#shaggy roberts

[mk-wizard]

My take on an “adult” Scooby-Doo

Since everyone else is doing it and I believe in dealing with anger creatively and positively, here’s my take on it....

I would like to clear the air from now that nobody is paired with anyone romantically in the classic Mystery Inc. gang. I think they’re all just fine as friends and honestly, I find that progressive within itself. Plus, no one is “bent”. Everyone looks and acts the same as they always have. They’re just adults now.

Fred Jones

He is happily married to his wife Susan who is a lawyer while he is a stay-at-home dad to three cute little daughters. He is also a fitness influencer and life coach through his videos and forums. He caters to families who are trying to squeeze in exercise and fitness tips into their modern busy lives as well as encourages their kids to get out more and get moving. He is the mentor of his eldest daughter April, up and coming would-be-leader of what will be the future Mystery Inc. gang. Like him, April is confident and a born leader though she also has an interest in cheerleading, gymnastics and photography.

Daphne Blake

She is happily single while bringing up her two cats. She is still as fabulous as ever and is a well-known reporter. Her specialty is interviewing high profile people, bringing attention to important events and above else, being honest and only presenting the facts. She does not believe in sensationalism, dragging people through the mud or infotainment. She is a mentor to her niece Lindsay Blake who is also independent and outspoken, but her interests diverge a little as she is into comics and gaming.

Velma Dinkley

She is happily married to her wife Lisa Martin who is a writer while she is now the principal of Crystal Cove High. She is fair, kind, but strict and no nonsense when it comes to running the school. Even as an adult, she is a bookish brainiac though doesn’t stop anyone from respecting her. She still loves a good mystery hence why she acts as a mentor to Michael Stone who is also a brainiac with a strong love for mysteries, books and science as well as music.

Norville “Shaggy” Rogers

He is the proud owner of the Scooby-Snack Truck which is popular among the students. He loves making people happy through his cooking especially the students at the high school he once went to. Scooby works together with him as his mascot and partner. Shaggy is the mentor of Abdul “Buddy” Ahmed who has big dreams of becoming a big chef himself someday and admires Shaggy a lot. Like his mentor, Buddy loves food and is best buds with a canine who as fate would have it, is Scrappy-Doo Scooby’s nephew. Unlike Scrappy though, Buddy is not brave and is the voice of caution between the two of them.

Scooby-Doo

As mentioned before, he runs the Scooby-Snack Truck with Shaggy as both the mascot and partner. He draws in the customers by making them smile and laugh with his antics. While his mystery hunting days are behind him, he still acts as a mentor to his now adolescent nephew Scrappy-Doo who is now hunting mysteries of his own with his own gang. While Scooby was kind of skittish and nervous, Scrappy has the opposite problem of being too fearless for his own good and is constantly underestimating the danger he gets himself in, but his uncle Scooby is teaching him to look before he leaps.

[the-scooby-gang]

There are many benefits to being Barbie's cousin

My Ko-fi

Edit: Guys I know her last name is Roberts. This is an AU and also a Barbie Tickets meme it’s not that deep

[milktea-grn]

hair gel things

[knightofthenewrepublic]

[deus-sema]

Instead of fighting onscreen they could all just hop on board the Mystery Machine and go off to solve cases in Middle Earth.

[longwuzhere]

My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Easter Eggs

Welcome to another week of My Adventures with Superman WOW twist the knife more why don't you MAwS crew! Very emotional episode and a good one at that! OK lets get to the easter eggs!

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

Spoilers if you haven't seen the episode

The title of this week's episode is a reference to Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" poem specifically the line "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood". A good title for how General Sam Lane and Lois's lives "diverged" from one another after all the things that happened between the two.

Starting things off, General Sam Lane is hiding from Taskforce X and has covered the windows in Clark and Jimmy's apartment. Clark and Jimmy return and they get a knock on the door. General Lane is naturally jumpy at this but it turns out it's a package for Jimmy from S.T.A.R. Labs (I talked about the laboratory here) and the message says Jimmy is invited to speak at the symposium thanks to his Flamebird app and documentations about the occurrences around Metropolis, Superman, and the alien tech everyone's been getting. The message refers to Jimmy as Superman's "best friend" (and later on Lex Luthor calls Jimmy a "pal" both of which are often used as a way to referred to Jimmy in the comics. There's even been comics titled Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen, that lets reader's see Jimmy's adventures in relation to Superman. The latest run of it is fan-fucking-tasic! Highly recommend reading it!

In a, I'm assuming rented limo, Clark reads off who will be at the S.T.A.R Labs Symposium. First is CEO Hamilton, who we can assume is Emil Hamilton, General Wade Eiling, and Senator Hackett. Later at the symposium we even see General Eiling in the animated flesh with Hank Henshaw (who I talked about here) and sitting next to Mayor Fleming and Senator Sackett (both of whom I talked about here and they are wearing their outfits from episode 4 season 1).

Emil Hamilton makes his first appearance in the Adventures of Superman #424 (1987) [W: Marv Wolfman, P: Jerry Ordway, I: Mike Machlan, C: Tony Zuiko, L: John Costanza] as a former S.T.A.R. Labs employee who lost his job and his technology credit thanks to Luthor buying them out and claiming it as his own. He's Superman's science confidante and helped build the Phantom Zone Projector and the Superman robots. But later on he delves into more villainous territories.

General Wade Eiling I briefly talked about here but I can expand on it. Like I said in the previous post about General Eiling, he made his first appearance in Captain Atom #1 (1987). He becomes an even bigger threat to the Justice League in JLA #25 (1999) [W: Grant Morrison, P: Howard Porter, I: John Dell, C: Pat Garrahy, L: Ken Lopez]. General Eiling gets rid of his old human body and transfers his consciousness to the body of the Shaggy Man, shaved it down to what you see here. Now, he's granted super strength, near invulnerability, super stamina, and heightened sense of smell.

At the symposium, we see some tech demos with one being the invisibility vest that Mist wore in season 1 (I talk about him here) and the shield that blocks laser fire. Glad that someone on the MAwS team is a Gundam fan because that shield is designed to look like the Gundam RX-78's shield.

In a flashback to Lois's past, General Sam Lane explains to Lois what her mom's name means in Korean. Much like her comic counterparts, Eun-byeol's name starts with an E just like Ella/Elinore/Elenor Lane. Very smart of the MAwS crew to keep the consistency. Based on what was said in these flashbacks, Lois might be an only child, so no Lucy Lane, Lois's sister in this continuity.

As Lois and General Sam Lane try to hide themselves from Taskforce X, we see them get cornered in the sewers by Atomic Skull who I talked about here.

Continuing their escape, General Sam Lane and Lois meet a pawn shop owner, a friend of Sam's named Winslow Schott, a weapons and technology expert. This name drop is a reference to Superman villain, the Toyman.

Toyman's first appearance was in Action Comics #64 (1943) [Cover art by Sam Citron and Don Komisarow]. In this continuity, Winslow Schott was a talented toymaker who turned to the life of crime in order to get his thrills. In his debut he makes two robberies with his toys, but Superman stops his third robbery. Toyman captures Lois and attempts to kill her but was stopped by Superman.

In the silver age, Toyman makes his first appearance in Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen #9 (1955) [W: Otto Binder, P: Curt Swan, I: Ray Burnley]. Here Toyman goes by Winslow Percival Schott, which becomes his full name from then to this day. In the comic, some crooks kidnap Jimmy and use him to answer some Superman trivia on a quiz show.

