#tywin lannister x you

[fandom-puff]

Fulfilling Duty

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Reader

Warnings: smut, pinv sex, fingering, reference to pregnancy and childbirth, brief reference to death during childbirth, reference to prostitution, implied arranged marriage, breeding kink, body image issues, implied innocence kink, older man/younger woman.

Italics indicate flashback

Gif creds to owner

After nine long months of pregnancy and two gruelling days of labour, Tywin Lannister finally had the son he craved. Little Darrick was perfect in every way. At almost four months, he guzzled his milk the way King Robert his guzzled his wine; he roared like a lion when something was amiss, fat angry tears pouring down his reddened little face until his mother or father consoled him; his hair thickened and lightened every day, though he showed no trace of Lannister emerald eyes (much you your elation; he already looked so much like Tywin so it was nice to see a shred of yourself in your son’s face).

The birth of your son only strengthened Tywin’s… affection towards you. It was not love- not yet at least- but his respect and fondness certainly grew. During the home stretch of your labour he had barged into the birthing room after overhearing an outspoken courtier’s gossip.

Your labour had dragged on and almost two whole days had passed since you first started having pains. While you had started in relatively high spirits, as progress began to falter almost to a halt and ‘one more push’ became an empty promise, your resolve almost completely shattered.

What had started as determined groans and howls of pain turned into whimpers, and then sobs as you begged the maester to just, please, get it out of you.

It seemed Tywin hadn’t unclenched his jaw for days, and while he wanted to remain just a room away in his office should he be called into the room, the Seven Kingdoms would not stop for any infant, not even the son of the Hand.

He had been walking back from an audience with disgruntled artisans from the city when he overheard some courtiers.

“… glad she’s shut up with the screaming, could hardly sleep a wink last night…”

“… should just cut her open, drag the babe out and have done with it… wouldn’t be the first Lannister woman to die in childbed…”

“… he’ll want another off her, just in case… especially if she gives him a girl…”

Tywin’s nostrils flared with rage, and while he would have so dearly loved to confront the gossiping courtiers, he marched to the tower of the hand, entering your chamber to the shock of your midwives and maester.

“Milord! Women’s work is still happening! The baby ain’t here yet,” scolded Jeyne. She was the eldest of the flock midwives attending you and the most experienced too, and had been crucial in supporting you.

Tywin held up his hand, and jeyne pursed her lips, knowing she could not argue. “Fine. But you’re not to interfere down here, milord. We’re nearly there,”

“You said that- ah- last night,” you said weakly, your voice shaky. Tywin sighed softly and knelt at your side, pushing your hair away from your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture, one that he had done when you consummated your marriage. “‘M sorry, m-my lord,” you whispered, unable to stop the tears from slipping down your already damp cheeks.

“You needn’t be,” he said lowly, speaking so only you could hear. “You are doing well, just a little longer,”

Although the midwives and maester had repeated the same words over and over again over the last day, Tywin’s firm, authoritative voice reassured you, renewing your determination.

Tywin’s eyes flicked sideways to you. It was the first public event you had attended since giving birth, and he had kept a close eye on you all day. He’d even insisted on your retiring to bed for several hours in between the joust and the feast (“fine, I’ll rest. But only because I didn’t want to watch the archery anyway,”).

If you were tired, it did not show. You looked radiant, smiling serenely as you clapped for the dancing. You had changed into a gown of soft pink brocade, and while he always preferred to have you on his arm in matching Lannister red, he had to admit that the muted pink suited you beautifully, and provided a fresh and youthful contrast to his daughter’s sour, almost vulgar even by his standards, display of power.

“If you continue to glance at me so, you will miss the dancing, husband,” you said out of the corner of your mouth, bemused at the almost uncharacteristic attentiveness of the Old Lion.

“Then I shall miss the dancing,” he said lowly, though he kept his eyes dutifully on the entertainments. “Are you sure you will not sit?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “No,” you said with exasperation. “I am well rested, I promise you, My Lord,” your lips quirked into a smirk. “I may even join in with the dancing,” you added.

Tywins jaw clenched as he looked down at his mischievous young wife. Your pregnancy and subsequent birthing of a viable heir for him had consolidated your power in court- and your worth in the marriage. “Then you shall dance only with me,” he said. “I will not have you jostled so,”

And so the Lord Paramount of the West took his wife by the hand and led her to the dance floor, lest she be manhandled by less careful members of court.

Grinning, you held onto his hand, beginning the steps that you had known since childhood. “I so love it when you give in to my whims, Lord Lannister,” you murmured, laughing lightly at his grumble of agreement. He supposed he owed you a fair bit, now that you had given him his heir.

“You are as stubborn as a mule when you want to be, wife,” he muttered, pulling you closer to his body by the waist as a drunken jester weaved through the crowd, his motley cap jingling. But despite his complaints, Tywin permitted you two more dances, before you retreated from the crowd- the bawdy songs had began, and he would not have his wife passed about like the maidens in the songs.

Instead of sitting back down, Tywin took you before the king, bowing and excusing the two of you. “We must retire for the night, your Grace. Lady Lannister is very tired,” he said shortly, bowing once more as the king waved you away.

You followed him, your face indignant, but you did not dare question him until you were out of earshot of any high lords. “I most certainly am not tired, My Lord,” you said, running a little to keep up with his long strides. “I do not need to be bundled off to bed like a child- again,”

Tywin ignored your complaints, only speaking once you arrived at the entrance to the Tower- and even then he only spoke to the guard at the door. “No one is to enter this tower until tomorrow,” he said lowly, before all but frog-marching you through the door and up the winding stairs.

“My lord?” You asked cautiously when you arrived at his chambers. “Have I displeased you?”

Tywin turned around to face you. “No, wife,” he murmured, stepping closer to you so that you had to look up at him. “You have not displeased me… exasperated, perhaps, but not displeased,” you smiled slightly, opening your mouth to speak, but Tywin cupped your head with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking your jaw. “I intend to bed you tonight, My Lady,” he said, voice gravelly. Your face heated, but you nodded slowly. “Your body should be ready to take me once more,” he continued. “That is if you are agreeable?” He added, raising a brow. He had laid out from the beginning that while he expected you to do your duty and provide him with a son, he would not have you in his bed unwilling.

Nodding slowly, eyes wide as you stared up at him, you let out a shaky breath. "I… yes. Please," you murmured your consent, following him out of the solar to his adjoining bedchamber, where the hearth was crackling and the luxurious bedsheets were already turned down. Tywin poured out a cup of wine, offering you it, nodding when you smiled at the vintage before finishing the cup for you.

“Do you think it will hurt?” You murmured out of the blue, taking your jewellery off and setting it on his dresser.

“It may be a little uncomfortable, perhaps. Not as painful as childbirth, I’m sure, nor breaking your maidenhead,” your eyes widened at his words and he smirked. He so loved to see you flustered. “Such an innocent, wife,” he said, stepping closer to you and undoing the pins in your hair. He nodded his approval when you unwound the braids, shaking out your hair.

“It has been a while…” you considered, looking up at him in the mirror as he stepped behind you, beginning to unlace your gown.

“It has,” he said in agreement.

“Will you be gentle with me?” You whispered, eyes widening as his hand slipped up your front, over your breasts, lightly squeezing your throat before he tilted your head to the side.

“Absolutely not,” he growled into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing there as your gown fell stiffly to the floor.

You made to turn to begin undressing him, but he lightly batted your hands away, continuing to strip you of your stays and chemise until you were bare before him.

Eyes downcast, you made to wrap your arms around yourself; your pregnancy had left it’s mark on your body, your belly soft and marked with stretch marks, your breasts hanging heavier than they had when you first married. Tywin held your hands by your sides briefly, before his large hands claimed your hips, his thumbs massaging the softness of your belly. “I want another babe in your belly before year’s end,” he said lowly, making you shiver. “I want to watch you swell again with another of my heirs,”

“Yes, my lord,” you breathed, your breath hitching as he gripped your hips tighter, drawing your naked body to his, your skin hot against the cool metalwork of his belt and buttons. Slowly, he began to walk you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and he helped you up onto the mattress, his eyes blazing with lust. His green-gold eyes pierced you as he removed his chain of linked golden hands, his doublet, his boots and trousers too. Your eyes flicked down briefly as you admired your husband’s build; despite his age, Tywin was fit and strong, and your glance did not go unnoticed by him.

Tywin got up onto the bed, looking down at you as he came up between your legs, which fell apart willingly to allocate his breadth, to which he hummed with approval, his hands dragging up your thighs. You sighed softly as your body refamiliarised itself with the weight atop it, offering him a soft, shy smile. He returned it with a rare quirk of his lips, before his fingers teased closer to your exposed core, shushing you gently when you gasped. Whimpering, you arched your back as he dipped his fingers into your waiting wetness, body tense. “Are you in pain, wife?” He said lowly, his movements stilling.

“No…” you whispered, pushing your hips up to his hand as if to reassure him.

He nodded, looking down at you as his fingers worked you open for the first time in months, though he did not seem out of practice in the slightest. He watched intently as your face contorted, brow furrowing and mouth falling open, and your body twisted while you clenched around his fingers. When he felt the erotic spasming of your inner walls, he nodded and hummed with satisfaction, before withdrawing his fingers. You watched in awe as he used your release coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm to slick up his cock.

“You look as though you belong in a pleasure house in Lys, spread out like that,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. And he had a point; your breasts rose and fell with shaky, heavy breaths; your eyes were now dark with lust, brow furrowed and lips plump as you stared down at him, propped up on the pillows with your hair splayed out.

“Are you calling me a whore, My Lord?” You questioned, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“No,” he said, guiding his cock to you. “But if you were a whore, you would be mine alone,”

He grunted, pushing into your tightness. With a cry, you tossed your head back, your nails clawing into the Lion of Lannister’s muscled back and arms as you adjusted to his invasion. You hissed out a curse between your teeth, gasping as he stilled, smirking down at you. “Such deplorable language,” he said, and you could only whimper in response, gritting your teeth and scratching at his back. Despite his promise to not be gentle with you, he held you tight to his body by your thigh, massaging the quivering limb with his hand as you adjusted to the suffocating tightness of your union. With a needy whine, you rolled your hips experimentally, grinding your clit against his pubis. The resulting tightening of your channel had him hissing in pleasure, and with a low groan he began to move with slow deep thrusts that had your head spinning.

One hand still gripping his bicep like a vice, you trailed your other hand over his shoulder anchoring yourself as you made feeble attempts to meet his movements. Grunting, Tywin grasped onto your hips, before moving his grip to your thighs, holding them apart as he began to fuck you harder, faster. You cried out at the shift in pace, arching your back as Lord Tywin took his pleasure (though he gave just as much as he took). He let out a groan of pleasure as his own thighs trembled and his hips stuttered, and he emptied his seed into you.

Moaning lowly, you fell back into the pillows, panting. You felt the bed dip then settle as he withdrew from you and stood, and your eyes slipped shut as you heard him rustling about the room, the door slamming shut. You frowned. He must have dressed quickly. With a sigh, you stood up, albeit shakily and slipped your chemise back on. His thick seed seeped down your thigh as you stood before the mirror, combing out the tangles in your hair with your fingers.

The door opened, and Tywin stepped into the room, but before he acknowledged you, he turned to what you assumed was his squire. “Have the servants bring up two plates from the feast, and a flagon of Arbor Gold,” he said to the lad, who responded with a quiet ‘yes, My Lord.’ “And see to it that Lady Lannister’s handmaidens know to come here on the morrow with her gown and jewels. She will be staying here tonight,”

He dismissed the squire with a nod and shut the door, turning to you with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to return to my own chambers, my Lord,” you murmured, finally able to smooth your hair down over your shoulders.

“Indeed not,” he said simply. “I was merely arranging some supper and wine,”

You crossed your arms. “And for my handmaidens to come here on the morrow?” You teased.

Tywin only smirked, prowling over to you. “Indeed,” he said. “It would seem, wife, that we must return to bed…” you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him curiously. “An heir will not find its way into your belly if my seed is dripping down your thighs, now, will it?”

#tywin lannister fic #tywin lannister smut #Tywin Lannister x reader #Tywin Lannister x you #Tywin Lannister imagine #tywin lannister #tywin lannister fanfic #game of thrones #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut

[rax-writes]

↬ when night falls

Tywin Lannister x Reader

intended to be a sequel to the morning after, but it's not necessary that you read it prior to this

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, age gap, nipple play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader

The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took considerably longer than necessary, given the Queen's insistence that she travel in that godsforsaken carriage of hers. As such, five weeks after your marriage to Tywin Lannister, you were spending one final night in a lavish red and gold tent alongside your lord husband.

For the entirety of the journey, the two of you spent the entire day apart – your horse trotting behind your father and King Robert, and Tywin a short distance behind, alongside Ser Jamie. Occasionally, Arya would pester you into allowing her to sit in front of you on the saddle, as you quietly conversed with her and taught her how to control the horse. But, aside from that, you were alone with your thoughts all day, every day.

The nights, however, were spent in the arms of your lord husband.

The two of you quite quickly developed a very… peculiar dynamic. You had quickly learned and adapted to the way the fearsome Tywin Lannister operates – preferring you speak concisely and directly, vehemently uninterested in anything otherwise. Additionally, there was a degree of mutual respect, as well as a vaguely guarded openness to one another – but certainly no love, or any semblance of romantic feelings at all. In truth, you assumed there never would be.

But gods was there lust.

On your end, it was your first and only experience with sex, and it was undeniably good, so you were eager for it. On his end… you couldn't be sure. It could be that the man was pent up from years as a bachelor, but it would be safe to assume he had simply sent for a whore when the mood struck him. A more likely reason would be his pursuit of an heir, but surely he wouldn't have needed to fill your cunt nightly to achieve that goal. No, you were almost certain that he was simply enjoying fucking you – just as much as you were enjoying fucking him.

When Tywin entered the tent, you were sitting on the edge of the cot, toying with the goblet in your hands, already undressed to your shift. He met your eyes as he entered, but said nothing, that unreadable (but somehow always leaning toward annoyed) expression on his face. He silently began taking off his boots, then removed his sword and placed it beside the cot. He was in the middle of pouring wine into his goblet when you found the courage to ask your question.

"Will you stop bedding me when I become pregnant?"

Tywin said nothing, setting the pitcher down and turning to face you as he took a sip of his wine. He wore that calm, calculating expression as he stared at you – but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The golden goblet made a faint clank as he set it down before speaking.

