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queeninthesouth-side · 2 years

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also not a request, im writing what i want to read at the moment, it seems! The lowdown: there’s angst, sex and romance, all Lannister style. He growls. You’re welcome. Very reader focussed, but about a third of it is Tywin’s pov. Possessive, protective husband vibes. Again, you’re welcome. He’s Hand to Joffrey (gag) so it’s set post Robert’s death, but canon? We don’t know her. Also, can we agree Genna is the sister in law we all need?

Coming in at a whopping 8,112 words

In Time, the Lion Loves

Tywin Lannister x fem!Reader

It was a purely political marriage, one that occurred a mere fortnight after your meeting Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock in King’s Landing. He had been taciturn and serious bordering on standoffish most of the time. You were embarrassed that your father had all but forced his hand, what with Lannisters paying their debts and all. And saving Jaime Lannister from the Starks and returning him home when Lord Lannister couldn’t? It was a debt large enough to warrant a hopeless, trustless marriage between you and he.

“Let’s retire,” he said from beside you at your wedding feast, an ostentatious event organised by the Boy King Joffrey and his mother. He’d been unexpectedly amicable, in the way lord husbands were supposed to be with their wives. He’d let you sip from his wine goblet and had given you first pick of the plate you both shared. You enjoyed the roast pheasant while he preferred beef.

“Time for the bedding ceremony!” the King announced, face flushed terribly from the wine he’d indulged in, and green eyes sparking with malice. The King had always looked at you as though he might pounce, and tonight of all nights, you had to rein in your fear of him. As soon as men rose and began tugging at your beautiful gown, they stopped.

Lord Lannister had slammed his hand on the table, the boom echoing throughout the hall the feast was being held.

“No man but I shall touch my wife. Get off her,” he growled. The men around you couldn’t flee fast enough. Then neutral green eyes settled on you, readjusting your sleeves that had come down your shoulder some in the tugging and offering you his hand to escort you from the hall.

He poured you more wine once in the Tower of the Hand, but you did not move to drink it. You had let go of your fear of this man in particular, especially as he’d kept you close to him all evening, and had gently seated you beside him at the feast. It could certainly be a ruse, one to make him seem the perfect Lord even in a marriage he had not chosen.

“Stop thinking so much, you’ll make yourself dizzy.”

“I was thinking how much I appreciate your manner, my Lord. It would not have surprised me if you were a cruel man in private, though I am beginning to see there isn’t any needless cruelty in your body.”

He looked at you then, watching as you took a single, gracious sip from your cup, before turning and looking at him too. You were beautiful, this he knew. He was a widower, not blind, and he had appreciated privately any particular woman of exceeding beauty. But he’d always been a jealous and possessive type of man, and you were almost made more beautiful by the fact you were his alone. His wife. He’d need to get used to that again.

“You will bear me sons, and manage the Rock should we return. It would not do to sully our alliance so soon.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Are you nervous, Lady Wife?”

“No, my Lord. I snuck off to a brothel before we travelled to King’s Landing and had a whore explain to me the truth of a marriage bed.”

Already he felt a flare of possessiveness take him. The thought of you in any brothel made him twitch. Had any men seen you? Had anyone touched you? He found the thought entirely unacceptable, and was sure to say so.

“I knew I’d be married shortly after my arrival here, my Lord. I did not want to be uninformed, and septas take a vow of chastity. How could they give me an objective insight into married relations?”

“While it is an admirable quality to seek out your own answers,” he said, walking over to you and looking down as you sat opposite his desk. “You will not set foot in an establishment like that again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord,” you said, looking up at him with earnest eyes. He liked them, he decided, when they were settled on him.

The first night, he’d answered any questions you’d been left with on how a woman takes pleasure from her husband, and gods, did he give you pleasure. In short order, you’d found yourself looking forward to the hour or so an evening he’d dedicate to getting an heir on you. You were grateful he’d make it an enjoyable experience.

He was long and hard, and you’d taken him two dozen times at least already, and every time he had to let you adjust, lest he hurt you. It was sweet torture for him, feeling you tight around his cock, sighing and humming for him until he’d draw out more sounds.

Your hands, never stilled once he was inside you, gripped at his back, his sides, his neck. Anywhere you could reach, you would touch, but never outside the bedroom. He used to appreciate this, he realised, sinking in all the way and delighting in your gasp. Not having a clingy little wife who lingered about him at all hours.

No, he realised, drawing back then driving forward more firmly. He wanted you to be clingy with him. It was barely a moon into his marriage to you, and he wanted to possess you as much as you seemed to possess him. With this thought, he dedicated himself to your pleasure. He’d make you enjoy his cock beyond anything else, then he’d make you enjoy him.

“My Lord,” you whined as he brushed a spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back and fluttering shut.

Oh yes, the Lion thought, he’d have you in all ways soon enough.

When you’d both agreed to make small appearances around the Keep, Tywin had thought it’d send a clear message that the Lord and Lady Lannister were united despite the tenuous start of your marriage. It did not quite have this affect, to his chagrin.

Men watched you everywhere you went, he realised on these walks. Their eyes would follow your walk, your hair, your face and any words that floated along the wind sweetly. You were splendiferous in red and gold, and he’d spared no expense on your wardrobe. Bedecked in the finest gowns, second to only the Queen, and even then outdoing his daughter to her distaste. He’d made it as clear without words as possible, you were his. And yet, these cads watched his wife as though she were still an eligible heiress and not his lady wife.

Then began the marks.

On your neck, your shoulders, even your wrists, which he delighted in kissing and licking in rare shows of intimacy. He was an odd man, your husband, but he left you to your own devices apart from your new routine of walking and visiting your bed to procure an heir. He’d stop his attentions once you were with child, you knew, but you ignored the twinge of upset the thought caused. He was not your lover, he was your husband, and you lived in a world where they were not one and the same.