Winslow would be revamped again in Superman #13 (1988) [W&P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tony Zuiko, L: John Costanza] where he is a digruntled toy designer employee who was fired for not being able to adapt to what children wanted at the time. So as a result of his firing Winslow would go after his former employers and kill them with his toys. This was origin of Winslow I am more familiar with thanks to Superman the Animated Series (highly recommend watching that cartoon too because its incredible and also Toyman in that show is FUCKING creepy).

There have also been other people who took up the Toyman name. Jack Nimball, the second Toyman uses the same gimmicks as Winslow, but Jack is dressed as a Jester. You may recognize the design in the Super Friends cartoon. The third and heroic Toyman was Hiro Okamura who was a rich Japanese teen with incredible intelligence and mechanical skills. Hiro would be most famous in the pop culture zeitgeist when he, Superman, and Batman teamed up together to stop a giant kryptonite asteroid from colliding with the Earth as seen in Superman/Batman #6 (2004) and the Superman/Batman: Public Enemies animated movie.

At the end of the episode, Clark feeling alone after overhearing Lois agree with her father that Clark was weird and hearing that Jimmy helped Lex get his start, he uses the beacon to contact Kara, his cousin who I talked about here. So I have a weird theory. It is possible that the person flying over Earth is not "Zod" but actually Kara?. In season 1's finale "Zod" uses the "kneel before me" line making all of us think its Zod, but the credits list the character with a female VA. So my idea is this was Kara receiving the signal from the beacon.

We seen in next weeks episode preview Kara will be showing up and that close up on the bracelet makes me think this is how she compacts the armor. Will I be right? Who knows, but all I can say is:

Very good episode this week can't wait to see what they'll do with Kara next week!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

and if you missed it my Season 1 Easter eggs list is here

[ziggyplayedguitar96]

HER HAIRRRR

It looks so good!

[kingbryancroidragon]

Head Canon

Fred and Daphne are Robert E. Howard fans and one thing they always argue about is which of his barbarian heroes is better: Kull of Atlantis or Conan of Cimmeria, with Fred being in the Kull camp and Daphne in the Conan camp. Whenever this happens, Shaggy, Velma and Scooby all leave the room rolling their eyes.

[dizzyspice717]

Austin Roberts, family of Davy Jones, and anyone else who might have them, release the original scooby doo soundtrack to Spotify and my life, is yours!

[firstpersonnarrator]

[elbiotipo]

sabiendo las connotaciones de su apodo, que nombre le podríamos a Shaggy de Scooby Doo en castellano? Busco sugerencias.

[the-scooby-gang]

These came to me like ✨visions✨

💖The Generator 💖

Barbie Roberts is Shaggy Rogers cousin in my "The Rogers Family!AU"

[zepskies]

Dream With Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

AN: Here we go, a three-part story for the Espresso-verse! This is set in the dreaded 15x20 (or the time gap within In Bad Weather.) There are implied references back to Devour Me and Show Me.

Word Count: 4.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, some spiciness, past body insecurity, references to body shaming, references to smut, PTSD, peril, blood and violence.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “On the Drop of a Dime”

Silence reigns as you and Dean get ready for bed. Tonight, it’s your boyfriend who’s watching you closely. 

Something’s off, he thinks, even as he checks you out in the little sleep shorts you just put on. It’s not the spandex ones he likes, but he still gets to see your familiar curves.

It's been a minute since he's gotten reacquainted. He and Sam just got back from a long hunt yesterday. You stayed home this time, for reasons Dean still hasn't totally figured out.

But his eyes trace over you, from thick thighs and tempting ass, to all of what you’re hiding under an old Def Leppard shirt. The rest, he can trace from memory alone.

You notice him watching you from his side of the bed. Your lips tug upwards.

“What?” you ask. Dean nods over, beginning to smile as well.

“Come ‘ere already.”

Huffing a little laugh, you tie your hair up in a big scrunchie and slide your way into bed, and into the inviting space between his arm and chest. He wraps that arm around your waist, pulling you comfortably close. You expel a deep breath and rest against him.

And you smile. “He’s snoring again.”

Miracle, a shaggy mutt Dean rescued, is curled up in his doggy bed at the foot of the humans’ bed where he likes to sleep. And rumble through his nose. He always goes to lay down when he sees Dean venture to the sink to brush his teeth. It’s like he knows his parents are about to go to sleep, so it’s his way of joining you.

“Dogs snore. Who knew?” Dean remarks.

“Who knew you’d be the one to get us a dog,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees in amusement. “Taking home strays is more your thing.”

You smirk at him. “Worked with you, didn’t it?”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, you moved in with me. Which makes you the stray.”

“Hey!” You shove at his shoulder. He traps your hand against his chest and tugs you in to kiss into your neck.

“Aw, but a sexy one,” he says, humming in pleasure against your skin, where he inhales that alluring mix of floral soap and coconutty shampoo. “Mmm. Less Annie, more Pretty Woman. Like Julia Roberts, if she had a Latina ass.”

You have to laugh, despite the arousing graze of his teeth against your pulse point. You hold him close by his shirt. He takes the scrunchie out of your hair with a practiced hand, letting the wild strands curl around his fingers. You tsk at him. He can never just let your hair be.

“Are you really comparing me to a prostitute right now?” you retort. You feel the shape of his grin against your skin.

“What can I say, baby? You’ve got moves,” Dean teases, low and gravel in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you’re both turned on and incredulous all at once.

Again, you hit his shoulder with a burst of laughter. It briefly lightens you from the funk you’ve been in.

It’s been a couple of months since Sam, Dean, and Jack ended Chuck’s reign of terror. Jack snapped the world back into existence and brought you back, along with everyone else…and the monsters.

It means your work isn’t over, even though that work is starting to wear on you. You haven’t let this on to Sam or Dean, however. It’s just been this thing, weighing on you for two months.

Unlike them, you don’t have as much experience with apocalyptic-level events, let alone dying. (And coming back, for that matter.)

Dean’s lips begin to break you from those thoughts, however, when he blazes a warm trail of sensuous, grazing kisses up your neck. Then along the curve of your jaw, as he holds your other cheek. Finally, he claims your lips.

You breathe into it, and into him as he almost succeeds in distracting your weighted mind. You give him a couple of sweet kisses in return before you slowly break from him.

“You have another long drive tomorrow,” you remind him, rubbing a hand across his chest. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Dean frowns as he looks on you. He tries to read whatever you’re hiding back there, behind your eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asks, and not for the first time. “Could use your help on the case.”

Sam already found another one: a string of suspicious murders in Boston—potentially a cursed Red Sox collectible cycling its way through unsuspecting baseball fans. In the morning, he and Dean are going out to investigate. You’ve elected to opt out. 

“It’s okay. I want to give Jody a visit,” you reply. You reach for the bedcovers to cover yourself up to your chest. Dean strokes your hip underneath.

“We could always swing by Sioux Falls after the hunt,” he says.

“It’s okay, baby. You and Sam go ahead,” you say. You twist away from him to turn off the light, but Dean stops you.

“All right,” he says with a sigh. “What’s going on?”

You raise a brow at him. “What?”

“You what,” Dean retorts. “This is the second time in a row that you’re blowing off a hunt.”

He’s right, but you don’t have a good answer for him. Your lips purse.

“I don’t know, I mean…are you going through some kind of slump?” he asks. “‘Cause you know I’ve been there.”

It’s your turn to sigh. You sit up in bed, and you debate the words you want to use to broach this with him. It’s been percolating in your mind for a while now, but it seems like this is the time to finally let it out.

“Okay, here it goes,” you mutter, trying to ignore your trepidation. “Do you ever think about…retiring?”

Dean’s attention piques, along with his frown.

“Retiring?” he repeats.

You reach out to grab his wrist, and you draw your thumb back and forth across his skin. 