"Do you ask because you wish for me to stop? Or because you wish for me to continue?"

"I wish for you to continue."

"Then I shall continue," Tywin stated, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Good," you replied, then added, "Because I am."

"You are what?"

"Pregnant."

The smile dropped and Tywin's eyebrows raised, making his forehead crinkle.

"Already?" he inquired dryly, surprised. Then, incredulous, he asked, "How do you know?"

It was a fair question. You had never been pregnant before, so perhaps you were mistaking soreness and fatigue from travel as signs of pregnancy. But no. You knew.

"I should have bled three weeks ago, but I have not. My breasts are extremely tender, and certain smells make my stomach turn."

Tywin nodded, then stated, "I do not doubt that you are right, but we will have a Maester provide his confirmation and look you over when we arrive in King's Landing. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

A faint but wicked smile spread across your face, and you stood from the bed, setting the goblet down as you slowly made your way over to him. The metal of his armor was cold beneath your fingers as you idly ran your hands over his chest, before toying with the belt around his hips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"You," was your simple answer. But both of you knew that it wasn't meant in a romantic, sweet sort of way.

Tywin's hand reached up to cradle your face, somewhat harshly, hooking his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up and kiss you. It was lustful and full of desire, accompanied by the scratch of his beard upon the delicate skin of your face.

When he pulled away, Tywin smiled quite faintly, then hummed lowly and said, "Well, what sort of man would I be to deny his pregnant lady wife her wish?"

The old lion made quick work of removing his armor and smallclothes, and relieving you of the thin linen shift you wore, before guiding you to the luxurious cot. Tywin continued to kiss you, eventually trailing kisses down your neck, until he reached your chest, unexpectedly taking one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

The sensation nearly made you shout, opting to take in a sharp breath instead as your back arched off the blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, you heard a low chuckle, and looked down to see a set of very amused, crystalline eyes staring up at you.

"Hm, I see you were not exaggerating about the sensitivity."

Electing to ignore him, you let your head fall back onto the pillow. However, it seemed he did not intend to grant you any reprieve, moving to the other breast and doing the same thing – prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders and bite your lip to avoid crying out. Unfortunately, that made matters worse, as Tywin let out a low groan with his lips still wrapped around your nipple, earning a loud, pitiful whine from you.

Seemingly enjoying himself, Tywin began peppering your chest with gentle bites, which he soothed with his tongue afterwards, sure to become small little bruises by morning. Breathy moans and sighs of pleasure filled the tent, as he then resumed his ministrations on the hardened peaks of your breasts before snaking one hand down to toy with your clit, expertly rubbing it in small, steady circles. Astoundingly fast, your release washed over you, soaking his hand as you moaned and writhed beneath the Warden of the West – who only chuckled darkly at your quick climax.

Noticing that the continued kisses and licks upon your breasts began to make you twitch, Tywin captured your lips in a brief, rough kiss, before rolling onto his back. He then pulled you into his lap, with a strength one wouldn’t assume the older man to still possess – which was, admittedly, arousing. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasm, and your movements were not unlike a rag doll, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, moving somewhat limply as you allowed him to maneuver you. He gripped his hard, leaking cock in one hand, then reached behind you to urge you forward with a flat palm on the small of your back.

A hiss through gritted teeth escaped Tywin, and you gasped lightly, head thrown back and hands flat on his chest. Although you’d already lost count of how many times he’d taken you, it still felt more incredible than anything you’d ever experienced. A passing thought reminded you of the fact that he seemed to share the sentiment, always hissing or groaning when he first sheathed himself inside you.

Tywin’s grip moved to your hips, prompting you to begin rocking them against his own, keeping your pace steady. However, he made no move to halt you when you eventually began to move faster, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as you fucked yourself on his long, thick cock. The sound of it alone would have made a Septa drop dead – a symphony composed of wet skin upon skin and gruff grunts intermingling with breathy moans.

He reached up to grasp and knead your breasts in his rough, calloused hands – but he then surprised you, his hands drifting lower, until they rested flat against your lower stomach. You thought perhaps he was focusing on the movement of your hips, but then his thumbs began to stroke across the soft skin of your belly.

At first, it seemed very sweet and sentimental. You thought that perhaps he was basking in the joy of another child being on the way – until you felt the way his cock throbbed, deep inside of you, as he stared intently at your belly. Immediately, you came to the realization that it must be arousing for a man to have successfully fucked a babe into his wife – stroking their ego and their pride to have done their husbandly duty, as well as show everyone that you belong to them.

Truth be told, you were surprised to learn that it aroused you just as much.

Tywin groaned as you clenched around him, and when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, it felt as though he knew you had been thinking the very same thing he was.

That seemed to ignite something within your husband, and in the blink of an eye, Tywin flipped you onto your back and began driving into your soaked cunt with a newfound ferocity. You bit down on your knuckle to keep quiet, but Tywin pinned both of your wrists down, his arms on either side of your head. The act did not last much longer beyond that point, both parties having already been too near the precipice of climax, and the pair of you met your releases in unison.

Tywin rolled off of you, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat covering his chest, along with the small patches of silver hair. You allowed yourself a few moments of recovery, before moving to leave the cot in order to extinguish the candles, as well as tidy yourself up. However, Tywin grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“The candles –”

“Can wait,” Tywin interrupted, voice sounding unbothered as always, albeit with a hint of fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as he gently pulled you back down to lay upon the cot beside him. “One of the guards outside can see to the candles in a moment. You are carrying my heir, so you are to rest. As much as is feasible, from now until the babe is born. And if anyone questions it, they are to discuss it with me.”

Anyone possessing the sense the gods gave a mule knows “discussing” something with Tywin Lannister was just the opposite – it was not to be addressed at all, because what Tywin Lannister says, goes. A fact which made you smile softly.

“As my lord husband commands,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but you did exactly as he bade you, pulling some of the blankets over you and nestling into the pillows. You were already yawning by the time Tywin called for a guard, who extinguished the candles, and bathed the room in darkness as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

#i'm hoping this stayed in the realm of “we have a mutual understanding and respect but no love at all” #also this isn't proof-read or beta-read so if there's anything wrong lmk #tywin lannister #game of thrones #got #tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister x you #tywin lannister fan fiction #tywin lannister fanfic #tywin lannister fanfiction #tywin lannister fan fic #tywin lannister fic #got fanfiction #got fan fiction #game of thrones fan fiction #game of thrones fanfiction #my writing

[thebadboyfanclub]

Don’t Say It (Tywin x Reader)

I know I disappeared for a little but I hit a writers block with this one, I think it’s due to exhaustion over me working full time so I hope @thanyatargaryen forgives me if this wasn’t what you intended. Enjoy

Olenna Tyrell was a legend, she had learned the rules by heart and was now on a mission to pass them down to her wonderful granddaughters, the beautiful rose that listened to the name of Margaery and the bewitching siren that could stop a man with a simple song, the young (y/n).

Olenna was no fool, she recognized that the two girls were her strongest soldiers, with these two alone she could rule all of Westeros, well at least all the men which was the same thing.

“Today is an important day, even for you dearest, the wedding of your sister to the king means every eligible lord from all of the seven kingdoms will be attending”

“I am well aware, you do not have to worry about me, grandmother”

(Y/n) reassured olenna whilst her handmaidens assisted her with the finest dress anyone had ever seen, it was her first time at court she needed to look her best, (y/n) squeezed into a dress that was custom made, her hair had taken hours and was brushed to perfection and she smelled of the finest of fragrance oils that were brought from Dorne, it is safe to say that (y/n) couldn’t have looked nor smelled better.

Everyone’s breath hitched at their throats when (y/n) walked with the confidence only a Tyrell could possess, she strutted up to her big sister to wrap her arms around Margaery with clear endearment.

“Congratulations, my queen”

“Oh come on now stop with that”

“I know this is a blessed day for the king but could he be so kind and hear a plea I have for him?”

“Anything for my good sister”

“Look after my dear Marge, as she has done for me”

(Y/n)s voice was as sweet as strawberry cakes and her smile could stop a man dead in his tracks, the young Tyrell leaned on her big sister pressing her chin on Margaerys shoulder whilst the bride leaned her head close to (y/n) as well, the girls shared a strong bond, it was the first time that they would be separated ever since (y/n) was born.

What they did not know was that a certain someone had already his blue set of eyes on the lovely Tyrell who seemed so blatantly unaware of it all, Tywin had sworn to never remarry, no one would ever be as good as his dearest Joanna, she was the one that knew him like the back of her hand, the lady that could wrap her arms around the vicious lion and make him swoon, if she saw him now she would laugh at him, she always told him “never say never my love, you won’t know what the future holds for you”.

“You have your queen and your alliance now, I hope you are happy”

“Naturally, Margaery will serve the realm greatly”

“Soon enough she will start popping out lions, hopefully, my little (y/n) will have better luck”

“What could be better than becoming the queen mother?”

“Becoming the lady wife of a lord that cares for your well-being and happiness”

Tywin grew silent, there was nothing he could say against the allegations of Jeffrey’s cruel nature, he could only hope that Margaery was cunning enough to outsmart him which honestly was not going to be much of a huddle, all the times that Joffrey has been able to be sadistic was owed to other peoples stupidity to either allow him or cover for him.

“Well then let me take a good look at this girl you have such expectations for, lady (y/n)”

Tywin called for the girl whilst he stood a few feet away from the newlyweds, (y/n)s eyes finally found his, and Tywin felt his chest grow tight, the girl was a dream, a dream he often had but could never speak of due to him always believing it will be just that… a silly dream of a widower.

“Lord Tywin, I can imagine this day is probably one of the happiest for your house, correct me if I am wrong but house Tyrell has never wed a Lannister prior to this moment”

“Indeed, let this be a fruitful union for both of our houses, your grandmother has spoken quite highly of you”

“Oh do not listen to her, it is a grandmother's nature to always speak for her grandchildren in the best light”

“Nonsense, Garlan is utterly nice which makes him boring and Loras likes to imagine being a young day twirling in a dress on the garden field, I had lost all hope up until you and your sister were born, the true soldiers of the Tyrell’s”

(Y/n) smiled sweetly before she leaned to place a kiss on her grandmother's cheek, (y/n) and Margaery was well trained, they had sat on the table and played against the best of players only to come out victorious, now Margaery was queen and (y/n) was ready to score her alliance that would bring nothing but glory to her and her family.

“Lady olenna is a lot of things but she is not soft nor does she hide behind her finger, if she says you are her best card then I truly believe it”

Olenna noticed the graciousness in the old lions' words, she picked up on the scanning look that started from her toes and ended on the top of her head, (y/n) did not even have a hair out of place, she placed her hand over her heart as a sign of vulnerability and her smile became brighter in gratitude.

“You are utmost kind, my lord, it is not every day a lady gets to be complimented by the warden of Casterly Rock and the hand of the king, I consider myself lucky for that”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, above it all I am a man that favors honesty and that is what you are receiving”

“I shall go before your words get all in my head, it was an honor to meet you, my lord”

(Y/n) went to curtsy before she was interrupted by Tywin that instead of letting her, reached for her hand and then placed his other one on top of hers, a smirk still evident on his lips as his eyes pierced through her, yet he was left with nothing, (y/n) had always prevailed under the hawking looks of men, she was well aware that she could not budge whatsoever.

“I will see you later Grandmother”

“Of course little flower, go on now, have some fun for me”

Olenna kissed the top of the lady’s head lovingly, it was not a secret that olenna doted on her especially now that it was her turn to marry, she had to bite her lip when it came to Margaery since her son had already bargained her for a sweet deal of a crown, she must do right by (y/n).

Once the lady was far away enough Olenna turned her head towards Tywin who was still following the enchanting Tyrell with his gaze, the way she walked, talked, even her breathing was perfect, his thumb traced over his fingertips, recalling how soft and warm he skin felt against his touch.

“I know that look”

“Pardon?”

“You are planning something”

“I always am”

“If you are scheming to betroth my precious flower to another lion, I must admit I would rather it be you than that little son of yours, in truth I would rather for her to stay away from lions but an old lion is better than Tyrion”

-

The news of Tywins betrothal hit everyone in kings landing like a ton of bricks. Joffrey was dead, Margaery was technically the dowager queen, and the crown was getting weak by the moment.

(Y/n) had become her sister's shadow, some applauded her compassion and how she was present at all hours to console her sister, what they did not know was that Olenna was already moving the strings for Margaery to marry Tommen, the young, kind boy who could never hurt a fly, however, Olenna had ensured both of the girls now once and for all, what better way to do that than to mess with Tywins head?

“Lady olenna, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am here to propose another marriage between my house and yours”

“That is no surprise, I am to expect you wish to betroth Margaery to Tommen?”

“No, no my dear Margaery has been through way too much”

“Loras is still to marry Cersei, is there a change in that betrothal?”

“Unfortunately that mess of a wedlock is still going steady, I am concerned over my (y/n)”

Tywin had been too occupied with writing to look up at olenna up until now, his ears perked up at the sound of her name, the girl with the bright smile and the scary resemblance to a shadow of the past.

“What do you wish to suggest?”

“My (y/n) is sweet, kind, and full of life, I believe Tommen would treat her as delicate as she deserves to be treated”

“Tommen? You want to put (y/n) by the new king's side?”

“Tommen is a good boy, nothing like Joffrey, I have taken notice of how Tommen smiles at her, no man could ever deny my beloved granddaughter, I am convinced their reign will be prosperous”

“Mayhaps, although I do not believe Tommen should be the one to marry (y/n)”

“Who else could stand the weight of the crown? Tommen is in much need of someone like (y/n), to keep him humble and gentle, show him what it is like to be loved”

That was what made tywins blood boil the most, the concept of (y/n) hugging Tommen, his grandson brushing (y/n)s hair, the lady creating a child out of Tommens semen, the image of her with a swollen belly whilst Tommen rubbed his hand over it made his skin crawl.

No, no he would never allow another man to be by her side on those milestones, he was graced by the gods with a second chance at love, how could he be a bystander to a marriage that would probably be terrific, although Tywin could never survive with the “what if” lingering on his mind.

“Because she is to marry me”

“Pardon?”

“I am to be betrothed to the lady (y/n), our marriage will take place the same day as Margaerys and Tommens, your Margaery will be queen, and lady (y/n) will become the lady of the rock”

“I would rather die than let my dearest become a second wife, your daughter will eat her alive once the news hit her ears”

“Are you afraid of Cersei?”