The marks were bothersome, especially if he hadn’t kept to below your collarbones, as you’d told him to. He rather seemed pleased with himself when a bruise was left by your ear or your throat. You’d learned all sorts of hairstyles to cover them, styles that seemed to draw the eyes of others, but none moreso than the Master of Coin.

Petyr “Littlefinger” Baelish was not a man you’d heard of before your arrival at the capitol, but he’d made himself known to you at your wedding, and seemingly every other day since. He’d appeared sympathetic at first to your marriage, though when he saw your irritation at the perceived pity, he’d taken another approach. Whispering words of the deeds your Lord Husband had done to carry on his legacy. The details disturbed you of course, but you were not so foolish to think Baelish would tell you anything of the truth, only what he wanted you to know. Ignoring him was easy, but his presence made you uncomfortable, try as you might to hide it.

“My Lady,” he smirked at you. Sat at a bench in the leafy shade, enjoying the weather and a good book, you greeted him politely but made no move to stand or invite him to sit. He cleared his throat at the ensuing silence. “I had hoped you might walk with me around the gardens, my lady?”

Closing your book, you stood and began making your turn about the aisles of flowers and crawling vines. He walked beside you looking at you out his periphery. You’d mastered the art of looking around a room without moving your eyes, so his attention was far less overt than he’d hoped.

“And what did you wish to speak to me about, Master of Coin?” You felt an odd yearning for your husband then. Surely the sly little man would leave you be if your hulk of a husband were near.

“Have you travelled to Dorne before, my lady?”

The question sent a chill through you. The man was up to no good, you were sure, but your husband would surely not desire to hear your concerns over the, as far, polite attentions of a member on the Small Council.

“I have not, my lord. I don’t much fancy such arid temperatures, so I cannot say I have a desire to visit anyhow. Have you?” you asked to keep your polite façade.

“I have, my lady. It’s a beautiful, if arid as you say, land. I’ve many friends there, and a home of my own, too, for when business takes me that side of the world.”

“If you only wished to inquire about my travels, Master of Coin, I shall bid you farewell.” In a move so fast you hardly realised it’d happened, Baelish had placed your hand over his arm. Coincidentally, your Lord Husband happened upon you both that instant. You pulled your hand from him with a delicate frown and took a step away.

“Baelish,” your husband gritted, eyes glittering with danger. For you or Baelish, you weren’t quite sure. Almost certainly both.

“Lord Hand. I shall leave you to your strolling, my lady. Good day.” And then he was gone.

“You are not to walk about the Keep unattended, wife,” Tywin says lowly.

“Yes, my lord,” you reply softly, turning to return to the Keep proper.

That night, your lord husband drew peak after peak from your body, relentless until you were practically unconscious from the pleasure. You’re mine, he’d said over and over as he drove into you. And he did not stop touching you. Your hair, your face, your lips especially. He seemed to kiss the breath out of you, stopping only when he’d finished a second time, and you could barely speak.

You’d woken the next morning alone, as you always did. Your husband would only share your bed for the act of siring an heir, and would always be gone by the time you woke. It didn’t bother you, you told yourself as you woke cold and sore. It was perfectly expectable for a husband to act this way. And you would do your duty, as you’d been taught to, so it hardly mattered if he was there when you woke. He didn’t need to be next to you in the morning to get a child on you, so why would he? It was this cold logic that helped you through your bath and preparations for the day.

===

Two moons later, and your husband had not refrained from exhausting you thoroughly every night. He stayed a little longer, waiting for you to be asleep before he would make his exit, and sometimes you swore you could feel his fingers caressing whatever body part was exposed to him. Though it was surely the musings of a well-sated, completely exhausted woman.

The Master of Coin’s attentions had not faded either, though this made you less than pleased. It was hard to desire leaving the Tower without your husband, knowing Baelish would find you inevitably. He had gotten into the habit of placing your hand on his arm when he could get away with it, which was often as he avoided your husband at all costs. There was no love lost between Littlefinger and the Great Lion.

“Your husband is making a three day expedition to the surrounding towns. Something the Hand does every year or so.”

“Yes, he’s mentioned it. He’s made arrangements accordingly.”

“You must be excited to see more of King’s Landing, my lady.”

“I have requested to stay behind,” you say offhandedly. You were hoping to gauge his intentions by telling him this. The look of determination, and something much like scheming, settled in his eyes. It frightened you.

With the desire to be away from this man and near to your husband, you bid the Master of Coin farewell and walked away before he could follow.

Entering the Tower and seeing your husband hard at work at his desk brought you a feeling of peace you did not realise he gave you.

“Wife,” he said simply.

“My Lord,” you always replied. There was a settee by the window, and in the time you’d been married to Tywin you’d never seen him sit there. You walked to his bookshelf, grabbed whatever spine took your interest and sat at the settee to read. Your husband made no comment, so you did not move.

A couple hours of silence followed, you reading about agricultural infrastructure and him responding to raven after raven.

“You’re disturbed,” he says suddenly.

“I grew weary of people watching me.” It was not quite a lie, but again, how could you be honest that you were hiding from the Master of Coin? That you thought he was up to something? That and how quickly you tired these days. Being married was exhausting, especially when your husband could not seem to get enough of your attentions at night.

“I leave on the morrow for the Tour of the Hand. I had summoned my sister to come for a few weeks to the capitol and she arrived today, but is resting. Mostly to get her away from that miserable husband of hers,” he added. He’d been doing that over the last few weeks, adding details that he usually wouldn’t if you were anyone else. It felt like a token, of what you couldn’t say, but something from him to you regardless.

Your anxiety got in the way of any warmth. Without Tywin, Baelish would have no deterrent to keep him from approaching you, even calling on you in your chambers if he was bold. Having Genna Lannister (never Genna Frey) would perhaps be a hindrance rather than a help. You didn’t know the woman, and the only other Lannister woman in the capitol made no efforts to get to know you.