“You ever think of…a house,” you pose. “Maybe a cozy cabin, or a little cottage-style thing somewhere, with a backyard for Miracle. And like, at least three bedrooms.” 

Dean smiles a little. He allows himself to contemplate the picture you’re painting.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why three bedrooms?” he asks.

Hope begins to flutter in your chest.

“Well, there’s our room of course,” you say, with a flirtatious gleam to your smile. “That’s where the magic happens.”

He smirks. “I’m in agreement so far.”

“Then there’s a guest room, for whenever Sam and Eileen come to visit,” you continue. “And then…there’s a third room for whatever we need.”

Your tone is leading him somewhere, along with your hand trailing up and down his arm.

“Like, you know, a gym. Or an office. Or a kid’s bedroom…or maybe two,” you say.

Dean’s expression slackens as surprise overtakes him. He probably should’ve known though.

“Two,” he intones, chuckling nervously. But, his face softens as he watches you with new understanding. “You’ve really been thinkin’ about that, huh?”

“Maybe,” you confess. You gain some courage and take in a deep breath. “Do you think about it? Dean, do you ever want to have a simpler life?”

He hums deep in contemplation. It’s a heavy sound, and it doesn’t spark your confidence.

“You know I’ve tried that before,” he says at last. “That life…sweetheart, it’s not my life. It never has been.”

“It could be,” you insist. “Chuck is done—”

“But the monsters ain’t,” Dean retorts. 

“There are other hunters,” you point out. “Haven’t you given enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You squeeze his hand to punctuate your point. Dean glances down, feeling the near desperation in your grip. Eventually, he’s able to meet your eyes again.

“Look…I’m the Job, you know? What the hell would I even do if not this?” he says.

You raise up his hand and lay a kiss to his knuckles. You know he thinks being a hunter is all he’s good for—all he’s equipped to do. You also know that he’s so much more than the Job. 

“Dean, you’re one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know. You can…restore cars, build cars,” you suggest. Your excitement grows as you brainstorm for him. You tap on his thigh.

“Oh! You could open up a bar. Call it the Roadhouse, after the one your friends had. Or hey, we could open up a bakery. We’ll sell pies and flan and whatever the hell else you want me to make.”

You say that last bit with a giggle. It earns Dean’s smile, but you know, looking into his eyes, that he’s not convinced. You grab his hand again with both of yours.

“Come on, Dean. Dream with me for a second,” you implore. “I know we could do this. We could…we could have a different life. A peaceful life. We could have a family.”

Dean sighs, glancing down at his hands. They’re calloused and scarred, and he has the memories to match.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I just uh…I think it’s too late for me to dream like that.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. Dean sees the fractures, and immediately feels guilty for it.

“Sweetheart,” he tries, reaching out for you, but you shake your head and turn away from him. He feels the loss of your hand.

“Good night,” you say, more sharply than you mean to. I knew he wouldn’t go for it, and I opened my mouth anyway.

He touches your shoulder. “Hey, come on—”

“Good night, Dean,” you repeat. I knew he wouldn’t…

You shouldn’t have said anything. You turn off the lamp on your nightstand, casting the room into darkness.

Dean hesitates. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, even though he knows he has. He just doesn’t know how to comfort you this time. His hand falls away from you as he turns onto his back, his lips pressing together.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to go to bed angry,” he dryly remarks.

“I’m not angry,” you mutter.

She said, friggin’ angrily, Dean finishes in his mind.

He sighs and tries to go to sleep. 

In the morning, you’re quieter than usual. You keep saying you’re not mad. You keep telling him to forget about it. But after four years together, Dean knows when you’re pulling away from him. 

You don’t even make espresso from your little cafetera press, like you usually do. You’re rummaging through the pantry, seemingly trying to decide what you’re going to have for breakfast.

“Coffee?” Dean asks.

You point to the percolating machine that spits out normal black coffee—a silent gesture that tells him he should make it himself.

Which he does, while frowning in annoyance at your attitude. He thinks it might be good that he and Sam are leaving on this hunt soon. It’ll give you a chance to cool off, and Dean a chance to figure out how to make this right with you. The problem is, he knows he won’t be able to do that without giving you what you want.

Retired? He scoffs in his mind. Bobby and Rufus never fucking retired from the life. Hell, Dean never even thought he’d live this long.

And what happened to Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and too many others…

Dean doesn’t let himself dwell on that interjecting thought for too long, even though it adds a familiar weight to his shoulders. He makes himself some buttered toast. He then sits across from Sam, who’s eating cereal while scrolling through the news on his laptop.

You sit next to Sam after grabbing a steaming cup of an Americano and a protein bar. Dean can tell by your face that you’re not enjoying either one. He debates if he should ask if you still plan to drive out to go see Jody today.

Sam glances over at his brother. He’s sensing the unspoken tension between you and Dean, but the latter can only give a small shake of his head.

You don’t want to know, Dean’s face says.

Your cell phone rings, breaking the silence. It’s an unknown number. You frown in confusion, but you still pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey. It’s me.”

Your frown deepens. You think you know the voice on the line, but you figure you should make sure, before your shitty morning gets even better.

“Who’s this?” you ask.

“It’s Carter,” he replies.

In other words, your insufferable ex-boyfriend. The last time you saw him was at a wake for a fellow hunter, Alicia Jackson. By the end of it, Dean nearly broke the man’s hand by the table of mini quiche. 

“You have some goddamn audacity,” you say in a biting tone. It has both Sam and Dean perking up in curiosity. 

“You’re the one who didn’t change your number,” Carter points out. You sigh and cover your eyes with your hand. 

“Why the hell are you calling me?” you ask. There’s a pause on the other line, but you lose patience.

“Carter, don’t waste my time. What the hell do you want?”

At hearing that name, Dean’s face falls with a dark frown. You raise a placating hand to him while you listen. 

“I need your help,” Carter says. “I’m on this case. A town in Nebraska on the edge of the woods. Three infants taken from their cribs. Townsfolk have been hearing noises from the woods. Sound familiar?”

Unfortunately, it does. You remember a case you worked a few months before you met Carter, in a small rural town in Louisiana. It had affected you so deeply, you remember telling him about it, when you two were still together.

“A cadejo isn’t going to go that far north,” you say.

Originally from South America, cajedos are dog-like creatures, except for their hooves. They’re creatures of habit, and they like the warmth. They also prefer the taste of children. The younger the better.

“It will if it’s hungry,” Carter points out. “You’re the only one I know who’s hunted one of these things.”

“…Okay. Where are you?” you sigh in defeat. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dean whisper-yells. Your lips purse, and again you raise a hand, wordlessly telling him to wait. 

“Arcadia,” Carter replies.

You shake your head at the prospect of actually going along with this. 

“You know I’m probably not going to meet you alone, right?” you say.

“Yeah, I heard Hasselhoff back there,” Carter remarks. “I’m sure he and the other Twin Terror will be right behind you.”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can get fucked by the cadejo for all I care. Call another hunter.” You’re ready to hang up when Carter backtracks.

“Okay, okay! I can be civil,” he says. “Come on. I need your help.”

You deliberate internally with indecision as you set down your phone for a minute. You glance up at Dean, whose facial expression makes it pretty damn clear what his stance is. Sam seems to be waiting on whatever you decide, but is still wary.

You reluctantly hold the phone back to your ear.

“All right. I’ll be on the way in a bit,” you reply.

“Well, all right then. See you soon,” Carter says, in a quasi-flirtatious tone that makes you grimace in disgust.

You hang up the phone and set it down on the table in exasperation. When you raise your gaze, you find exactly what you expect to see.

Dean’s jaw is clenched.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was?” he asks. You frown at him in annoyance.

“You want to calm down?” you say.

