy, and safe - especially from the likes of Ramsay.

OBERYN MARTELL

He was beyond delighted to hear the news that his dear paramour was carrying his child, and Oberyn reminded you every other hour with his grin and tight hugs. It was adorable how, even with all his older children, he was still so happy about this one. As you got further along he’d want you to travel less and stay in Sunspear, and he’d make sure you were still amused with whatever you desired, whether it be parties or quiet evenings. His daughters would trickle in to say hello and visit with you, also pleased about having another sibling - they’d insist it would be another girl and would brainstorm names with you. Oberyn would already have ideas for her; he’d hold you in his arms while talking about all the things you both could teach her.

BERIC DONDARRION

He’d be so delighted that the dangers of a pregnant woman travelling with the Brotherhood wouldn’t occur to him at first. His first thought would be showering you in affection before sharing the good news with the rest of his men. You two would have serious talks about your safety; while Beric trusted in your skills, he still worried about your safety and the future a newborn could have with the Brotherhood. Some nights it kept him from sleeping, but at least he had you in his arms. What Beric knew for sure is you’d make a fantastic mother, as he’d seen you play with children in the villages they passed, and it melted his heart to think of you cradling and singing to a child you both had together.

GENDRY

Gendry sputtered and asked if you were sure, even if he knew you wouldn’t joke about such a thing. “Worry” was putting it lightly, as Gendry wasn’t confident he could be any kind of father. He knew he loved you and would protect you from anything, but he worried a bastard who had no father figure would only mess things up. Your support and reassurance would go a long way, and you’d notice he’d be quick to help when you were feeling ill, bringing you water, an extra pillow or tucking you in without needing to be asked. Pointing out this behavior would just make him blush to his ears, so you left it alone. Gendry would work extra hard at the forge to go to the market and surprise you with a cute toy or rattle for the baby.

#game of thrones imagine #got imagines #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #game of thrones

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trumantomlinson · 3 years ago

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He previously was employed by Combustion Engineering.

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random-imagines-blog · 5 years ago

Text

The Face of God (Daenerys with Child Oneshot)

Requested by: @paultiteuf360 Wordcount: 2808 Summary: You are a young, orphan boy who Daenerys finds upon reaching Dragonstone. You also have the power to see into the future, and you use that to change history.

Mother is God in the eyes of a child. And just like the dragons that were hatched in the fire beside Daenerys, you looked at her like she was the source of all love, kindness and nurture on this world. You were found as an orphan in Dragonstone, and no one could figure out how you could have gotten there. It was well fortified, and had not had a single soul living there since Stannis Baratheon, the former Lord of Dragonstone, had died during the wars. Being a young boy of only about six, you didn’t remember the former Lord, and kept your mouth shut about why you had been there in the first place. But just because you didn’t say, didn’t mean that you didn’t know. Fate had brought you here - the same fate that had given you the ability to see into the future. You knew that your destiny, and that of the whole Seven Kingdoms, would truly begin here - and only you were able to stop the destruction that you saw when you closed your eyes.

Missandei was the first one who came across you, huddled up in a fireplace in the kitchens, trying to stay as far away from the soldiers as you could. With their tarnished armor and their blank stares, they terrified you. You’ve seen what they do in the future and it was frightening. The beautiful young woman was able to coax you out with a song and a gift of food, and you slowly retreated from your hiding spot, taking her hand with your grubby little own.

After a quick wash with some rags, a bowl of stew, a goblet of water and a fresh tunic that was far too big for you but certainly better than what you had before, Daenerys finally was introduced to you. She came to see you in the kitchens, watching with a startled expression as you spooned bite after bite of the stew into your mouth. Your appetite reminded her of the Dothraki, but you were not as vicious. You used the spoon instead of your hands, which was a good sign.

The moment that your eyes connected, there was something magical that happened. You felt at peace, at home for the first time in your short life, and she felt something - something she hadn’t felt since she had a baby in her stomach. The maternal instinct took over her, in a way that overpowered even the love that she had for her dragons, whom she called her children.

She asked for stew of her own, for if it was good enough for you, it was good enough for her. And she sat at the chair next to you, watching with enjoyment as you ate. Once your stomach was full to the brim, and a healthy glow was upon your rosy cheeks, you climbed over to her lap and curled up there in the same way that you had in the fireplace, but this was much more comfortable. The guards in the kitchen looked on with surprise as their Queen, the Mother of Dragons, not only indulged in the little boy, but seemed to just as comforted by you as you were by her. Your fingers played with the white-blonde hairs that dangled near your face, not enough to hurt of course, but to feel the silk strands.

“My little Prince,” She said, kissing the tip of your nose.

