#oh lysa

[melrosing]

What is the beef for the arryns 👀 ☕

the most interesting thing about them is their castle and there are better castles

[surpriserose]

“If game of thrones fans blamed male characters for their mistakes the way they blame female characters we would all be saying hoster tully caused the war of the five kings,” I say into the mic.

The crowd boos. I begin to walk off, when a voice speaks and commands silence in the room.

"He’s right,” they say. I look for the owner of the voice. there in the fifth row stands: george rr martin

[oh1theseus]

visenya boy-mom for better or for worse vs cersei’s psychosexual delusional boy-mom-ness is a duo i really desperately need to see. like i need them to fall in love but not in a good way. oh just the worst paring you’ve ever seen and it HAS to suck real shit. but no. maybe another universe.

[witchblade]

i mean by volume i guess he kills lots of guys. but not really developed characters

[dindjarinandlysakane]

Next chapter of Din/Lysa is written 🙌

I will post tomorrow if I get the chance

[musical-chick-13]

Also I want to point out that there ARE some horrible women in fiction that I genuinely don't like. Like the girl from fucking Oreshura.

[rriverrunning]

love house tully. super cool castle surrounded by water aptly named riverrun. produced the truly insane cat/lysa/edmure sibling dynamic. the original petyr baelish haters since 270-something AC. "oh yeah that's gay uncle brynden". had several generations named for the muppets. lords of the trident in a three sided castle with three house words. fish sigil and they make it work. made catelyn tully stark like that.

[eternalvoidseeker]

-Something in Robb’s tone troubled her. She smoothed out the paper and read. Concern gave way to disbelief, then to anger, and lastly to fear.

“This is Cersei’s letter, not your sister’s,” she said when she was done. “The real message is in what Sansa does not say. All this about how kindly and gently the Lannisters are treating her… I know the sound of a threat, even whispered.

They have Sansa hostage, and they mean to keep her.”

-Lady Mormont took her hand and said, “My lady, if Cersei Lannister held two of my daughters, I would have done the same.” The Greatjon, no respecter of proprieties, lifted her off her feet and squeezed her arms with his huge hairy hands. “Your wolf pup mauled the Kingslayer once, he’ll do it again if need be.”

-Robb's fingers brushed the pommel of his sword. "If I could I'd take his ugly head off. Sansa would be a widow then, and free. There's no other way that I can see. They made her speak the vows before a septon and don a crimson cloak."

Catelyn remembered the twisted little man she had seized at the crossroads inn and carried all the way to the Eyrie. "I should have let Lysa push him out her Moon Door."

Like what the hell are they even talking about anymore. Hopefully Sansa antis wake up one day and realise that nobody but them, will think that a 13 year old willingly married into the family that killed hers. If northern lords believed that women should totally attach themselves to their captors they wouldn't be marching against the Bolton's and trying to save "Arya". None of them are talking how "Arya" probably willingly married Ramsey. They wouldn't hold any judgment for Ramsey forcefully marrying lady Hornwood.

-And do you imagine the Hornwood men have forgotten the Bastard's last marriage, and how his lady wife was left to starve, chewing her own fingers? What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping?

Remember how they think that 15 year old Lyanna willingly ran away with 23 year old Rhegar. Oh wait they don't. But no they definitely will think that 13 year old Sansa willingly married to 26 year old Tyrion+ all the bad things they believe about him.

[kataraavatara]

i feel like we could move forward as a fandom if we all understood that the only way the Targaryens are significantly different than any other noble house in Westeros is brother/sister incest and dragons. that’s literally it. not defending brother/sister incest or war crimes dragon edition but it really annoys me when people stumble across problems in house targaryen that are there because they are endemic to all noble houses in westeros because the patriarchal feudal system is in fact bad and then act like they’ve discovered something. “House Targaryen is rotten, every second son live sin his brother’s shadow and daughters are just seen as walking wombs” oh buddy wait until i tell you about ned stark and lysa tully. “they conquered westeros they’re colonizers descended from the evil slave owning valyrians” ah yes as opposed to the starks who ruled over the north for 8,000 years with the power of friendship and democratic election, descended from the andals who very politely asked the children of the forest to leave their land

[cheriladycl01]

Billion Dollar Baby - Grid x Billionare! Reader x Lewis Hamilton (Rom) Part 2

Plot: Girlie loves Formula One, but she also loved Chaos and Drama so she offers the FIA/ the F1 Teams 300 million to do a race … for her under her rules!

You’d been working tirelessly with the FIA and all the teams, making sure that their cars were the same as the ones currently on track and that the teams still had enough time for their regular tasks within the team.

You’d been between the UK, Monaco, Italy and the US. Helping all the teams prepare, going round to get special one time sponsors involved in the name of charity and you were honesty exhausted.

You decided it was time for a break, and therefore time to call upon one of your holiday homes. You didn’t know whether you wanted to go to Greece or Mauritius. But you knew you just needed some time away.

You were walking around London looking for a new suitcase, your 10 year old Louis Vuitton had finally given up and was no longer able to be used. So you knew you needed to find something different.