“I am petrified of the brass neck your daughter possesses, that woman thinks she can do whatever she pleases with no consequence”

“Cersei is my daughter, you have nothing to worry about she will not be allowed to harm your little girl, once (y/n) falls pregnant that child will become heir of Casterly Rock”

“What if she births a girl?”

“You and (y/n) along with Margaery will decide on her future, I will not partake or force my daughter to do anything”

“Your offer is dripping with syrup, but I will not accept, I gave you Loras and Margaery and now you dare to ask for more”

“If you do not consent to this then I shall announce a match of (y/n) and Ser Sandor Clegane, how does that sound?”

“Careful now, what you are suggesting is… grasping”

“Indeed, but I am feeling rather charitable so I grant you the day to decide, if I do not have an answer by the morrow then the sweet girl will be cloaked with a wonderful yellow flag”

Tywin was a man that proudly stood behind his every word, so as he walked out with a triumphed smirk on his lips he was too occupied with feeling his triumph to notice that olenna was also doing the same (y/n) was now the future lady of the rock and Margaery was to have a second chance to wear the crown.

“My lord”

(Y/n) interrupted his thoughts once she saw him, Tywin stopped swiftly before he could fall right onto her, she was waiting behind the door anxiously, her eyes gawked at the man as her cheeks grew rosy from the embarrassment of her clumsy nature.

“Lady (y/n), what seems to be so important that you could not wait in your chamber for your grandmother”

“She informed me about my betrothal, I apologize I was just so fidgety I wanted to know the second that it was settled”

“Are you in such a rush to marry that boy? I am concerned over your taste”

“Tommen is a wonderful person and the future king, any lady would be lucky to be his lady wife”

“So is it the promise of a crown that excites you? I can tell you wearing a piece of metal decorated with gems will not bring you any happiness”

“Pardon my intrusion but why are you so opposed to the fact of me marrying your grandson? I am highborn and have received the proper education, your house along with the Baratheon owe my family everything”

“It is not you that is not enough young lady”

Silence fell over them, Tywin had stumbled right on her trap and now he was as still as a grain of salt, only blinking at the girl that acted surprised over his suggestion that Tommen was the one that was short when he stood next to her, (y/n) bit her lip before she gazed down for a split second and then back up, she wanted to appear at a loss of words.

“I do not want to believe what my thoughts are suggesting”

“You are a fool if you don’t”

“Lord Tywin, you and I it- how could”

“I am too old for this game my dear, I have given your grandmother the rest of the day to decide and if I’m being frank I believe that luck is on my side, so I suggest you ran along and instruct the finest tailor to start on your gown, you must look as stunning as ever”

“I am fluttered, but I do not understand-“

“Listen to me dear, from that moment you smiled at me you have haunted every waking moment and I cannot seem to escape you even in the shackles of deep slumber, I am aware that I do not look like the young and beautiful knight in shining armor a maiden might expect to marry but I can you this promise right now, every other lady from east to west will be jealous of the luck you held when you marry me”

Lord Tywin once again made his exit thinking that he had the upper hand, if someone were to consider everything that has been done in this world wasn’t it always like this?

A man trotted away victorious while the woman stood and smiled proudly at herself, moving the strings without even the man realizing that she had very carefully placed the strings around his arms like a little puppet.

“My dearest girl, I was there at your birth and I took one good look at you and saw the moon and the stars in those eyes, I always knew you would be the brightest of them all”

Olenna informed (y/n) once she had walked into the office Tywin was in moments ago, Olenna wrapped her arms around her in the most loving manner and (y/n) responded with the same warmth.

“We have so much to plan, the future doesn’t wait for anyone”

-

“How could he ever do this to our family?”

“Who did what?”

“Do not play the fool with me Jaime I am sure you have heard of the vilest news, our father is to marry that little rat from Highgarden”

“One of them is a smirking whore and the other one is a rat? Well you certainly won’t have a good time in the palace once all of them marry into our family”

“How could be so calm at this time? Our son is dead, the other one is to marry Margaery and now our father betrayed us”

“Our father has been without a wife for over a decade Cersei, he is a highborn lord, anyone would have a good chunk of heirs from another wife by now”

In jaimes defense he has always attempted to take the logical side when Cersei went on her little paranoid rants over loyalty or whatever the case was at that time, however, this time he could not sit for hours and let her blabber.

Jaime did not even blink when his father told him about his betrothal, he is a kingsguard, and Tyrion is… well, Tyrion and Cersei have played her part in becoming queen though she could not inherit lannisport, every year he waited for his father to announce a marriage of alliance for himself and now it was finally time.

“This is despicable, they will tarnish our name”

“How will they do that exactly? (Y/n) will probably do her best at becoming pregnant which will install our name to live on which as you know is truly what our father cares about”

“Margaery is a manipulative little scum she will shred our Tommen to pieces”

“Tommen was tormented by Joffrey for years and you know it, if anything having some female tending to him will probably do wonders for his confidence”

“Of course as a man that is all you think about, I do not even know why I came to you over this matter, once again I am called to act by myself”

That is when Jaime had heard enough, very softly he rose from his seat and went over to his clearly disheveled sister, a kiss was laid on the center of her forehead all while his hands rubbed up and down to her forearms making her puff out a breath of relief from the comfort his touch brought to her.

“You will do nothing, Father has already announced his betrothal, if anyone even touched a hair from (y/n)s head he will not hesitate to demand its head to be served on a silver platter”

“Father is just being short sighed it is us that must act to save him”

“From what? Having his bed warm by a woman? Especially her, surely you are not that blind that you haven’t understood what he saw in her”

“Don’t say it”

“I know it feels like salt over the wound-“

“No, no”

“You must admit the resemblance is uncanny”

“Never!”

Cersei pushed him away harshly, tears welled up in her eyes and all of a sudden she was rudely pulled back to that day, the gods forsaken day that Cersei had to witness her mother laying in bed with blood staining her nightgown.

“That bitch is not our mother”

“She is not, though she looks like her”

Requests are open!

#tywin lannister x you #tywin lannister #tywin lannister imagine #yandere tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister fluff #yandere tywin lannister imagine #tywin lannister x reader #tywin x reader #tywin imagine #tywin lannister imagines #ao3feed tywin #lannister #house lannister #game of thrones fluff #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones oneshot #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader

[themotherofblood]

Hello!

I saw that you asked about request for Tywin. I wanted to ask something brief about modern!Tywin with his young girlfriend. Anything you can think of with that scenario would be fine.

Thanks for reading me!❤️

you’ve been so engaged with the whole mafia Tywin thing, fyi I love you for this ask because that’s what inspired it bubs. I feel like this is a quaint set up chapter for this series :)

synopsis: a drunk encounter between Tywin and his golden darling.

warnings: shoe riding, AGE GAP, mentions of bullets. alcohol consumption.

word count - 2k+

masterlist | series masterlist | Lion’s Grasp AU

There was an odd sense of contentment, you were too comfortable with the life you had right now, devoid of having to ask too many questions— mostly for your own good. You had found a jewel of a man, and yes the gold digger comments never sit right with you but a man so fine, devoted was far good of a catch to let go. You wouldn’t think twice but close your eyes and jump down the cliff that was your relationship, there was no lie in the subtle fear that lingered in your heart around him. A striking silver fox and total charmer, it took learning to even breathe freely around him. 

Here you are now, in your own little apartment. Dabbing your fingers on your lips to soften the red lipstick, with the exam season finally over, you could let your hair down and drink till you become very aware of the organs within you and the booze— well, your perfect man happened to own some of the most notorious clubs around Lanniston, more like his son Tyrion but all the same. You looked up at the mirror, feeling great about how two hours of work made you look. 

You hesitantly looked at your phone, cheekily smiling at yourself as you unlocked it and snapped a picture of yourself and sent it to Tywin, you could almost predict the message you’d receive back. 

“Do not drink too much darling.” 

You gnawed at your thumb, shaking your head before shooting him a quick text agreeing with him. A bald-faced lie and he knew so, his men were already on the lookout for you and your girlfriends at Satin House. 

The music, as usual, blared so loud you were sure your heart was thudding the same beat, it felt liberating to not spend another night in dirty pyjamas and crying about your coursework. The henchmen Tywin had put up diligently did their jobs as not a single man dared to go beyond the stern glares these bulked men shot their way. You were sure Tyrion was here somewhere, the air was far too sultry for his involvement to be missing. 

You left early, however, knowing your heeled feet nor Tywin would appreciate it but mostly because you missed him terribly. Practically barring him from witnessing the mess you were in the past month. You huffed out into the cold air of the night, the skies were clear and downtown Lannisport was still alive. Meren already stood at the ready by the town car, you rolled your eyes at him. He always had this pinched look to him, very mean. 

“To home, miss?” He asked as you shuffled into the back of the car. You merely hummed in reply.

He was quick to the driver’s end, ready to head towards your apartment but you stopped him.

“Where is Mr Lannister?” You asked, eyes closed as you huffed deep breaths to shake away the loopy daze in your head. 

“At work, miss.” 

“Take me there then, take me to him.” 

Meren hesitated for a moment, his orders were otherwise but how could he deny his boss’s girl. So he nodded, and you rested your head on the window. Drawing little pictures from the fog that followed with your mouth breathing. That lulled you to sleep somehow from the twenty-minute drive that was to Loren Tower, you were roused by Meren as you blinked away the small nap. 

In front of you was the eighty-two-floor skyscraper, the first time you visited your jaw nearly hit the ground. The building was nearly empty for the night other than security and other essential staff who were only here at two in the morning because their boss was a cruel, cruel man. You fixed your hair in the reflection of the elevator mirror, hoping Tywin agrees with this little surprise drunk visit. 

When the elevator dinged open to his floor, his burnt-out but pristinely dressed assistant was the first face you saw, she looked like she was nearly checked out. 

“Miss—“ she raised the telephone but you pressed your finger to your lips, forcing her to keep your little secret as you walked towards his office. Your heels clicked against the annoyingly polished and glossed marble floors. 

Without knocking you pushed in, leaning against the mahogany door frame, admiring the view you had craved for weeks. His white button rolled up his taut forearms, fingers toying with the idle coffee cup. Brows pulled to a harsh gaze, as usual, he didn’t even look up. 

“Reached home, has she?” 

His crisp voice nearly made your already wobbly legs even more unstable. You smirked at him, he looked almost cute— so focused. You pulled in your lips before speaking up. 

“You should really get yourself a third assistant, poor Cassandra looks dead.” 

Tywin’s eyes shot up, immediately locking onto yours before burning into every inch of your body, from your toes to your head— torturously slow as he leaned back onto his chair. 

“I could— you know, fill that position if it’s open.” you hiccuped, pushing yourself away from the door frame. A dopey smile on your lips softens Tywin’s resolution. 

“How many have you indulged in, love?” 

You place your point exactly on the tip of your nose to prove your point, you weren’t aware of your organs just yet. You half wanted to crawl on top of his table and then onto his lap but you chose the more appropriate route and walked around the desk and then plopped onto his lap. 

“What’s the point of all this, if you still work till two?” You kiss his cheek, nuzzling into the stubble he had grown. 

“It’s tax season.”

“Tax season.” you scoff making him look up at you questioningly “Just because I don’t ask questions doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“Like your hench-“

He cuts you off before you could finish, pressing his lips to yours and pulling your thighs around his so you straddle his lap. The taste of sour cherry vodka is very apparent on your lips.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to darling.” he lectures, leaning lower to kiss your neck. 

“On— on a more serious note, I could use a big girl job.” you smile at him, fixing the already untouched collar of his shirt. Truly, the corporate market was the Dothraki Sea without any administrative experience. 

He raises his brow. “Well, are you after Cassandra’s job?” 

“No, no — but what rich businessman doesn’t have a dozen assistants.” You shrugged, “And I think I have just the right qualifications.”

“Oh, do you now?” 

You eagerly nod, preparing yourself to list a vocal resume. “I make great coffee, a barista duh? I can type quickly, I’m friendly and I can be very pretty and— and” you stick out your pointer and curl it around his collar to pull yourself closer to his ear. 

“I can service you in many other ways, Mr Lannister.” You whisper in his ear before settling back on your calves. 

His gaze hardens once more as he pulls his lips to a tight line. “Alright,” he rubs up your back “you have had one too many.”

This time like an indignant child pouting you pick his pointer finger and place it on the tip of your nose to once again prove you were indeed not wasted and within your right mind. You wanted the job, and you were just a little horny. 

The green of his eyes traced over yours for a moment, before a scoff tumbled from his chest. “You want a job?” 

You nodded your head once more. 

“Earn it then.”

He helped you off of him, letting you settle onto your knees, the rug providing ample protection to your poor knees, you tilted your head confused as he lifted your chin with his pointer. 

“Take your panties off for me.” 

Your breath hitched as excited electrocution began hurtling towards your mound. Your dry spell was to be lifted, another reward for acing your exams. Your eyes were fixated on Tywin as you shuffled your fingers under your green dress and pulled off your black thong, he held your shoulders to stop you from stumbling forwards as you pulled the flimsy fabric back your legs. 

His other hand extended out for you to hand him your panties which he promptly shoved in his pocket.

“Let’s see if you are as qualified as you say you are, little miss.” 

You could stay here all day, oddly warm, comfortable. Minus the heels constricting your feet. It felt nice, it felt good thought it should be humiliating.

You sat on calves, with Jimmy Choo’s on your feet and a diamond pendant necklace around your neck. Head rested against Tywin’s thigh as he sat ever so commandingly in his armchair, his pretty whore knelt between his feet with an aching between your legs. You bite your inner cheek to not moan. 

“Please sir,” you whimpered, feeling another wave hurtling towards you as you rocked your hips against the fine black leather of Tywin’s dress shoes, the texture torturously stimulating your throbbing bud. You gnawed at his knee to stop the surge and then you whimpered once more. 

Your bottom lip wobbled, sniffling as you blinked away your tears. You sat straight with your back straight. You should have chosen the belt lashes instead, this was cruel—so fucking cruel. Here he sat, reading his revenue reports. You, about to be his pretty assistant (only by name) writhing at his feet, eyes glossed and lips bitten, full of colour.

