#richard madden fanfiction

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Update: 2023-12-16

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Robb Stark stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✠ Queen in the North by thebestandworstdayofjune • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Your parents sent you to live with the Starks at a young age, and ever since then, you seemed to fit perfectly, maybe even more than you had ever noticed.

✠ United in Fear by justfandomwritings • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros... [No kingdom] could agree on where they were from or how they came to be... [However,] all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift."

✠ A Lord Needs A Lady by ardentmuse • 16+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: Exhausted and overwhelmed, you sneak away from the king's feast into the god's word to take a dip in Hot Springs. However, things get more heated than you bargained for when the heir of Winterfell interrupts your bath.

✠ A Queens Desire by talesof-old • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Robb finds the idea of you having children a little too much to handle."

✠ Be My Queen by mylittlefandomfanfictions • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[Robb and you have been in love for many years]. Now that he is King in the North, he has chosen you as the woman he wants to... make his Queen. There's just [the issue of] asking for your hand..."

✠ Best Friend by axelsagewrites • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "After a decade of friendship Robb is finally able to recognise his love but only after his best friend starts looking for a husband that isn't him."

✠ Betrayal by fearlessmercenaryimagines-blog • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Before the war everything was so different, Robb and [you] were deeply in love… Robb was an great husband and an incredible father... [You] were the perfect family unit and nothing would ever separate them or so [you] thought."

✠ Cloak by axelsagewrites • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: When the reader returns to winterfell after being attacked she finds herself having night terrors again and only one person is able to make them stop.

✠ Danger that Befalls You by justauthoring • 16+ • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: When Rob left for war, he requested you, his wife, remain in Winterfell and look after his brothers. He thought it would be safer; little did he'd believing you vulnerable to Theon, following the Iron princes betrayal.

✠ Feasts and Possessiveness by letsasoiaftogether • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When Joffrey takes a worried some interest in you, Robb's betrothed, the young wolf struggles to keep his jealousy in check; you assure him that he's the only man that will ever hold your heart.

✠ First and Last by ijustwant2write •

Summary: {…}

✠ Flowers by fearlessmercenaryimagines-blog •

Summary: The daughter of a simple yet well-respected flower merchant in Winterfell …

✠ Good Girl by axelsagewrites • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Good Night Dear Husband by axelsagewrites •

✠ I Miss You by axelsagewrites • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You] misses spending quality time with [your] husband when the war is raging and draws him back into bed."

✠ Jealousy by hearmeroarasoiaf • 16+ • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Imagine being a Lannister and Robb makes you jealous by flirting with someone else."

✠ Lady Lannister by darkdevasofdestruction • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "The first time [you] met, it was love at first sight. He favoured his Tully side, with gorgeous icy-blue eyes and shiny auburn hair, charming every lady in the North with a simple smile and wink."

✠ Lady Stark by evieurusrex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: the day Rob met, you was the day, his world turned upside down, and neither of you could be happier about it.

✠ Longing￨Prt. II by mylittlefandomfanfictions • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "Robb Stark is your best friend, but he's also the man you're in love with. Now he's away at war and you want nothing more than for him to come home."

✠ Lord and Lady of House Stark by hiatuswhore • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Oh to be young and in love. Foolish really, in the Game of Thrones there's no room for love. Only life and death."

✠ Marriage Night by axelsagewrites • 〔F〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "After your arranged marriage ceremony you and your new husband finally have alone time for the first time."

✠ May I Have this Dance by mylittlefandomfanfictions • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "When Robb happens upon you and his siblings teaching Rickon how to dance, the young boy insists Robb join them."

✠ Provoked by Jealousy by bluesfortheredj • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✠ Red Revenge by julessworldd • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✠ Sometimes by luna-writes-stuff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You have been betrothed to Robb for a while now, but a his royal duties after Bran fell lay heavy on his health, you force him to take a break, in which he rants to you about his doubts over Theon's questioning words."

✠ Sweet Girl by axelsagewrites • 〔M᜶F〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: …

✠ Wolf's Territory, the by mylittlefandomfanfictions • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "[Catching] the eye of Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer [quickly recognizes] Robb's feelings for you, antagonizing the young wolf with his relentless flirting. You, [however,] can't understand why Robb is so angry."

✠ Awkward Arrangement by hearmeroarasoiaf • 16+ • 〔F〕 •

✠ Always There by blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms • 〔A᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

✠ Catelyn's Ward by megsironthrone • 〔C〕 •

✠ Cozy in Your Arms by the-dendrophile-bookdragon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Direwolf Pups by megsironthrone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Distraction by multi-fandom-imagines8 • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Grief by multifandomhaven • 〔C〕 •

✠ Hidden Feelings by bonniebird • 〔F〕 •

✠ I Can't Wait by you-plus-them • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✠ Injury by megsironthrone • 〔F〕 •

✠ King's Envy, the by bonniebird • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ My Wife by justauthoring • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ No Words by fallatyourfeet • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✠ Outside the Norm by megsironthrone • 〔F〕 •

✠ Over the Moon by delicrieux • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✠ Passion by blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Pondwater Eyes by delicrieux • 〔F〕 •

✠ Proud by letsasoiaftogether • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Return to Winterfell by fallatyourfeet • 〔F〕 •

✠ Since the Age of Four by breanime • 〔F〕 •

✠ Worry by megsironthrone • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ You Must Really Love Me by justauthoring • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Arguing w/ Robb Stark... by imagines-all-day-everyday • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Being Robb's Wife... by tessimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Carrying Robb's Baby... by fallatyourfeet • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✠ Courting Robb... by itsgameofthronesimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ His Favourite Trait of Yours is... by persuasivus • 〔F〕 •

✠ Life w/ Robb After War… by imagines-all-day-everyday • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Robb Being Protective... by imagines-all-day-everyday • 〔F〕 •

✠ S.F.W. Alphabet by ladywinterwitch • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Robb Stark Master Index

Authors: @ardentmuse || @axelsagewrites || @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms || @bluesfortheredj || @bonniebird || @breanime || @darkdevasofdestruction || @delicrieux || @eviesaurusrex || @fallatyourfeet || @fearlessmercenaryimagines-blog || @hearmeroarasoiaf || @hiatuswhore || @ijustwant2write || @imagines-all-day-everyday || @itsgameofthronesimagines || @julessworldd || @justauthoring || @justfandomwritings || @ladywinterwitch || @letsasoiaftogether || @luna-writes-stuff || @megsironthrone || @multifandomhaven || @multi-fandom-imagines8 || @mylittlefandomfanfictions || @persuasivus || @talesof-old || @tessimagines || @thebestandworstdayofjune || @the-dendrophile-bookdragon || @you-plus-them ||

[slut4starks]

Currently I am thinking about Robb showing you a hot spring and the two of you deciding to swim skinny dip and then Robb fucking you nice and deep in the snow whenever you get too warm and have to get out of the water for a little while. He’s gotta keep you from freezing after all

<3 MY FIRST ANON!! you read my mind love! how could they not? i’m so sorry this is months late gotta check my inbox more but tried to make it extra steamy for you love xx takes place after the battle of the bastards and all the starks come home so finally robb can focus on fucking you full time aka the starkling baby making factory is open for businessss

˚☽˚｡⋆𓃥˚☾˚｡⋆𓃢˚☽˚｡⋆𓃦˚☾˚｡⋆𓃥˚☽˚｡⋆𓃢˚☾˚｡⋆𓃦˚☽˚｡⋆𓃢˚☾˚｡⋆𓃦˚☽˚

Dive ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⚔︎

⚔︎ ⚔︎ Robb Stark x Wife!Reader

Rating: NSFW/smut Warning: nice deep fucking cockwarming because it’s cold and breeding because robb’s a horny hubby ;) Summary: Robb’s steamy surprise for his Queen in the North. Notes: au robb survives red wedding, wins war, fights beside jon and they win the battle of the bastards, save rickon, retake winterfell, and ALL STARKLINGS AND DIREWOLVES LIVEEE

“And I’m ready to dive, ‘cause the water’s warm…”

“It’s still quite a pretty spot.…” Robb remarked, red-bearded handsome face battle worn from retaking Winterfell only mere days ago. Wistfully watching one of the castle’s several hot springs, Stark smiled bittersweetly.

Six long wartorn years raged on since Robb was last home. He had retaken his home finally after he, Jon, Sansa, and you won the battle, saving Rickon. The Starklings reuniting. Robb rode to Castle Black with you and your Great Houses’ armies after winning the War of the Five Kings to see his brother for the first time since he left for the Wall years ago. Jon was now Lord Commander. Sansa also rode to Castle Black, escaping the Lannisters, then Boltons.

Leading her Arryn army to help win Winterfell when all hope was lost. All the Starklings direwolves aided in the fight too.

After winning the battle, Bran and Arya returned changed at Winterfell’s gates, after their odysseys to be the Three-Eyed Raven and a Faceless Man. Rickon was saved, safe finally for the first time in years. Starklings together again, Robb could stop fighting finally. After knowing nothing but war for years, you both found peace. Walking under the full moon and stars, the Young Wolf led you by the hand. His leather gloved hand taking yours to walk through the snow. Until you were deep in the heart of the godswood within Winterfell’s walls. Under a giant, red-leafed, watching weirwood looming large over the steaming spring.

“It’s a gorgeous gift from the gods, my love…” You sighed, seeing it for the first time, left breathless by the stunning sight. Cold clouds escaped your lips as you spoke.

Your beauty in the moonlight overthrew Robb. Made ethereal underneath the stars and the full moon’s light shining down on you. Despite the late hour of the wolf, Stark stubbornly insisted showing you one of the several hot springs within Winterfell’s walls. After he retook his ancestral home only mere days ago. The Battle of the Bastards’ dead now littered the North.

You thanked the old gods and the new Robb was still yours. He had fought his way like hell to get back to you in one piece, albeit beaten, bruised, and all bloodied from the battle. As you had seen Stark so many times before. But it still always hurt you to see him like that. His body and mind in pain from all the things that he had done and saw. All you wanted was to take Robb’s away.