“Do you guys like this one?” You asked the security guards that were with you. Your personal assistant was also supposed to be there, but since you were about to go on holiday she also decided to take her annual leave.

Apparently she got a last minute flight to Canada, and you knew she worked extremely hard to make your horrendously busy like a little easier so you knew this would be important for her.

“Mmmm very nice Miss” one smiles and you cock your head to the side with a little laugh.

“No passion, I definitely needed Lysa here” you sigh jokingly making security laugh.

“Miss, where do you wish to go after this? Harrods is close enough” he offers and you nod, knowing it was safely walkable.

As your walking you spot someone across the street from you, and before you can even look to see if there are any cars coming down the one way street you’re crossing the road to that individual.

“Lewis! Lewis! Hi!” You smile running over to him, your group of security chasing after you.

“Y/N? What are you doing in the UK?” He asks looking over you. He hadn’t seen you since the meeting with all the teams and the FIA, you looked more tired. Not that you looked bad tired, Lewis thought it was impossible for you to look bad at all, he’s seen you at your worst and still thought you were gorgeous.

“Just here before I go on holiday for a little bit. Most of my work is done with the teams so I wanted a little break from work and this race that I’ve been organising. I hope you’ll find it fun, and get a chance to see a new light of the sport” you smile calmly and be smiles back at you.

“Where are you going?” He asks, knowing you had a few comfort vacation sports and if he were to guess you’d be going to one of those rather than somewhere new.

“Mauritius” you smile and he grins, you guys always went there together. He was shocked that you hadn’t sold the Villa on after the two of you broke up considering how many summer or winter breaks you’d spent there.

“At the Villa? Or?” He asks.

“Mmmm at the Villa, say you guys have a nice little break now. Do you want to come with me?” You ask out if the blue.

“Oh, erm you want me to come with you?” He asks a bit shocked that you’d offered.

“Yeah for old time sake?” You smile awkwardly and he just coughs with a little laugh.

“Look, I thought about what you said and you were … are it for me too. And if you want to, I’m willing to try again. Only if … that’s something you wanted” you admit and he just stands there with his jaw dropped, the security guards are awkwardly trying to act as if they aren’t actually there.

“Y/N, I thought …” he says and you cock your head in confusion.

“You thought?” You push him to finish what he was about to say.

“You hated me in all honesty. And I thought you’d never give me another chance. I don’t even know if I deserve one with the way I ended things” he sighs.

“We needed things to end when they did Lewis otherwise it was going down a route neither of us would have been happy down. But I think we’ve both had time to grow since and I think part of me always knew if make my way back to you!” You smile at him and a soft grin breaks out on his face.

“Of course I’ll come with you! What are you doing right now?” He asks finally smiling and nodding at your security and saying a small little hello.

“Suitcase shopping the Dior one has officially been decommissioned” you smile and he nods knowing the exact one you were on about considering it was brought to every race, every business trip and every holiday you joined him on or he joined you on.

“Ah yes. The one that the spider from Qatar travelled back to the UK with us in” he laughs at the memory and how you both freaked out seeing the thick bodied brown spider that to you and Lewis thought could be some kind of Tarantula.

“Oh god don’t remind me! That was terrifying! Do you want to come help me look for a new one, we were about to go to Harrods” you offer and you smile at him.

“Yea, I think I’d like that!” He smiles taking your hand.

deuxmoi

Liked by y/user and 37,478 others

deuxmoi Spotted in London last night, y/user and lewishamilton ex partners … is there a rekindling of their relationship that ended in 2021? Or are they just hanging out as exes who bumped into each other. 📸 beckylecky2

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estiebestie: please omg mum and dad NEED to get back together

lecsainz: omg this wasn’t on my f1 bingo card

landoscurls: y/n ~ best WAG

-> valtteripeaches: she’s been my fav since 2016

avengermaxv1: damn thought that was done and dusted in 2021

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[turtle-paced]

Catelyn remembers Lysa as “the slender, high-breasted girl who'd waited beside her that day in the sept at Riverrun... [how] lovely and full of hope she had been.” This was early on in AGOT before she heard her father’s Tansy confession but even so, do you think that Lysa ever actually had hope for her marriage to Jon Arryn?

Also, how early on do you think her intense resentment of Catelyn began?

Augh, possibly my least favourite sentence from Catelyn's PoV. Describing her own freakin' sister as "high-breasted"??? Without an "oh no I hope her foundation garments aren't going wrong under that gown" and/or "lol what a wardrobe malfunction, it looks like her bra is climbing her neck" tagged on? Suspension of disbelief broken there. Thus writes someone who hasn't dealt with various boob containment devices almost every day since puberty.

Tangent aside, I think Lysa did start hopeful. Maybe not hopeful about her relationship with Jon Arryn himself, but that she would be able to have children and build a family. Alas.