“What, so I’m supposed to be okay with you agreeing to go see that son of a bitch?” Dean says. “After what happened last time?”

“Dean…” You rub at your forehead, frowning at the beginning of an ache behind your eyes. 

Sam knows instinctively that this is a conversation better had between just you and Dean, but he feels weird about getting up from the dining table. In his indecision, he stays. 

“This isn’t about me,” you say at last. “And it’s not about him. This is about saving people who need help.”

It’s a point Dean can’t readily refute. So you give him a sly smile. 

“Besides,” you say. “Are you really going to let me go alone?”

That’s how Dean ends up driving you and Sam to Nebraska on a Tuesday morning, after calling another hunter to take on that case Sam had found.

Dean is taciturn and downright grumpy all the way there. Even though you know why, it still irks you. Despite your argument last night, he’s become an amazingly supportive boyfriend in so many ways. So why is he being such a man child about this?

When you all get to the motel, you and Dean book a room while Sam grabs his own. You don’t blame him for wanting some distance from the tension the elder Winchester is exuding. You only wish you could get a room by yourself.

You text Carter to let him know that you’ve arrived at the same motel he’s staying at: 

Where do you want to meet up?

Dean notices you texting. 

“Right, let’s get this over with. Where’re we meeting your boyfriend,” he snarks.

But you’re not laughing. You let out an angry huff, your hands moving to your hips. 

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stopped being such an ass about this. I have enough on my mind without dealing with your pouting,” you say. 

Dean looks down at you, crossing his arms. “I’m not pouting. I’m here trying to watch your back while you go and let that bastard play you like a damn fiddle.”

You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Do you really, actually think I want to see Carter?” you ask. “Do you think I’m that stupid, that I don’t know what he’s trying to do?”

You already know Carter is using this to try and get back into your life, or at least, under your skin. You don’t intend to let him accomplish either one.

Meanwhile, Dean’s frown deepens.

“Okay. If you’re seeing 20/20, then why’re we here? Why not call another hunter and let them fill in?” he asks.

“Is that what you would do?” you counter, pressing a finger into his chest. “If it was your ex who needed help, you would be doing the same damn thing that I’m doing, and don’t pretend it’d be any different. So stop trying to make me feel guilty for trying to do this right.”

You grab the empty ice bucket from the counter. Right now, you need any excuse to get some air, and get out of this oppressive room. 

Dean lets you go, even though he’s silently fuming. The door slams shut behind you. 

He sighs. He doesn’t feel like being in this room either, so he steps out and knocks on Sam’s door. 

Sam opens it, and has to move to the side when Dean slips inside without asking. 

“Sure, come right in,” Sam says wryly. He watches Dean sit down on the bed and drop his head into his hands, rubbing his face. 

“Dude, you need to chill out,” Sam says. Dean’s head raises, and he gives his brother a sarcastic look.

“Oh, really? Is that what the fuck I need to do?” he says. He draws a frustrated hand over his mouth. “This guy’s a problem Sam. This whole thing…it doesn’t feel right.”

Sam doesn’t understand just how bad the repercussions were, after what happened at Alicia’s funeral. You having to deal with Carter that night had set you back, mentally, in more ways than one. It had you thinking things about yourself, and your own body, that made Dean want to track that bastard down and bash his skull in.

But instead, Dean had spent that entire night trying to help you feel comfortable in your own skin again, and comfortable with him. He’d continued trying to erase those old insecurities from your mind for the rest of the damn week—mainly by fucking it out of you.

In your bed, in the shower, in the backseat of his Baby, on that comfy couch in the library that's already been christened three times before (luckily, no one caught you guys that time), and even in the dirty bathroom of a roadside bar after a hunt.

...Yeah, you’d taken some convincing on that last one.

Worth it, Dean thinks, smirking internally.

Besides all of that though, there’s something else gnawing at his insides. Something he hasn’t told Sam, or even you for that matter.

Since the world nearly ended with Chuck and his snapping fingers, Dean has lived with…a kind of edge. An edge that makes him wary whenever your safety is concerned, beyond the usual dangers that come with a hunt. Beyond the things Dean feels equipped to handle with certainty. 

“Be that as it may, she can take care of herself, Dean. You know that,” Sam says, breaking Dean from his thoughts. “All we can do is watch her back on this. And we will.”

After a beat to consider that, Dean nods, however reluctantly. Despite your recent struggles, he also knows how strong you are, and not just in your stubbornness that’s more than a match for his own.

Even though he’d rather you not have to go through this bullshit at all with Carter, Dean knows you. He knows you’ll do what you think is right, with or without his say so.

His shoulders deflate with his breath of exasperation. He gets up, claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean leaves his brother’s room to return to his own.

He frowns when he finds it empty. 

He backs out of the room and looks down the sidewalk. There’s no one in sight. 

He follows down the path you must’ve gone to find the ice machine. He turns a corner, and he finds a half-full bucket of ice…on the ground, laying on its side. Dean rushes back to the parking lot.

He doesn’t see you anywhere. The Impala is still parked where he left her, so you haven’t taken off by yourself. At least, not of your own volition.

He goes back to Sam’s motel room and pounds a fist three times on his door. Sam opens it with an annoyed frown and a ready protest, until Dean speaks over him. 

“Sam, I can’t find her,” he says. “She’s gone.”

Slowly, you wake in what looks like a dusty old barn.

You’re sitting in a wooden chair that hurts your ass, and your back is aching due to the thick knot of rope holding your wrists behind the chair. There’s a pounding in the back of your skull that makes you wince.

You have a dull memory of feeling a presence behind you, and then being hit before you could even throw a punch.

Someone calls your name gently. You turn to your left, and there’s Carter, strapped to his own chair. He looks rough. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, and he bears a ragged wound on his neck. It’s weeping with blood that stains his shirt, likely hours old, by the way it’s dried. 

You would know that kind of bite anywhere. You feel the phantom pain where your neck meets your shoulder.

Vampires.

“You okay?” Carter asks. He looks genuinely worried for you.

“What?” you utter. You’re still a bit dazed, until a woman steps into the room. Her long brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her leather jacket matches her dark wash jeans and black boots. She gathers her hands behind her back and gives you a smile. 

“Morning, sweetheart. Have a good little nap?” she asks. 

“You know...I’ve had better,” you reply, rolling the crick out of your neck. Again, you glance at Carter. He looks like he’s been here for days. And, he looks guilty as hell.

A terrible feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, but you take in a breath and return your attention to the woman in front of you.

“It’s a cocky game, hunting for hunters,” you say. “What, got tired of sucking on cows and hookers?”

What can you say? After four years, Dean has rubbed off on you.

The woman cocks her head, and her smile deepens. She steps closer. Close enough to smell you as she leans in close to your cheek. She inhales your scent, her lips brushing your neck and earlobe. You grimace and try to pull away, but she grabs your head, her nails tangling sharply in your hair. 

You fucking hate vampires.

Especially after a nest of vampires turned a child, who then tried to take a chunk out of your neck. It’s been a few years since then, but you’ve always been uneasy on vamp hunts ever since. 

“I’ll make it easy for you,” the woman whispers in your ear. “You’re here because I want one thing. Just one thing… Sam and Dean Winchester.”

That shocks you, but you manage to recover enough to reply.

“Who are you?” you ask. “Why are you after them?”

“Jenny. At least, that's the name they'll remember,” she replies, toying with a strand of your hair. “And let’s just say, we have history. They killed my family. And that crime has no statute of limitations.”  

“You really think you’re going to get the drop on them?” you say, even though you’re trying to calm your breathing, and your racing heart. “Good luck, bitch.”

She grabs you by the hair, making you wince. 

“Leave her alone!” Carter says. He’s exhausted, but his anger and frustration fuel him.