Daenerys always made sure that you were within eyesight of her. After her previous experience, she wasn’t going to let anything at all happen to you. If you weren’t sitting on her lap, then you were usually with Jorah, who took the place of a father figure in your life. Even you, at this young age, could see how he looked at your mama, and that’s what helped to cement him as a father to you. He had a wooden sword made for you, since there was no way that Daenerys was going to allow you a real blade, and you two would play sword fight, with you often winning to your delight.

Despite all of the love and attention, you were not spoiled. You didn’t get feasts, but lived off of the same food as everyone else. You did get clothing made in your own size but it was mainly plain, for you would end up getting it dirty in your playing anyhow. You did your best to learn everyone’s names, including the UnSullied and the Dothraki, learning the tough syllables that were impossible for some adults. Your mama did want the finest things for you, but after seeing the appreciation that you had for the simple things, she changed her mind. You were just as happy with a whittled figure of a dragon than you would be with some mechanical thing.

The dragons themselves - Drogon, Rhaeal and Viserion - were utterly terrifying to you. You always hid behind your mama’s dress when they flew too close, though they didn’t threaten you the way that they did to others. They, like everyone else, saw the love that Daenerys had for you, and accepted you as their little brother.

Despite the love that you had for your new mama, you never told her about your ability. You never told a single soul. Even Lord Varys, who thought that he knew everything, knew nothing about your gift. You may just be a child, but you knew that telling would have bad consequences. You could stop bad things happening, but that would make worse things happen in the future. You just had to suck it up and try to understand your place in all of this.

It was the day that everyone was packing up to go to Winterfell. The war against the dead was going to begin, and you had already foreseen the outcome. It broke your little heart and you fell asleep crying most nights, facing away from your mother so she wouldn’t worry. You were going to lose so many of your friends.

“Come up, ride with me,” Daenerys said from her post on a horse, reaching down to help lift you. You shook your head, and saw the unfortunate look of hurt in her eyes.

“Can I ride with Jorah?” You asked, looking towards your father figure. “And then I’ll ride with you on the way back? Please, please, please?”

“If it pleases you, Ser Jorah,” Daenerys said, looking at her second in command. He nodded, and picked you up, sitting you between him and the reins. It felt nice to be near his warm body, and know that you were protected against anything that could come up and attack during the journey. But it was also bittersweet because you knew this was the last time that you were going to be able to ride with him.

Winterfell was horrible, and you never wanted to go back there. Though it was pretty at times with the snow falling, it was cold and it was dangerous. Being locked in the crypts with Uncle Tyrion didn’t make things better, for though you were old enough to understand that the dead shouldn’t be coming back to life, you knew that they would.

“Don’t put your knife away!” You cried out to the man that you thought of like an uncle, holding onto his arm as he was putting it into his sheath. You were full of terror, despite knowing that you were going to make it out of this. “The dead are coming!”

“We’re safe down here,” Lady Sansa said, gently. She ran her fingers through your hair. You didn’t dislike her, but you could see that she didn’t like your mama, so you were very wary. You pushed her away from you and retreated further into Tyrion.

“There are dead down here too,” You whispered to him, giving him the warning. The short man looked around cautiously at the crypts, and decided to keep his own weapon in hand, just in case. For he had noticed that some of the things that you had said tended to come to pass. He spoke of that to no one, keeping his suspicions to himself lest he cause an issue with you being called a demon.

After a couple of hours of careful watching, keeping close and trying to keep the cries of the young ones from escaping through the walls, the crypt was alive with the sound of fighting. The dead had risen, as you had predicted. Tyrion kept you hidden behind a statue of a dead king, then helped with what he could, saving a couple of lives in the process. Until finally, the moment came when the Night King was killed by that girl, Arya, and the dead fell, their last fight being a defeat. They could finally rest.

You were the first one out of the crypt when the doors were opened, being followed by Tyrion who was calling for you to slow down. You jumped over bodies, not looking below for fear of seeing a familiar face, and ran to where you knew your mama to be. She picked you up immediately in her arms, cradling you close, the fur from her jacket tickling at your face but you didn’t care because you could still smell her and she smelt like home.

King’s Landing was going to fall to ruin. You saw it the moment that Missandei was murdered in front of Daenerys and Grey Worm. You turned after seeing it, looking backwards at the soldiers that were behind you, having new thoughts about them after what your visions had foretold. They were going to become monsters. They were going to kill the innocent, they were going to destroy homes and families. And your mother - it was hard to believe it, but she was going to become the worst of them all. And she would be murdered as a consequence.

“You have to stop her Uncle Tyrion,” You said, standing straight and strong like an Unsullied in front of your uncle. “She’s not going to listen to the bells.”