Tywin rather enjoyed this, having you moved to a babbling, tearful mess before he buried his cock in the warm, wet snug for your pussy. He would make you earn the treat, he would have wanted nothing more but to keep you within his eyesight all day, safe and untouched. Your college had already taken such a toll on you he even went through with the private jet arrangements and hotel room to offer you a luxurious escape. His housekeeper, as you sat wiggling by his feet, was packing your luggage. 

“You’ve got to keep quiet, little girl, that was the deal.” His deeper voice crumbles, moving his hand away from the folders to gently pet your hair. 

You looked at him, lips pouted and trembling and nodded your head. Your eyes give him the sweetest most apologetic look, before sinking further into your knees and closing your eyes to avert this feeling of perpetual embarrassment and agony. 

Tywin set down his reports, finally having read through at least a dozen papers before focusing his attention on you. Her pet through your hair, lifting your chin to wipe at your tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Messy little slut.” He tuts, “So desperate to be around me, aren’t you?” 

You nod, sniffling away the more frustrated tears threatening to fall. 

“You’ve earned it.” he pets your cheek once more before the magical words fell from his lips. “Come sweetheart.” 

You nearly sob out in relief as you drop your head against his knee and pick up the pace of grinding against his shoe. Your shoulders shudder just as hard as your legs, your orgasm decimating your resolve. Crying out and heaving as you recover, the muffled sounds of Tywin’s voice coaxing you through it.  

He pulled you back to his lap after, rubbing your back as he put away his work for the night, making a call to have the car prepared. 

“I think I feel my organs now.” You groan against his shoulder, Tywin chuckles, shaking his head, wrapping his blazer around your shoulders before bundling you up. 

He walks out of his office, effortlessly carrying your smaller frame along, he turns to Cassandra’s desk, noting that she indeed looked exhausted. 

“Take your vacation days girl.” He orders as he walks to the elevator. 

“Night Cassandra,” you shoot her a wink over your shoulder. 

You almost doze away on his shoulder as you ride down to the parking, merely a few twitches at your fingertips. 

“Are we going to yours?” you murmur, looking up at him through half-closed eyes. He nods, placing you inside the town car before sternly turning to Meren. 

“The next time you choose to disobey my orders, a bullet will lodge itself within a place you may never find.”

Taglist in the comments

Ahhh, I’m so sorry how long this took to write. Minus the unnecessary things that have gone on for the past few days. My mojo really left me for a week or two but I’m here now, trying to get back into it.

Comments and Reblogs are appreciated.

Also my requests for one shots, this series and Bloody Baby are open, also stop by to my asks any time. I love ranting about my fics hehe.

#tywinlannisterxyou #tywin lannister x you #tywin lannister x oc #tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader smut #tywin imagine #tywin lannister smut #tywin x reader #tywin lannister x reader #mafia tywin #mafia!tywin Lannister #lion’s grasp series #ruie writes #game of thrones au #game of thrones fanfiction #tywin:got #house lannister

[carebooks]

the only bad part about this episode was that there were no Rhaenyra and Daemon scenes

#house of the dragon #episode 3 #and that Viserys made fun of Jason Lannister ‘do you have dragons to give?’ #pff please tell him a lion is nothing compared to a dragon and then rhaenyra just frowining at the mention of casterly rock i love it #imagine tywin lannister and his broods of children being reminded that the lannisters were just eh back then rich sure but just eh haha #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daenyra #rhaenyra targaryen

[queeninthesouth-side]

not a request, I’m just fixating on Tywin Lannister <3 the timeline of this rather ignores canon, but as it is, Tywin is about 15 years older than !reader, Jaime and Cersei are about 8 years younger than !reader. Joanna died giving birth to the twins, so no Tyrion (sorry!), and there’s no Robert’s Rebellion, so no War of the Five Kings either. There’s allusion to a battle in the Capitol when Jaime and Cersei are toddlers, and i pretended this was to overthrow aerys in my head, though I gave zero details about it. Anyway, enjoy!

Edit: it’s nearly 6k words whoops

A Fool’s Errand

Tywin Lannister x fem!Reader

Loving Tywin Lannister was a fool’s errand, or so everyone said. But you, the sweet young daughter of the Warrior Lord Dumain, had never shied from a challenge yet. Not in our blood, your father would say. Warriors fight for what is right, and for what they want, my girl. And you wanted the Old Lion himself.

It had begun quite accidentally, and not even because of Lord Lannister, but his wife. She had hosted a tourney you’d gone to as a girl, and you thought her the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen (the portrait of your long dead mother non-withstanding). She had glided around the Rock, where the tourney was held, and her golden hair and dress had caught the eye of everyone, naturally.

The first day you’d followed her around, a girl of no more than eight having an easy time staying hidden in order to sate your curiosity. On the third day, Lady Joanna had spoken.

“Come out from there, my little shadow,” she hummed from her bench in the gardens. Shyly, you stepped out from behind an enormous pot and looked at your feet. Your father told you not to get in the way of anyone and to listen to your septa (who you’d managed to slip away from every day since your arrival). Your worry must’ve been evident, for she reached out a graceful hand and beckoned you closer. She must’ve tired easily from her round belly, which was too large to hold just one babe, you’d overheard your septa mention.

“You must be Lord Renhaal’s little girl,” her sweet voice said, pulling you from your childish musing.

“Yes, my lady,” you replied softly. She smiled, and you understood how people loved her instantly. You felt you’d do anything to keep her smiling at you.

“And what wonderful manners, forgetting all the spying, of course.” Though her words were chastisement, her face belied no displeasure.

“I wasn’t spying, my lady,” you defended, desperate to clear up the misunderstanding. “Father said, before we came here, that Lord Lannister was a serious man, and not to get in his way out of everyone here. And you’re so nice! I was only curious about what sort of lady would make a serious man happy… my lady.”

Drawing you closer so you were sat next to her on the bench, Lady Joanna began to impart knowledge you would never forget.

“My mother used to tell me that even the most stoic of men need a lady to love them. Because, little shadow, good women make good men better, and that makes a good man’s wife the best sort of woman. And I have always wanted to be the best I can.”

You nodded, understanding that love was important to men and women both, if what Lady Joanna was saying was true. Loving a man like Tywin Lannister was made to seem easy with this knowledge. And perhaps, that is where you’d gotten the lesson wrong.

“You will love a serious man one day, little lady.” The knowing glimmer in green eyes was lost on you.

“My little warrior,” your father started. Stood at the docks, twenty and one summers old, an accomplished archer and peerless sailor, you will always be your father’s little girl. “Do not be rash out there. I know you are excited and adventure is in our bones, but you surely cannot fault a father for worrying over his daughter.”

Smiling and stepping closer to him, his large body older but no less impressive, you reassure him that you were raised by the most battle-experienced man in the realm, and the most successful to boot. You would be fine, you told him, and he trusted your words enough to let you board your ship, one he’d had made just for you for your nameday two years earlier.

The Shadow Maiden was a fine ship made of Essosi ashwood, a dark, grey-stained wood with sails green as your family’s house colours, and a hooded maiden figurehead dark as the rest of the ship with golden accents in the dagger and map held in her hands. It was small, which meant fast, but solid from the heavier wood that comprised the ship. For where you were going, you’d be thankful for these qualities.

“There is no need to worry, father. I do not mean to break our streak of victories, and so I will not. I will return with what I seek, I assure you.”

“And you still won’t tell me what it is you endeavour to find?” You shake your head, eyes turning down lest he read your thoughts. “It hasn’t got anything to do with Lord Lannister, does it? I cannot force him to accept a marriage contract, even for all the treasure in the world, and neither can you, my dear.”

It was a sore topic of conversation, the two rejected marriage proposals that had been sent at your behest to Lord Lannister, one by raven and one by you in person. His wife had been gone for nearly a decade and a half, and somehow, in your limited interactions with the Old Lion, the late Lady Joanna’s words made more and more sense. You could see plain as day his desire to have his wife back, and though you ached to be able to give him this, the next best thing was you, yourself. A woman who understood and was understood by his late wife.

Shaking your thoughts away, you accept your father’s kiss upon your cheek and his tight embrace before embarking your ship, beginning the month long trip to Essos.

“My Lady,” you heard behind you. Turning to see Lord Kevan Lannister, you dipped into a perfect curtsy, and greeted him demurely. At twenty summers old, you were considered the fairest and most eligible of Westerosi nobility. Everyone could see this but Lord Lannister, whom you had come to convince a betrothal to. Lord Kevan was a gentleman, and a doting father and husband to his young son and pregnant wife.

“My Lord. What may I do for you?”

He frowned, the furrowing of brows a far cry from his usually pleasant expression.

“My Lady, I fear you will not be received well in your request. I only wish to impart some insight into my Lord brother, whom I know well, of course. He is not a kindly man, and nothing and no one could sway him once he’s made a decision. I only say this to warn you, but knowing your father, you are likely as determined as he in all things.”

Heart dropping but smile staying firm, you considered his words carefully before speaking.

“I am determined, yes, but mostly, your brother is the only man, save my father, who will do what needs to be done to carry on a legacy. Your brother has only one son, and I hear he is rather keen on the Knight’s Guild… And I confess, I do not wish him to be—“ lonely, was the word you would have used about anyone else, but to imply that would certainly offend, and that was the last thing you wanted to do. “—well, someone told me that even the most stoic of men need a lady, and I’m rather set on him. If he rejects me, I will graciously excuse myself and not bother him again. But I must try, or I’ll never forgive myself.”

Your skirts whispered as you slowly paced in the parlour you’d settled in. The gold was a bit much, you thought privately, but the large window overlooking the Sunset Sea was worth the ostentatiousness.

Lord Kevan looked at you for a long moment, as though he’d heard the words before himself, before nodding and offering his arm to escort you to Lord Lannister’s solar.

It had gone worse than you’d imagined, and you’d imagined the worst case scenario. The truth was, Tywin Lannister was not just serious. He was borderline cruel, sly as a fox and intimidating as his house’s sigil. He’d all but snarled at you when you finished your proposal.

“You wasted my time for that? I have already rejected your offer—twice now. I have better things to be doing,” he said, standing above you where you sat opposite him. “There is nothing marriageable to me about a slip of a woman who fancies herself a lady and an adventurer, a mere girl inexperienced in life and cavorting as though she is touched by the Maiden herself. Hear me now, girl,” he growled, green eyes spitting like wildfire, “even if you marched in here with Brightroar in your arms, I would not marry you.”

And of course, the sweet image of him even reluctantly agreeing and you supporting his lordship over his subjects for the rest of your days faded away like a dying sun. Face placid, hands steady and voice clear, you simply said, “that sounds like a challenge.” He didn’t have time to berate you for your insolence, for you were already out the door and making your way to your wheelhouse, insisting on leaving that instant.

The people of the Rock would no doubt think you a cowardess who tucked tail and ran in the face of the Lion’s roar. But they did not know you, did not know the sparkle in your eye was not tears, but determination.

Docking in Essos was made simpler by the permits your father had arranged for you, even if the dock master insisted you pay extra. Your men, men you’d known since they were capable of getting seasick still, had made promises to ensure your safety, but even twelve broad sailors were not enough to sway a man’s greed. It mattered little in the end, you would restock water and food as much as possible before circumnavigating the coast of Essos. Another sennight of sailing the coast, then a moon navigating open waters and finally, you’d made it to the ruins of Valyria.

The once great castle by the cliffside had mostly fallen into the sea, and the jagged protrusions of stone were less than ideal for a galleon, but your little ship was nimbler and sleeker than any hulking vessels that thought to shortcut through these waters.

“My Lady, we’re nearing the Ruins. Shall we anchor and rest through the night?” You agreed that was best, and though the anticipation thrummed through you all night, you were rested enough by dawn to begin what you’d spent over two months sailing for.

For two days you’d steered your ship through previously untraversable waters, before coming across what seemed yet another shipwreck. At first, it looked like every other one you’d passed: broken, rotted and empty. You’d nearly sailed right by it when you caught sight of a lioness figurehead.

In the history book that had found its way across Westeros to you (anonymously, though you suspected Lord Kevan would be the only one to have possession of such a tome) it said King Tommen of the Rock, First of His Name, had sailed the Vibrant Lionness named for his wife who had hair red as the setting sun. And here it was, you thought, anchoring and row-boating to the half-submerged wreckage. By the light of the midday sun, and your own willingness to get dirty (thank goodness you were among good men who wouldn’t think twice of you wearing breeches for the duration of the journey) you had begun searching for your boon.

And in what would’ve been the captain’s quarters, next to a curled up skeleton in rags, was a scabbard holding a sword. You held your breath, stepping cautiously to avoid the most rotten planks of wood on the uneven floor, before grabbing the sheath, and revealing Brightroar. The smile you wore as you rowed back to the Shadow Maiden was nothing short of radiant. Welcomed with a great cheer, you promised your men that weather and gods willing, you’d be home in six short weeks.

It was closer to being seven weeks, but finally being docked at the port by your father’s Keep, you were able to breathe. You’d done it. You’d retrieved what all of Westeros knew Tywin Lannister desired most. And though your heart panged, the desire to be his wife hardly diminishing even after being eviscerated by him, your pride won out. If anything, Lord Lannister would owe you a debt, even if you’d never collect on it.

“My girl!” your father roared as you disembarked the ship, arms wrapping around you and swinging you in a wide arc. It was nearing your nameday again, and he worried you wouldn’t be home in time to celebrate. “And dare I ask if you found what you were looking for?”

You smiled beatifically, and it was answer enough for you lord father. He insisted you stay for your nameday, which was a week after your return, and would go for a week at least. Being his only daughter, and one of only two surviving children of his, there would never be a year he didn’t revel in having you with him still.

During this fortnight, you’d learned that Jaime Lannister had in fact been selected by the Knight’s Guild as the youngest member in history, and would therefore not inherit his family’s seat. Jaime had been a sweet boy, and you’d doted on him on the many occasions you’d seen him in his childhood. Cersei, while a little cold at first, had followed her brother’s adoration of you after a time. You were happy to know Jaime was doing what he loved most, even if you felt a twinge of guilt at how it proved you right to the Old Lion after all.

Having made the arrangements with Lord Kevan (Lord Lannister would not even respond to any ravens from you, he’d mentioned in a letter once) to visit the Rock under the guise of the twins’ name day celebration, you set off once again to the far Westerlands.