The vampire suddenly releases you. But she walks behind you and moves over to him. She grabs him by his short blonde hair and forcefully cranes his head back. He makes a sound of pain, and her lips draw near to the open bite wound on his neck.  

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jenny threatens. She abruptly lets him go and comes around to stand in front of both of you with her arms cross. She glances over at you, and gestures at your companion. 

“If you want to find the world’s most infamous killers, ask a killer,” she remarks.

You slowly turn your head toward Carter. Your expression tightens with anger—such anger that even brings furious tears to your eyes. 

“You…you lured me here,” you realize.

Carter confirms it when he can’t meet your eyes. His face tells a story of immense guilt. 

“I just thought they’d try to get the jump on Sam and Dean,” he says.

“Cooooño,” you mutter a drawn out curse through clenched teeth. Briefly you close your eyes. 

“I figured the three of you could take ‘em. I didn’t think they’d take you!” Carter exclaims.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’d lied to you, betrayed you. He tried to trade his own life for theirs, and yours as well.

“I knew you were a fucking asshole, but I never thought you were this big a coward!” you hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

“I don’t want to hear it!” you snap back. You look up at Jenny, who looks bemused watching the scene.

“And you better come packing, Twilight, because Sam and Dean are gonna gut you like a fish,” you say snidely.

Jenny smiles as one, two, three and more men step into the barn and join her. She greets them all with a nod of her head, before she turns back to you with a sharp grin.

“Oh, I’m certainly not alone.”

“Son of a bitch. I fucking told you," Dean grouses. "I knew there was something off about this whole deal.”

“I hear you,” Sam says. His tone is steady to try and anchor his brother. “We’re almost there.”

Dean is pushing Baby to her limits on a dusty road out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Nebraska. Sam has been able to track your cell phone, and even break into your text messages from his laptop. Carter’s last text to you held the location of where to meet in exact coordinates. Even Sam agreed that was strange, as if your kidnapping wasn’t bad enough. 

It has Dean white-knuckling his grip on the steering wheel. Sam’s route is leading him further away from civilization, and deeper into the woods on either side of the road. 

“How much longer, man?” Dean asks. 

Sam gives his brother a reassuring look. He’s worried for you too, but he knows he has to lock it up for Dean’s sake. 

“Couple more miles," Sam replies. "Then it looks like we’re going off-road.”

“Into the woods?” Dean asks. 

“Most likely,” Sam says. 

Fuck, Dean thinks. His gut churns with apprehension. He doesn’t even know what you’re going through right now, let alone who (or what) has you. All he knows is, he’s not losing you.

Not like this.

Not again.

Spanish Translation: “Coño.” -> "Fuck."

AN: 😮‍💨 Diving into the thick of it on this one! Lots of conflict and tension, but what did you think of her argument with Dean about her "dream?" And how do you think it's going to play out with Carter? 😬

Here's a sneak peek at where we're going:

Next Time:

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks.  

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[claymoresword]

Where's My Love

Cersei Lannister x Stark Fem!Reader 🐺

Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Cersei x Stark!fem!reader where she's Ned's youngest sister and Cersei's ex-secret lover. Reader is a rebel like Arya and never married but she's very protective of her nieces/nephews. She and Cersei had a bad breakup and are finally reuniting during the events of the first GOT episode when the king's court goes to Winterfell. You could write reader backing up Arya again Joffrey and Cersei seething 😂😂😂 you can include g!p and smut if you want.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Pairing: Cersei x Stark Reader

Warnings: g!p reader, smut, power play, depictions of physical abuse, cheating , very toxic , references to alcoholism, breeding kink if you squint, emotional manipulation, did i already say this was toxic ?

Note: thank you so much 🐑 for the prompt! i actually had a lot of fun writing this one. also important to note this is my first time actually publishing something y'all have requested me to write so hopefully i got this right.. i know i tweaked and added a couple things but i hope you don't mind! and if you hate this i'm sorry lmao i tried <33

(smut after asterisks)

Bouts of laughter erupt from your nephews as Bran once again misses his mark, the arrow flies way over the target.

You glare at the older boys, in response Robb places a hand over his mouth, Jon instead chooses to avoid your gaze entirely focusing his stare at the ground beneath.

All dirt and sleet on the base of your boot, the ground squelched with every step you took.

“Try again, Bran. Take a deep breath, aim properly.” You order placing a lingering hand on his shoulder. 

The young boy nods obediently as you step back once more, he raises his bow arm. 

He aims, soon releasing the string, and once again, he misses. The arrow pierces the edge of a barrel on the far left, leagues away from his actual target.

Once again the boys burst into fits of laughter, this time is it not you who reprimands them.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” You follow the sound of your brother's voice, he is standing on the balcony above, Catelyn by his side.

“Keep trying, Bran.” Jon decides to cease his teasing, he encourages his half-brother.

A sudden gust of wind tickles your face, the cold breeze permeates the air, bleeding through the thin fabric of your doublet. You immediately regret not putting on more layers this morning. You have lost track of the days, but there is no doubt that winter is coming.

“Robb, make certain your brother continues practicing. I am going back inside, but remember– your father is watching.” You warn your eldest nephew, as stern as you can manage. 

Shaggy streaks of red hair fall over his eyes as he nods. 

You wrap your arms around yourself as you start up the stairs, but your plan to slip back into your chambers unnoticed fails.

“Y/n.” Cat appears next to you.

“Are you alright?” The Lady of Winterfell asks, and you force a sweet smile, one to disarm and hopefully quell her worries. 

Catelyn didn't exactly warm to you at first, and neither did you with her, but over time you both grew to truly care for one another. She was like an older sister to you, the void left by your late sister Lyanna did not seem so large with her around.

“I'm fine, I just needed to fetch something from my bedchambers, that's all.” You lie. However, the older woman somehow always manages to see right through you.

She gazes upon you skeptically only to eventually release your arm. She takes a step back, allowing you to take your leave without further interrogation.

-

In truth, you were far from alright. 

Despite yourself, you have been on edge since finding out that the King is on his way to Winterfell with his Lady wife and all of their children.

This visit is a sudden one. Upon the death of Jon Arryn you had expected things to be different, knowing how much the former Hand meant to your brother– but you never anticipated a visit from the King himself.

You hadn't seen Robert in nine years, and his wife for longer than that. 

It is not by accident.

If it was up to you, things would be different. You would still be in King's Landing today, perhaps serving as Knight– or as Cersei had once intended, a personal guard for the Queen.

You were once certain that you would spend the rest of your days by Cersei's side, no matter the circumstances, but you merely held the high hopefulness of a young girl. 

Since then have been forced to accept that life is nothing like the tales and songs you were fed as a child. The Gods are not always merciful, things rarely ever go to plan and love most certainly does not conquer all.

Life got in the way of your love, and pride did the rest. 

You have not spoken to Cersei Lannister in a decade, yet your entire being continued to ache with every day that you have spent apart. Time does not heal the type of hurt that only yields to resentment.

When the King and Queen arrive for their visit on the morrow, you intend to avoid her Grace at all costs, for her sake and your own. Above all, you will have no choice but to grit your teeth and endure what you must.

You haven't seen Cersei in years, but you were bound to slaughter each other given the chance.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Come in!” You beckon whoever was on the other side of the door as you fastened the clasps on your doublet.

Ned ceases his knocking, pushing the door open, he looks upon you in a way he knew you hated, but your brother can hardly help it.

He worries about you. When you returned home all those years ago, you were inconsolable. 

You are a Stark, not made for the South. Your brother tried in jest, but he knew it wasn't the weather, or even court politics that despaired you. 

It was Cersei, it had always been Cersei.