“I shall look forward to meeting her, my Lord.” He hummed and that was that.

Later that night, after dinner, your husband summoned you to his chambers. Usually he’d cross the dividing parlour between your rooms and bed you there, but he obviously couldn’t be bothered to make the journey, you thought.

He was undressing you as he made sure to do every night, never letting you do it yourself. You undressed him, he’d instructed you on your wedding night, and he would undress you. It was only when you were splayed across his bed, hair unbound and laid across the pillows when his eyes darted to your midsection.

Palming your lower abdomen, and seemingly finding what he was looking for, he said, “You are carrying my babe in your belly, wife.”

The words brought dread. Would he stop his attentions? You hadn’t realised how much you liked them until they might be taken away. But then his words actually sunk in. A baby. There was a babe in your belly, your own, and in some moons it’d be in your arms, gods willing.

Tywin watched as you smiled small at first, then sat up and felt where his hand cupped the slight swell. He saw a true smile from you, one bright and warm as the fire in his chambers that crackled merrily. Tywin felt annoyed that he would have to leave you come morn, especially now that the next lion of Casterly Rock was in your belly. And quietly, perhaps he enjoyed the way you sat with him, and wanted more of the same.

Feeling pride at making his wife smile, and that he’d gotten a babe in her so quickly after their marriage, he kissed you breathless until you pulled away for air. It didn’t stop him from trailing kisses across your neck and collarbones, down to your breasts, which were heaving by now. He couldn’t wait to see them swell in the coming moons.

You thought he would stop there, return to you and get on with it, but he moved lower and lower, until he was staring into your most private place. It was embarrassing for a few moments, until he leaned forward and began kissing you there too. It was overwhelming. So perfect, making you writhe and pant. You never begged, but if he toyed with you like this long enough, you were sure you would.

“You’ve done well, wife. Allow me to reward you,” he purred before his tongue went inside. This, you decided, was well worth it to have waited for. In no time at all the sounds of him kissing you there overtook the fire and even your own deep, heavy breaths were drowned out. “One lion stronger, soon to be two,” he said as you peaked over his lips and tongue.

===

You woke a little after you’d both fallen asleep, tired and sated and, dare you think, happy at the prospect of the babe. It took you a moment to realise you weren’t in your own rooms, and that this was the first time you were waking up beside your husband.

He was laid out on his back, long legs nearly stretching the entire length of enormous bed, one of his arms bent underneath his pillow, and one stretched to rest under your pillow. You only allowed yourself a moment to admire him before quietly getting out of bed, collecting your clothes and moving like a ghost to your own rooms. It was hardly an hour past midnight, and you felt so tired all the time (from the babe you now realised) that all you wanted was to sleep.

Tywin woke an hour before dawn to an empty bed, and this infuriated him somehow. To be left while he slept made him feel as though you’d taken your pleasure and gone away from him. The only thought that stopped him from barging into your rooms was how that’s exactly what he did to you every night but the one you’d just shared.

Getting up from bed and throwing on a dressing gown to cover his nudity he marched directly to your rooms, finding you curled up by the edge of the bed, as though leaving a space for someone else. This appeased him in a way he couldn’t ascertain, but he needn’t linger. It was early still, and he didn’t need to be up and out of the Tower until after breakfast in a rare change of schedule.

He approached your sleeping form and gently manoeuvred you so he could scoop you up. You hummed, then frowned and blinked an eye open.

“M’Lord?” you mumbled.

“Hush,” he soothed, using the voice he’d found you reacted particularly well to. “I woke to find my wife missing from my bed,” he explained softly. “I am simply rectifying the issue.”

“Didn’t think you wanted me to stay,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and allowing him to grip you behind the knees and scoop you by your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you said, and Tywin was distracted by how sweet and docile you were when sleepy.

“Hush, I said,” he murmured by your temple. You curled closer to him at that, and his chest rumbled in satisfaction. “From now on, you stay in my bed.”

“With you?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes softening, though you’d never know with your eyes shut. “With me.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Tywin, he wanted to say. Call me Tywin, anything but that. He did not. He was asleep again in moments now that you were back in his chambers, and you’d been asleep again before he set you in the centre of the bed.

When you woke, your husband was still in bed with you, an arm wrapped round your waist, hand splayed over your slight swelling. When he woke a few minutes after you, your husband tightened his hold and pulled you closer. This was new, you thought. But delightful. You realised more and more how pleased you were that you married such a fine man, even if you’d never share a love or more intimacy than expected of you in public. This was enough, you told yourself. It had to be.

You both laid together for a while, and during that time you wondered if your husband would truly listen to you if you mentioned Baelish. But then he rose to dress in time for a midday departure, and you decided the moment had past. You would be able to handle Baelish. You were a lion now.

Genna Lannister was already sat at the breakfast table, and you almost did a double take. Where Tywin was sleek apparel and minimal embellishments, Genna was the opposite. She wore a scarlet gown that accentuated her plump figure, gold dripping from her ears and throat and wrists, and hair done so elaborately you wondered how long she’d been awake to have managed such a style. And she was vivacious as they came.

You enjoyed her immediately.

“Sister!” she announced at your arrival, standing and coming to greet you as though you were long time friends. It didn’t feel predatory the way Baelish or the Queen could be, so you smiled and greeted her the same way.

“No greeting to your Lord Brother?” Tywin grouched.

“Oh, are you here as well, Tywin?” Genna teased. He huffed and pulled out your chair, assisting you into it before seating himself and glaring at his sister to do the same so they may eat.

“And how is my big brother, then?”

“You’re only being tame because you think I have a secret.”

“On the contrary, brother, I know you have a secret, and even better than that, I already know what it is.” She turned to face you and smiled truly at you. “Congratulations, sister,” she said sweetly. “And you! What a greedy lion you must be to get a child on her so fast!”