Similarly, I think Lysa was long aware that Catelyn had personal qualities (and got attention for those qualities) that Lysa herself did not. I think it started to bite Lysa more deeply when Catelyn didn't even notice that the boy Lysa was in love with, loved Catelyn. I think it got worse as she dealt with a series of miscarriages and stillbirths, then a child with chronic health problems, while every year or two she'd hear that Catelyn had another healthy child. Then I think Littlefinger took advantage of all that misery building up in Lysa and made sure it got worse. What might have stayed a private tragedy for Lysa was used and abused as part of Littlefinger's revenge.

[strangesmallbard]

pondering an asoiaf war of the five kings au where ned decides to tell robert about cersei/jaime (maybe his death was less imminent or ned believes he’s honor-bound to tell him before he signs that document about joffrey), and in response, robert pulls an aegon 4 and legitimizes all his bastards right before kicking it. he tasks ned with finding and protecting his heir, conveniently not mentioning who that heir is.

of course, much would stay the same after that. for example: joffrey still executes ned, sansa is imprisoned, arya flees the red keep, etc. i think cersei still orders robert’s now trueborn kids killed, but with more urgency; news of the legitimization travels fast (varys helps spread it to destabilize the lannisters even more in preparation for young griff), so cersei and co have to work double time to refute the rumors and bury the evidence (the kids).

beyond robert’s kids, the biggest story change would be stannis’ arc. i think he’d also send people to find robert’s kids; he specifically wants to find robert’s eldest trueborn son, but instructs all newly baratheon kids sent to dragonstone. however, i think it’d be interesting if renly, rather than making his own claim, decides to throw his support behind edric storm. after all, a noble bastard could be more readily accepted and he’d have five years as his regent. to bolster edric’s claim, renly begins searching for the kids as well.

as a result, you have Many People looking for kids with black hair and blue eyes. i think gendry (+arya, hot pie, weasel, and lommy) wind up at dragonstone. lysa immediately sends mya there as well, not wanting the war on her doorstep, but she’s intercepted by renly’s team, who promptly take her to storm’s end. (mya’s pov chapter is vivid in my head; as she’s very comfortable in her role and responsibilities at the vale + she’s technically the eldest sibling overall, her perspective on Suddenly Being a Princess could be really interesting).

i’m unsure where bella rivers ends up; maybe she’s the only bastard found by cersei’s guards? i can’t think of a reason cersei would keep her alive except to psychologically torment her like she does sansa, but sansa already has that arc. OH maybe she’s the one who winds up with the brotherhood without banners instead of gendry? (i think gendry ends up there either way; him and arya sneak out of dragonstone at some point).

anyway, aside from plot points i haven’t quite worked out the “why” factor. why change these events? what is the overall purpose? which themes could be illuminated with this change? does this change affect jon’s story at the wall or dany’s story in meereen at all? and so on. but if this au has inspired any ideas (even lore corrections LMAO), i’d love to hear them!

[vampirevatican]

How do you think the slashers would react to MC/Final girl admitting that they have feelings for them?

okay so doing my best here, bc someone else has done it so now im throwin' my hat in the ring.

Ghost

Dude has serious trust issues, and a heavy wall built up ever since his first broken heart. Not like he doesn't admire what lysa did, but it's not like it didn't hurt him either. He's not into the idea of being played again, so that's why he wont stop pestering them over it. Infact he gets into more fights just to see if you'll say it again. If that doesn't work he's constantly teasing with, "Oh you know you love it." and seeing them blush is enough to make him happy.

It all happened so fast. One minute you were seconds away from cussing him out and it all started with him simply being an asshole. "Because I love you, jackass!" The silence between you two was unbearable but not as bad as- "Say that again."

Leather

He only receives it if you both have a rare moment together, later in story, and if its a little earlier after the feelings are fresh? Then they've gotta constantly prove and remind him that they truly love him.

He had only a face his mother could love. A face that made him ugly as sin and a history even uglier than that. Yet here you were, showering him with love. "Leather, I love you. I truly, unconditionally, irrevocably love you." He's pulled into the moment when you hold his hands as you continue. "And I need you to believe that, to trust me."

Jay

We need to stop babying him. His intellect is there, it's a matter of tapping into it and him switching the lights on or off. He is cute, yes but also deadly. He is unpredictable. With that being said he knows what you mean, but to be faced with it past something he's usually had, it's different in the same way that it's different for mike. It's new.

"I love you too!" He said it so quick and loud while scooping you up in a hug. "You're my truest friend!!" He only puts you down when you said 'no' but before he can pout you hold his hand and say. "More than friend's jay." Looking into your eyes he can sense it and whispers before going to kiss your knuckles. "Special friend?" When you nod at him he's even more giddy and is covering your face and neck with kisses.

Mike

At first he figured you were just stupid, but when he felt it himself he wondered if it really meant something. And when he stopped thinking about you being a plaything, when he started to see his claim of "Mine." as more than "Mine to kill."