Fucking his pain away by fucking you senseless always did the trick.

“So are you… gorgeous.” Stark spoke sultrily with his hoarse Northern accent deep. Dripping with want as he hungrily had pulled you in for a longing, lustful kiss.

Bedridden after the battle for days until he had healed fully at your insistence. Robb had nearly died surviving a stampede of soldiers. He thought he was as good as dead. Now healed well enough, all Stark wanted was for you to help him feel alive again. Before the boy he once was died riding south to save his father in vain and the Young Wolf was reborn in his place. Robb riding south led him down an over half a decade long warpath.

Despite all the death, he always thanked the gods it led him to you. His Queen.

Your Great House allies with Stark’s, together winning nearly every battle during the war. Except for the Red Wedding that claimed Catelyn’s life. Only a mere two months after he lost Ned. Robb, no longer the boy who would be king, killed the boy to let the man be born. Avenging his felled family as the Young Wolf. Protective of you like a rabid dog. He hungrily held your cold face in his hands to attack your mouth more. His feverish full lips and tongue tasted of summerwine. Warm as Dorne’s red sun during the long summer in the South.

Winter in the North was a far cry from what you were used to in the southern Westeros.

Your wolf’s fur cloak, House Stark silver silk dress, and all the cups of wine you two drained after dinner all night did only so much to keep you warm. You were shivering in the snow. Robb wrapped his strong arms around you. Deepening his hard, hot kiss as soon as he noticed. His hands moved up and down your figure he loved under your cloak. Making you moan, squeezing at your breasts, ass, and hips. Stark sank his iron grip into you, pulling your frame flush against his. Your arms around his neck. Your Northman’s broad shoulders cloaked in his own wolf’s fur. His iron crown of swords caught glints of moonlight, like yours.

“Unlike the hot springs, I’m still freezing! Seven hells, you must have ice in your veins, King in the North…” You trembled under his touch. After he let you pull away for air.

Taking off his leather gloves, Stark carelessly let them fall to the snow and he felt the frosted flesh of your face in his hands. He took off your crowns, dropping both to the iced over earth. Your fingers fisted his damp auburn curls wet with melted snow, some still falling as you kissed wildly. Winter had come. And he had to keep you from freezing one way or another.

“It’s cold up here for a Southern girl…” Robb whispered in an impossibly even deeper tone. His beautiful big bright blue eyes grew lust-blown, alluring and dark.

Stark stared at your lips, loving how raw, red, and swollen he made them with his own. He loved hearing how they sounded fighting for dominance during your kiss. Loudly as wet as the kiss was warming you up. Beneath the trees, the hot spring steamed. Warm vapors rose from the earth, shrouding the trees in their moist breath.

“So keep your Queen warm, Your Grace.” You ordered, his title teasing. As the familiar feeling forming deep in between your hips started to stir from his heated kiss and groping.

“Aye, my Queen.” Robb rasped with a wolfish grin, as hearing you use his title so lewdly and seeing you wear his house color did things to him. Stark felt himself ache. Hard. “I know how to warm you up, gorgeous…”

Robb’s red-bearded mouth latched onto yours again. Harder this time somehow, your kiss was bruising now. Stark suddenly stripped off your cloak without warning, carelessly tossing it to the snow.

“Good gods! Are you a mad king, Robb?” You shouted, skin stinging from the frostbiting cold. Asking in jest, shaking even more now without your fur cloak.

“Only when you make me bloody fuck-mad, my love. I can’t promise I won’t attack you—even in the snow.” Stark snarled, holding you tight against his chest, his hands wasted no more time. Robb roughly started unlacing your gorgeous grey gown.

When he finally reached the last notch, he watched the silver silk slip past your shoulders then hips. Dropping to the snow underfoot before he kept stripping you bare. Robb raised your thin shift underdress underneath the silk gown over your arms and head. He added the last of your layers between you to the growing pile in the snow. Then your shoes he knelt in the snow to take off you after. Wordlessly, he moved you by the waist so you stood on warm fur and not cold snow. It all happened so fast, Stark stripping you naked. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you trembled without a say in the matter.

Robb roughly removed your hands at once to let him see every inch of you. Loving how hard the cold made your nipples.

Rolling the pad of his thumbs over them before pinching. You winced and whined, “Don’t be mean, Stark!”

“Don’t you dare shield your beautiful body from me! I don’t care how cold you are… I’ll warm you up, love. I just need to see you first. It’s been days—I need you.” Robb growled in your ear, quickly replacing the pain with pleasure. Craning his neck down and sucking hard on your nipples, his warm wet mouth groaned around both breasts, taking turns with them.

Stark did not care if you thought he was mean. He knew he would more than make up for it very soon. Manhandling you, he made you stand there and watch him teasingly take off his own clothes. Cloak the first to fall, then a laced up leather long sleeve with a tunic underneath. Silver moonlight made Robb’s muscled hairy chest shine like pearls. Followed by his britches and boots. Until his bare body stood before you, his hard thick long cock aching to be buried deep inside you. Only making you whine more, both desiring for him to fill up your cunt.

“And I need you! But if I freeze to death you won’t ever get to breed me. And put your little prince or princess inside of me, my love…” You burst out and finally said what you both always wanted more than anything. But agreed to wait until after the war was won to start trying for your first child—the first of several Starkling little ladies and lordlings.

Despite getting married six years ago at the start of the War of the Five Kings. Then the Battle of the Bastards made you both have to wait even longer. Still, Stark consummated your marriage. Just never got to spill his seed in you. Spilling it on you instead. Or spilling down your throat. Temptation to spill inside your cunt was so strong it took every last drop of Robb’s self-control not to every time you fucked. But now you were his to breed and fill up however he pleased. However many times he pleased. He could go all night, like a hound taking a bitch.

“Gods… I’ll put one of each in your belly before I ever let that happen, love.” Stark sultrily promised, his bare body engulfing yours, wrapping you up in his arms again. Although this time each and every single one of his muscles pressed hard against your ice cold skin.

“Don’t get greedy—seven hells, Robb!” You warned before crying out. Stark suddenly lifted you up.

His hands gripped hard under your thighs and ass. While you gripped onto his bare broad shoulders in shock as he suddenly swept you off of your feet. Robb’s red cock barely grazed your cunt. He just laughed, dark and deep as faint moans escaped your swollen lips from the faintest friction.

“I’m not even inside you yet. And I can be meaner. I’ll make you burn. Not just freeze, gorgeous.” Robb growled. His nails left marks on the flesh under your thighs from how hard he was gripping you.

Stark carried you into the hot spring before you had a chance to protest. He sank you both shoulder deep into the steaming pond. Your breath hitched as you felt the hot water wash over you and Robb. You stilled for a moment, trying to adjust to the heat. He gripped your hips under the water. And attacked your lips again with his swollen red ones. Only this time he did not stop until you had to press against his muscled chest for air.

“I am burning!” You breathlessly whined, earlier as frozen as ice, but now hot as fire. Robb had not swam in the spring in six years. But it’s welcome heat he used to escape the cold his whole life he was still used to. You were not. “Don’t let me melt, either—good gods! It’s so bloody hot…”

You looked like a dream to Stark in the steam. Naked and wet with a slight sheen of sweat. Your lips were parted panting in the moonlight from the heat you could not tolerate. You tried to swim with him for at least an hour. Writhing in the burning water. But Robb recognized he had to get you out of there long before that. Your short time spent swimming was filled with even more feverish kissing and groping. But mostly just you cursing the gods and how hot the spring was every now and again. As his hands poured warm water over you. And titled you back into the steaming spring, helping you float. Admiring your body he loved, with your earlier words ringing in his ears.

“Can’t have that… I still need to breed you… I’ll put at least a dozen pups in your belly, my Queen.” Stark snarled, shutting you up. Your head spun from the thought.

Water’s waves were rippling and enveloping you as his hands rested on your stomach. Before he pulled you up off your back in the water and back into his arms for another starving kiss. A quarter hour later, barely, Robb finally carried you back out of the steaming pond after seeing how flushed red your face and flesh were. You felt faint from the heat and his touch. Between your thighs another pooling heat still lingered. Stark laid your burning body down on a bed of freezing snow. Shivering no longer as the hot spring seeped into your bones, keeping you warm. So was Robb. His dripping wet bare broad shouldered strong frame pinned yours down in the cold white powder. His muscled arms had you caged in on both sides. He made you look down in between you two. Both seeing how Stark’s cock throbbed to be inside you. Lining himself up, he prepared to sheathe himself deep inside your cunt finally.

“You haven’t used your fingers—” You confusedly wondered why Robb did not take his time to stretch you out. How he did before fucking you usually, to help prepare you for his cock.

Stark was blessed by the gods in more ways than one, and he knew how to use it. How you liked Robb to be in bed. Kind and gentle when you wanted. But mean and rough when you made him more fuck-mad than Stark thought was possible. His pillar and stones so full he started leaking pre-come. He shoved his fingers instead in your mouth suddenly without any warning or asking. You still sucked hard happily around any part of Robb you could. He nearly blew from the sheer sight of you alone. And harshly pulled his fingers out of your mouth after a while, telling you to spit in hand. You felt filthy but obeyed, and loved seeing Stark spread it on his cock. Not that he needed to with how wet he could see your glistening cunt was already.

Robb dived deep into the dripping wet depths in between your hips. You moaned cries filthily, filling the godswood.

“Not tonight… I don’t want a single drop of my seed spilling out of your pretty cunt—pretty and tight… always so fucking tight for me, gorgeous…” Stark rambled crazed from how you squeezed him as he split you open bottoming out only halfway.

“Gods, Robb! You’re so fucking big… but don’t stop!” You whined whorishly. Slowly feeling the pain of being stretched out by his cock turn to pleasure.

He loved making you feel so good and being the one to make you talk like that. It drove him so mad he felt his eyes roll back in his head. He loved hearing you say that. Loved making you look down by gripping your chin in his hand harshly to see he was barely halfway in. Stark saw the tears welling up in your eyes from the burning pain of his big cock stretching out your cunt more and more, inch by inch.