“Genna,” he warned, seeing your embarrassed flush. The blonde only laughed and waved him away. And Tywin let her! What a marvel this woman, her sister, was turning out to be.

“Oh, quit your growling and eat your porridge, brother.” And Tywin did just that.

It was a lively breakfast that came to an end when Tywin excused himself to prepare for his departure. You curtsied when he bowed to you both before taking his leave.

“Tell me, my dear, have you thought of names?”

“I only discovered last night I was withchild, and it was even my husband who’d figured it out. Do you have suggestions?”

“Genna for a girl,” she joked. “Tyton is a strong name. Perhaps Tywin will like it, too.” You agreed, and you did like Tyton. It was a strong name.

Genna, after a tour of the Tower, insisted on a walk around the gardens before seeing Tywin off. Baelish did not appear, to your relief, but his absence was almost as worrying. He was up to something you could tell, but what? Maybe you could confide in Genna?

In the end, you saw off your husband as a good wife should, not even having to pretend very much that you were sad to see him go. The Queen hadn’t paid an inch of attention to you besides a look of distaste after she greeted her Lady Aunt. And then it was back inside for you and Genna to read, then eat and retire.

The next day, you realised that yes, you missed your husband. Already you were wishing the three days would end so he could be by your side again. Your anxiety about Baelish had only worsened since you’d found you were having a babe, and Tywin had suggest you both wait to see the maester until after he returned. The news would spread fast that the Lady Lannister was withchild, and Tywin had said he didn’t want to be far when that happened, in case of anything. You’d wanted to lean up and kiss him when he said that, but you refrained, certain he’d shoo you away.

“My dear, you look exhausted. Come, we’ll prepare for bed then retire.”

You nodded to Genna, who had doted on you in a rather maternal way since her arrival. She’d helped you to undress, then into your nightgown and bed, wishing you sweet dreams before going to her own chambers on the level below.

It was dark when you were disturbed by something. The fire had died down (no one but Tywin could make a fire that would last the whole night) and the room was pitch black. You turned to sleep again when something foul smelling fell over you mouth and nose. You struggled against the stranger’s hand, trying not to breathe in whatever was soaked into the cloth. To your horror, your body was relaxing, your mind losing consciousness. Your last coherent thought was a desperate yearning for Tywin.

===

Genna woke and dressed, her handmaiden well versed in her hair enough to do it all in half an hour, and was sitting at the breakfast table waiting for you. When half an hour past and she heard no movement from yours and her brother’s chambers, she made her way to them herself. If the maids were too incompetent to wake you then she’d do it herself.

Upon entering the room, she stopped short. You were not in bed, and there were no maids fluttering about as they would if you were bathing. Genna had learned to trust her intuition and felt something was deeply wrong, especially as the bed looked as though you’d had a restless sleep. She wanted to believe you were just up early and perhaps strolling the gardens, but Genna knew that wasn’t the case.

She called for the guards, and told them to gather as many Lannister men as they could to search the Keep for the Lady Lannister. She hoped beyond hope she was wrong, but she so rarely was.

===

You woke to darkness and the gentle sway of a ship sailing, and thought yourself dreaming before you jolted upright. You were in a cabin on a ship, that much was obvious. What wasn’t, was why you were there, who’d taken you and where you were going. Dread settled in your gut. Would your husband find out? A silly question. He possibly already knew. What you were frightened to consider was that he might think you’d run away. Your heart gave a fierce pang of longing for your husband yet again, and then steely resolve filled you. There was a desk in the room you were in, one obviously well used, if the stacks of papers, inkwell and sacks of coins were any indication.

You stood, saw a dress laid out on the bed, one of dark blue decorated with swirls in a pattern you knew Baelish to favour. You should have said something, you thought bitingly. You should have gone with your husband. Then you’d be exhausted but safe, and with him.

You dressed in the gown quickly, fearing someone would come in as you were underdressed. The gown had pockets, as was custom in southern dresses now that the Queen had made it so. A plan was forming in your head about what to do, and with the nimbleness of a mouse and the resolve of a lionness, you grabbed the smallest coin pouch, checked to see it had golden stags, then bound the pouch tight as you could to avoid clinking, pocketed it, then sat on the bed and waited.

Baelish came in after a time, not that you were surprised, but you had a part to play now, and you’d need to be convincing. Your life and your babe’s counted on it.

“Lord Baelish?”

“Hello, my dear.”

“My Lord, what has happened? Did my husband send for you?”

“Your husband,” Baelish began, walking to sit beside you on the bed. It was a violation of etiquette, though you didn’t show any discomfort. “Will no longer be an issue.”

Your heart almost stopped, but then you reasoned even Petyr Baelish could not kill your husband. Tywin was too well-protected and too intelligent to be caught off guard as you had.

“He has sent me away?” you asked, playing the distraught little wife.

Baelish made to speak, to deny your words, you knew. Then he paused, and you saw that he considered you believing this the favourable option.

“He did, my Lady. He had men retrieve you from your bed, but my own intercepted them and brought you aboard my ship. I intended to offer you a spot anyway, to come with me to the Vale where my betrothed awaits us.”

You allowed a faux tear to fall, and your head to droop down to your chest.

“He isn’t fond of me,” you admitted quietly. You weren’t sure it was a lie, so it was easy to say so.

“He neglects you, my Lady. You are such a treasure,” he said, the obvious lust making your stomach roll. You only managed to nod. “We’ll be docking soon, my Lady. I sent another ship to Dorne and we will be docking nearby to the capitol to avoid suspicion. Why would we be so close when there’s a ship making to across the sea?”

“Very clever, my Lord,” you said softly. He smirked at you then brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, you blushed and turned away, and it was enough to deter him from pushing for more. You felt sick that he was touching you, feeling as though you were somehow being unfaithful to your husband. You couldn’t let on that you thought this, so you didn’t.