This staring contest had been going on for who knows how long, but something about it didn't exactly reek of embarrassment. It was more like the both of you were trying to read each other's minds. However what broke the silence, is something that startled the both of you... for different reasons. "I lov-" You quickly grab his hand as your eyes go wide staring at them, contest broken and a smile showing up on his usually blank face. "Yours.... Yours from the start. Mine?" With your restated confession he seems to smile more, and confirm again. "Yours. From the start."

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Jaime Lannister didn’t think Robert Arryn would live long to breed, and he most likely had little interaction with him. Do you think Jon Arryn thought the same? Do you think he regretted marrying lysa, especially with how she turned out?

Correction: Jaime and Robert Arryn lived in the same castle for the first six years of Robert's life. Jaime was aware Robert was still breastfeeding at the age of four. Jaime undoubtedly witnessed several incidents where Joffrey called Robert cruel names, and probably the incident where Joffrey slapped him with a wooden sword. (Which I imagine took place in the training yard, where the Kingsguard frequently hang out.) Jaime probably saw more than one of Robert's seizures, as he had the "shaking sickness" from birth. Jaime has full context to judge Robert's fitness for survival, even if he does so coldly and with Westeros-typical ableism.

I don't know what Jon Arryn thought exactly, but the fact he continued to care for Robert and didn't bring his great-nephew Harry Hardyng to the Eyrie (as Randyll Tarly surely would have done) suggests that no, he hadn't given up on his son. In fact, Jon was planning to take Robert away from Lysa and send him to be fostered at Dragonstone:

[Catelyn] glanced at her nephew and sighed. “The boy is utterly without discipline. He will never be strong enough to rule unless he is taken away from his mother for a time.” “His lord father agreed with you,” said a voice at her elbow. She turned to behold Maester Colemon, a cup of wine in his hand. “He was planning to send the boy to Dragonstone for fostering, you know… oh, but I’m speaking out of turn.” — AGOT, Catelyn VII

“The boy is weak and sickly,” Lord Stannis objected. “Even his father saw how it was, when he asked me to foster him on Dragonstone. Service as a page might have done him good, but that damnable Lannister woman had Lord Arryn poisoned before it could be done…” — ACOK, Prologue

So Jon evidently believed that Robert could grow stronger, as long as he was away from his mother. But this pissed Lysa the hell off:

“I proposed that Lord and Lady Arryn foster two of my grandsons at court, and offered to take their own son to ward here at the Twins. […] Lord Arryn wouldn’t have him, or the other one, and I blame your lady sister for that. She frosted up as if I’d suggested selling her boy to a mummer’s show or making a eunuch out of him, and when Lord Arryn said the child was going to Dragonstone to foster with Stannis Baratheon, she stormed off without a word of regrets and all the Hand could give me was apologies. What good are apologies? I ask you.” —Walder Frey, AGOT, Catelyn IX

and so she killed Jon (under guidance from Littlefinger and with the help of Pycelle's malpractice).

Again, I don't know exactly what Jon was thinking regarding his choice to marry Lysa, but also... I don't actually care? Oh, so when you were in your 60s, you married a "soiled" girl young enough to be your granddaughter because you were desperate for an heir, got her pregnant nine times in your loveless marriage, and only had one chronically ill child survive the miscarriages and stillbirths? Sucks to be you, Jon, and I'm glad Lysa outlived you.

[agentrouka-blog]

I really don't understand that everyone including book characters blame Cersei for upbringing of her children. As if Robert and Jaime are the best fathers or role models for them. If Cersei 'used' her kids as piece of power for herself then Tywin, Tyrion and even Kevan are using them as pawns for their schemes and can even hurt them.

I mean, Myrcella and Tommen are pretty adorable, compassionate, intelligent little cherubs, so I suppose Cersei isn't that incompetent, then?

Wait, she doesn't get credit?

She only gets the blame for Joffrey's personality defects?

Oh, right, of course. That's from the same school of thought that blames Catelyn for every flaw her children have and praises Ned for every good quality. And even people who are not Catelyn's children at all!

Or Lysa, she's the sole reason for Sweetrobin's imperfections. No other adults or parents were involved ever.

The fathers have no influence. Especially if they are womanizing, violent drunks who ignore their kids 95% of the time and knock out their baby teeth the rest of it. <3

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter three : the smitten paladin (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : reader does some reading

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. Elaine and Lysa both seemed to sense that you were back in slightly better spirits and Lysa doesn’t bother to ask as she fetches you a dress that isn’t blue. You want to protest when she emerges from the closet with a simple green gown but you bite your tongue. Maybe he’ll like it. 

You don’t care. Why should you care? Why the hell are you already sweating? Nothing has changed. He did one nice thing for you, so you forgive him. But you still don’t care. 

Well… you care enough to ask them to leave your hair down, which they do. And you care enough to ask them to leave your face alone. (Save for some thin golden eyeliner.) You dismiss the girls with a thank you and give yourself just a moment alone. 

You’re going to have a normal day. Not a great day, and not a good day. Just a normal day. You are going to go to the library today and you’re going to read. And you are going to talk to the Mandalorian. You are going to patch things up. Oh gods, what if he doesn’t want to patch things up? What if he thinks you’re just some unstable, bellyaching princess? Stop caring what he thinks. Normal day. Just go out there before he comes in here. 