“You’re even pretty when you cry… always so fucking pretty, gods! You don’t even know how beautiful you look like this… a crying mess around my cock—seven hells, you’re so fucking tight… and wet… and warm…” Robb growled in your ear. He gripped your jaw, harshly jerking it down to make you watch your cunt swallow him whole as he bottomed out inside you.

Stark sank the palm of his hand down pressing against your belly. He happily felt how deep he reached as you cried louder. Dizzy from how far his cock was buried, slowly stroking your walls at first. Painfully slow. Pulling almost all the way out. Only to stretch you out all over again as he sheathed himself inside of you, deeply. Repeatedly. At an almost punishingly slow pace. You dragged your nails hard down his muscled back, needing more. Both of your breaths began to grow ragged. Desperate.

“Too slow…” You whined impatiently, writhing under him as you tried to fuck yourself faster on his cock. Robb pinned your hips down in the snow with his bruising iron grip.

“Don’t get greedy, gorgeous…” Stark teased you before his hips began moving. Faster finally, at an animalistic pace.

You could only hold onto him for some semblance of sanity. As Robb fucked away the pain of the last six years or so by how hard he fucked you into the snow. Swearing he had helped you leave an angel in the snow or a different sort, by plowing your body into powder. Your mind melted with the snow underneath you. Becoming part of the pristine powder and a part of Robb. Wrapped up in all of him, and him in all of you. Your tight cunt clenching around his full cock. Driving each other closer to unraveling.

“I’m… close… my love…” You managed to warn him before, in between moaning and panting. His hands had wrapped around your neck, squeezing you as your walls squeezed around him.

Your hands tangled up in his curls, wet with sweat and snow. Stark suddenly started slowing down until his hips stopped at once completely. His cock pulled out of your cunt, making you whimper at the abrupt emptiness. You were so, so close to the edge, just nearly about to finish. You whined and cried about how mean he was being again. Wordlessly without a warning, Robb hooked both your legs over his broad shoulders. Backs of your thighs pressed against his muscled chest. Your ankles by either side of his head. He had buried himself inside you again. Even deeper somehow this time. Both moaning loud enough for the guards outside on watch that night to faintly hear you both, not so far away. Neither of you could even think to care in that moment, minds made mush from fucking.

Stark spit on and started circling your clit with his fingers—you knew you were done for.

“You’re such a good girl for me… taking my cock like this… I’m going to fill your pretty cunt up until you beg me to stop!” Robb rutted into your walls like a wild animal. You had seen animals in heat before, but he was another beast entirely.

The Young Wolf who made a show for his camp, making you yell out in pleasure every single night in your tent during the war. No matter how fucking exhausted and battle worn Stark was. Especially after a battle he would fuck you, sometimes still in his armor, as there was nothing better. Neither of you caring how loud you were. After all, you were King and Queen in the North. And burying himself in you kept him sane at war.

Fisting his hair hard enough to make him wince, whines fell from your lips lewdly, “Seven fucking hells, Stark! Breed me until sunrise—til I can’t wake. That’s when I can’t take your cock anymore… don’t you dare stop! Fuck me to sleep…”

“Fucking gods! I love your filthy mouth… as you wish, my Queen…” Robb grinned wolfishly, wildly bucking his hips into yours. Relishing how much deeper he reached inside your walls with his new favorite position, he was about to blow. “You can come for me now, gorgeous…”

Pulling your hair harder, ever so slightly than you had his, he forced your chin up after forcing it down earlier. Hungrily, Stark sank his full lips onto yours. His other hand never left your clit, only grew rougher, along with his thrusts. Tongue taking over your mouth again as you moaned into his. Robb ran his teeth over your neck next, biting down on the flesh of your shoulder just hard enough to leave a mark. His hand not busy rubbing your clit cupped one of your breasts. Stark’s swollen red lips sucked the other. He warmed your cold, hard nipples with his warm, wet mouth again, taking turns between them. Your eyes rolled back in your head, that rolled on its side in the snow. Not able either to hold off your own release any longer.

“Robb! Fuck, feels so good! Gods, yes!” Your wailing moans filled the godswood. Guttural groans ripped through both of your throats as you reached ecstasy. “You make me come so fucking good, my love!”

He hit the spot deep in the abyss of your elysium. All that mattered to him was fucking you in the snow, not being king.

Stark sank his teeth into the flesh of your breast when your coming cunt clenched hard around his cock like a vice. You and Robb released for the first time of many that night. After a half dozen more hard fast thrusts Robb filled you with warmth. He painted your walls white with his hot seed. Stark slurred a lust-drunk string of blasphemy, cursing the old gods and the new, in between screaming your name. He buried his head in the crook of neck, now a whimpering, moaning, mess as he came.

“Fucking hells! Being inside you feels better than all seven heavens, love…” Robb howled, his hips rolling as he rode out both your highs. His hands were wrapped around throat again, holding you still while he stuffed your over-pleasured cunt still.

Giving you no time to regain your composure in between your plethora of orgasms. He was determined to fulfill your wish.

Breeding you until sunrise. Until you could not wake, passing out from the overwhelming pleasure. Fucking you to sleep. You last remembered your thighs starting to shake. Your sensitive clit and folds wet and swollen. Stark saw his seed start leaking out of your cunt. He spread it on his cock. Before he rammed himself back inside you, the deepest he had all night. Robb did not move for what felt like ages. For at least a quarter hour he had stayed like that, still as a statue, stretching out your walls. He never thought he would be able to without moving an inch. No matter how desperately you both wanted him to. You were too fucked out to say a word. As Stark warmed your cunt with his cock to keep every bit of his seed in you. Once both your breathing settled and orgasms started building again, Robb rutted his hips against yours once more. For hours. You had lost count how many times you both finished. As the hour of the wolf came and went. Sky started slowly falling asleep, as you were. Fading with it, from dusk to dawn.

The last thing you saw before you passed out, seeing stars, was the sunrise. And Stark’s handsome face as he fucked you.

˚☽˚｡⋆𓃥˚☾˚｡⋆𓃢˚☽˚｡⋆𓃦˚☾˚｡⋆𓃥˚☽˚｡⋆𓃢˚☾˚｡⋆𓃦˚☽˚｡⋆𓃢˚☾˚｡⋆𓃦˚☽˚

[petew21-blog]

No way back

Richard Madden was now on top of his career. Starring in Game of Thrones and after that in many successful movies as well.

He loved his aching career and his life

Until it was taken from him. By you

You really loved him as an actor. But you fell in love with his body much more. And that's why you attacked him on the street after that play he starred in.

He put up quite a fight. But you had a knife and eventually you succeded in stabbing his shoulder. Stabbing was the crucial step to swap bodies. After that, you were now fighting your old body, that was towering over you and held a knife in your shoulder. Thank god for the police for shooting him and saving you

The ambulance took you to the hospital. He hit some of the big veins, so you were bleeding rapidly. So they had to take care of that. Some doctor stitched you up and told you you were lucky. "I know. Thank you"

You were finally left alone in your room. You went to the mirror in your gown to look at the wound and at your new self.

And there he was Richard staring back at you.

You took of the gown. Revealing the big wound and some scratches on other parts of the body.

He put up quite a big fight before you switched. If you wouldn't stab him, you'd be the one who was dead now. Not Richard.

You looked over your new shirtless body. Your hairy torso covering the muscular chest and abs. All yours now to enjoy.

Your nipples hardening at the sight of the beautiful man in front of you. And not the only thing that was hardening.

You are Richard Madden now

But the blood and scratches reminded you what you have done. That you were now in a different man's body. That you took his life and got him killed. There's no going back anymore. You can't get back to your old life, see any of your friends or your family. Or even your dog

It was all so bittersweet. Getting his body was one thing, but now you felt the guilt of it all overcoming you. You looked at yourself in the mirror and saw the teary eyes looking back. Did you screw this up?

6 months later

After dealing with the aftermath and going to therapy. You decided to quit acting for a while. You didn't even know how to act, cause Richard's memories did not stay in his body and secondly you probably wouldn't even enjoy it.

You asked for therapy after the attack a decided to pretend to have some sort of amnesia, which became an excuse for everything after that. Especially for not knowing who in Richard's life was who.

But now it didn't matters. You were in Los Angeles, Hollywood Hills. Enjoying the beautiful scenery and the sun shining on your beautiful hairy chest.

With just one bottle of water and a phone in your hand, you arrived to the place and sent the photo

"I'm here" you said out loud

From a bush, an attractive young man came out

"Holy shit, it's really you. Omg sir I have to say I am the biggest fan."

"I thought you came here to hook up"

"Yeah... right. Sorry. Sure"

You unzipped your jeans and pulled out your big dick to jerk. It was getting hard. You loved freaking out these twinks in your body. Hell, this guy's probably the same age as you were. But you're in Richard's body now, being older than him

He was shocked and just stared at you. Definitely aroused

"Are you gonna stare or take care of it?"

"I... YES! I just thought we could go somewhere private. There is a lot of rattle snakes here you know"

You came close to him. Pushing him on his knees and shoving your hard dick into his mouth

"There is only one snake you gotta be worried about right now"

You left him on the mountain. Covered in cum all over his face. You had an interview to get to. Fuck, your acting career was about to start again.

The twink caught up with you. "Can I call you? I really wanna do this again"

"Already hungry for more? This is my adress. And bring a friend"

The guilt was still deep in your heart. But moments like this definitely made it better

[countrymusiclover]

The Last Velaryon

Haelesa is the last daughter of the Velaryon tree, and her house is in danger of dying out. So her father decides to convince Tywin to make her and Jaime wed. Yet when she rides North with the royal family, she can't help but fall for the young wolf Robb Stark.