You waited until you heard Baelish disembarking the ship with great fanfare, stating something about needing to settle some business in the port town you were docked at. It was very late at night, you couldn’t have been sailing for more than three or so hours, but regardless, it was many days walk and at least a day’s ride by horse to return to the capitol. You found a cloak and some old breeches and tunics in a closet, boots that were too big, so you stuffed some cloth under and around your foot. It made you a few inches taller, more convincing in your disguise as a sailor. You pinned your hair back with whatever you could find and slipped out of the cabin to find a guard slumped over in sleep outside your door. You hadn’t known he was there, but by the grace of the Mother, you had a chance.

You walked off the ship in no particular hurry to avoid suspicion, then made your way to the nearest stable you could see, banging on the door until someone answered.

“What d’ya want,” a grisly looking man groused once he opened the door. You placed the coin pouch in his hands.

“Give me your best horse, saddle it immediately and the coin is yours.” He nodded, looking at you strangely before doing as you asked.

“I dunno who yer runnin’ from, girl, but ye better be fast. An’ ‘ere,” he said handing you a pouch of what you discovered to be bread and some apples. “Some for ye, and some for the stallion,” he explained.

“I thank you,” you said quietly.

“Go on now. Sun’s comin’ soon.” And off you rode.

It was in the heat of the midday sun you began to feel poorly. Your legs were sore and chafing, your hips aching, and you hadn’t dared stop to rest or eat lest Baelish discover you. You wouldn’t rest until you were back with your husband, this you vowed.

===

“A raven, milord, from your Lady Sister,” the squire said as Tywin retired to his tent. By the morrow, he’d be back in his own chambers with his wife, and able to be rid of the grime that always managed to build up on the road.

He sat first, poured some wine, and took a long sip before unrolling the parchment and reading the note.

“Prepare my horse!” he roared moments after having read the note a third time. Men sprang into action, some packing his tent and others preparing to depart with their Liege Lord. Within minutes he was riding hard into the night and back to King’s Landing.

His wife had waited for him to be gone then she’d stolen away in the night with his babe inside her. He was furious, and he rode like it. How dare she, he thought. You had tried to make a fool of him and no one fooled the Great Lion and got away with it. Beyond his anger, he realised his chest was tight. She’d left, was all he could think. And he’d fancied himself to be growing fond of her. What a fool.

“I want a patrol to set out immediately,” he said to yet another squire as he marched into the Red Keep. “Find my runaway bride and bring her to me unharmed.”

“Yes, milord!” And away the boy went.

Genna was pacing in his study when he arrived, a worried look on her face she only wore for her family (minus her husband), then regarded him intensely.

“She did not run, Tywin.”

“She did,” he gritted out.

“She didn’t. She fretted the entire day you left, asked me about a dozen times where I thought you might be as the day passed. She did not leave, brother.”

And loathe as he was to admit it, his sister was far more perceptive than she had any right to be. If she believed his wife had not run from him, then he would try to believe the same. His anger immediately turned to angst.

“Then she was taken, and is likely gone to me forever if she is not found in the next days.” His voice was low, growlish, and Gemma saw right through it.

“She’s a smart little thing, Tywin, and we have some leads already. Have hope, brother.”

“She is carrying my babe,” he said, though his sister knew him too well not to know what he truly meant.

“She is your wife, brother, and she at least takes her vows seriously. She would not betray you like this, and I happen to think she will try everything in her power to come back.”

Tywin realised she could very well be dead already. How apt of the gods, to thrust a wife upon him he had no want for, then to take her from him when he did.

“I’ll kill whoever did this,” he said quietly. He felt his sister’s hand on his shoulder and clenched his fists. He wished for his wife in that moment, their easy silences and the way she seemed to seek him out just to be near to him. “And I’ll never let her leave my sight again.”

===

There was a point where even your horse refused to go farther, and you had to agree. It was nearing nightfall, and you were exhausted. Your whole body ached, and you thanked the gods you weren’t heavier withchild or riding wouldn’t have been an option.

You settled for the night, ate the bread the stable hand had packed you and fed all but one apple to your horse, who munched happily on them then the grass, then promptly went to sleep near you. It was a sweet horse, and didn’t mind when you laid next to it, leaning your tired body on its side.

You slept for hardly a few hours before dreams of Baelish catching you and Tywin truly having sent those men woke you. Rousing the horse, who seemed grumpy at being woken, you re-saddled him and began a lighter pace. You had already begun to recognise your surroundings, and made haste again towards the capitol. When you crested a hill and saw the top of the Red Keep in the distance, you burst into tears of relief and pushed your horse to ride on. He seemed to understand your anxiety to be home, and did as you bade him. You patted his neck the entire way through the sleepy King’s Landing, and all the way to the King’s Gate.

“Who goes there,” the gate master called out at your arrival. Your must’ve looked like a commoner with your drab coat and less than quality clothes. They probably thought you stole the horse.

Pulling back your hood, you revealed your face, unpinned your hair and announced yourself.

“I am Lady Lannister,” you said, and heard murmuring follow. A guard came down to you, shone a torch in your face and upon recognising you, he called for the gates to open and for someone to retrieve the Hand.

They escorted you up to the Palace steps, and assured you they’d take care of your horse, before a servant came to take you to your chambers. You could hardly walk, so sore from the saddle, and exhausted beyond belief. You were nearly at the Tower when a commotion caught your attention.

Ahead of you, you saw your husband. He was still dressed from the day and did not look to have slept, despite it being nearly dawn. He laid his eyes on you, and both of you sprang to go to the other.

Your legs protested the pace, but you hurried down the hall to him. In several long strides he reached you and pulled you to his chest, arms locking around you tight. You cried again, clutching the lapels on his doublet.