"The King was seen riding up; he should be arriving any moment.” Ned states.

“Right, I'm almost done here.” You quip, but the man takes it upon himself to assist you with your sheepskin cloak, draping it over your shoulders.

He keeps his hands on you, his brows furrowed with evident worry, and for some reason you can't help but find it all a bit silly, you chuckle lightly. “I will be fine, Ned.” 

Your brother appears less than convinced,  you shove him playfully. “You worry about me too much, brother, it’s beginning to age you.”

Ned scoffs. “Aye, try being in my position for a day and you'll understand why I worry so much… but it is time that's aging me, little sister.” Ned quips in response and this makes you pause.

You notice the streaks of white, scattered across his dark locks. As the morning sun peeks through the window, catching his face, you observe more of those streaks in his beard.

Where has time gone?

Ned steps closer, it seems that he has mistaken your silence for something else. Your brother plants a quick kiss on the crown of your head as a result.

In times like this you can't help but feel like a girl of thirteen again, looking to her older brother for protection.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You watched as the Kingsguard rode through the walls of Winterfell, Lannister banners in hand. It unsettles you more than you thought it would. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, turning to Sansa, her younger sister still nowhere in sight.

“Sansa, where is your sister?” You question and the girl only shrugs dismissively, but you aren't left wondering for long as Arya can be seen pushing through the crowd, quickly settling next to you.

The young girl was wearing an iron helm you had never seen before, her once pristine dress now ornamented with specks of dirt and grime. You shake your head disapprovingly, an effort to suppress your amusement.

Sansa scoffs at the sight of her younger sister, while you snatch the helm off Arya's head, she looks up at you with a scowl.

“Where did you even get this?” You ask, your tone manages to match the look on her face.

Arya gives you no response, and you aren't allowed the opportunity to press her further as you feel a nudge against your arm. Ned forces you to look ahead as the King can be seen dismounting his horse.

Ned kneels, and you and everyone else follows suit.

After a beat, the King's command all of you to rise, and soon you spot the carriage halting a few feet behind him.

You involuntarily held your breath as the door opens. The Queen emerges, she keeps her gaze ahead as she climbs down the steps.

Cersei looks the picture of poise and grace. She seems older, and somehow even more beautiful than you remembered. It knocked the wind right out of you, you had to look away. 

Your eyes are no longer on the Queen, but your chest aches all the same.

“Cat!” Your attention is pulled to the display before you as the King addresses your sister in law, pulling her in for an embrace that she doesn't appear to be prepared for.

“Nine years. why haven't I seen you, where the hell have you been?” Robert addresses your brother once more.

“Guarding the North, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies, practiced and noble as he always was.

Robert then turns to you, a scowl upon his face, one that stuns you slightly. Your mind turns to Cersei, you consider what she might have shared with her Lord husband in your absence. 

She must have told him the real reason you left King's Landing, no doubt the King will want you punished for repeatedly bedding his wife all those years ago. but then the King's frown turns, and your mind ceases its torment. 

Robert lunges only to pull you in for an embrace, a gesture that startles you, your body remains tense until he releases you from his hold.

“I expected better from you, Y/n.” The King narrows his gaze in a puckish manner. 

“Unlike your damned brother here I thought you enjoyed the Keep. I was sure you wanted to serve in my Kingsguard.” He adds, and you force a grin, gallant yet strained.

“I admit that was a different time, Your Grace. These days, my passions lie elsewhere.” You reply, and you can hardly prevent the way your gaze flits towards the Queen for a moment.

Cersei has been stood beside her husband, staring at you relentlessly for the entire duration of this interaction. If the Queen has remained the same person she was all those years ago, then you know for certain this was her attempt to intimidate– but you were not so keen on letting her have the upper hand. 

You drill your expression, unfazed.

The King snorts derisively at your answer, but says nothing more.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You had spent most of the afternoon, drowning in your cups. The knowledge that Cersei was only a few doors away was aggravating, everything you thought to have successfully repressed has now resurfaced.

Every inch of you calls out to Cersei, your very soul yearns for her. You craved the unbearable pain, and blinding pleasure that came with being around her.

You have laid awake many nights picturing the ways you would confront her. The things you would say to her. 

You fantasized about the possibility of finally being rid of all of your pain. To hurt her the same way she hurt you. Your heart, dense and cold, obstructed by all things Cersei. Within you, you carried everything you despised about the other woman– and all the things you adored.

The Queen was a mistake you couldn't erase, and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to you. You hate her, but you cannot stand to be apart from her.

-

The sound of commotion snatches you out of your thoughts. The voices that permeate sound vaguely familiar to you, but you are only able to place them once you take a glance out your window.

You spot Arya and Bran in the courtyard. Prince Joffrey standing over them, your face falls as you spot his steel unsheathed from his scabbard and in his hand.

Without another moment's thought you rushed downstairs towards the training yard, prepared to pacify the affair, however dire it may be, but it seems Arya has taken the situation into her own hands.

Bran is gone, but the Prince is now on the ground. It seems that Arya has managed to disarm the older boy, his steel thrown to the side in the dirt. 

Now she is threatening Joffrey with a wooden practice sword, her direwolf beside her, growling with intent at the Prince.

“Arya enough!” You intercept the blow, forcefully dragging your niece away from the boy.

“What the seven hells do you think you're doing?” You bark, and Arya drops the sword, her chest still heaving.

A young girl seething with unbridled fury was such an uncommon sight that it makes you grimace.

“He was trying to hurt Bran! I had to protect him.” Arya gestures to the Prince, the boy still whimpering in pain.

“Damn you and that stupid dog! I am telling my mother! I will report you to the king!” Joffrey hurls his threats, and Arya makes the juvenile decision to respond.

“Nymeria's a direwolf, not a dog!” She shouts and you sigh, placing a hand over your niece's mouth to silence her, an action Arya fights but your grip on her doesn't relent.

“My Prince, I am sure my niece meant no harm–” You try but the boy interjects.

“No harm?” The Prince hisses. “She nearly sliced my arm off!” Once again he whimpers like a pup that had just been trampled.

You take a step forward to examine the cut on Joffrey's arm, and it was only that– a minor cut, one that will heal without leaving as much as a scar.

Large footsteps approach, the Prince's sworn guard comes rushing to the scene, Sandor Clegane scowls at you before assisting the boy to his feet effortlessly with one hand.

“Some protector you are, dog. I almost died!” Joffrey then redirects his frustrations towards his guard.

He continues muttering insults as he retrieves his sword from the dirt, strutting out of the training yard.

Nymeria doesn't cease her growling until the boy was entirely out of sight, it was also only then you remove your hand from Arya's mouth.

“Have you completely lost your wits?” You gape, looking down at your niece disapprovingly, before kneeling to be at eye level with her.

“He was–” Arya starts, but you interrupt.“–I don't care what he did, Arya. You never attack a Prince.” You state firmly.

“You do something like this again and I will make sure you never get the chance to wield a weapon again, do you understand?” You assert, and your tone is harsh enough to make Arya wince.

She doesn't reply with words, she continues looking down at her feet as she nods.

“Let's go and get you cleaned up.” You state, you try to pull her by the arm but Arya doesn't budge.

“I was trying to be brave, like you.” She mutters under her breath, and you turn to look at the young girl once more.

“What?” You ask.

“Don't be upset with me, please, please. I'm sorry.” Then Arya states frantically, her voice small and frail– it shatters you.

“Oh, Arya– my sweet girl.” You say, kneeling once again. “I'm not upset, I was worried.” You pull her in for an embrace, your niece clutches you tightly in return.

After a prolonged moment, you cease the hug, wiping away some of the dirt from her face with the pads of your thumbs. 