1 - The Arrangement

2 - Swords and Winterfell

3 - The Feast pt 1

4 - The Feast pt 2

5 - The Wedding I Didn’t Choose

6 - Revealing Letters

7 - The Waring Battlefield

8 - The Truth of Jaime Lannister

9 - The Language of Desire

10 - Misunderstood Communication

11 - Loyalties Can Change

12 - Spared by the King

13 - We Control the Fleets, not People

14 - Is A Change Of Heart Too Late

15 - The Handmaiden’s Admirer

16 - A Stark and A Velaryon

17 - Possibly Changing the War

18 - Dealing with House Frey

19 - Three Very Important Words

20 - His Closet Betrayal

21 - The Fate of Jaime Lannister

22 - The Fire of a Best Friend

23 - Forgiveness Isn’t Too Easy

24 - The Unlikely Pair

25 - The Future Lady Lannister

26 - Land Lords meet Sea Lords

27 - Land Lords meet Sea Lords pt 2

28 - The New Stark Family

29 - Needing More Allies

30 - Messages of War

31 - The Stag King

32 - Tiny bit of Hope

33 - There’s no pause in War

34 - The Secrets We Keep

35 - The Wolf Shows It's Teeth

36 - The Handmaiden and the Dwarf

37 - The Stark Trial

38 - Who Should We Really Trust

39 - A Red Wedding

40 - Saving Them

41 - We’re Worlds Apart

???

Comments / reblogged thoughts really appreciated ❤️

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @1not-today-satan1 @rheanyraaaa

@melvia-ito

[florashifting]

Ok so I have no good reason for recent inactivity BUT I was reading a really good fanfic from a fandom I'm not even apart of and like it sucked me in and I was stuck there for days and I'm going right back it was so good

[i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms]

So I think I'm gonna open up requests for smau's for all of my fandoms, basically just like a couple insta posts and Twitter posts for your favorite character that may be on my list (the pinned post on my account) I'll also have them all tagged below 😁

Just tell me who and add a little description, or not and I can come up with something on my own.

[alloftheimagines]

mason kane | you are a memory

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

words: 3000+

warnings: set during citadel ep3, angst, pain, blood, nothing more than what's in the show

prompt: Reader/oc is a spy for citadel too but she known she was a citadel spy she was safe when the fall happened and when the train event happened and reader thought that they would let mason live a life without the spy life and them so she would continue help out with rebuilding citadel back up etc. maybe building some assets etc then when Nadia and he goes to the safe house they meet back up there some way or another if that makes sense to like Nadia some how got in contact with reader??  tag: @thefictionalgemini

It feels like you’ve waited centuries for that sound: the door opening. For years, you’ve lived in the safe house alone, never stopping your search for other Citadel members and doing what you can to aid them when needed. But few of them survived, and even less had reason to come to you. 

But you knew, somehow — or at least hoped — that he would come home. That you’d see him again. 

It feels like a dream, then, when Nadia steps through the threshold, offering you a crooked, familiar smirk before shifting aside so he’s in full view behind. There’s a sorrow in her eyes you don’t dare unpack, not yet. For now, your gaze crawls across his frame. He’s barely changed. Hair still short and brushed back, eyes still that unbearably bright blue. Laughter lines bracket his cheeks along with rough, red-tinted stubble, and it feels like no time has passed at all now. An eternity shrinks between you in a second, and your heart restarts, your world turning to colour. 

“Mason,” you whisper, voice cracking, tears brimming. You want to run to him, fall into him and never let go, but Nadia is watching and… he is, too, with furrowed brows. Confused. 

A cold wave crashes through you as you look at Nadia again, and her nod confirms your fear. He doesn’t know you. 

Mason clears his throat, dropping the case to the ground and rubbing his hands together as though trying to warn him. “We know each other, then. You’re the one Nadia told me about. Y/N?” Your name twists across his tongue like a stumbling dancer in their first lesson. Unsure of the steps. Unsure of how it should sound. 

Something inside you cracks, but in all your solitary years here, you’ve never allowed yourself to succumb to all the pain and grief dwelling inside you. You’ve never let yourself give up, not on him or on Citadel. So you tip your chin and hope it doesn’t wobble. 

“I guess you could say that. I was usually in your ear.” You tap an imaginary earpiece, feeling awkward and stiff and lost. More lost, more alone, than you have in this empty house for years. “I worked on communications in Citadel. Never usually in the field.”

“I can’t believe you’re here after all these years,” Nadia said, voice soft as always. It’s clear that while Mason has lost his memories, she has found hers just fine, and you wonder how that’s fair. How it came to be.  “How did you know we were coming?”

“I didn’t. I’ve been here since we went dark ten years ago.”

“Are there more?” Mason glanced around, rubbing the back of his neck. “More people waiting for us?”

You shake your head, a pang of well-hidden grief shooting through you. “No. Just me.”

His gaze snaps to you without warning, piercing and all-consuming and utterly surprised. “You’ve been hiding here alone for the last decade?”

“Yep. So if I start talking to myself, don’t be too worried. I’m not used to company.” You smirk and turn away from him, rubbing your aching sternum. “It was Carter who told me to head here. Said he’d be in contact. We were back and forth for years until he went dark, too. The only connection with Citadel I had left. I tried to track him down, but… I don’t have the field experience. Not like you. Think he’s alive, though.”

“You know where he could be?” Nadia asked. 

“I have my theories.”

“As much as I’d love to hear them, I need a shower first. That okay?”

“Knock yourself out.”

She traipses up the stairs with a final, pointed glance as though to say “You’re welcome" for leaving you alone with him. But you’re the opposite of thankful. In front of Nadia, you might be able to act professionally. Unaffected. But it’s just the two of you now, and the man you love doesn’t even know you, and he’d always had a knack for completely unravelling you. 

The silence is stifling. You motion to the living room, to the couch. “You should sit. You look like you’ve had a rough time of it.”

His smile is wry. “That’s one word for it.”

You follow him in, and he sighs as he plonks himself down. He pulls a lighter from his pocket and begins flicking it, and for a moment you’re certain that you were wrong; that he knows himself, knows you. It’s such an old, familiar habit. So many times you listened to that metallic click, let it soothe you as you figured out a plan today. 

He catches you watching, then, and hope is washed away as quickly as it came. There’s none of that old fondness in his eyes, even if natural confidence still oozes from him like blood from a wound. 

He’s Mason, but he isn’t your Mason. 

The man you’ve been waiting for, the man for whom you prayed over and over to be alive, is not here anymore.

“Didn’t Bernard ever contact you?” he asks finally. 

“No.” You narrow your eyes, wishing you were comfortable enough to sit beside him. Wishing you could reach out, touch him. Ask him where he’s been. You’re not sure you want to know. A lot can happen in ten years, especially to a man who doesn’t know his own name. “Should he have?”

“He’s the one who came to me. Told me who I was. He needed my help.”

That bastard. He’d left you in the dark. Disposed of you. You want to believe that he walked away too, that he needed it to be this way to keep any agents still living safe, but… He could have contacted you. Could have found you here. This safe house is one of the few Citadel-owned places left untouched, unknown by your enemies. Perhaps the silence had protected you, but it also drove you crazy. You’d felt like a prisoner most days, always waiting for your computer to ping or an agent to show up and liberate you. 

You’d wasted your life waiting. For Bernard. For Mason. For Citadel. 

Your fists clench at your sides, and you can no longer look at Mason. “I didn’t think you’d made it out,” you admitted, voice thickening just slightly. “I thought you were dead.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly. “They just left you here, no contact with any of us? Why?”

“Maybe they didn’t want anybody finding out about this place. It’s the only sanctuary we have left. They wouldn’t compromise that by communicating with me, and honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. Citadel was my life. I had to keep trying, keep hoping…” 

It’s a lie, of course. Mason was your life. Citadel was a close second. Bernard had known that; perhaps that’s why he hadn’t bothered to find a way through to you. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted you to know that Mason was still alive, because you’d never been discrete about your feelings for him. You wouldn’t have let him go without a fight, and they’d needed their entire operations to become invisible. 

They needed him to forget while you stayed here, a ghost in a house much too big for one person. They’d known that you’d wait for eternity if it meant the chance to see him again.

You finally sit in the armchair across from him, folding your hands on your lap as anger glows like embers in your gut. “I thought you were dead,” you admit. “Carter told me about the train, the explosion… He told me you were probably dead. Both of you.”

Mason looks down at his hands. “I can’t get my memories back. They were destroyed. Gone. I know that I should know you, but I don’t.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I guessed as much.” 

“There’s no other way, right?”

You shake your head solemnly. “Not that I know of. Then again, nobody tells me anything, clearly.” You can’t help the bitterness seeping into your words. 

He rubs a thumb across his chin. “It’s weird. I feel like…” He trails off, and you lean forward curiously. 

“What?” 

A shrug. “I’ve seen your face before. I got flashes sometimes — memories, I guess. You were in them.”

Your heart lifts just a little. 

“And your voice.” His volume lowers. “I heard it. I never knew whose it was. Thought I was going crazy. But it’s yours. It was you.”

Your fingers begin to tremble. You don’t know what to say. It feels cruel, somehow, him telling you this. Dangling hope in front of your face. He can’t know how much it hurts, of course, but it makes you grit your teeth all the same. 

“So where did you end up all these years?” you ask, hoping the answer might give you some closure. Some truth. 

“I went by Kyle. Got married. Had a daughter.” His mouth upturns at the corners, and it makes you want to die. 

He got a new life. You were here, rotting, waiting, and he was making a family. 

“Where are they now?” 

“Back home,” he says. “With Bernard’s wife. Safe.”

You nod. It’s an effort to keep your features smooth as your gaze snags on a bloodied tear in his jacket. “You’re hurt.”

In an instant, you’re up, heading into the kitchen to grab a first aid kit. When you get back, you motion to his jacket and he takes it off obediently, wincing. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

A deep one, clearly made by a bullet. You sigh and perch beside him, forgetting that you should probably ask before getting this close to him. Forgetting that you’re not the one who should be tending to his wounds anymore. 

He hisses when you dab the saline-soaked cloth to the graze. 