“Hush, wife,” he said, though you cried harder at his voice. He picked you up into his arms, told the guards to stand by the door on rotation, then took you inside the Tower.

You had cried all through him undressing you, and himself, all through the bath he’d ordered be delivered, and all through him washing your sore, bruised and chafed body. Only when you were back in your bed did you finally settle enough to speak.

“I didn’t run from you, I swear it, I swear it,” you repeated to him, begging him without words to believe you. He caressed your body from hip to shoulder, holding you tight.

“I know you didn’t, wife, though I had initially assumed that to be the case,” he said as though it shamed him to have thought that.

“Baelish,” you gasped. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think— I didn’t think you’d believe me, but I should’ve said, I should’ve gone with you,” you explained, though you didn’t really explain much at all.

“Baelish took you?” he growled, arms tightening around you. You nodded.

“He had two ships, one to Dorne and one to the Vale. We docked in the night to not look suspicious, and I found clothes and stole a pouch of coin, slipped off the ship and bought a horse. I rode all the way here, I hardly stopped.”

Tywin would be the one to kill Baelish, he decided. For making his wife afraid, for taking her from him and for putting his babe in potential danger. He would make it slow as possible without being outright torture if he could manage, though the idea certainly had merit.

“I was so frightened,” you admitted quietly, looking up from your husband’s chest to peer at him in the eyes. “Scared he’d get me all the way to the Vale, and then I’d never be able to get away. Scared he’d know about the babe and— and give me something to kill it,” you said voice cracking. You lifted a palm to his cheek, the first time you’d ever reached for him outside of marital duties. He leaned into your palm, eyes fixed on you. “I was so scared I’d never be able to see you again, my Lord.”

“Tywin,” he said, desperate, though you couldn’t tell it was that. “You call me Tywin.”

“Tywin,” you breathed, and then his mouth was on you. He called you wife, he called you lady, he called your name, all with ‘my’ attached. He did not leave you as you drifted into an exhausted sleep, nor as you rested. Not for anything. His grandson could summon him and he’d tell him to talk a walk off a balcony railing. He would not let you go, not ever again.

“I’m here,” you whispered in your slumber, arms equally tight around him. “I’m here, Tywin.”

He kissed your hairline, smelling the soaps he’d used to wash you, the ones you always smelled of. He couldn’t believe someone had dared to steal you from him, to take his lady wife.

“I thought you might’ve been…” he could not finish the thought. It would make him think of the familiar grief he carried with him every day, the one of a man who’d lost his wife. He could not compete with gods and nature, but he could certainly compete with Baelish.

“It would need more than a mockingbird to defeat a lionness,” you purred. His worry for you had made you feel needy, and you knew he hated neediness.

“You will not leave me,” he commanded, and your heart gave way to the affection you held off for so long.

“Never,” you agreed. “And if I go anywhere, I’ll take you with me,” you said, kissing him firmly, your fist time initiating such an embrace. He gave into you immediately, ravishing your mouth and neck and chest with those marks he was so fond of, and truly, you were fond of them too. Maybe you’d even be daring enough to leave your own.

He made love to you that morning, as the birds sang so did you, though to Tywin, your song was much sweeter.

It was some weeks before your husband brought up your kidnapping again. He had been fiercely protective since your return to him, and there wasn’t a moment you were unguarded. There was no Baelish in the capitol anymore, so you felt at ease enough to return to the gardens as you used to, though now you had Genna for company, who was doting and funny, and kept your spirits high through the stress of the recent moon.

You were declared in perfect health despite the bruising and chafing by a maester Tywin trusted. You thanked the gods every day since your return for keeping your babe safe through the turmoil.

“My dear,” Genna said, pulling you from your daydreaming. “Have you thought it might be twins?”

That night, you asked Tywin if he agreed with his sister, and after careful consideration, he agreed you were larger than usual for so early on. His eyes darkened, and he pulled you to bed within moments.

Your husband, you’d learned in the recent weeks, was needier than he let on. Always wanting to touch, always wanting to kiss your sweet mouth when privacy allowed it, and gods, did his desire for you become plain as the sun in the sky. He could not get enough of you, how your hips were widening and your breasts were swelling, how your stomach had begun to protrude noticeably. He was prideful as a lion, especially with evidence of his virility in the form of his beautiful wife carrying his babe.

On a day where you wanted nothing more than to nap and read in your husband’s solar while he worked, there was finally news of Baelish. His ships had been sacked by the Greyjoys, and he’d been held prisoner there for a sennight. Tywin allowed you to see his correspondence thereafter with the Greyjoys, and you nearly baulked at the sum of money he’d offered for Baelish, alive.

And, as in most things, Tywin got his way, and Baelish was delivered to the capitol in chains. He certainly looked worse for wear, and you privately found satisfaction in that.

Baelish had demanded a trial by combat, and a knight well known in Dorne had stepped forward to be his fighter. Tywin had wanted to fight himself, but as Hand to the King, he resided as a judge on the case and was not permitted. His son, Jaime, had volunteered to fight on, technically, your behalf, though he was officially representing the Hand.

Jaime arrived to the fight in Lannister gold and red, declared he fought as the son of the Great Lion, and would fight for his Liege Lady. He nodded to you in the Dragon Pit, where the fight was to take place, and you nodded back in appreciation of the message. Even the Queen, who had mellowed around you some with your pregnancy and her aunt’s intervention, had nodded approvingly.

The fight was far shorter than any would’ve expected, the Dornish fighter far more flashy than skilled. He was no match for Jaime, who was considered one of the greatest knights in history.

Baelish’s head hung low as his champion yielded, and Tywin had insisted he be executed then and there. You watched as your husband swung the sword himself, and forced yourself to witness Baelish’s head fall from his shoulders.

Later, when you were finished being sick, Tywin scolded you.

“You needn’t do things like that, watching something so violent. I should have had you escorted back to our chambers.”