You take the book he had given you and you tuck it under your arm as you go out to greet him. As expected, he is there, just outside the door, and as expected he doesn’t speak first, so you do it instead. 

“Good morning, Mando.” 

He takes his time, observing your mood, his visor trained on you. You suddenly feel feverish. 

“Morning, princess.” His voice is careful, almost like he’s testing the waters. You don’t know how to tell him you aren’t mad anymore, or that you’re okay now. You’re pretty sure both are true. So you just head towards the library.  

“Come on sparkles.” Is all you say as you start walking. The silence isn’t necessarily comfortable but at least it feels bearable. Once there you settle into your familiar positions, you, seated in the reading nook, him, pulling up a chair across from you. You hopelessly want to say something but you don’t want to come off as desperate, and honestly you’re so anxious at this point you’re worried you’ll throw up if you try to speak. So you take out the book, making sure he can see the cover. Hoping he takes it as a peace offering, you pick it up from chapter two, where you’d left off after last night. And that is how you stay for several hours.

You read, flipping through the chapters of what ends up being a pretty corny book. It’s a predictable tale of forbidden love, the daughter of a blacksmith falling in love with a knight, blah blah blah, a little dull but entertaining enough to keep your attention for the most part. So much so that you’re able to completely forget that your every move is being watched. 

Almost. 

Because you get to chapter six, and suddenly, the book is… raunchier than you expected it to be. 

And it’s sweltering in the library out of nowhere and you’re pretty sure you can’t blame Naboo this time. 

You’re hyper aware of him now. 

That he’s watching you. Well he’s always watching you, always has been, but now you can’t stop thinking about it because you’re sitting here, reading porn, and he’s sitting there, watching you. 

You should close the book, take a break, get some water. 

But you don’t. 

Because suddenly the book is kind of good. For some reason you’re suddenly engrossed by the story of Oskar and Dorthea. That’s what you tell yourself. That you are captivated by the storytelling, not the way Oskar’s large hands are currently clutching Dorthea’s heaving bosom. You wonder if Oskar is wearing gloves when he does it. You should stop reading. 

You can’t do this. 

But… you have been neglecting certain urges of yours since arriving on Naboo. And now it’s been over three weeks and to say that you’re pent up would be putting it lightly. 

So what’s the harm in reading something a little risqué? It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, after all life as a newlywed wasn't exactly going the way you thought it would, so maybe this would help relieve a little bit of the stress that you’re very obviously suffering from at this point. So you allow yourself to read on, and everything is fine until she starts taking off his armor, because you can see a certain armor wearing nuisance sitting just over the top of your book. You start imagining it before you can stop yourself and the all too familiar heat washes over you.

This is the part where you remind yourself to stop.

Or… 

You could indulge, just this once. There’s nothing wrong with that, an innocent little fantasy. It will help you enjoy your book more if you imagine the characters more clearly. And it’s so easy after that, to imagine Oskar the paladin in Beskar, funnily enough he really does remind you of Mando. He’s sarcastic and he’s witty but he is also rather gentle with the blacksmith's daughter when he needs to be. 

He’s also quite rough with her when he needs to be. 

You can’t help but wonder if Mando is similar to Oskar in that regard as well. 

Okay you definitely can’t do this.

Unless of course you’re thinking about Oskar. There’s nothing wrong with that. He isn’t real. You can fantasize about him and it would be perfectly acceptable. You should do that instead. Fantasize about the not real character in your book and not on the very real Mandalorian sitting several feet away from you. 

Just for a minute. Just to help relieve some of the tension that has been building in your body for weeks now. This is the smart and healthy thing to do, lest it spiral completely out of control. This is a good thing, this will dissipate the fog that has been clouding your judgment. 

So you think about Oskar. Just Oskar. Stare at the pages of your book and think about Oskar. Tall, dark, and handsome Oskar.

He’s probably downright barbaric with it. Probably takes what he wants, he’s such a jackass. You bet he gives it just as hard as he takes it though, that overconfident prick probably loves it when you just fall to pieces for him. 

Not you.

Dorthea. 

Not him.

Oskar.

Think about Oskar. 

Is he vocal? He’s always so quiet but when he does talk it’s like he can’t shut up. You get the sense that he likes feeling smarter than you. Or whoever it is you’re imaging in this scenario. He’d probably be just as rude in the bedroom. Just absolutely wreck you and then call you sweet names and his words would be kind and warm but he would use that condescending tone he uses when he knows he’s winning, and he’s always winning. You hate that he’s always winning, maybe you should come up with some rehearsed comebacks. Or would that be lame? He’d probably see right through that.

Oskar. You’re thinking about Oskar. 

For Makers sake think about Oskar.