“You used to be tougher,” you tease. 

He smirks at that, crooked and warm if not steel-edged as a knife. Electricity buzzes through you, because you’ve missed the way he tries not to laugh at your shitty jabs. The way he tries to hide his humour, but it comes out through his cracks all the same. “I wouldn’t know.” And then: “Will you come with us to find Carter?”

The question throws you off-guard, and you look around. This prison is also your shelter, and you’re not sure you know how to jump back into the real world, a world of crime and violence and him. He’s married. He isn’t yours. And why should you aid them, when Bernard cut you away from the rest of the group so cleanly? 

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I’ve been hiding for a long time. I think I’m more useful here.”

“We could use all the help we can get.” 

The cloth comes away red, but the bleeding has stopped. You get the bandages ready and hum, pretending to deliberate. 

He stops you with a hand across yours. “I mean it. I don’t remember how to do this.”

“It’ll come to you.” You snatch your hand away; keep unrolling the bandage. Maybe it’s weak, maybe it’s cowardly, but you need a moment to breathe after this. Need a moment to adjust to a world where Mason isn’t dead, but still isn’t Mason. You need to figure out if keeping this house safe, keeping Citadel and its missing members safe, is worth it after the way they’ve pushed you aside. 

“We need you.”

“You did okay without me for the last ten years,” you snap, wishing immediately you could take it back. 

Overwhelmed, you abandon the bandages and the wound, averting your gaze because even now it feels too heavy, too dangerous. Like he could strip your skin and bones away if he wanted. Like he could leave you raw. 

You used to like that about him. Now you hate it. More so because he doesn’t even realise he’s capable of it. 

“I was living a lie.” His voice is firmer now. Raspier. “I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t choose it!” 

“Neither did I!” you erupt. “I thought you were dead, Mason! I was here, alone, always wondering if you were. Wondering whether anything would ever change! And now you’re here and you don’t know me, but you’re asking me to be somebody I haven’t been in a very long time. What am I supposed to do with that? How the hell am I supposed to be okay with it?”

A wrinkle burrows between his brows. For moments, he remains unreadable until he finally looks up at you. “We weren’t just working together, were we?”

You can’t answer him. You don’t want to have to tell him that you were in love, that everything that made life worth living had been snatched away the day he went missing. 

“Tell me,” he demands, standing up. “Tell me, Y/N. Were we together?”

Your chin wobbles, and you can’t keep pretending. You can’t keep ignoring the hole in your chest. “Yes.” 

It’s clear he doesn’t know what to say, and you know that there is nothing he could. Nothing that would make it easier, at least. You are cursed, the one who will remember. The only one who longs for endless nights tangled between the sheets and stupid back-and-forths through his earpiece. You’re the only one who remembers the rush you felt when you worked together, him in the field and you safe by your computer. 

You’re the only one who remembers the night he told you he loved you, and the morning you said it back. He gets to move on, gets to feel nothing but indifference, while you carry a decades’ worth of grief and yearning and pain on your back. And you could deal with that before, when your days were made of aimlessly checking for messages or signs of Citadel activity and scrambling your eggs and staying in your pyjamas because nobody saw you anyway, but now he is inescapable and you find yourself wanting to shut the door in his face just so you don’t have to look at it and see the man you used to know buried under the haze and amnesia and this new life you have not been apart of. 

Eventually, he steps forward — and somehow looks apologetic. “I wish I remembered,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. But do you honestly want to stay here, alone? There must have been a reason you stayed. It wasn’t just for the view, right?”

For you, you want to say. I was waiting for you.

But he’s right. Your memories might remain intact, but you were once much more than this. You were quick, determined, unrelenting. It had taken years before you stopped searching for sign of Mason every day. But you had. You’d dwindled. Perhaps you’d given up without realising it. 

The person you used to be would never have grown this despondent. You would have stitched your own broken heart back together and yanked back your power, proving to Citadel you’re a worthy asset. The only one skilled enough to perform what they needed. To fight terrorism and organised crime from behind a screen. 

You miss that fire in your belly. Now, it's no more than ash. 

Finally, you turn your hardened stare back to him. “No. It wasn’t just for the view.”

He nods as though he knows your mind has changed, determination sharpening his own face. “Then you’ll help us.”

“I’ll help you,” you decide. Even if it hurts. Even if you’re not sure you want to anymore. 

The back of his hand brushes yours, and your skin tingles. You look down and know it was no accident; his fingers twitch from the impact like a bird stunned after hitting the window. When you lock eyes, you see a flicker of him. Your Mason. Arrogance and softness all at once. A lion ready to pounce because he’s never known how to stay still. How did he manage it, being a family man? 

What did he think when he saw glimpses of you?

It doesn’t matter. Your Mason might be gone, but so is Kyle. He’s someone new now, and you’ll just have to get to know this new version of him. 

Just as he’ll have to get to know this new version of you. You’re not sure who you’ll be yet, still scarred and unsure, but you think that if he can walk through your door and find you against all odds,, maybe you can find him, too. 

He keeps his eyes on the view behind the window, eyes turning the same forest green as the trees outside. Still, his arm is warm against yours, his broad shoulders squared and ready. 

“Good,” he mutters, sending you a half-smile. “Because I’m going to need somebody to tell me who I really am. Who Mason Kane is.”

That, you might just be able to do. “An asshole,” you quip dryly. “Mason Kane was an asshole.” And god, did he love it when you said so. 

As though it’s ingrained in his muscle memory, Mason lets out a chuckle — half-joy and half-disbelief. He raises his brow, flirtatious though you’re not sure he knows it yet. “That right?”

“Yep.” You cross your arms over your chest and try to stifle your hope, but it’s no use. It comes anyway. “With a capital A.”

This man might not be Mason, but he’s a hell of a lot like him. For now, that has to be enough.

[clarisserenaldi-blog]

Storytime

My new Bodyguard story ‘Not the Easiest Girl to Love is available now both on Fanfiction.net and AO3. Summary: They can’t stand each other and they don’t hold themselves back… 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62906581

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14439392/1/Not-the-Easiest-Girl-to-Love

[bbywhitefox123]

description: Essex in an ER nurse and Richard Madden needs his wound stitched.

warnings: cheating

Essex leaned against the marble bar, the hard, smooth surface cold against her bare arms, and let the thumping bass of the nightclub drown out the roar of her thoughts. All around her, bodies moved to the pulse of the music, but she couldn't shake the gnawing memory clawing its way to the surface.

She'd dragged her tired ass home that morning, practically dragging her feet, dead on her feet from a double shift that left her hollow inside. That little girl...fuck, she hadn't even been five years old. Essex had stood there, helpless as the flatline echoed through the sterile room. And now she just wanted one thing - Andrew. She needed him to hold her, to tell her everything would be okay, to breathe some goddamn life back into her.

But when she walked into their bedroom, the bed was empty. Sheets twisted in a mess of sweaty fabric, undone, like he'd just rolled out of it. The fuck? It was seven in the goddamn morning - Andrew never got up this early unless he was dragged by the hair.

She heard the shower running from their en suite. A bitter smile tugged at her lips. "You, showering this early? Fuck me, maybe the world is ending," she called out as she leaned against the doorframe.

But there was no answer. And then, she heard it-Andrew's voice.

From behind her.

Essex had spun around so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. There he was, standing in the doorway of the bedroom, holding a tray with breakfast. A smug grin plastered on his face like he hadn't just ripped the fucking floor from under her.

Her breath hitched as she whipped back to the bathroom. And that's when she saw her - a woman, dripping wet, stepping out of the shower like she fucking belonged there. Her face flushed, her dark hair stuck to her shoulders like some goddamn soft-core porno star. Her hair smelling of Essex’s new vanilla shampoo, and Essex’s soft towel wrapped around her lean body.

"You sick fuck," Essex hissed. The fury ripped through her, white hot. She barely remembered crossing the room, barely felt the sting of hot coffee splashing over her hand as she hurled the tray of breakfast straight at Andrew's chest.

Andrew had stammered out something, trying to backtrack, to gaslight her, as if there wasn't a naked woman right behind her, scrambling to cover herself with the towel. "Babe, it's not what it looks like—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Essex screamed. Her voice had been raw, brutal. She'd snapped. Chasing him around the house like a goddamn lunatic, plates smashing, her anger tearing through every fucking inch of her. The woman had tried to sneak out - god, the nerve of her. Essex had grabbed her by the hair and dragged her sorry ass out the front door, naked as the day she was born. She didn't give a shit who saw.

She caught her reflection in the mirrored walls of the nightclub now, her eyes hard, lips pulled tight in a sneer. No wonder Liam had told her not to come tonight. She'd debated it herself. Staying away would've been smarter - less messy. She wasn't sure what the fuck she was doing here anyway.

But she was here now, and there was no turning back.

She caught the eye of the bouncer guarding the entrance to the VIP section. The guy looked her up and down like she was another drunk chick trying to sneak her way in. Her lips twitched.

"I'm with Liam Keller," she said, her voice biting and sharp, daring him to challenge her. The bouncer's demeanor changed immediately, stepping aside with a nod.

As Essex walked past, she forced herself to think about anything other than that night. But it didn't work. She could still feel the rage simmering under her skin. Still taste the satisfaction of that door slamming shut behind the naked woman she'd thrown out like yesterday's trash.

She shook off the memory as she entered the dimly lit VIP lounge. Screw Andrew. Screw everything that had led her here. Tonight was for Liam. Maybe not the smartest choice, but fuck it. She wasn't here to make good decisions anymore.

Essex squared her shoulders as she entered the VIP section, the lights softer here but still pulsing with that nightclub energy that made everything feel charged. She spotted Liam near the back, surrounded by a cluster of people, his face bright with that easy, carefree grin he always wore. He looked good — better than good, actually, and for a second, she wondered why she'd even considered skipping this night.

She strutted over, her heels clicking on the floor, and as soon as Liam spotted her, his face lit up even more.

"Look who finally decided to show up," he said, opening his arms wide.