You graciously took his hand as he led you to bed after you’d rinsed your mouth and chewed some mint leaves.

“I would not have agreed to be away from you,” you said simply, watching Tywin’s frown deepen and his chest simultaneously puff at your desire to always be by his side.

You’d grown bolder in your affections for him slowly everyday since your return. You touched him all the time now, and he revelled in it.

“Lay with me,” you requested sweetly, patting his side of the bed. Your stomach was certainly too large for a single babe, and sleeping had already become difficult for you, only made easier with your husband’s arms around you. It was inconvenient, but he would sooner bring his work to bed than give you reason to shy from him again.

“And how are my little lions,” he said as he reclined and cradled your belly in his palm.

“They’re— oh!” You exclaimed, reaching for your belly, a frown furrowing your brow.

“What is it?” he asked at once, dread taking him. But you smiled suddenly, grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly to the other side. He was about to call for a maester when he felt the fluttering kicks of his children (he was convinced there were three, though you vehemently hoped not).

“They’re saying hello to their papa,” you sighed as he began massaging your bump, as though playing with the babes inside.

He moved lower on the bed, pressed his mouth to your skin and hummed. You laughed as the babes wriggled inside you, the feeling odd and bordering on uncomfortable, but to see this man, your husband, so gentle with you and with children that did not yet quite exist, your heart felt fuller than ever.

“Tywin,” you called, prompting him to look up at you. “You are dearer to me than any other, my lion.”

Your husband smiled and crawled back up to your lips to kiss them. He did not say anything back, but he made the most gentle love to you, whispering your name and how lovely you were, how good a mother you’d be to his babes. By the time you peaked, tears had been streaming down your face, wiped away each time by the gentle hand of your man.

#tywin x reader #tywin lannister x reader #got x reader #game of thrones #tywin lannister #genna lannister

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goodqueenaly · 11 months

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Hello, thank you for your previous answers. I've got another one for you. Are there any reasons (Doyalist or Watsonian) that Oberyn only has (or claims?) daughters?

Number one, this detail underlines some of Dorne's unique cultural qualities compared to the rest of (continental) Westeros. In Dorne, as Maester Yandel writes, "[t]hey [i.e. Dornish people] are not greatly concerned if a child is born in wedlock or out of it, especially if the child is born to a paramour". Likewise, Dorne is a land of (mostly) equal primogeniture, where Princess Nymeria is a revered foundational figure and (again, to quote Yandel) "[g]reat ladies and famous princesses abound, and are the subject of songs and tales as much as the great knights and princes". Oberyn's daughters were never considered the heirs to Sunspear, of course, but their existence as specifically female bastards who are nevertheless publicly acknowledged and raised by their highborn father reflects these aspects of their native culture. Indeed, when Obara's (nameless!) mother attempted to use Obara's gender in part to dissuade Oberyn from taking their daughter, Oberyn refuted the suggestion that as a mere girl she would not be wanted, declaring that "[g]irl or boy, we fight our battles ... but the gods let us choose our weapons" and confirming his paternal ownership of Obara through the latter's choice.

Number two, and related to that first point, it emphasizes Oberyn's own exotic strangeness, especially as he is first introduced through Tyrion's eyes while the latter was welcoming him to King's Landing. Oberyn's reputation did not just proceed him, it portrayed him as, to borrow a turn of phrase, mad, bad, and dangerous to know, someone who defied convention and thrived on blood and scandal. For a man who had supposedly murdered Lord Yronwood with a poisoned sword, "learn[ed] the poisoner’s trade and perhaps arts darker still, "soldiered in the Disputed Lands across the narrow sea", "bedded men and women both" and "crippled the heir to Highgarden”, fathering and raising exclusively female bastards might seem simply another aspect of Oberyn's unorthodox life and personality (again, especially in the view of non-Dornish Westerosi). Where for Tyrion, the note that Oberyn had fathered no sons is an intriguing detail amid the rest of that unusual life, and where elsewhere in Westeros such a fact might be taken as a slur on one's masculine virility (compare, say, the sniping comment made by Tytos Blackwood against Jonos Bracken, that Jaime would have to take one of Bracken's daughters as a hostage because "[f]or all his [i.e. Bracken's] rutting, he has not proved man enough to father sons"), for Oberyn there is no shame in the gender of his offspring.

Number three, it characterizes Oberyn as a man who genuinely cares about his female relations - an extremely relevant point when considering Oberyn's larger personal and political motivations. Oberyn makes no secret of the fact that he still vehemently blames the Lannisters for the murder of his beloved sister, and that he seeks vengeance for those murders. Oberyn is most certainly not the man to abandon the memory of the sister he loved, any more than he is to leave his daughters as unacknowledged bastards (which, again, as a highborn Westerosi male he might have been well within social expectations to do). These girls and women are as close and important to him as his brother or, more to the point, any son he might have had. (Indeed, Oberyn himself strengthened this familial connection by naming his eldest daughter by Ellaria "Elia", explicitly after the sister to whom he was so close.)

Number four, it provides a contrast between Arianne Martell and her cousins in their respective positions. The Sand Snakes may be bastard born, but they are publicly acknowledged as both the daughters and, for lack of a better term, spiritual successors of their father: Oberyn took them from (at least some of) their mothers, he raised them as his own, and he gave them the tools to live the sort of independent life he enjoyed. They were given paternal acknowledgment, trust, and the freedom to make their own decisions (especially in their choice of husband, at least theoretically since none have actually wed). Arianne, by contrast, might be the legitimately born daughter and heiress of the Prince of Dorne, but she believes (and not entirely unjustifiably) that Doran did not want her as his heir (and specifically that he was disappointed in her gender), does not trust her with any but the most superfluous tasks in that position, and would marry her against her will to the first available non-threatening aristocrat, the better to remove her from the succession. That the Sand Snakes are exclusively female assists in this direct comparison: Arianne can see young women of an age with herself and consider how she believes she has been treated by her Martell princely father compared to how they have been treated by a father of nearly equal dynastic standing.