Your skin had gotten some shades darker from the expedition to Valyria, and your hair had lightened at the ends slightly. You’d grown more lean, but stronger, your muscles toned as opposed to bulky, like your older brother’s. In short, you were more formidable in appearance than the last time you’d been to the Rock. Your dress, the same deep green as your family’s colour, flattered your waist and hips, the neckline revealing only the top of your collarbones and a small sliver of your shoulder with long, wide sleeves that fluttered around you as you walked up the steps and into the maw of the lion.

Most of Westeros had heard of your expedition and many at the Rock who’d travelled far and wide were certain you’d present Jaime and Cersei with a priceless gift. It was priceless, you thought, but not quite for the twins. For Jaime, you’d actually gotten a fine stallion, one bred by your father and brother personally some years ago, and for Cersei, a necklace of diamonds cut to appear as shards of sparking glass inlaid in Valyrian steel. You knew Cersei was jealous over the Valyrian steel dagger her brother had gotten some namedays ago, and thought this may be enough to settle that dissatisfaction she still carried.

Three days of celebration gave way to the dawn of the twins’ actual nameday, which would be the day you presented Jaime and Cersei their gifts, and a final gift for the House of Lannister as a whole.

A fine spread was laid out for everyone to break their fast, and per tradition (which began when the twins were much younger and far too impatient to wait until dinner to open gifts) presents were prepared to be opened during the feast. The gardens where the meal was held were expansive and bittersweet to sit in. They reminded you of the Golden Lady, who despite being noble of birth, had tended her own garden herself. Lord Lannister now paid a slew of gardeners to preserve it exactly as it had been left by its keeper.

“We saved yours for last,” Jaime whispered beside you with a mischievous grin. You had not sat far from the Lannister family, mostly due to the Lord’s children’s fondness of you, to his chagrin. He hadn’t looked at you once, pointedly ignoring your entire side of the table, even with the guests he didn’t despise surrounding you on either side.

“Yours are always the best ones,” Cersei added with a secret grin. You laughed at that, and called your men to escort the war horse for Jaime into the gardens. A hush fell over the table as the great Arabian horse, golden of coat, trotted to you at your whistle. He was enormous, as horses bred by your family were known to be, but this horse looked large next to large horses.

“Every great knight needs a steed attuned to him, one that will fight as much for him as with him. He will never listen to another, never let himself be mounted by another. Only you, my lord,” you explain to Jaime as he marvels at the hulking beast.

“I’m honoured, my lady, to receive such a prestigious gift… I shall never fear battle with a mount like this.”

“And with your lion’s heart,” you added fondly, watching as Jaime, as near to manhood a boy can be, gently stroked the horse’s nose before letting it be led to the stables. You felt a heavy gaze on you then, but refused to look at the exact pair of green eyes that had settled on you. “And for the young lionness,” you announce, revealing the fine necklace, “jewellery and dresses are a lady’s armour, and there is no finer necklace than this in all the lands. Made of Valyrian steel, with shards of diamond, it will cut through anything should you use it right. It may save your life one day, my lady, though I shall pray that you never find need of it for that.”

Cersei’s eyes widened slightly, and she hesitated for nary a second before lifting her elaborate braid from her neck and turning for you to fasten it. With her dress of pale gold (so like the image of her mother now that she’d grown) the necklace looked like it was made with the dress in mind.

“Your gifts, as usual, delight my children,” a low voice intoned from the head of the table, the gardens, still silent enough for it, seemed to echo his voice. And once again, you are reminded of what a powerful man he is. Though you are not the lady he desires help from, you delight in his attention nonetheless.

“I have one more gift, if it pleases you, my Lord? I travelled very far to acquire this treasure, and there is no one in Westeros but you who could accept it.” A murmur slithered through the guests, and many eyes were now glued to you in interest, surely anticipating the revelation for the reason of your expedition on the sea they’d all heard about.

“You are most generous,” he said tonelessly, pure disinterest coating each syllable. You nodded gracefully, and with the lessons in ladyhood that had been drilled into you, you curtsied and glided to Ser Romnack, who held a slender, rectangular box engraved with lions with rubies for eyes and golden fangs. Walking back to where Lord Lannister sat upon a dais at a grand table perpendicular to the others, you presented him with the fine box, not looking at him but at the table.

He took it, and with little fanfare, flicked the latch of the box and swung the lid open. His brow furrowed, you noticed from your periphery, but it melted away as fast as it manifested. Instead, Lord Tywin Lannister wore a look of true surprise, his lips parted and eyes fixed on the contents of the box. He stands, looking deeply at you, though you do not look at him. From the box, he revealed Brightroar, the ancestral sword lost to the Lannisters for nearly three centuries. And now it was home, thanks to you.

The crowd’s reaction was far more animated, and almost at once people were clapping and cheering for you, to your embarrassment. You demurely wave away the cheers, accept the grateful embrace from Cersei and the gentlemanly way Jaime held your hand for a few long moments, then returned to your seat to finish the rest of the feast. Shortly after, festivities began again, and it was easy to slip away from the crowd, even if everyone seemed to be seeking you out.

You’d been to the Rock many times before, so finding your way to the parlour you favoured in your visits was possibly as easy with your eyes closed. The parlour with the wide window that overlooked the sea, that was rarely frequented, or so Lord Kevan had mentioned. You settled into a plush settee and began to mentally plan out your return home.

You had promised your father that once you returned from the Rock, you’d marry a lord or heir of his choosing, since he had given you two attempts of your own and you’d used them both on the Lord of the Keep you were in. Perhaps you could admit to a preference for blonds, though your father hardly seemed the type to care about a superficial detail like that.

“I have not known you to shy away from a celebration, especially if my children are involved.”

You hummed, not moving to stand or curtsy, fatigued and uncaring of the consequences therein. “Ah, but you do not know me, my Lord.”

“No,” he agreed, stood by the other side of the settee. “I know little about you, especially if I am to believe you retrieved Brightroar yourself.”

“I had twelve men with me. Men who I trust and who trust me with their lives. It rather makes impossible expeditions that much easier. Trusting them, that is.”

He was silent for a moment, then he spoke once more.

“I told you I would not marry you, even if you had Brightroar in your arms.”

Turning to glare at him, you stood. “I did not travel for four months across seas to find a way to marry you, Lord Lannister,” you said firmly. “Jaime will be the finest knight Westeros has seen in centuries, and he deserves to fight with his family’s sword, as my brother does, as my father and all his fathers before him did.”

He glared fiercely at you, wildfire eyes attempting to burn you with their scorching anger. You returned the glare with an ice cold one of your own, one you’d steadily become known for.

“I suppose you expect this Lannister to pay you the debt you are owed,” he said as though bored. Your glare broke, expression turning neutral.

“I want nothing from you that you are unwilling to give, Lord Lannister. And I’m a woman with enough dignity to bestow my companionship with a man who might appreciate it someday. So, no. I do not expect any repayment. Good day, my Lord.”

The door had barely opened before a large hand flew passed your shoulder to slam it shut.

“Do not walk away from me, girl.”

“I am no girl. I have sailed across the Sunset Sea, traversed the Ruins of Valyria and lived to tell the tale. And beside that, I have honoured the name Lannister by bringing back your greatest desire. I am no more a girl than you are a coward.”

And with that, you’d wrenched the door open and walked speedily to your apartments where your handmaidens awaited you. You told them to arrange for an early departure, and they began packing immediately, sensing your irritation.

It was early evening, and nearing the time of your departure when Jaime and Cersei made to visit. Cersei was, in private, far more emotional than she ever let on in public, and her anger and sadness at you leaving was plain to you. You’d seen her as a little sister when you were younger, but now you wondered if she’d viewed as more of an aunt, or a godsmother. Either way, your long embrace and promises to write were just enough to pacify her. Jaime was more stoic, you’d noticed, trying to be strong for his sister but also leaning into his impression of how a good man acts. It had made you smile, and a little teary, to see them so grown. You’d known them since they were babes, of course, and had even visited frequently for long intervals when they were barely walking while your father fought and won battles in the Capitol with Lord Lannister.

“Don’t fret, my little lions,” you said, holding Cersei again and cupping Jaime’s cheek in your spare palm. “There is nowhere in the world I would not travel to see you both. Even if my future husband forbids me.”

“Husband!?” Cersei shrieked, and strange panic in her eyes as she shared a look with Jaime.

“But I thought you were going to speak to father about a betrothal?” she asked.

“I have made two proposals to your Lord Father, and both were rejected, my darling.”

“But you brought Brightroar home,” Cersei argued. “He’ll marry you now if you ask him! He owes you a debt, and Lannisters—“

“—always pay their debts, I know, Cersei,” you sigh tiredly. “I do not want any man to marry me because he feels indebted to me.”

“But you’ve been dedicated to father forever!”

None of you noticed another visitor silently enter, too closely embraced and focussed on each other to pay attention.

“I will find another man to dedicate myself to, and I will bear him sons as is my duty. I could no sooner force your father’s hand than I could bring harm to either of you. That is what love makes of us at times…” you trailed off.

“What’s that, my Lady?” Jaime asked.

“Fools, darling. And I have been a fool twice already for him. I will not disgrace myself or my family by asking a third time.”

“No,” the Old Lion said from behind you all, causing the three of you to turn and face him. “You will not. Children, leave us.”

Cersei’s grip around your waist tightened in impertinence. “Are you going to upset her? She was upset when we got here,” she says boldly to her father. He glared at his daughter, and a battle of wills that had no clear winner began and ended in a few seconds.

“Off you go, little lions. I will be fine,” you said, shooing them gently, even if Cersei looked unconvinced. With a final glare to her father and a tug from her twin, the young lions were gone, the door closed, you and Lord Lannister alone once again.

“What did they speak of,” he asked bluntly.

“Which part, my Lord,” you ask as you gathered a ring from your bedside that you’d taken off that morning and forgotten to put back on. An emerald ring, once belonging to your mother, that rarely left your hand.

“You are not scheduled to depart for another three days hence.”

“A change in circumstances, I’m afraid,” you answer.

“And what changes are those,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

“It is past time I marry, my Lord. My Lord Father has allowed me my adventures, but I grow wearier every day of the spinster I am sure people think me to become.”

“The opinions of sheep matter not to lions,” he said, as though that explained everything.

“I am not a lion, my Lord.”

“Not yet,” he agreed.

You turned then, and looked at him. He had Brightroar fastened to his hip, and in the finery he wore for the celebrations, he made a striking image. Shoulders broad and chest puffed with the confidence of a Lord reunited with his family’s blade, you’d thought he never looked more handsome, though you knew better than to let the opinion show.

“I won’t marry one of your brothers, or a son of a vassal house. I am a lady of highest birth, and will find myself a husband fitting my status, my Lord,” you explained evenly, looking away to gather your shawl, the last of your personal effects in the room. You made to the door at that, and once again, Lord Lannister prevented you from leaving.

“That is twice you have walked away from me. The debt is repaid,” he purred beside your left ear. Goosebumps raised at his vicinity, and many questions at his comment. “Twice I have rejected you, and twice you have walked away from me. I have killed men for less. That debt is repaid.”

Thinking the interaction some sort of taunt, which he was not above in the slightest, you disregarded him and attempted to open the door with force. This time, however, he did lot let you walk out. He simply slammed the door again.

“Thrice, my Lady,” he said lowly. “And now you owe me a debt.”

A warrior’s daughter you may be, but even your heart could not protect itself from the cracks beginning to show. How foolish could you have been? It was a fool’s errand to love a man like Tywin Lannister, and gods, had you been a fool. You should never have followed the Lady Joanna around her own home. You’d known better even then, and you should not have sat with her, or listened to her, or decided to be a great lady like her. Why couldn’t you have just sat quietly at that tourney with your septa as you’d been told to? And you had risked your life and the lives of men you’d known all your life to give this man the only treasure he could not buy. All you’ve done, and only to owe him, as he said.

“Remove your hand, my Lord. I am leaving.”

“No. You owe me a debt and I intend to collect.”

“Then I suggest, my Lord,” you said cuttingly, “you allow me to return to my father so he can settle this perceived debt. Send him a raven with the sum of gold you don’t truly need, and let us be done here.”

He did not budge, and you felt the horrifying sting of frustrated tears burn your eyes.

“I’m afraid there is only one thing that could settle this debt. Your hand.”

Rage filled you.

“Then have the left,” you muttered angrily, turning and holding out your wrist. “Give your blade the blood of the hand that brought it back to you. That’s poetic, even for you.”

You expected to see that dark resolve you saw in your father’s eyes when he would sentence a man to death. That grim satisfaction and humanitarian dread combined. But his eyes were not angry, no wildfire spitting and flaring in his gaze. In fact, they rather resembled the rolling hills of lush green pastures and forests that surround the Rock. And for once, you noticed, his mouth was not held in a grim line, nor was his face set in stony dissatisfaction as it so often was. He looked softer, face relaxed and… almost open.

“I do not mean it quite so literally,” he said, bringing the hand by his side to gently hold the wrist you’d bared to him. It was the first time he had touched you, you realised.

And then his words untangled in your head and made a little more sense. Only, he could not mean to ask for your hand after rejecting it twice, could he?

“My late wife,” he began solemnly, “would say that a woman’s dedication is rarer than dragon eggs and infinitely more precious as well. She rejected my proposal to her twice, and on the third she agreed, because, she said, any man willing to make a fool of himself for her hand was a man she could be dedicated to.”

“I… I do not understand, my Lord,” you uttered quietly.

“I expected you to ask a third time, my lady. Expected you would return in a matter of weeks and insist on a betrothal. And I would have accepted then. But you did not,” he explained, voice low, meant to soothe rather than intimidate. “I was furious when I heard you’d left Westeros. I thought it was to sail east to find a husband, and had a mind to send a fleet after you. My brother insisted you’d return, and I trusted him. He was right.”

Mind working, you could only dumbly stare at him as he told a tale of how his twins had begged him to propose a betrothal to you when you’d been eight and ten, and how he knew you were not ready to be a wife, the call for adventure itching under your skin needed to be sated first. How he had rejected the first proposal easily, but the second one was much more difficult.

“I expected you to doggedly pursue your goals to be wedded to me as your father might’ve pursued his in battle, but for as similar as you are to him, you are not the same at all. And then I thought you would surely perish on your expedition, especially as the moons passed without word of your return. And now, here you are at my children’s nameday celebrations, the finest mount in the realm for my son, the finest jewels in the realm for my daughter, and my own greatest desire, second to one.”