Essex smirked and rolled her eyes as she closed the distance between them. "Couldn't miss the chance to see you freak out about turning ancient," she teased, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "How's it feel, old man?"

"Ancient? I'm in my prime, baby." Liam laughed, his arm sliding around her waist for a half-second before he released her. "Thanks for coming, Essex. Thought you might ghost."

She shrugged, her eyes scanning the crowd around him. "I thought about it."

He smirked, but before he could respond, a familiar face caught her attention. Her old friends—people she'd left behind when she'd cut Andrew out of her life. They saw her too, a moment of surprise flashing across their faces before warm smiles replaced it.

"Essex! Oh my god, is that you?" one of them squealed, rushing toward her. It was Zara—God, she hadn't seen her in ages. They'd been close once, but after things went to shit with Andrew, Essex had disappeared without a word.

"Hey, Zara," Essex said, forcing a grin as she hugged her. The others followed, all chattering and throwing arms around her like nothing had changed.

"You've been a ghost!" Zara accused, half-laughing, half-pouting. "We missed you. You just...vanished."

Essex gave a noncommittal shrug, her lips twitching into a forced smile. "Yeah, well...life's a bitch." She gave them a pointed look. "You know how it goes."

They nodded, sympathy in their eyes, but the small talk buzzed on, and Essex let herself fall into it for a few moments. It was easier to pretend, to act like everything was fine, than to face the mess of emotions brewing beneath her skin.

But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw him—Andrew. That familiar swagger in his step, that smarmy fucking grin on his face as he approached. He opened his arms wide as if expecting a hug, his eyes gleaming like he still had some kind of hold on her. Like she would just fall back into him, forget everything that had happened.

"Essex," he said, all too cheerfully, stepping closer. "You look—"

She didn't even let him finish. Without missing a beat, Essex brushed right past him, her shoulder deliberately bumping into his chest as she made a beeline for the bar. She heard his footsteps falter behind her, could feel his confusion lingering in the air, but she didn't care. Fuck him. He wasn't worth the breath it would take to acknowledge him.

The bartender gave her a knowing look as she leaned against the counter. "Vodka. Double," she snapped. She needed to drown everything in her head—the memories, the regret, the anger. She couldn't do this sober. Not with him here, not with everything inside her screaming to explode again.

The glass appeared in front of her, and she didn't waste a second before throwing back the first shot, the burn sliding down her throat like an old, familiar friend. It wasn't enough, though. She needed more.

Another drink appeared, and this time she sipped slower, letting the alcohol seep into her bloodstream, trying to take the edge off. She could feel her old friends watching her from a distance, whispering among themselves, probably trying to figure out what the hell had happened between her and Andrew. She could feel Andrew, too, lurking nearby like some fucking vulture, just waiting for his chance to pounce.

She didn't give a shit. She was here for Liam, for a night of drowning out everything in her mind, not to play nice with her ex.

She downed the second drink, ignoring the voice in the back of her head telling her she had work tomorrow. She didn't give a fuck about that either.

Essex could feel the vodka hitting her bloodstream, dulling her edges, and pulling her deeper into the swirling madness of the nightclub. After downing two more drinks, she found herself pulled onto the dance floor, bodies grinding, the music pounding too loud to think straight. She wasn't even sure how it had happened - one second she was at the bar, the next she was pressed up against Liam's chest, his hands roaming a little too freely down her back, tugging her closer than she wanted to be.

Her arms were loose around his neck, and her body moved on autopilot. But her mind...her mind was fucking screaming. The longer she stayed here, the more the haze in her brain cleared, the more she saw just how screwed up this entire scene really was.

Zara, with that plastic smile plastered across her face, had waved her over earlier, all bubbly and fake as fuck. But Essex had caught the way Zara leaned into another friend's ear when she thought Essex wasn't looking, whispering something that had them both giggling like fucking teenagers. Something about how Essex had "disappeared" because she couldn't handle Andrew's wandering dick.

Essex clenched her teeth as she pushed harder against Liam, using the rhythm of the music to drown out her fury. Zara wasn't worth it. Not tonight.

But it got worse. Every time she glanced over at Andrew, there he was, laughing with some girl who was giggling way too fucking much at whatever dumb shit he was saying. His hand was on her thigh now, edging higher, and Essex felt a surge of bile rise in her throat. She had once been that girl. She had once been the one laughing at his shitty jokes, thinking she was special. She was sick of it, sick of all of them.

Liam's hands slid lower, brushing the curve of her ass, and she shoved him back instinctively, just enough to send the message.

He gave her a cocky grin. "What's the matter, babe? Thought you liked a bit of fun." His fingers brushed the waistband of her skirt again, trying to reel her back in.

She narrowed her eyes, her voice sharp. "Keep your hands where they fucking belong, Liam."

He laughed, but his hands didn't move for a second. "Relax, Essex. You're just wound up. Come on...we can pick up where we left off." He leaned in close, his breath hot against her neck. "You know you missed me."

Essex shoved him harder this time, breaking free of his grasp. "I didn't miss shit," she snapped. "Keep dreaming, though."

She turned away from him, her eyes scanning the crowd. She felt trapped - by the sweat, the bodies, the bullshit games everyone was playing. It was like she'd fallen back into a cesspool of all the reasons she'd walked away. Zara, gossiping behind her back. Andrew, still a snake, flirting with anything that had legs. And Liam, always thinking he could fuck his way into her life like nothing had changed.

The realization slammed into her like a punch to the gut - this was why she'd cut all these people off. This was why she'd distanced herself. They were toxic, selfish, and nothing had changed. If anything, they were worse now.

She needed out. Fast.

Essex made a beeline for the edge of the dance floor, weaving through the grinding bodies and flashing lights, barely muttering apologies when she bumped into someone. She needed air. Space. Fuck, she needed a fucking cigarette or a stiff drink - or both.

As she reached the exit to the VIP section, she heard Andrew's voice behind her. "Essex, wait—"

She didn't wait. She didn't even slow down. She didn't have the energy for his bullshit tonight, not when everything inside her was screaming for an escape.

But Andrew, stubborn as ever, caught up with her. "Hey, I'm talking to you," he said, grabbing her arm, a sliver of anger in his voice now. "What the hell's going on? You've been weird all night."

Essex yanked her arm free, spinning to face him. Her blood was boiling, and she was done holding back. "What's going on?" she spat. "Are you fucking serious? Look around, Andrew. You're still the same goddamn asshole you were when I left. Flirting with anything that moves. Acting like you're the king of this fucked-up little group."

Andrew's smirk faded, his brow furrowing. "Come on, don't be like that. You know how it is. It's just-"

"No, Andrew. I know exactly how it is,"

Essex cut him off. "That's the problem. I fucking know you. I know all of you. And I'm not playing this game again." She took a step back, her eyes blazing with anger. "So fuck you. Fuck Liam. Fuck Zara. I'm done."

Andrew opened his mouth to say something, but Essex didn't care. She turned on her heel and stormed toward the bar again. She needed to get drunk. Like, really fucking drunk. More than she already was. Because if she stayed sober, she knew she'd end up making some fucked-up decisions - decisions she might not be able to take back.

And right now? She didn't give a single fuck.

And she drank for that. She drank for not giving a single fuck. She drank so much that her throat was still burning even when she went outside the ridiculously priced nightclub. The cold London air did nothing to sober Essex up. She sat on the grimy pavement, legs sprawled out in front of her, a bottle in hand, laughing bitterly at the mess of her life. Her throat burned from all the vodka, and tears stung her eyes as memories surged—Andrew, that cheating prick, Liam, the disloyal bastard. All of it hit her like a punch to the gut, and the absurdity of it all made her laugh again, wild and broken.

Her laughter abruptly stopped when she heard a rich, familiar voice cut through the night.

"If it isn't Essex from London," Richard Madden drawled, his voice teasing but holding that touch of curiosity she remembered all too well.

Essex blinked and looked up, and there he was, standing over her with that cocky grin on his stupidly handsome face. She smirked through the haze of her drunkenness. "If it isn't Richard Madden from the ER," she shot back, her words slurring just a little.

Richard let out a low laugh, his eyes running over her with that irritating charm that always seemed to disarm people. His brows furrowed as he noticed her smudged makeup, her red, swollen upper lip like she'd been biting it raw to stop herself from crying. She didn't say anything about it. Why the hell should she? She didn't owe him an explanation.

"What's this, then?" Richard tilted his head, his smile fading as concern crept into his eyes. "Are you following me around, Essex?"

Essex barked a laugh, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it. "That's the cops' job," she fired back, waving her bottle lazily in the air. "I believe you still haven't given them a statement."

Richard grinned wider, stepping closer. "Or maybe you're just a fangirl," he teased, his voice dropping lower as he looked at her, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You can admit it. Don't be ashamed."

Essex snorted, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please," she groaned, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sign my tit! Have my babies!" She made a dramatic gesture of grabbing her chest, shoving it forward with a drunken grin. "Is that enough for you to leave me alone?"

Richard's laughter was deep and real this time, his shoulders shaking. He crouched down in front of her, his face inches away, eyes glinting with mischief. "You're absolutely mental," he said, shaking his head. But his gaze lingered on her lips, noticing how red they were. Essex could feel his eyes on her like a heatwave, and despite the night's cold air, her skin tingled.

"Don't flatter yourself," she shot back, but her voice wavered slightly. She swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close he was. His presence was overwhelming, the scent of his cologne filling her senses, mixing with the alcohol already buzzing through her veins.

Richard's eyes flicked down to her lips again, and she bit her swollen lip harder, trying to control herself. It was like he could see right through her, through the bravado and the sarcasm, and that pissed her off, made her want to push him away and pull him closer all at the same time.

"Sign your tit, huh?" Richard said, smirking as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "Don't tempt me, love."

Essex scoffed, trying to laugh it off, but her heart hammered in her chest, her body betraying her. She shoved him back lightly, forcing some distance between them, trying to regain her composure. "Don't get any ideas," she said, her voice steadier this time. "You're not that special."