Oskar probably doesn’t have the patience to undo Dorthea’s complicated dresses. He probably just rips them right off of her, Oskar probably doesn’t even take the time to remove his helmet. For no reason in particular. He probably leaves it on, too consumed by his feral, untamed, need to ravage her. To devour her entirely with his hands, his stupid, pointlessly, gloved hands. He might lift the helmet enough just to bite the fingertips of the gloves to rip them off as swiftly as possible. Or maybe he’d let you- Dorthea , sink her teeth into them, make her remove them. 

It’s unbearably hot now, and people sweat when they get hot.

That’s what you tell yourself when you feel a wetness pooling in a place you cannot think about right now lest you tear your dress off right here in front of him in the library to deal with it. 

He could push you up against the shelves, no one ever comes in here. He could bend you over the reading nook you were currently sitting atop, or you could just join him in that chair, stare down into his visor and let him know who’s in charge. 

Because you hate him. Obviously.

You want to be in charge because you know he’d detest that. You want to watch him melt in your hands, beg you for more. That’s the only reason. To see him reduced to nothing but a man, not this statue of steel and wit that he is constantly portraying. Just a man, you want to be the one thing on this entire stupid planet that makes him nothing but a man.

You definitely aren’t thinking about Oskar right now. 

This doesn’t mean anything. 

Stars, what has gotten into you today? You need to get laid. That’s gotta be it. Back on Hoth you were a princess without a husband, it was easy to find boys in your colony who would happily bed you whenever you desired. But not here, here you have a husband who won’t bed you, (thank the gods.) and an unbearable bodyguard who you can’t even see the face of so Maker why can’t you stop thinking about him. You could go to the market in the city, probably find a vibrator or something pretty easily. But you’re the princess of a very respected royal family now, you can’t exactly go strolling into a sex shop in broad daylight. And then of course there’s the Mando of it all. You can’t help but wonder what his reaction to that would be, would he follow you into that kind of establishment? He’d have to, right? He’s followed you everywhere else. What would he think if he saw you buying yourself a toy to keep you company? He has to know at this point that Kodo isn’t exactly satisfying your needs. He has to understand that you have needs, most people have needs. Does Mando have needs?

Does he ever think about your needs when he’s satisfying his?

Don’t. 

You have to say it to yourself now. 

Your face is surely bright red at this point, you consider if that’s something he likes. Does he like how easily riled up you are? How flustered you get at just the thought of him? Okay you were certainly overindulging at this point. You had to stop, there has to be a line and that line certainly is imagining what he might find attractive.

“Why don’t you try sounding it out.” He catches you off guard, unmoving as he speaks. 

“What?” Maker, are you panting? Pull yourself together woman. 

“I assume you’re stuck on a word, you’ve been on that page for nearly 15 minutes. Try sounding it out.”

Usually this behavior from him is the perfect thing to stop any untoward thoughts. Why isn’t it working? Why do you suddenly wanna shut him up in a completely different way?

“You’re a funny guy, have you considered being a comedian or do you just really like being a glorified babysitter?” 

“I really like being a glorified babysitter.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You loathe him. 

“Lucky you.” 

“Lucky me.” 

At least things are okay between you two. Things seem okay. This is normal. There’s a relief to be found in knowing that your relationship, (albeit antagonistic) seems to be repaired. That is until he of course has to ruin it by opening his mouth. 

“How’s the book?”

Great.

“It’s good. Thank you for returning it to me…” 

“Of course.” You hope he’ll drop it but it’s him so of course he doesn’t. “What’s it about?” You can hear the faux innocence practically dripping through the modulator. There’s no way he’s actually doing this. 

“I don’t think you’d like it.” 

“Why not? You have no idea what I like.”

Okay this has gone from inappropriate to downright intimate. What's his end goal here? You know that he can’t seriously be doing this. Maybe he’s playing some sort of game with you? Maybe he’s playing a game of chicken, if that’s the case then you certainly aren’t going to lose, and let him win? Hell no. 

“It might be a little too intense for you.” You raise a single eyebrow, his move.

“Oh really? How so?” He leans back in the chair now. For Makers sake does he have to spread his legs so obscenely wide. 

“Isn’t there some kind of Mandalorian vow of celibacy?” You have no idea but you plaster a naive look on your face. 

“Nothing in the creed about that, princess.” How does he make the word princess sound so vulgar? Why is there a rush of molten heat through your veins when you find out he isn’t celibate. 

This doesn’t mean anything. 

“Oh? But I thought you weren’t allowed to take the armor off?” This shouldn’t make you perspire as much as you are. You aren’t doing anything wrong, you’re having a conversation, it’s not like you’re cheating on your husband by having a conversation. 

“Just the helmet.” You knew that, of course, but it’s still a shame. You’d love to give his mouth something to do other than taunt you. 

You need to get out of this library. 

“Oh.” Great quick thinking. Real impressive comeback you moron. 

“So?”

“So…?” 

“The book, what’s it about?” 

Of course he isn’t going to drop this. You should lie, this conversation can escalate very quickly if you’re not careful and considering how close you are to sticking your hand up your dress right here in front of him, you better be careful. 

“It’s a cute little love story about a girl and a knight.” 