You blinked, looking at him suspiciously, as though his brothers and guests might pour out of some alcove and laugh at your folly to half believe him.

“And the debt I owe you, my Lord? How is that to be paid.”

“I answered this already, my Lady. Your hand.”

“My hand.” You repeated.

“Since it is unlikely you will propose a betrothal with me a third time, I must insist upon it myself. It is the only way I shall consider the slight of walking away from the Lion of Casterly Rock repaid.”

He looked down at you, watching quietly for a turn in your expression, anything really. You were still as marble, and your hand felt as cold as it too. Then he saw it, that faint glimmer of hope that he’d seen in your gaze on at least two occasions prior. It was there again, barely, and tentatively. But it was there, and it was all he needed.

He swooped down to press a gentle kiss upon your soft mouth, holding himself back from kissing you as he wanted to. It took a short second for your brain to shut off and for your body to move as it wanted. You leaned forward into the kiss, bring your hand to his chest, the other still held in his large hand, thumb gently stroking over the pulse that sped up under the delicate skin.

“You have not answered me, my Lady,” Lord Lannister said, pulling his mouth from yours to trail kisses across your cheek to your ear, nibbling gently on your lobe and halting any clever answer you might’ve been able to give.

“What?” you asked dazedly. Lord Lannister’s lips quirked at your ineloquent reply.

“Will you give me your hand?”

He pulled back to look you in the eyes, and now his lips were not touching you, you could think a little clearer.

“Only if you will give me yours.”

Predatory though it was, the Old Lion grinned at his victory.

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #tywin x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #kevan lannister #brightroar #reader insert #not a request #let me know if you want a sequel #i can make it spicy

[lightofwintersun]

Rhaenyra: "I am the Queen!"

Tywin: "Any human who must say "I am the king!" or queen is not true"

#house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #crossover #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #tywin lannister #house lannister #got #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #hotd x game of thrones #you can think what it's anti black team but no #rhaenyra x tywin

[writeshite]

Hi! Can you please make a smut of Young! Tywin x male reader?

Tywin is the sub.

"My, my, your quite the screamer, aren't you, Lord Tywin?"

"Shut up....." he mutters, face pressed into the pillow, ".....fuck....."

You chuckle, inching in further; Tywin grips the sheets with a force, whimpering beneath you; he'd been recently attempting to grow his hair out a little from its usual length. He'd managed something fluffy, gone past his ears and halfway along his neck - a cub's mane, if anything - now, it worked well to call his attention.

"Why won't you go faster?" he whines, pushing back with desperation.

"We've only just started, Tywin," you respond, drawing out to the tip; he goes breathless when you pound back in. "I'm sure riding a carriage with a sore ass is no comfort." He glanced over his shoulder, a scowl on his face, but you can only laugh, thrusting unhurriedly. He writhes when you grind into that spot, gripping the sheets even tighter; any attempts to speak are cut off when you repeat. With the castle empty, you take no caution to silence him, his body shakes with more whines.

Tywin pleads, as he often does, begging for something rougher; you refuse his request, faking speed before returning to a slow pace and leaving him frustrated. You laugh by his ear, hands holding his hips down so he can't entice you to thrust faster; his hips shake in your hold, and you bear more of your weight on him, rolling your hips slightly faster before your orgasm is drawn out. Tywin cries in relief, and you lie atop him, and kiss the back of his neck.

#shitedrabbles #tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister x male reader #idk why this ask made me laugh hysterically for so long 😭 #i guess fancast whoever you think can play young tywin #maybe tywin sits in his fancy chair thinking back when he got dicked down in his 20s that's why he's got that thinking face so often :) #young tywin lannister x male reader

[fandom-puff]

Congrats on the 10k!! Can i get a Baby Blurb: Tywin x reader. Where reader is nervous to tell Tywin that she's pregnant. Tywin of course its in heaven with the news

Thank you so much and Omg yes yes yes I got a bit carried away w this one lmao

Warnings: arranged/political marriage, pregnancy, canon-typical ideas surrounding women/a woman’s place/duty of childbirth. Westeros is a patriarchal society basically. Significant age gap (reader is early 20s, Tywin is in his 50s)

Wringing your hands nervously, you straightened the (already straight) cutlery for the fourth time. To say you were nervous was an understatement. Tywin Lannister was not a man to be summoned.

And yet you had done so. His wife, a woman thirty years his junior, had sent Tywin Lannister’s own guard to request his presence in your chambers.

“Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King,” the guard announced as he opened the door, and you stood up straighter, smoothing out the front of your gown.

“My lady,” Tywin said, his brow arched and a bemused smirk on his lips. “This is a surprise,”

You ducked your head under his domineering gaze, and gestured for him to sit, pouring his wine as he sat as though you were a common wench.

“I…” you trailed off, too nervous to quip at your relatively new husband. “I thought it would be nice… I’m sure the Hand’s chambers can get… lonely?”

Tywin let out a short laugh. “Sit, wife. You are not a serving wench,” he said, nodding to your seat (though the idea of you being in his service made his blood run a little warmer). Obediently, you sat down across from him, staring at your own empty goblet, unable to look into his sharp green eyes for more than a millisecond.

“Out with it,” he commanded, though his voice was not cruel. “You clearly wish to tell me something. So do it,”

You stuttered slightly, fiddling with the ruby that hung around your neck. “I… my lord,” you began, before taking a deep calming breath. “I… I have reason to believe that… that I may be with child,”

You bowed your head, unable to look at his face. His chair scraped as he stood, but the slam of the door never came. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room, and he came to your side, tipping your chin up to look at him. “Truly? When did you last bleed?” As your face heated, he shook his head. “I am a grown man, wife, I know the workings of women. When did you last bleed?”

“Before our wedding, My Lord,” you whispered. “I thought the first time I missed my moonblood was… was the change of moving to the capital… but then it did not come again… and I have not bled this moon either,”

Tywin Lannister knelt before you, so you were forced to look down at the Great Lion.

“Then we must get you to the maester immediately,” he insisted. “And to the tailor, I will not have my wife walking around in ill-fitting gowns. And I shall have your chambers moved closer to mine,” You smiled weakly. “Do you feel ill? In pain? You must tell the maester of any hurt, no matter how small. You are carrying my son, now YN, your health and his is paramount,”

You glowed under his gaze and affection, but a worried thought crossed your mind and you bit your lip. “But what if… what if it is a girl?" you whispered, and you expected him to glower at the thought.

"if the baby is indeed a girl, my lady," he began, bringing your knuckles to his lips in a rare display of affection. "then we must simply try again. I will have a son off you, no matter how many sisters he must have first,"

#10k baby blurbs #fandom-puff’s 10k celebration #Tywin Lannister x reader #Tywin Lannister x you #Tywin Lannister fic

[cass-foxx]

Family reunion except it's just 2 besties dragging their partners with them when seeing each other

At this point, Masc!Y/N (or me idgaf) is a canon game of thrones character to me.

Also decided to give Masc!Y/N a design because I kinda dislike the bland grey character. (and yes this design is based of me because I am the realest real person ever /j) Relationships, if you guys are interested: Tywin x Masc!Y/N : They're in a relationship and not interested in marriage. Stannis x Davos : They're husbands and no one can change my mind. Tywin & Stannis : They hate each other so much, it's a miracle that they didn't kill each other yet. Masc!Y/N & Davos : They are BFF and sometimes strangers believe they're the couple because how tf would 2 such sweethearts date men like Tywin and Stannis ??? Tywin & Davos : Tywin barely acknowledges Davos as he is from low birth. Davos doesn't really care. Masc!Y/N & Stannis : They used to be friends but Stannis became colder once Masc!Y/N started a relationship with Tywin. I realised that they have similar hairstyles so, if you want, you can see Masc!Y/N as a Baratheon :]

#I gave tywin a slutty waist #now let me grab that waist #I love sexualising men #as a man myself ofc #at this point it's fully headcannons #but i hope you like it #still wishing it's not too ooc #game of thrones #asoiaf #stannis baratheon #stannis the mannis #davos seaworth #tywin lannister #x reader #masc reader #stavos #tywin x Y/N #stannis x davos #got fanart

[thebadboyfanclub]

The Lover Of The Seven Kingdoms (Tywin x Reader)

First of all, I’m sorry but you cannot tell me anything when it comes to Tom hiddleston being the perfect young Tywin Lannister. Second, I love writing morally grey female characters and I wrote grant maester pycelle and mushroom in cause I wanted to show how a lot of male historians portray women in one way cause it’s just easier.

The lover of the seven Kingdoms” grant maester Pycelle had used as a description of (y/n) Martell, the second wife of Tywin Lannister, the symbol of femininity for a plethora of men in kings Landing, the mother of lord Ezra Lannister and lady Asena, the scandalous twins and one of the few bastards that later became legitimate and inherited Lannisport, then they had three more, lady Nymeria, Lady Zara and Lord Sorin, (y/n) was the secret passion of Tywin since she stepped foot at court, she was to be Joanna’s lady in waiting.

Her appearance was one carved by the Gods, long dark raven hair that curled down to her waist, olive skin, and almost black eyes, her lips thick, and a body as juicy as the fruits of her land, her twin brother Dorian had sent her to Kings landing as a way to show respect and also expand her horizons.

“Princess (Y/n) had relations with one of the bastards of house Dayne when she denied him the man gutted himself in front of her, Doran sends her away to avoid more scandals caused by her lustful appetite”

Mushroom note, Joanna liked her, she was smart and endearing, and she knew how to play her part, however, what Joanna had not taken in mind is that (y/n) stopped at nothing to get what she wants, in this case, it was the young Tywin Lannister, the tall man with muscles everywhere, blue eyes and blonde hair was the subject of desire for a plethora of ladies, none of them had the guts to go after him, (y/n) was not like them, she had her eyes set and the game had begun.

“My lord”

(Y/n) called for Tywin, the hour was quite late but Tywin was the hand of the king, the hour did not matter when they were things he needed to pay attention to, papers to be signed and payments to be settled.

(Y/n) had studied his schedule, Joanna was already in bed and Tywin was free, most of the servants were dismissed so they were no prowling eyes to catch her.

Tywin halted and turned to look at the girl that called for him, she wore a rather sheer dress which was unlikely of hers, Dornish people were always costumed to very light choices in clothing, still, this was a step further, if the candles burned a bit brighter Tywin would have been able to see… well everything.

“Princess (y/n), is there something wrong?”

“No, not exactly, I was hoping to talk to you, in private”

Tywin hesitated, (y/n) was just outside her chamber, she was holding the door open which meant that her choice of privacy was her room, still, curiosity about what it could be that needed to be discussed in such a secretive way was enough for his feet to go one and then the other inside.

(Y/n) closed the door before she spun to rest her back on the wood, a smirk playing on her lips as her plan was going smoother than she expected, the room was decorated in cherry red and gold colors, some orange as well and the intense smell of vanilla and musk took over Tywins senses.

“So, I would prefer it if you started talking”

“Do you like being the hand of the king?”

“You summoned me to ask me if you like my occupation?”

“No, I summoned you because I have a pair of eyes, eyes clear enough to see that something has been bothering you”

“Well I am flattered that the princess cares to ask for my well-being, however, I must go”

“You can’t lie to me Tywin, if it’s not your duty then it has something to do with me, you have been avoiding me, you can’t even look me in the eye”

Tywin once again chose to not speak he only made a b line for the door to which (y/n) was resting, she had managed to think of everything down to reaching for the handle when he did, making their hands touch, Tywin did not pull his away, he let it rest on top of hers as he towered over her and she looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Is it me, my lord? It is my presence that is bothering you?”

“No”

“No? You are breathing quite heavily, your eyes travel below my lips, and… dare I say you could have moved me if you truly wanted to, no one is here, my lord, you can confess to me”

“(Y/n)-“

“Go on, confess”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she gawked at Tywin with lustful eyes with a hint of innocence, she had done this before, Tywin was a mere puppet, a bug that got caught in the spiders' web and was now waiting to experience her poisonous bite.

Her kiss could be described as venom, it made his entire body feel like it was burning and her touch was the only remedy, his addiction started and ended with her, he had been fantasizing about her every night, haunting him like a succubus and stealing the life out of him, at an instant he forgot everything, his wife, his status, his entire life would crumble if someone were to find them, none of it mattered, all that he cared about was to see her, take her.

He took her right on her window, some servants had even reported that they could see the young princess bareback as her moans grew some attention, alas none of them thought something of it, most of the castle had seen a generous amount of men go in and out of (y/n)s chamber at all hours of the night.

Tywin was in utter awe with (y/n), he almost felt like he would faint as he reached his high, it was the only time Tywin considered that (y/n) was a practitioner of dark magic. No other woman had held such power over him in this act.

“My lion”

She had whispered in his ear before she kissed him,(Y/n) was the perfect lover, every night he would slip from his chamber and knock on her door, she would be waiting for him, take him up to the sky, and wrap him with her fire that burned as bright as dragon fire.

Tywin was entirely himself around her, she allowed him to be in control and gave him the euphoric theatrics of prowling on her, which made (y/n) giggle a little, it was refreshing and borderline hilarious to move the strings in the background while Tywin thought he was moving them only because she let him touch them.

“I have exciting news”

“Which is?”

“Princess (y/n) is pregnant, how lovely would it be if we get to marry our children? We could secure Dorne and bind my friendship with her”

“We will do no such thing”

“Tywin, think about it if we-“

“You are forgetting an important thing Joanna, the princess is not married, who knows who the father of that bastard is, my child will not marry anyone of such low status”

What else could he have said? We can’t marry them cause they are siblings? Joanna would be crushed, Tywin had run to her chamber that night, not even bothering to knock as he burst into the room startling her, still once she laid her eyes on him she smiled, she dared to smile as if nothing has happened.

“How dare you announce your pregnancy without even telling me first”

“I thought you had noticed”

“No, I hadn’t and Joanna wants to marry your child with one of our children”

“I am sure we will find a way around it”

“Find a way around it? How are you so calm when the world is crumbling on your feet? You are not married nor betrothed, this child will be declared a bastard”

“This child will be my firstborn, a child created by you and me if you remember, that is all that matters to me”

“Not to the rest of the realm”

“I do not care about the rest of the realm Tywin, that is your problem, it will be royalty in Dorne, I do not care what they call my child here”

“Some said she bathed in goats blood every full moon, she would burn candles and speak in foreign languages to make Tywin stay by her side”

Mushroom claimed, it could be true or just whispers since no one understood the powerful hold that she had on the young lord, Tywin was a fearsome man, calculated and ambitious, yet (y/n) could sway him in any direction she wished with a bat of an eyelash.