But the heat between them was undeniable, and as she stared into his eyes, she could feel the pull. Richard wasn't moving away either, his gaze fixed on hers, and for a split second, everything else fell away—the shitty night, the memories of Andrew, Liam, all the bullshit.

It was just him. And her. And the charged air between them.

"Come on, Essex," Richard murmured, his voice low and teasing, but with an edge of something darker, something real. "You've had a rough night. Maybe what you need is a distraction."

Essex arched a brow, her lips quirking up into a smirk. "And you think you're that distraction, do you?"

Richard's eyes sparkled with a challenge, his lips curling into a confident grin. "I'm a damn good one."

Essex laughed at that, loud and genuine, pushing him back again with a bit more force this time. "You wish, Madden," she said, her voice a little steadier now, though her heart was still racing. She stood up on wobbly legs, brushing herself off, and gave him a pointed look. "Not tonight."

Richard stood up beside her, watching her carefully, but there was no disappointment in his eyes—just that same amusement, like he was enjoying the game they were playing. "Suit yourself," he said with a shrug, though his grin told her this wasn't the end of it. Not by a long shot.

As Essex turned to walk away, she could still feel his eyes on her, burning into her back. The night wasn't over yet, and something told her that this encounter with Richard wasn't either.

But right now, all she needed was to put one foot in front of the other and get the hell out of here before she did something stupid. Something she couldn't take back.

Not tonight.

Essex staggered back into the club, the loud thrum of the music immediately hitting her like a wall. She should've called a cab, gone home, curled up in bed, and tried to get at least a few hours of sleep before her morning shift. But the idea of facing her empty apartment right now felt worse than staying in this chaotic mess of a night.

She wobbled up to the bar and dropped the half-empty bottle of vodka onto the counter with a clink. The bartender—an attractive guy with an easy smile—raised an eyebrow at her.

"I'm returning this," she said, voice slightly slurred. "You know, like in Lidl or Aldi with the beer bottles? Do I get a discount?"

The bartender chuckled, shaking his head. "I wasn't supposed to give you that bottle in the first place," he said, his tone playful.

"Well, you did," Essex said, smiling back at him. "So, now I want my refund."

He leaned in a little, still grinning. "I can't give you a refund, but how about another drink on the house?"

Essex laughed, her mood lifting just slightly. "Fine," she said, shrugging. "But make it strong."

The bartender winked and slid a cocktail her way, something fruity with a lot of alcohol. She grabbed the glass and took a long sip, savoring the burn as it went down.

"You come here often?" the bartender asked, his tone flirty now.

"Only when I'm not busy saving lives," Essex replied, deadpan. She didn't have the energy for anything more tonight, not even banter.

Still, the drink did its job. Essex slid off the barstool, tossing a quick "Thanks" over her shoulder, and made her way back to the dancefloor.

The pulsing lights and the beat of the music felt like a reprieve from her thoughts. The drink in her hand, she let herself melt into the crowd, the bodies pressing in on all sides, the bass thudding through her chest. Dancing seemed easier than thinking, easier than feeling. She closed her eyes and let the rhythm take over, losing herself in the noise, in the haze of alcohol and sweat and bodies moving around her.

She didn't care that she had work tomorrow. She didn't care about the shitty night she'd had or the hangover she'd regret in the morning. Right now, all that mattered was the music, the heat, and the oblivion she was chasing one drink at a time.

Essex's head was swimming, but the club was pulling her deeper into its wild, intoxicating embrace. The guy she had been dancing with - some tall, well-dressed bloke with a sharp jawline and a grin that promised trouble - had leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Come with me."

She didn't hesitate, not in the state she was in. One drink had turned into five, and her judgment was more than a little clouded. She let him guide her through the crowd, their bodies brushing as they moved, and she found herself stumbling into a VIP lounge she hadn't noticed earlier. This place was far more upscale than the area Liam had rented for his birthday. Velvet ropes, leather seats, a few private booths tucked into the back. It screamed luxury. And money. A lot of it.

Essex leaned in closer to the guy, smirking. "So, what do you do again?" she asked, her voice a little playful, a little slurred.

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that vibrated through her bones. "I'm a director," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"A director, huh?" Essex repeated, half mocking, half intrigued. "Of what? Porn?"

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying her cheekiness. "Nah, love. Movies. But who knows, maybe one day."

Essex rolled her eyes, though she smiled back at him. He led her to a booth in the far back, the plush seats sinking under them as they sat down.

<- Chapter 2 Chapter 4->

[sweetangel1111]

The fact that they confuse Sebastian Stan with Richard Madden is just funny to me.(the two look just a little alike, some people think Sebastian is on game of thrones) lol.

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Author: @justfandomwritings

Summary: The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros... No kingdom could agree on where they were from or how they came to be... However, all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift.

Chapters: Prt. I￨Prt. II￨Prt. III￨Prt. IV￨Prt. V

See Also: Navigation || Robb Stark Master Index

[brinleyparke]

I added two new prompts

[slut4starks]

more than a decade later not me just now noticing how he bites her lip?? robb stark actually wants me dead why is this gif 806948272 hours long

[countrymusiclover]

1 - The Arrangement

Part 2

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

When I was a child I wouldn't have believed you if you told me that one day I would find myself tangled in the claws of both a Lion and Wolf......

Monterys Velaryon, a name that every young child knew of our house before my grandparents died. He was declared the heir to Driftmark at only the age of six and got control of an entire fleet of ships and sea. The name doesn't truly live alive to this day...except for the fact that I exist as the only true born child. My father only was with one noble girl but she died giving birth to me.

But in this world women don't get any claim to a household

Walking through the castle hallways I was lost in my own thoughts about our current situation. It was declared that House Velaryon was to no longer have any high power when House Baratheon took the Iron Throne from the Targaryen.  So we had a small castle that was near the same sea that brushed up against Dragonstone that was also claimed by the Stag house too.

Footsteps came running down towards me when I stopped to peek out one of the windows. "! There you are. I went into your chambers but couldn't find you."

"You know I don't care about being stuck up in the same rooms all the time." I responded leaning my back against the wall responding to my lady in waiting who was also my best friend, Chezney Ally.

She became close to me since she had lost her mother at a later age then I did. Unfortunately I never got to know who she was. Chezney had dark brown hair pinned up into two braids while she wore a light blue dress to match our house colors. "You're not trapped here, ."

"Really. Let's think about this shall we." I tapped my chin with my index finger in thought. "I live in a castle that is only surrounded by sea and the only way I will ever be forced to never see this place again is if I wed off to some snob lord far far away."

Chezney sends me a raised brow. "Don't say that you could be wed to a young lord who is actually nice to you."

"Pfft I doubt that. But anyway, what were you wanting me for exactly?" I questioned my friend.

She clasped her hands together. "Since you're not busy with ridiculous lessons can we go swimming off the castle."

"Absolutely you know I love the thrill." I nodded in agreement where we both ran through the hallways. I wasn't wearing flat dress shoes like she was. I was wearing riding boots with a knee length sea blue tunic shirt that was big enough on me it looks like a dress.

Chezney swings opened the door that led to one of the boat docks that was just a little high above the water. She ran to the edge not caring about her clothes get wet when she hit down into the sea. "Come on, !" She cheered, pooping her head above water.

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear I ran forward and hugged my knees to my chest. I hit the water and felt my hair that was in a braid slightly fall apart. "If I ever have a husband they better be fun or I'm running away." I swam up taking a breath once my head is out of water.

"And I'll come with you if they allow that." She replied, grinning at me.

Splashing some water playfully in her direction I laughed. "Of course I'll allow it and if they don't then I'll find a way to make them."

"Yeah I know you will. Uh oh they found us." Chezney splashed some water back at me looking over my shoulder and her smile dropped.

Turning around in the water I glared at the young guard my father had assigned to me for my protection since he was always busy with being Lord of the Tides. "What are you doing here, Antler!"

"You're wanted by the small council, My lady." He bowed with the wind catching his dark brown curly locks.

Shaking my head I grumbled. "What could they want with me? And tell whoever is asking that I am spending time with my friend."

"I don't think that will fair over with your father, Lady Haelesa ." Antler gulped in a slight nervous tone. "For he is the one asking for your presence at the time."

"I better go. Can't keep daddy waiting I suppose." I swam away and Chezney followed after me. We didn't bother changing into dry clothes since he clearly wanted to see me right this second.  Tying my boot laces back properly I sighed following Antler through the dark hallways. The castle was usually cold during nighttime but during the day the ocean wind wasn't unbearable. I honestly enjoyed the taste of sea more than most did and that's saying something since we're all raised to be able to handle sea life. The three of us finally halted outside a set of large double doors where Antler knocked three times signaling we were there.

The doors opened and I stepped inside seeing my father's lord advisors and him sitting around a circle table. The doors were shut behind me where I felt slightly nervous since Antler and Chezney were left outside in the hall. "Leave me alone to speak with my daughter now." My father Monterys declared getting to his feet.

"What did you want to talk to me about, father?" I questioned softly under my breath.

His eyes locked on mine. "It has come to my attention that our house is almost gone. Our heirs are either dying out or are Bastards by my only living son. That needs to change before we're gone forever."

"Change how?" I nervously asked him.

My father rounded the table and came to stand in front of me. He placed his hands on my shoulders before he spoke out. "It is past time you were wed, ."

"What...no." Immediately came from my mouth.

He lowers his gaze. "This isn't up for discussion, dear. It must happen to save our house and name."

"That's not right, father.  Something shouldn't just be done because it's been done for a thousand years and no one else has had the balls to change the tradition!" I snapped at my father in disbelief.

He drops his hands from my shoulders. "Watch your tone. You are my daughter and you will serve your house like your mother did before she died."

"If the only way I will ever see the rest of the world is through a ridiculous marriage then I have one condition. Chezney comes with me to whatever house you're sending me to for the rest of my life." I suggested to him with my hands on my hips.

The lord of the tides paused in thought watching me closely then finally replying. "Fine. I'll inform Lord Tywin of the response.....just remember where you come from my dear girl."