Then you took a quick scan of your surroundings, to ensure that you were alone before speaking again.

“Our Prince is a bit of a cunt.” You finally quip, earning a chuckle from Arya.

“He is.” Your niece beams at you, in turn this makes you fill with relief.

“I am proud of you for disarming him. but next time, leave it at that. Do you understand the consequences that come with attacking a King's heir?” You ask, and you watch as a realization graces the young girl, she averts her gaze, this time with guilt.

“Never again, do you hear me?”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You were exhausted from the events of the day, and yet it was not close to over. 

You decide to retire to your chambers, aiming for at least a few hours rest before the King's welcome feast later this evening.

Resting your hand on the pommel of your sword, you take large steps through the gallery. You crave the horn of ale waiting for you on your nightstand, the comfort of your warm bed.

You turn the corner, a figure appears before you and you swerve out of the way quickly enough to avoid whoever it was that decided to walk toward you in this exact moment from the opposite direction.

As you gather yourself to take a proper look at the woman who you nearly bumped into, your blood runs cold. 

“Your Grace, forgive me.” You state curtly, inclining your head at Cersei. 

Your hand remains resting on the hilt of your sword as you attempt to slip past her, but before you can successfully walk away, she has a hold of your arm, dragging you backwards to where you stood.

You yank your arm out of her hold, a scowl covers your features, but Cersei ignores your visible discontent as she speaks.

“That niece of yours tried to murder my son.” The Queen accuses.

“What?” You can't help the half-laugh that slips out of you. Cersei takes offense to this, her expression hardens.

“Joff will bear those scars for the rest of his life.” She is not backing down, and you can't pretend that you possessed the will to deal with her theatrics.

You only roll your eyes, finally slipping past her and into your chambers.

You step inside your room, but before you can close the door Cersei intercepts, forcefully pushing it open to let herself in.

She slams it closed behind herself.

“You dare walk away from your Queen?” She bellows.

This time you groan, collapsing onto your bed.

You ignore her statement, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. “Oh, Cersei, it is a cut, it'll heal!”

A prolonged silence from the Queen, she only speaks again once you sit up in your bed.

“You've not changed a bit.” She remarks, treacherous emerald gaze meeting your pale greys.

“Neither have you.” You retaliate boldly.

More silence until Cersei is first to look away, clasping her hands infront of herself she assumes an impassive stance.

“I will have that girl punished.” The Queen threatens, her tone sounds spiteful. but you don't hide your incredulity.

“For what?” You ask, and Cersei's jaw clenches even tighter, you wonder if she might lunge at you.

“She attacked my son. the King's heir.” Cersei retorts, and you scoff.

“Is that what Robert’s teaching his sons? How to lose to a little girl?” You taunt, not backing down.

You knew Arya should receive consequences for her actions by right, but giving Cersei that satisfaction is the absolute last thing you plan to do.

“Or is it not the King's doing at all?” You ask again as Cersei fails to respond. You rise from the bed, stepping closer to the Queen.

“Is it Jaime's fault?” You tilt your head inquisitively, mockingly. 

You are close enough to smell the lavender oil on Cersei's skin. Her eyes flit to your lips for a fleeting moment, and yours do the same to hers. 

Then a madness overcomes you, prompting your next choice of words.

“I expect it is him you've been opening your legs for these days–” You utter, but you are swiftly silenced when Cersei's palm makes contact with your cheek.

She slaps you across the face, your head turns slightly from the force of it. Your face is now throbbing, raw and red with traces of Cersei's wrath. 

She goes to strike you again, and this time it is intercepted by your firm grip on her wrist. 

A fury reignites within you as Cersei tries to fight out of your hold, entirely allowing your emotions to guide your actions, your hand finds her throat. Before your rational mind can mitigate it, you have your fingers firmly wrapped around her neck. The back of her head slams against the wooden door as you forcibly pinned her upon it.

The Queen is clawing at your hand, struggling to take a breath as you restricted her airway. A real fear flashes across Cersei's face, and a part of you wants to watch her fall limp within your grasp, to quiet her once and for all, to destroy the cause of your agony. but you don't– instead you take a step back, releasing her. 

Cersei gasps as air sharply re enters her lungs, roughly wiping away the tears that have made it down her cheeks.

The Queen attempts to regain her resolve the best she can, and the look she gives you is not one of shock, instead it is pure disdain, and you look at her the same. Cersei doesn't speak, she merely shoves you harshly with both hands against your chest, as you stumbled back, she turns to open the door.

You collapse on your bed once more as Cersei dissapears into the hallway, the door shutting behind her. 

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. It seemed the Queen will never fail to elicit the worst from you– to make you act like an utter lunatic.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The welcome feast has been dragging on now for what felt like an eternity. 

The King was no longer seated as his high table, instead he was in the center of the hall, shamelessly flirting with some of the servants.

You roll your eyes, reaching for the flagon of ale infront of you, as you attempted to lift it, it doesn't budge. You fleetingly wonder if the liquor had caused you to lose all strength in your arm, only to realize your brother was holding the jug firmly on the table so it wouldn't move.

You squint at Ned, and he glares at you in return.

“Enough. You'll drink yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.” Your brother warns and it makes you snigger.

“That is the plan, brother.” You slur slightly, but Ned makes the deliberate effort to ignore you.

You slump backwards in your chair, when you've realized you lost this argument, as you often did when it came to the lord of Winterfell.

You eyes fall upon King Robert once more, he is still in the middle of the room, surrounded by maidens and even more whores. 

This time he is no longer flirting with them, he is in a full lip lock with one of the women. He does this in the presence of the Queen, dishonouring her for all to see.

You grimace at the sight, an unwanted rage overcomes you. You can hardly believe this lecherous drunk was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Married to the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms, the only woman you have ever wanted.

You can't bear to look at Cersei's reaction to this, in fact you can hardly remain at this feast for a moment longer. You abruptly rise from your seat, Ned looks up at you, puzzled.

“May I please be excused?” You asked formally for the rest of the table to hear and your brother hesitates before nodding curtly in response.

As you walked back to your chambers you can't help but invision what your life would have been like if your brother had taken the Iron throne instead of Robert Baratheon. If you had remained in King's Landing– if you had wedded Cersei instead.

Perhaps in a different life. 

You and Cersei would be married, and you'd rule together. In another reality Cersei would be your Queen and not Robert's. She would bear your children, your heirs. You would grow old together and live out your days by each other's side. In a different life, you would have remained faithful to Cersei, you would have given her everything she desired and in return, Cersei would offer you her heart. 

You would have been happy.

In another life. 

By the time you reached your room, the tears had stopped flowing, but the collar of your shirt remained drenched.

As you shut your door, you unclapsed your doublet, lifting it above your head, tossing it aimlessly across the room. 

Now only in your tunic and breeches, you feel the urge to weep some more, but you refuse to allow your tears to fall this time. 

You take a seat on the settee, head in your hands. The effects of the ale already wearing off, a headache rapidly setting in, you realized that you needed another drink.

You get up to fetch the flagon from the small table but as your door flings wide open, nearly hitting you in the process, you freeze where you stand.

A familiar golden haired beauty emerges through the doorway, and you allow yourself a deep breath. Clutching your chest slightly to calm yourself.

“Your Grace, the hour is late.” You state dismissively, starting across the room to fetch your goblet.

“If you have come to order my execution for my behaviour this afternoon, best get it over with.” You quip, the liquor in your system doing all of the talking for you.

You hear the door shut, without looking back you assume Cersei had taken her leave but you are perplexed when you turn to see her still standing by the door, watching you set down your goblet.

You walk across the room once more to take a seat on the settee, you remove your boots, setting them aside.