It was such a peculiar moment, (y/n) gave birth to twins four moons after her lady Joanna, Ezra and Asena, both of them had their fathers' eyes, sapphires that shined in the light of the sun as (y/n) fed them from her breasts, Tywin had held Asena first, she looked nothing like Cersei still something in him knew that the two girls were born to be each others nemesis, fate had played him like a fiddle.

“I was thinking of going back to Dorne”

“Why?”

“My brother said it is not safe for us, people will talk and I do not want my children to grow up in a venomous environment”

“No, no you will stay, Ezra and Asena Hill has a nice ring to it”

“They are Martells, my love, they shall be called that”

(Y/n) was not ashamed of her children, on the contrary, she adored them and kept them by her side at all times, she taught them how to walk, talk, sing, and dance, a endearing mother with a backbone made of Valyrian steel, a combination made straight out of the seven rings of hell.

“Push, my lady”

“I can’t, (y/n) please make it stop”

“Maester, what is taking so long?”

“The babe has breached, it will not let me pull it out”

“It hurts (y/n)”

“I know, my lady, just one more push”

Joanna fought tooth and nail to survive, unfortunately, her labor did not harvest any fruit for her, the son survived but Lady Joanna did not even get to hold him, grant Maester pycelle held Tyrion and presented him to lord Tywin who was utterly disgusted by the ugly creature.

“That is no son of mine, throw him in the river”

“You will do no such thing”

“This matter does not concern you, princess”

“It does, you may be excused maester”

Pycelle only nodded and left them alone, a strange aura surrounded both of them, Joanna was gone, a deformed babe had taken her life, and (y/n)s belly was ready to pop any minute, what was to be done now?

“Does cruelty excite you?”

“Cersei and Jaime are both healthy and Lannister featured, that… thing could not have been created by me”

“It was not the babes' fault, so I have to remind you that you are also guilty of the thing you are accusing a dead woman of?”

Tywin was a man but that meant little to nothing, if Tyrion was a bastard then there was no difference between him and (y/n)s children, Tywin was in no place to frown upon such an act since he was having another child on the way, a bastard.

“Listen to me, my love, I know you loved Joanna and I loved her too, but the babe survived, it’s the last thing we have from her, grief is a strong emotion, but we have each other to lean on, don’t you want this for us Tywin? for me?”

There it was, her secret weapon, that sweet voice that dripped of honey and the big doe eyes, she knew how to play the damsel in distress down to every detail, Tywin put his lips in before he shook his head in defeat, his wife had departed but his mistress stood before him, demanding a place at his table and life, which he was willing to give her.

-

Cersei was frantic, the announcement of her father's betrothal to the princess (y/n) and the reaffirmation of her bastard children had brought her to an utmost stage of rage that she was going around her room like a hurricane, she was throwing things and cursing as loud as her lungs allowed it.

How could he do this to her? To her family? That woman had slithered her way into their life like a snake and was now feasting over her mother's dead body, this was just plain disrespectful to her mother.

Tywin found Cerseis handmaidens outside her chamber as the sounds that came from it could put to shame any wild animal, the ladies looked frightened and not one of them dared to go in, however, all of them tried to warn him in leaving the lady be, suggesting that this has probably happened before.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Get out”

“Young lady I advise you-“

“Shut up! I don’t want to listen to you! How could you marry her?! How could you do this to my mother?”

That was the last thing she said before a harsh slap landed on Cerseis's cheek, the girl was taken back by the act since her father had never hit her, he would discipline her but mostly by raising his voice or finding peculiar tricks of punishment, for Tywin to get physical with his daughter meant that she had gone too far.

“You do not get to judge my decisions, you will welcome your brother and sisters and you will be nice to my wife whether you like it or not, did I make myself clear?”

Silence only looks that could kill were exchanged

“Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes Father”

“My love?”

(Y/n) walked into the room, she had heard everything although she chose to reside in the act of being clueless, Tywin had turned away from his daughter and walked to his soon-to-be wife’s side, his hand found hers and brought it up to his lips, (y/n) smiled fondly before she scanned the room with her eyes, a puzzled look on her face as the room was upside down.

“What has happened? Is the young lady alright? The handmaidens were stuttering when I asked about the noises”

“Yes, no need to worry, my dear, Cersei was just redecorating”

“Oh, well if she wishes I can help with that”

“No, no, Cersei is quite specific, she prefers doing things her way, hence this scenery, we should live her”

“As the young lioness wishes, but before we leave”

(Y/n) took a few steps so she can stand ahead of Cersei, Cersei truly felt like a lioness, one that was trapped in a cage to be exact, as much as Cersei wanted to believe she could outsmart anyone (y/n) had years up on the horse, so naturally she was now trotting past Cersei with her caring smile and eyes that lit up, Cersei was left to looking like a kid that threw a tantrum whilst (y/n) looked like a mother that did her best to keep the peace.

“I know you are angry at me, I would be too, I will not try to be your mother, I do however hope that one day you will view me as your ally or your friend even”

(Y/n) went to caress Cerseis cheek which Cersei flinched away from that earned her a cold hard stare from her father, (y/n) only bit her lip in defeat, then it was replaced by a smile of hope, (y/n) genuinely wanted things to go as smooth as possible, to keep all of Joanna's children close to her, it was the least she could do she wasn’t a complete monster, as much as Cersei liked to think of her as one.

“Perhaps it’s too soon, I am asking way too much of you, I hope you have a great day, sweetling”

“Put everything back in its place, now”

Tywin instructed in a stern voice before they exited the chamber that Hurricane Cersei was occupying, Tywin was sure that she would throw something at the door once it was closed and he stood correct when a loud bang was heard.

“She is a young girl that lost her mother, having an attitude with me is inevitable”

“Cersei is not a normal young girl, she has a superiority complex over everyone, our children will not interact with her yet”

“That won’t be a problem, Asena is not… fond of Cersei either”

“I wonder why, let us not think of Cersei right now, it is time for Nymeria to be fed”

“See how beautiful it sounds when it rolls off the tongue? And you wanted to name her Lydia”

Since this babe was the first legitimate child of Tywin and (y/n) he had the suggestion of picking the name of the beloved girl, on the contrary (y/n) was not budging, she was adamant on naming her daughter after the biggest warrior queen Dorne has ever known, her precious Nymeria.

“The princess never wanted to marry lord Tywin, she was far more interested in keeping their relationship private, howbeit Lord Tywin was too consumed by his emotions for her to consider the fact that the princess could have been wed, she simply chose not to”

Grant maester Pycelle added when asked about their wedding. (Y/n) did not care about her children being legitimate or owning land, Dorne was her home, her brother had congratulated her on the birth of her twins and even offered to have them in Dorne, and her family was delighted by (y/n) bringing forth new heirs for the Martells, it was only Tywin that wanted to make it official, to let everyone know that the princess was now cloaked by the lion, her life as the lady of the rock had begun and Dorne had entered a land that they never really thought of earning.

“In a day you will be my wife, therefore, my children’s good mother, I expect them to treat you as such”

“I do not, Tywin they are in mourning, you cannot expect them to make it easy for me”

“I am not dimly witted my dearest, I know they will have some thoughts over our marriage, albeit I will make sure they keep it to themselves”

Requests are open!

#tywin lannister x you #tywin lannister fluff #tywin lannister imagine #tywin x reader #tywin imagine #tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister #ao3feed tywin #yandere tywin lannister imagine #game of thrones fluff #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones oneshot #game of thrones #got imagines #got x reader #got #got oneshot #got imagine #tywin lannister imagines #yandere tywin lannister x reader #house lannister

[themotherofblood]

𝕋𝕪𝕨𝕚𝕟 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 | 𝕄𝕒𝕗𝕚𝕒 𝔸𝕌 | 𝕃𝕚𝕠𝕟’𝕤 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕡

when Tywin happens to fall for a pretty girl, though we know how this story goes. You become his greatest weakness, one that his enemies would happily exploit.

smut (🌑) fluff (☁️) angst (🌧️) dark (🔪)

Personal Assistant (🌑☁️)

#Tywin lannister #ruie’s moodboards #tywin lannister smut #tywinlannisterxyou #tywin lannister x you #tywin lannister x reader

[rarepears]

The feeling when you have finished plotting out the next couple chapters of your fic but now you have to actually write it out.

#ugh #writing problems #what do you mean someone can't write it out for me #what is word choice and why is it haunting me like so #Tywin Lannister X Sung Jinwoo #ao3 fanfic

[storiesforallfandoms]

littlest lion ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

word count: 3182

request?: no

description: after witnessing the littlest lion sibling’s abuse at the hands of her queen sister, he decides that not all lannisters are as terrible as he once thought

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing, verbal abuse (it’s cersei so...not surprisingly), much use of y/n, a little bit of a re-write on the canon of got to say that tywin had a second wife and another child so that it makes sense for the reader to be the youngest lannister

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in all of Westeros knew the Lannister siblings to be cunning and pretentious. For the most part, those assumptions were right. Cersei and Jamie were definitely both of those things - Cersei more so than her twin brother - and Tyrion’s general distaste and apathy for everything could be misinterpreted as pretentious.

But then there was their youngest half sister, (YN).

Born to Tywin and his second wife after the death of his first, (Y/N) Lannister was the complete opposite to her older siblings. She was kind and shy, which often resulted in a verbal lashing from Cersei. Tyrion was indifferent to (Y/N), but treated her nice enough. Jamie just ignored her unless he was with Cersei. Cersei despised her sister with every fiber of her being. She never wasted a breath to inform (Y/N) that she wasn’t a real Lannister, despite her being a true born to Tywin.

She tried to pretend like Cersei’s words didn’t affect her. It would only result in more taunting if she did. But (Y/N) had spent countless nights in her chambers sobbing over whatever Cersei had said to her that day. She dreamed of the day she would be able to leave her sister’s kingdom (although technically it was her son, Joffrey’s, but everyone knew Cersei was the true leader), but it felt like that day would never come. (Y/N) was well into her adulthood with no prospects of getting married. It didn’t help that Tywin hadn’t arranged a suitor for her in her younger years, and now that Joffrey was king the task fell to him and Cersei, but Cersei would not approve of any suitors for her sister.

“She needs someone to bully,” Tyrion had told (Y/N) once. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.”

(Y/N) hoped that Joffrey’s marriage would bring Cersei enough joy that she would not think to be cruel to her. (Y/N) made herself unseen to Cersei as much as possible while the wedding was happening, unless she was called upon.

Unfortunately for her, Cersei still found reason to call upon her.

(Y/N) entered the throne room where Cersei was speaking with Joffrey. She curtsied, waiting for the two to notice her. She was sure Cersei was intentionally keeping Joffrey’s attention when her legs began to shake, threatening to collapse from under her.

“You may rise, aunt,” Joffrey finally said.

(Y/N) stood straight. “Your grace, you summoned me?”

“Upon my mother’s request,” Joffrey confirmed. “She wishes to speak with you in regards to my wedding day.”

(Y/N) tried to keep her expression neutral as she turned to Cersei. “What can I do for you, sister?”

“Don’t call me that,” Cersei hissed.

“I apologize, my lady.”

“I called you here to ask what you intend to wear to the king’s wedding.”

(Y/N) blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you become hard of hearing? What do you intend to wear to your king’s wedding?” She enunciated each word as if (Y/N) were a child. Joffrey was smirking from his throne. He reveled in his mother’s cruelty just as he reveled in his own.

“I...I suppose a gown from my wardrobe,” (Y/N) said.

Cersei scoffed. “Please, your wardrobe is so common. It would be humiliating for you to show up like that.”

A lump began to form in (Y/N)’s throat, but she tried to swallow it down. “I have no other options, though, and the wedding is in a matter of days.”

“I’ll have to get my seamstress to work on a more appropriate gown for you then,” Cersei sighed.

(Y/N) felt a heavy pit in her stomach. It was starting to make sense why Cersei had called her here. It wasn’t truly to figure out suitable wear for the wedding. It was so Cersei could once again humiliate (Y/N). She had no doubts that her sister would have her seamstress make the most hideous dress for (Y/N) to wear to the wedding. It would be an embarrassment for (Y/N), and it would mean it would be less likely for any potential suitors to show interest in her.

Tears were welling in her eyes. She was trying to fight them back, but it was a losing battle. “May I be excused, your grace?”

Joffrey glanced at his mother. She sighed and turned away, so he waved (Y/N) off. As she began to leave, she heard Cersei tell her son, “What a pathetic woman.”

(Y/N) all but ran from the throne room. She hurried out the doors of the castle into the palace’s garden as her tears finally began to fall. Her body was wracked with sobs as she fell onto the nearest bench. She felt so struck and so helpless. She would never get out of Cersei’s clutches as long as she lived, and there was no one in the world who could save her.

“I wonder what it is that causes a lion to cry.”

(Y/N) jumped at the sound of a voice. She looked up to see a handsome man in a yellow robe stood in front of her.

“Apologies,” she said, quickly wiping the tears from her face. “I was no aware that there was anyone else here.”

“No need for apologies. This is your home, you are allowed to cry anywhere you wish.” He sat next to her, looking at her as if studying her. “But the question still stands: what makes a lion cry?”

“You know who I am.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyways, “Everyone in all of Westeros knows who the Lannisters are. Even if I didn’t, your golden hair would have been a clue.”

(Y/N) had to break their eye contact because this handsome man was intimidating her. Not in a bad way. His looks were just making her feel tongue tied.

“It was nothing,” she said. “I apologize for disturbing your peace.”

“The little lion is surprising,” he commented. “She cries, she apologies. Very un-Lannister.”

“I am no Lannister. At least, not to my own siblings.”

A look of realization passed his face. “I believe I am starting to understand.”

Tears were forming in her eyes again. She couldn’t cry in front of this stranger. Not again. It was bad enough that he had already caught her once. Cersei would have her head if she found out that (Y/N) was making the family name seem weak.

“Would you like to go for a walk, little lion?” he asked.

His voice was quiet and soothing. If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would’ve thought he was mocking her. But one look told her he was being genuine. A walk through the garden definitely sounded like a good idea.

He offered her his arm and she took it. As they stood, he told her, “My name is Oberyn Martell, brother of Doran Martell.”