"The Old, the True, the Brave." I mumbled back to him when he started to walk away from me until I realized what he had said to me. "Wait a second you said Tywin Lannister?"

My father looked over his shoulder. "Yes I did. Tywin of House Lannister. You are to wed his eldest son Jaime. You will be sailed to Kings Landing and from there the wedding should take place within a fortnight."

"But isn't Jaime a member of the Kingsguard? He took the oath. He can't marry or bear children with anyone. He would be exactly like my brother." Listing off my fingers, this wasn't making sense anymore.

Lord Monterys moved back and sat down in his lord chair. He ran a hand over his chin in silence. I knew that he had a lot of weight on his shoulders and I was probably making it worse. Yet I had all the time in the world to read up on all the houses and history that we had gotten from Dragonstone. "Tywin has assured me that he was removed of his white cloak by King Robert Baratheon. The man who now seats the Iron Throne. So you shouldn't be worried about such matters. Now go back and start packing your leaving in a few days."

"Okay...I still love you father." Pausing in my step just beside the double doors I eyed my father in his chair figuring this would be the last time I saw him.

He sends me a grin. "I love you too, ."

The day for me to leave my family home had finally come to pass. The whole castle staff had been gathering supplies and getting the ship prepared that would go to King's Landing. Gazing out the window I just sat on the windowsill listening to the sea hit against the castle as best as I could. There was no guarantee that we would immediately go to Casterly Rock so this comforting sound needs to be my last memory of home. ", can I come in?" Chezney's voice broke me from the silence.

"It's open, Chez." I answered her, seeing her peak her head inside.

She shut the door with her foot behind her. "Antler sent me to inform you that everything is ready. We just need to get you dressed to go."

"I'm not wearing a tight dress on that boat. It doesn't matter if I'm marrying the wealthiest family in the seven kingdoms, I will be comfortable for as long as I can." I responded to my friend watching her go over to my chest of clothes and shoes searching around for what we could pick.

Sliding down from the seel my bare feet hit the wooden floor until I snagged my boots on. Tying the laces I stood upright. "Okay so let's do one of your brother's old tunics that he grew out of." Chezney draws out some dark blue trousers with a sea blue tunic.

"Can you do the braid your mother taught you?" I asked her to sit down at the window once I had changed my clothes for the trip.

She nodded beginning on the braid. "I heard some of the kitchen staff gossiping about the man you're to marry. They said that Jaime is supposed to be so handsome and the best swordsman in the kingdoms."

"Looks and sword skill aren't all that should define a person. From what I read about the Lannister's they throw gold at all their problems. It's the decisions that someone makes that matters." I rolled my eyes when she finished the braid, letting my silver-blonde hair over my right shoulder.

Chezney shakes her head. "Maybe you'll get lucky and you'll find your right person before your wedding." We clasped hands and left the castle with my father accompanying us on the journey. I don't really remember much of the trip. It was just a lot of sea and not many nights of proper sleep before we were woke to see a much warmer climate and a large populated city unlike what I was used to.

One of the Baratheon guards helped me out of the boat when we ported it to land. My gaze shifted around recognizing the certain king and his queen that was Jaime's twin sister Cersei. "Lady Velaryon, here I thought that your house was gone for good. And all the material with your name had been forged into weapons." Someone remarked in my direction where my gaze shifted across the crowd of people.

I finally stopped searching when I met a second pair of green eyes and blonde hair that fell almost down to his shoulders. And a sword attached to his hip. "Jaime Lannister, I presume."

"The one and only, my lady." He smirked at me smugly.

Putting one hand on my hip I flipped my hair out of my face, getting the sense that I was right about what I read about this family. "Well, be careful, Lannister. My house may not be as known as yours. But I may surprise you and everyone here." Jaime smirked still down at me before I took a bow in front of him and Chezney just quietly smiled at our interaction knowing this was not going to be an easy arrangement.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[mindibindi]

hi! i have absolutely no idea how tumblr works, so i am assuming this is tumblr's version of a DM? anyways, just wanted to say that i absolutely ADORE your writing. i read "Fugitive" on AO3 which led me to post your about why Julia and David were, in fact, very much in love. boy, was it a long one. still, whilst reading it, i couldn't help but be utterly in awe of your diction and writing style. i'm currently a student, but i hope that one day i'll be able to write with the same prowess as you!

Hey there, THANK YOU and I AM SORRY. I briefly turned into a "Doctor Who" blog as the 60th anniversary specials were airing. Just catching up now with all my other fandoms! Welcome to tumblr (which does have a messaging app) but this is totally fine (asks can be responded to publically or privately). I always love hearing that my stories are still being read and enjoyed. I briefly came out of self-imposed retirement to pen "Fugitive" and because I felt so strongly about the pairing, despite the fact that we got so little of them. What was there was so rich, hence the long meta post(s?) which is kinda my thing and I make no apologies for it. (I'm also a student (lit crit of course) and I have worked as a writing coach too. I always say that you never stop improving your writing and the best way to improve it is simply to WRITEWRITEWRITEWRITE). I wrote another long meta post about David and Julia but tumblr banned it (cos sex with the Home Secretary is a heinous crime apparently). I also wrote another fic for these two, if you are interested. You can find it in two parts on AO3:

Thanks again for the mail and best of luck with your studies. :)

[pankowcrumbs]

Surprise kiss X Richard Madden

The Oscars had always been a grand spectacle, a night where dreams were realised, and history was made. As an actress, I had attended my fair share of award shows, but tonight was different. I was nominated for Best Actress, and the weight of the evening pressed down on me like a corset laced too tight. My gown, a shimmering silver piece that hugged my figure perfectly, was breathtaking, but even that couldn’t distract me from the nerves coiling in my stomach.

I had been seated next to Richard Madden, a man I had met a handful of times at industry events but had never spent an entire evening with. That changed the moment we took our seats next to each other.

“You look stunning,” he murmured as the cameras flashed around us, his blue eyes twinkling under the dazzling lights.

I turned my head to face him, an amused smile tugging at my lips. “Flattery, Mr Madden? The night has barely started.”

He smirked, leaning in ever so slightly. “Just calling it as I see it.”

From the moment the ceremony began, our banter flowed effortlessly. He was charming, undeniably so, and there was a spark between us that neither of us seemed to shy away from. Between commercial breaks, he’d whisper jokes into my ear, making me laugh as I tried to keep my composure in front of the cameras. He stole bites from my plate at dinner, teasing me when I threatened to stab his hand with a fork. And whenever an award was announced, he’d lean over and pretend to place bets on the winners, nudging my knee with his whenever he got one right.

“You should know, I have a good feeling about you tonight,” he said after an hour of awards and applause.

“Oh, do you?” I arched a brow, tilting my head in his direction.

“Absolutely.” His voice was confident, and yet there was a softness in his tone that sent warmth spreading through my chest. “I think you’re going to win.”

I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “Well, if you’re wrong, you owe me a drink.”

“And if I’m right?”

I considered for a moment before flashing him a playful smile. “Then I suppose I’ll owe you one.”

The night continued, the anticipation building with each passing moment. When it was finally time for my category, my palms turned clammy, and I clenched them in my lap to keep them from trembling. The presenters opened the envelope, and my heart pounded so hard I thought the entire theatre could hear it.

“And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to… Y/N Y/L/N!”

For a moment, the world stood still. My breath caught in my throat, my mind struggling to process the words that had just been spoken. Then, like a tidal wave crashing over me, reality sank in.

I had won.

The entire room erupted into applause, and before I could even react, Richard was on his feet beside me. His hands found my waist as I turned to him instinctively, and before I could stop myself, I threw my arms around his shoulders. He lifted me off the ground, spinning me in a celebratory embrace, his laughter ringing in my ears. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, warm and firm, stealing the very breath from my lungs. The crowd’s cheers roared louder, but in that moment, all I could focus on was the feeling of Richard kissing me in front of Hollywood’s biggest names.

When he finally set me down, his hands lingering on my waist, I stared at him, eyes wide with shock and exhilaration. “You kissed me,” I whispered breathlessly.

His lips curled into a lopsided smile. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

My heart pounded as I turned toward the stage, climbing the steps with my mind still reeling. The golden statue felt cool in my grasp as I stepped up to the microphone, looking out at the sea of faces. Cameras flashed, capturing this surreal moment, and as the cheers died down, I cleared my throat, trying to gather my thoughts.

“Well,” I started, exhaling a laugh. “I suppose Richard Madden will be getting lucky tonight.”

The audience erupted into laughter, and I caught sight of Richard burying his face in his hands, shaking his head with a bashful smile. My cheeks burned as I chuckled, deciding to embrace the moment rather than shy away from it. “But in all seriousness, this is a dream come true. I never imagined standing here, holding this, and I am beyond grateful.”

I went on to thank my director, my co-stars, my family, and everyone who had been a part of my journey. But as I spoke, my gaze flickered back to Richard, who was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

By the time I left the stage, the buzz had only grown. Backstage, reporters hounded me, asking about the kiss, about Richard, about whether or not something had been going on between us all along. I laughed them off, making some playful comment about being caught up in the excitement, but deep down, I knew the truth.

Something had shifted between us. Something undeniable.

The after-party was a blur of congratulations, flashing cameras, and champagne. But amidst all the chaos, Richard found me again.

“So, about that drink you owe me…” he murmured, handing me a flute of bubbly.

I took it with a smirk, clinking my glass against his. “You planned that, didn’t you?”

He grinned, leaning in slightly. “You kissed me back.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, sipping my champagne. “Maybe I did.”

His gaze darkened slightly, the intensity in his blue eyes sending a shiver down my spine. “What are we doing here, Y/N?”

I hesitated for a beat before setting my glass down. “I don’t know. But I think I’d like to find out.”

His smile widened as he reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “So, about that lucky night?” he teased, voice low and teasing

And just like that, the night that changed everything wasn’t just about winning an Oscar. It was about the moment Richard Madden kissed me in front of the entire world.