He hums softly like he’s considering something while you consider lobbing the book at his head. 

“Sounds charming.” Not a good sign that you can hear the derisive tone through the modulator already. “So what are you stuck on?”

Your eyes meet the page you’d left open while you were daydreaming, you manage to keep a straight face but you’re not exactly sure how you’re gonna ad-lib your way out of this seeing as Dorthea is currently bent over a hay bale in the stables and Oskar is currently “thrusting his pulsing member into her damp maidenhood.” Maker, this book is garbage. 

You know what, why not push back? He always manages to tease you into silence or reduce you to a stuttering blushing mess, so why not grab at this chance to get the upper hand? He’s not the only one who can catch people off guard. 

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?” You hold out the book at arms length and turn it ninety degrees. It isn’t a picture book but you still think it’s a bit funny to furrow your brow and pretend. 

It works, he’s silent. Too silent, you worry you’ve gone too far again but after a few beats the modulator crackles to life once more.

“Didn’t realize the book had pictures, I must have missed them.” He crosses his arms and tilts his head ever so slightly. 

Dank farrik. Why couldn’t you go one conversation without him dropping some ridiculous bomb that makes you look like an idiot, it’s like he’s dedicating his days to outsmarting you rather than protecting you. More importantly, you need to address the bantha in the room.

“You read this?” You don’t bother hiding the disbelief on your face, he already knows he’s got you so what's the point. 

“You’re not the only one who’s bored, princess, when you’re alone, I’m alone with you. One of the many perks of silently standing behind you all the time. Someone had to go clean up the books you dropped, thought I’d give one of them a read.” You can’t believe this.

“So you’ve read The Smitten Paladin? ” The confusion muddling your brain right now is downright overwhelming, worst of all is now you can’t stop thinking about him reading the filth you’ve been enjoying. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell you how it ends.”

Maker, you want to chuck the book at him so bad right now, but you know it won’t stop his smug tone that fills the air between you. You need to get out, you need to be in your chambers and far, far away from the obnoxious, egotistical, self-righteous Mandalorian. So you stand up and close the book and start walking, of course he’s fluid in the way he matches you, almost like he anticipated your departure.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to spoil the happy ending.” Is all you can mutter out as you make haste towards your chambers, refusing to look at him the entire way. 

This doesn’t mean anything. ✩

You cannot lock your door fast enough. You don’t bother turning on any lamps, you just collapse down on the edge of the bed and hike your dress up, no sense in wasting half an hour trying to get it off, not when there are far more important matters to attend to regarding getting off.  

You waste no time shoving your hand down the front of you underwear, you’ve never been so thankful for all of the layers in your gowns because you’re soaked through your panties, you’re fingers are small and nimble so you easily swipe two digits through your folds, scooping up a bit of your wetness, back already arching as you just say fuck it and bury both fingers into your cunt. 

The shaky sigh that leaves your lips is downright pornographic. Three weeks of pent up frustration all crashing down on you now as you bring your other hand up to cover your mouth, you start grinding against your palm, haphazardly doing everything in your power to put some friction against your swollen clit. Your hand can’t muffle your moans entirely as you curl your fingers against that spot that makes you sob into your wrist, you bite down onto the meat of your palm just below your thumb but you can’t stop the noises that slip from you as you curl your fingers a bit faster, thrusting them in and out of your drenched hole. 

You wish your fingers were thicker, there’s barely any stretch with how small yours are, you can hit all the spots you need to push yourself towards that delectable edge but you can’t help but crave a little more. You don’t even bother trying to stop the inevitable, you’re too far gone at this point. Might as well let your mind wander to what it needs to to finish the job.

After all, it doesn’t mean anything. 

How long does he wait outside your door before dismissing himself? With his helmet’s capabilities he could certainly hear what’s going on in here, is he out there right now? Eavesdropping as you fuck your own hand. Is he straining against his flight suit as he stands on the other side of that wall. Acting like he’s there to defend you when in reality he just wants to listen in, give himself to think about later. Or is he just palming himself through his trousers, not wanting to wait. 

Realistically he went back to his own chambers the moment you closed the door. 

You might be giving yourself a little too much credit but it’s your fantasy so you get to think whatever you need to get you there. Like why is the helmet kind of hot now? Was it always hot or are you just really horny right now? There’s just something so erotic about not being able to see his face, not being able to read his emotions behind the steel facade he puts up. He’s got so many utilities and attachments, it must be hard to get through all the layers. Might be nice if he left most of it on, took off just enough to get the job done. Does he have cuffs? If he’s an ex-bounty hunter he probably has cuffs. You know he has a blaster and a bunch of other weapons you don’t fully understand, you kind of wish someone would ambush you just so you could see him in action. Honestly he’s so terrifying to most people you’re pretty sure you might go your entire life without being attacked. He definitely has cuffs. He could storm in right now, cuff your hands above your head and finish what you started.