“The Prince of Doran,” (Y/N) said.

Oberyn smiled. “You know of my family too, then.”

“One must know all the families of Westeros, as not to let down their guard,” (Y/N) recited. “Or to not make a fool.”

She could see Oberyn look at her, but she wouldn't dare look back at him. Instead, she changed the subject, “You must be here for my nephew’s wedding.”

“I am. My brother was invited, but he was very busy, so I am taking his lace.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay then.”

“I am already enjoying it.”

(Y/N) smiled, her face burning from the compliment.

She showed Oberyn around the garden, the two of them trading stories and getting to know each other. For a brief moment, (Y/N) was able to forget about everything. It was a brief moment of happiness and feeling like she was actually wanted.

They came to stand at a perch that overlooked the kingdom. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden he over everything. (Y/N) was acutely aware of Oberyn’s hand brushing against her own, but was trying not to focus too much on it. Oberyn’s presence was starting to make her feel dizzy, but not in a bad way. It was an intoxicating feeling. She never wanted it to end, but at the same time she was worried about making a fool of herself in front of him.

“This visit has already brought many surprises for me,” Oberyn said.

“How so?” (Y/N) asked.

“For one, I have found that not all Lannisters are as terrible as their reputation would have it. And two, I am finding myself enjoying time with a Lannister.”

He lifted her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. She drew in a shakey breath at the action. Oberyn’s deep brown eyes were watching her again. She hoped her legs would not give out from underneath her as she felt them growing weak.

“I have been enjoying my time with you as well, my Lord,” she said.

“Please, call me Oberyn. I am but a second son, not a Lord. Besides, I do not intend for these formalities between us to last long.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You are ambitious.”

“I am a man who knows what he wants, and it is seldom that I do not get what it is that I want.”

Her heart was beating so fast she thought she may pass out, or that Oberyn may hear it. She had never had a man tell her that he wanted her, and she realized she had never wanted someone so much either. In just a short period of time, Oberyn had managed to completely steal her heart. There was nothing in the world that could ruin this moment, or this connection.

What she didn’t realize was that her sister was watching the two of them from inside the castle.

~~~~~~

The sun was nearly completely set when Oberyn and (Y/N) finally parted ways. He had kissed her hand once more and told her he would come looking for her the next day. (Y/N) was so lightheaded that she practically floated back to her room. She was just about to enter her chambers when a voice asked, “Did you have a good evening with the Dornish prince?”

She turned quickly to see Cersei stood at the end of the long hall. Suddenly, everything came crashing back down to Earth around her.

“He is very lovely,” she responded. “I apologize that he kept me for so long. I did not intend to miss out on dinner.”

“It was lovely without you.” 

(Y/N) winced. She put her hand back on her door, intending to escape into her room and hopefully salvage whatever good feelings she could from her time with Oberyn.

“I know you are not wise, (Y/N), but I truly hope you are not stupid enough to fall for Oberyn Martell.”

(Y/N) looked at her sister in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that he is not a man who settles for one woman. Everyone knows that he will fuck anything that walks - man or woman. He was already visiting the brothel here before his arrival.”

Her breathing began to increase. “I...I didn’t...”

“Oh my word,” Cersei breathed. “You have fallen for him, haven’t you?”

The tears were forming again. (Y/N) quickly blinked them away so that Cersei wouldn’t see. “He was treated me as if I was an actual person. That is more than I can say for anyone in this castle. I apologize if it makes me stupid because I was happy to feel wanted for once in my life.”

“He only made you feel that way so he could take your maidenhood,” Cersei retorted. “He will not make you a wife, he will make you a whore. And then he will return to Dorne while you are here, weeping over his departure even though you were the fool who fell for him. It will be left to me to pick up the pieces he left behind.”

Cersei was shaking her head as she turned to leave. (Y/N) was hoping that she could finally escape her sister’s cruelty for the night, but then Cersei paused to add, “I mean, really, (Y/N). Why would a prince of all people want to marry someone like you? The last born child, from a second marriage, who has not been wed by the time she reached her maturing age? You are pathetic.”

(Y/N) didn’t wait for Cersei to leave. She shoved into her room and slammed the door shut. Her tears began to fall before the door was fully closed. She didn’t even have the strength to make it to her bed this time. She collapsed into a heap against the door, burying her head in her skirts as she began to sob.

How could she be such a fool? How could she let herself believe that she had finally found someone who wanted her? That she might just escape from Cersei once and for all? What Cersei had said may have been cruel, but (Y/N) knew there must be some truth behind the words. There was nothing remarkable about (Y/N) that would draw in the attention of someone like Oberyn, unless he just wanted to try and get into her bed. He saw her at her weakest and he preyed on that, the same way that Cersei always had.

“Stupid,” (Y/N) whispered to herself through her tears. “You are stupid.”

A knock came at the door.

“Go away!” (Y/N) called through her tears. She wasn’t in the mood for anyone to see her like this, or to have to be humiliated further.

“It is me, little lion.”

She paused. How had he found her room? Why had he come for her? Surely he wasn’t about to try to get into her bed already.

Against her better judgement, she stood and opened the door. When he saw her tearstained face, Oberyn’s expression filled with sadness. He reached for her, and she allowed him to pull her into his embrace.

“I am so sorry you are treated this way,” he said.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

He nodded. “I will admit, I followed you once we had separated. I wanted to see if you would be intercepted by either of your siblings before you reached your room. I saw the Queen Regent approaching, so I kept a distance to hear what she would say to you.”

“Then you heard what she told me about you.”

(Y/N) pulled away from Oberyn. She knew she shouldn’t listen to anything Cersei said, but she couldn’t help that her sister’s words had once against gotten to her.

“I did,” Oberyn confirmed.

“And is it true?”

“It is true that I went to a brothel before I arrived at the castle. It is true that I enjoy intimacy from anyone who is willing to give it to me, regardless of gender. But it is not true that I was only kind to you to try and take your maidenhood. What I said in the garden, I meant it.”

“Why?” (Y/N) asked. “Why would you want me? Out of all the beautiful women that I am sure you have seen, both noble and not, why is it me that you desire for?”

He cupped her face. He wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs as he looked down at her. “Because I believe you to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

(Y/N) scoffed, but Oberyn said, “It is true. From the moment I saw you in the garden, weeping over what I am sure was another verbal lashing from your sister, I was taken by your beauty. You are a beautiful woman, both inside and out. I am completely taken by you, (Y/N), and it upsets me greatly that you are made to think that you do not deserve that kind of love.”

She wanted to be happy by what Oberyn was saying. She did believe him. She could see the sincerity in his eyes. But knowing that Oberyn was taken by her that much just made her heart ache more, because she knew that they would never be allowed to be together.

“Cersei will never approve,” she said. “She will not let me marry and escape this place. If you show any interest in me, or voice that you want me to be your wife, she will deny it.”

“Then I will take you away from here.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

Oberyn looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was around. (Y/N) stepped back into her room and motioned for him to follow. She closed her door, giving them some privacy to speak freely.

“She cannot stop me if I take you before she realizes you are gone,” he said. “We can leave after the king’s wedding and return to Dorne immediately. She cannot stop you once you’ve already gone, and if she tries then you will have an army of Dornish men waiting to defend you. Myself included.”

“How will we get my things out of here before she can stop us?” (Y/N) asked, glancing around her room.

“Pack what is essential,” Oberyn told her. “Just one bag of essential things. Whatever you cannot fit I will replace once we return to Dorne. We can put it in my carriage before the wedding, and once it all ends we will leave immediately. I did not intend to stay long after the ceremony anyways, so it will not seem suspicious if I take my leave so quickly.”

Tyrion’s words were playing in (Y/N)’s head. “The only way you will ever marry is if you manage to find someone who will take you away.” She had thought for so long that it was an unreachable desire to find someone who would want to take her away. She almost wanted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

“You would really do that for me?” she asked.

“Of course I would, my little lion,” he said. “You do not deserve the life that you are living here. Even if you do not want me, I will still take you away and let you live a happier life.”

“I want you,” she whispered, almost worried that saying it out loud would make everything fall apart.

But Oberyn heard her, and he smiled. “When we are in Dorne, I will court you as I should, then I will make you my wife.”

(Y/N) couldn’t find the words to say how much she wanted that. She just smiled, then leaned into Oberyn’s embrace. She mentally counted the days until she could be free from her prison, but then decided not to think of how long till it would happen. Instead, she focused on what she was going to have after she had finally gotten out of there.

Oberyn.

#Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[floatyflowers]

Male! Cersei Lannister x Lannister! Reader

Cedrik Lannister is spitful, and narcissistic.

But he managed to make you, his cousin, fall in love with him.

A little manipulation about how 'Lannisters belong together' he managed to seduce you.

Especially since your husband Robert cheats with every female in the corner and only thinks about Lyanna.

But Cedrik made you felt loved even though you tried to stay loyal, but you ended up falling for your cousin.

And what made you fall harder for him is when he refused to get married because he has no eyes except for you.

That is true even if he is a toxic person.

You managed to have Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen as Robert's children with the plotting of Cedrik.

But when Robert dies, and your eldest child with him becomes the king, Cedrik makes himself present at your side and children's side.

Especially when Ned threatens to reveal the truth.

That didn't end well for the Starks, did it?

Tywin also takes charge of advising Joffrey, knowing very well that he is his grandchild.

When you begin to see how Joffrey is unfit to be a king and Cedrik being a horrid father figure, you tried to take Tommen and Myrcella and flee.

But you failed, and Cedrik made Joffrey lock you up.

"We are getting soon, we will become a real family, didn't you always want that, my dove?"

Seeing all your three children die drove you to become more depressed

Not knowing that your husband is suffering as much as you.

When Cedrik is certain that Daenerys burned down King's landing and was coming for him.

He went straight to your chambers, and laid in your embrace just like you used to do in your and his youth.

All you did is smile down at him as he cries and keeps apologizing for everything that happened.

You only comfort him with a head pat and a sentance.

"We can join our children now"

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #yandere game of thrones #Yandere cersei #cersei lannister #cersei lannister x reader #Male Cersei Lannister #possessive

[the-well-known-scout]

A Bride in the Eyes of Some

Tywin Lannister X Reader Fic 🦁

-

(nsfw!)

“The Lady (Y/N) Lannister”, a title that ran through your mind and rang in your ears as you heard it.

You felt a certain disdain run down your spine that day, a rattle in your soul like no other. The announcement was a shocking one to you, remembering the day you were declared as the newest woman to Tywin Lannister. You remembered the wedding, how he didn’t share more than the hardest of pecks on your cheek as the Septon declared you man and wife. You remember the silence, the groaning and worn down creaking of the bed of your wedding night. You forced yourself to like it, you forced yourself to muster out pseudo-moans as Lannister-bred seed poured into you. You forced yourself to embrace your life as a vessel for blonde-haired children, with eyes as green as emeralds with a stiff lip. He’d never love you like he loved Joanna, you would never replace the whole in his heart she left behind. You would never be his love, you’d never be her. Or so, you thought.

Over time, you had learned to navigate the Red Keep, you learned to navigate the people that resided there. And you especially learned to navigate your lord husband, of Tywin. At times you didn’t have much to go off of, a grunt or a mumble underneath his breath damning something to the Seven Hells. His cunning mind and how it worked its’ way around the realms of politicking and pursuits of power. It intimidated you, it made you question yourself and your intelligence. Which you knew for sure, was a purposeful act. You needed to be on his time, you needed his mind, or he’d cast you away as useless. You learned to keep your distance at times, the Great Lion a man you didn’t dare to want to upset. You kept your interactions to a tee, never wanting to overbear him with what he viewed as “imperfections”. He only needed you when he called you, whether it be an execution of such schemes, or to warm his bed. He didn’t love to embrace your flesh, you imagine he thought of Joanna as he rocked you against the sheets. But you were wrong in that behalf, at least, as he grew used to you.

To most of Westeros, and even his own flesh and blood, Tywin was a lonely, bitter soul that threw back at the world what it gave to him; ten times as harsher. A cold, calculating man that cared for the benefit of him and him alone. But, he remained gentle with you, becoming more than a means of his lust. He was as delicate as he could be, being the Great Lion of The Rock. A softer stare in your direction rather than the cold, brutish one he darted to his enemies, or even the politest of terms when he speaks of you. You could listen to the words “lady-wife” roll off of his tongue all day and into the darkest of nights. He learned to tolerate your differentiating antics over time, finding them rather comical as he grew to know you more. How you interacted with servants among the Rock, to how passionate you grew about something you were determined for. You watched as a connection blossomed between you two, no longer the glacial silence that you both slept through, begging for one of you to find the courage to speak.

He would watch you as you read in bed with him, occasionally making a few notes and sneers about your posture. He would poke at the Old Valaryian books you insisted to put your nose in, laughing at your naïveté of the past. You were on guard at first, ready to bite back at whatever you felt was an insult until you realized it. He was talking to you, he was jeering with you. He was loving you. What stared off as the burden of your existence, the dread you wished to hide from as you laid next to him, become passionate. You were making love to Lord Tywin Lannister. No longer hid pathetic tears you held back, became moaning, a desperation for flesh you shared.

You daydreamed of how he rocked your hips atop of him, his grunting and slight-growling. He never said much during the act of fervoring your cunt onto him, but he didn’t need to. You would have his children, you would make his heirs, hopefully to turn out better than the three he was given. He was strong enough to place you how he saw fit, whether it be upon your knees, lying on your back and holding onto your ankles, or below him. He wanted you to worship him, every inch and fold of his skin he gave to you. At times, he’d whap you across the bottom, leaving warm spots from where his hands struck. At other times, he would have you on your knees, pulling you by the shoulder back to the gracious inches he gave to you. Tywin’s hands were some of the most dangerous pair within Westeros, hands you were not exempt from in the bed. And he would fuck you, until he grew tired, or had had you well-filled with enough loads of his seed to give him an entire line of Lannisters.

As his seed would pool out of you when you turned over to find a smidgen of rest, you would feel him. A singular hand wrapped around you, his head not too far from your shoulder. It was no longer the political prison you so desperately wanted to escape, it was love. Love of the highest points, love that stretched from The Rock to Dorne. A love that could never be taken away from you. A love that would be seen and heard among the Gods and men, new and old. And a love, you would never want out of.

#game of thrones #got #asoiaf #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #got x reader #house lannister #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #casterly rock