Tyrion knew better than to question how you knew this. He sat in deep thought, looking at you, a young boy of just seven years old now, who had seen things that no one your age should have had to see. “We cannot stop the Queen from doing what she wants to do.”

“A lot of people are gonna lose their mamas and their papas. People who haven’t done anything wrong!”

“What are you talking about, little Prince?” Your mama’s voice came from outside of Tyrion’s tent as she walked in. This makeshift tent was only temporary, for he was to be taking you away from King’s Landing, back towards Winterfell after the sun had set. The time for negotiations was over, so Tyrion’s part was done - and she didn’t want you to see the injustices of war so closely at such a young age.

“Mama, why did you free the slaves?” You asked, turning to her with wide eyes, full of fear, tears tempting to fall. What you could see was her dead body in the arms of Jon Snow. Your beautiful mother, the person who saved you, who loved you. You couldn’t let this come to pass.

She scooped you up in her arms, sitting down on a chair with you on her lap, just like she had when she had first found you. Just like when the bonding had begun. “Because a person should never be owned,” She told you, putting a finger under your chin to make you look at her. “I answer injustice with justice, my love.”

“And will you show justice today and be fair, mama?” You asked, almost retreating to a baby like state in her arms. You didn’t want her to leave, didn’t want to take the risk of the horrible future happening. “Are you going to make King’s Landing our home?”

“Once I sit on the Iron Throne, all of the Seven Kingdoms will be our home,” Daenerys told you with a smile.

“But if you send in the dragons to destroy everything, there won’t be a home left,” You said, resting your head on her chest. You closed your eyes and heard the heartbeat. It was strong, just as she was. She remained quiet for a moment, stroking your hair, your face, while in thought. “And if you hurt good people and do bad things, then someone is going to get justice on you mama.”

She just kissed the top of your head, got up, and set you back down while you were sitting. “Get some rest, my love, you have a long journey tonight.”

A month later, you were sitting in the dining area in the castle of Winterfell. Your head was down on the table, and you were groaning. This is the longest that you had been away from your mother, and you were waiting for a letter, an appearance, anything! You were scared, constantly pacing, driving both Sansa and Tyrion crazy. But they didn’t know what you knew. They hadn’t seen what you had seen. Your mama could be dead right now, and a raven could be coming for Sansa and Tyrion to be at the trial of Jon Snow. You didn’t see what the future held right now, it was all up in the air.

“There’s someone approaching,” A guard called out, making you raise your head. Sansa tensed up in her own seat, where she was drinking water and was deep in thought. You might not have warmed to her still, but you didn’t blame her for being pensive, not with Jon and Arya over there.

“Who?” The Lady asked.

The door opened before the guard could say, and a man with messy black curls, covered in a large fur coat, entered the hall. He looked around, a few scrapes on his face but not the worse for wear. Your breath caught in your throat. Had your vision come true? Had he killed your mother, after she brought chaos to King’s Landing?

There were more footsteps, and then the roar of a dragon from outside. Drogon! You would know that sound anywhere! You leaped to your feet, bounding over the bench onto the table. You didn’t care that you may be scolded for it - your Mama was here! The very second that you saw the familiar white hair, plaited so prettily behind her ears, you jumped into her arms. And being your mama, she was expecting this very thing and caught you, holding you in your arms.

“Well?” Sansa asked, standing from her spot at the head table, looking at her brother.

“I would have brought you her head, but the crown was heavy enough,” Daenerys said, holding her head up high so everyone could see the golden crown which contrasted against her light hair. Her eyes flickered over to Tyrion who had stood up in amazement. He had assumed the worst with how you had been acting the last month, moping over something, be secretive. “Tyrion is the last Lannister alive,” She said, her voice loud and confident, echoing throughout the room. “The way that it should be, in my opinion.”

“I see,” Sansa said. She wasn’t too enthused over the new Queen, but at least it seemed her position was safe. She then realized that these were the only two coming into the hall. “Where is everyone else?”

“Resting in town. Food and water is being brought to the wounded soldiers. The dead will come here to be burnt or buried, as you wish it,” Daenerys was being more respectful to Sansa now, seeing as you had been fed, sheltered, and generally taken care of in her home. “I’ve come to bring my little one home with me. And my hand.”

“My Queen,” Tyrion said, bowing before her. “May I ask...”

“He betrayed us, going to her side.” Daenerys said pointedly. “He got what he wanted, and what he deserved.”

“Mama, is there still a King’s Landing?” You asked, looking up at her face with wide, attentive eyes.

“It will need a name change since there is no King, but yes, my love.” She stroked your cheek with affection, then hugged you again. “Oh, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too Mama,” You held her back without restraint, knowing how hard it was for her to control the Targaryen madness inside of her. All ended well - and no one would ever know just how truly you had intervened with fate.

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