His fingers would probably work better than yours. You rock your hips down against your hand now as you can feel yourself slipping just the tiniest bit closer to that edge. You haven’t seen his hands but you can imagine. Even without the gloves just one of his fingers was probably as thick as the two you were working in and out of yourself currently. 

Maker, with the gloves on he would probably have to work to get just one finger inside you. 

You cum embarrassingly fast at the thought. It actually catches you off guard as you grind your palm against your clit just so and you’re seeing stars, soaking your already drenched panties as you withdraw your hand and collapse in a heap onto the bed, wiping your fingers off on the sheets. (You don’t sleep in this bed anyway so who cares.) 

You decide it’s best to ignore anything you thought about in your sex-crazed state. You can’t be held accountable for anything you think of to get yourself across the finish line, you aren’t yourself in those circumstances. 

It doesn’t mean anything.

It can’t mean anything. 

Minds wander, people think of all sorts of things when they’re blinded by lust. Hell, back home you’d once thought about a medical droid to get you there.

So it doesn’t matter.

And it certainly doesn’t mean anything, you were pent up, you see him all the time, now that you’ve taken care of it, it won’t happen again.

Now that you’ve taken care of that you’re sure you’ll be back to normal, no more day dreaming about unattainable men who you despise. You close your eyes for a few minutes. Chest heaving as you struggle to fully recover from your hasty orgasm. 

You give yourself some time to just lay like that, eyes closed, trying to steady your breath, you probably shouldn’t sleep, you haven’t gone to dinner yet but after such a shamefully swift and powerful climax you're positively drained. (Literally and figuratively.) So it won’t kill you to close your eyes for a few minutes. 

You don’t know how much time passes but before you even know what’s happening you're standing in front of the mirror, hair disheveled. 

You can’t get your dress off, can’t twist your arms behind you to reach the corset laces. You don’t want to wake Elaine or Lysa, you aren’t sure how late it is but you just can’t seem to unlace the bodice by yourself, you’re considering just sleeping in the infernal thing at this point. In your struggle you don’t hear the door open but you watch in the mirror as a familiar silver figure envelops you. How long had he been out there? What the hell was he doing here at this time of night?

“You look like you need a little help there princess.” The familiar crackle of the modulator consumes your senses, watching in the reflection of the mirror you can see the slow and deliberate removal of his gloves as he undoes your bodice, with a practiced agility. Everything is fuzzy. You want so badly to drink in every part of him that he is willing to give to you but it’s almost too much for your brain to comprehend right now. He takes his time with it, like he’s drawing it out. Tenderly pulling every string loose until you can slip out of the gown with ease. 

You let it fall to the ground. 

He stares at you in your reflection, his large bare hands wrap themselves around your exposed midriff as you’re left only in your undergarments for his eyes to devour. He’s so leisurely about it, not wanting to miss an inch. His fingertips dance across the bare skin of your stomach, it takes every ounce of restraint in you to not arch yourself back against him, you can’t stand the way he makes you want to throw your dignity to the wind. With the two of you facing the mirror like this you can see everything. His thumb begins to stroke the lace of your bra ever so slightly while his other hand skims against your sternum. His touches were so light that if you weren’t having a physical reaction to them you wouldn’t even be truly sure he was touching you at all. 

“Did you wear that pretty dress for me, princess?” Maker, you must have died and gone to heaven. His voice, his stupid voice. His stupid gravely voice that left you weak in the knees no matter how often you heard it. “You looked so good, I knew you’d wear green today, so eager to please me…” The baritone of it goes straight to your core, and speaking of straight to your core, his left hand is traveling downwards ever so gradually. “Tell me what it is you want.” 

You suppose this is it, moment of truth. He wants to hear what you have to say. You could tell him to fuck off, right here, right now. And honestly you’re positive he would leave if you told him to. You’re married, unhappily. But that doesn’t make this okay. Nothing could make this okay. Except for the way his hands clamp down on your waist just hard enough to make you whine but not hard enough to bruise. Well, that’s enough to cloud your judgment enough to make this okay. 

“Tell me.” His palms begin to knead the soft flesh of your abdomen and you swear the sensation of that alone has him groaning and rutting against you from behind. 

This view is obscene, watching him grope you. It’s a real spectacle he’s making, holding you up on your shaky knees in front of the floor length mirror so you can see everything he’s doing to your body. 

“Use your words, princess. Speak up.” You didn’t think his voice could get more husky; he's practically growling. It’s a good thing he’s supporting you slightly because his words make your knees buckle. 

Oh he loves this, loves having you so unraveled by him that you can’t even tell him what you so desperately need from him. You can feel just how much he loves this against your lower back right now.

“I want to hear you say it, sarad'ika. ” And that’s all it takes to break your resolve. Those two words you couldn’t remember no matter how hard you tried, trickling out of his modulator and you’re willing to surrender to the feelings you’ve been fighting for longer than you’d like to admit. So you say it, you admit it out loud for the first time. You admit it to yourself for the first time. 

“You. I want you. ”

And you wake up. Still in your dress, still laying on the edge of your bed, still alone. 

Fuck.

Well, that might mean something.

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