Cersei has remained silent for long enough that you nearly forgotten her presence entirely. Her next ask startles you.

“Look at me.” Her commanding tone leaves no room to argue, you glance at her. 

Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed. It is clear to you that she has been crying as well.

You rise from your seat abruptly, approaching her. “Are you alright?” You ask, and again the Queen says nothing.

She merely stares at you, hopefulness at your concern and despair at the fact that you needed to ask.

**

She lunges forward, before you can fully comprehend it, her lips crash against your own, she kisses you deeply, pure anguish and want. It snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you have no desire to pull away.

Your tongue makes contact with her own and Cersei moans, pulling you impossibly closer by the nape of your neck.

Your body pressed up against hers as she leans against the wall. You were now both panting into the kiss, all aggression and desire. 

You had not been with Cersei like this in a decade, and yet there was a complete lack of uncertainty. It felt right, you were certain that you are meant to be with her like this, until the end of your days. 

However, there still exists voice deep within you, whether it is pride or reason, you cannot say for certain. but it urges you to pull away, so you do.

The Queen chases your lips eagerly, but you pull back even further. “Cersei, stop. What is this, what are you doing?” You ask, every moment you spent without your lips on hers felt like pure agony.

“I just need you– please–” Cersei replies with a desperation you have never heard before, and this was enough to break you. 

Any semblance of dignity vanishes into the very depths of yourself, all that's left is your deep and tortuous want for Cersei.

You kiss her again, rough and urgent, you are panting and groaning into each other's mouths. Cersei's hands immediately move to the hem of your breeches, she unlaces them in record time, slipping her hand inside.

You nearly lose it all when she wraps her fingers around the base of your cock, stroking it with such dexterity you fear your knees may give out.

“Gods–” You grunt, bucking your hips embarrassingly into her touch. 

You find the strength to remove her hand from your breeches. Soon enough you slip them off, your slacks pooling around your ankles before you kicked them to the side.

You swiftly remove your own tunic as Cersei's trembling hands struggle to undo the laces of her dress. 

Your patience wearing thin, you flip her around, indecently ripping the fabric open with one swift tug. 

“Y/n–” Cersei scolds in response to your eagerness, glancing back at you with dissaproval, but her dress easily slips off her shoulders after that, her smallclothes follow suit.

The Queen is still facing away from you as you part her hair away from her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses against her hot flesh, as you reached a certain familiar spot, your teeth grazed the skin, before biting down on it briefly. 

This earns a louder noise from Cersei, she is still trembling as she turns back around to face you, grabbing you firmly to pull you in for another sloppy kiss.

Lips still interlocked, the Queen walks you backwards onto the bed, Cersei doesn't waste another moment, straddling you as soon as you settled your rear on the edge of the bedding.

Your cock now stiff as a rod, poking at Cersei's entrance. The other woman begins moving her hips as you kissed, rubbing her cunt on the length of your shaft, coating it with her slick.

Your breath quickens, the sensation was maddening, you needed to be inside her now.

“Gods, I missed you.” You let it slip as your lips parted for a moment, but Cersei doesn't respond. 

The Queen's grip on the nape of your neck moves to your hair as she grasps a handful of it, tugging your head back slightly. Her other hand travels south, she grips the base of your cock once more, this time lining it up to her entrance. 

She begins lowering herself onto your length, Cersei moves quickly, with every inch that enters her, she lets out a gasp at the sensation. Soon you are sheathed inside of her to the hilt, and Cersei throws her head back, she releases an unrestrained moan, her hands now firmly on your shoulders.

She attemps to push you back against the bed, but you refuse to budge. Cersei relents, kissing you again as she moves her hips up and down the length of your cock. With every moan from Cersei you retaliate with a groan.

The feeling of her walls fluttering against your girth made you dizzy. The Queen felt so unbelievably good wrapped around your cock, you had forgotten just how intoxicating it was.

Now that you were experiencing it again, you never wanted it to end.

 Vulgar noises of your coupling filled the room as Cersei moved herself desperately against your lap, your cock hitting just the right spots within her. 

The Queen can feel her release already approaching, entirely overwhelmed by this she falls limp against you, but you manage to support her weight with minimal effort. Her hips still moving at a steady pace until it finally hits her, her orgasm washes over her like a wave. 

Cersei cries out in pleasure, partially muffled against your neck, she holds onto you for dear life as her peak overcomes all her other senses, relentless and unforgiving. You feel her cunt clenching painfully around your cock, her short shallow breaths against your neck, she is trembling helplessly, and you never want to let her go.

“Seven hells.” The Queen breathes out, finally lifting her head to look at you.

Cersei's eyes were nearly glazed over, her chest heaving violently, but you were far from done with her.

You capture her lips with your own again, earning a content moan. You remained sheathed inside of her as you flipped your positions, now Cersei laid on the bed, with you on top of her. The other woman's gasp in surprise is muffled by your own mouth against hers.

Once again she moans into your mouth as you began your thrusts, deep and slow, you aim to feel every inch of her. Cersei wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in even deeper.

The Queen gasps as your mouth found the swell of her breasts, your tongue leaving a trail of saliva as you expertly moved from one nipple to the other. 

Your thrusts grow harsh and inconsistent as you felt your own climax building. Cersei's back arches, a deafening moan rips out of her. 

You roughly placed your hand against her stomach, pinning her down against the bed as you continued to rut into her. Cersei was mewling and panting like a whore now as you used her for your own pleasure, heightening her own in the process. 

The Queen finds just enough strength to pull you closer, her lips now against your ear.

“Tell me you love me.” Cersei pleads, and this takes you entirely by surprise, you slow your movements but you don't stop.

“What?” You ask, shaky, breathless.

“Just say it.” The Queen repeats amidst another moan, she clenches around your cock and the sound that emits from you then is guttural, primal.

You oblige without asking further questions.

“I love you, Cersei” You speak, from the heart, damning the consequences.

With that, Cersei reaches her peak again, her nails digging into the flesh of your back as she comes. The feeling of her perfect cunt milking your cock, accompanied by her writhing body underneath you was enough to push you over the edge.

As you attempt to pull out, Cersei kept her legs firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You are not given the opportunity to question it as it was already too late, you moaned as you released your load deep inside her, painting her womb with your seed.

**

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Nearly a candlemark has passed since your coupling and neither you or Cersei have said more than a few words. 

Simply embracing each other under the sheets, she rests her head against your shoulder, tracing circles absentmindedly with her finger against your abdomen. 

This position was achingly familiar, almost as if no time had passed.

Cersei soon moves her hand further up, she traces her fingers across your bottom lip before running her thumb down the bridge of your nose. The sensation earns a chuckle out of you, you finally had to reach up to remove her hand, guiding it away from your face.

Cersei's stare betrays an intensity that makes your heart constrict painfully in your chest.

Still unspeaking, it was your turn to explore her body, but you don't get very far, your fingertips trace the faint bruising on her neck, the marks left by your own cruelty.

The Queen then shuts her eyes, she doesn't allow herself to look upon your guilt any longer. Wrapping her arm across your torso, nuzzling her face against your shoulder.

“I'm not letting you go– never again.” Cersei mutters, and the smile that tugs on your lips is one of relief and acceptance.

You don't supress the urge to plant a lingering kiss on her temple, one the Queen allows herself to melt into.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

What song did you personally like the best out of this round? Did a song make an impact right away or did it require the full version? Did the artist reveal change your opinion for better or for worse? Tell me in a reblog! :D

(note: this is not a popularity contest or to vote for a favourite artist out of loyalty 💖 it's still about the song.)

261 here 262 here 263 here 264 here 265 here 266 here 267 here 268 here 269 here 270 here