#asoiaf meta #oberyn martell

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redwolf17 · 1 year

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Some Jaime Lannister Moments I Wish Fandom Remembered

Look, Jaime’s POVs are some of GRRM’s best. He has some great moments of bravery and kindness, and the reveal of why he killed Aerys tilts the reader’s and in-universe characters’ assumptions on their head.

However, there’s a bad habit of making fanon!Jaime a lot better person than canon!Jaime, ignoring his faults and dialing up his virtues, sometimes blaming all his sins on Cersei, as if he never makes choices of his own. Which… loses a lot of the nuance and contradictions that make Jaime such a fascinating character.

So, I’d like to lay out a few key canon quotes

AGOT, Tyrion I

Jaime Lannister regarded his brother thoughtfully with those cool green eyes. "Stark will never consent to leave Winterfell with his son lingering in the shadow of death."

"He will if Robert commands it," Tyrion said. "And Robert will command it. There is nothing Lord Eddard can do for the boy in any case."

"He could end his torment," Jaime said. "I would, if it were my son. It would be a mercy."

ASOS, Jaime I

"A man who would violate his own sister, murder his king, and fling an innocent child to his death deserves no other name."

Innocent? The wretched boy was spying on us.

ASOS, Jaime VII

He was curiously calm. Men were supposed to go mad with grief when their children died, he knew. They were supposed to tear their hair out by the roots, to curse the gods and swear red vengeance. So why was it that he felt so little? The boy lived and died believing Robert Baratheon his sire.

Jaime had seen him born, that was true, though more for Cersei than the child. But he had never held him. "How would it look?" his sister warned him when the women finally left them. "Bad enough Joff looks like you without you mooning over him." Jaime yielded with hardly a fight. The boy had been a squalling pink thing who demanded too much of Cersei's time, Cersei's love, and Cersei's breasts. Robert was welcome to him.

And now he's dead. He pictured Joff lying still and cold with a face black from poison, and still felt nothing. Perhaps he was the monster they claimed. If the Father Above came down to offer him back his son or his hand, Jaime knew which he would choose. He had a second son, after all, and seed enough for many more.

ASOS, Jaime IX

"You say Sansa killed him. Why protect her?"

Because Joff was no more to me than a squirt of seed in Cersei's cunt. And because he deserved to die. "I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor." Jaime smiled thinly. "Besides, kingslayers should band together. Are you ever going to go?"

AFFC, Jaime IV

"Do you see that window, ser?" Jaime used a sword to point. "That was Raymun Darry's bedchamber. Where King Robert slept, on our return from Winterfell. Ned Stark's daughter had run off after her wolf savaged Joff, you'll recall. My sister wanted the girl to lose a hand. The old penalty, for striking one of the blood royal. Robert told her she was cruel and mad. They fought for half the night . . . well, Cersei fought, and Robert drank. Past midnight, the queen summoned me inside. The king was passed out snoring on the Myrish carpet. I asked my sister if she wanted me to carry him to bed. She told me I should carry her to bed, and shrugged out of her robe. I took her on Raymun Darry's bed after stepping over Robert. If His Grace had woken I would have killed him there and then. He would not have been the first king to die upon my sword . . . but you know that story, don't you?" He slashed at a tree branch, shearing it in half. "As I was fucking her, Cersei cried, 'I want.' I thought that she meant me, but it was the Stark girl that she wanted, maimed or dead." The things I do for love. "It was only by chance that Stark's own men found the girl before me. If I had come on her first . . ."

AFFC, Jaime V

Genna Lannister had been a shapely woman in her youth, always threatening to overflow her bodice. Now the only shape she had was square. Her face was broad and smooth, her neck a thick pink pillar, her bosom enormous. She carried enough flesh to make two of her husband. Jaime hugged her dutifully and waited for her to pinch his ear. She had been pinching his ear for as long as he could remember, but today she forbore. Instead, she planted soft and sloppy kisses on his cheeks. "I am sorry for your loss."

"I had a new hand made, of gold." He showed her.

"Very nice. Will they make you a gold father too?" Lady Genna's voice was sharp. "Tywin was the loss I meant."

AFFC, Jaime VI

Must you make me say the words? Pia was standing by the flap of the tent with her arms full of clothes. His squires were listening as well, and the singer. Let them hear, Jaime thought. Let the world hear. It makes no matter. He forced himself to smile, "You've seen our numbers, Edmure. You've seen the ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my coz will bridge your moat and break your gate. Hundreds will die, most of them your own. Your former bannermen will make up the first wave of attackers, so you'll start your day by killing the fathers and brothers of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, I have no lack of those. My westermen will follow when your archers are short of arrows and your knights so weary they can hardly lift their blades. When the castle falls, all those inside will be put to the sword. Your herds will be butchered, your godswood will be felled, your keeps and towers will burn. I'll pull your walls down, and divert the Tumblestone over the ruins. By the time I'm done no man will ever know that a castle once stood here." Jaime got to his feet. "Your wife may whelp before that. You'll want your child, I expect. I'll send him to you when he's born. With a trebuchet."

#jaime lannister #asoiaf #nuance dammit

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chaigirly · 4 months

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C ai Character Catalog 1

The last of us:

Ellie Williams

Heard your princess was hot, where is she?

I met her when I was still with my ex

You’re the only one who understands

I see how you look at my sister

Only love can hurt like this

Partners in crime

I just wanna get high with my lover

If you gave me a chance I would take it

All I want is one more day with her

Must have been a deadly kiss

Cause I’m a jealous jealous jealous girl

Her moves, her moves, she is mythical

You’re too slow, try keep up with me now

Merry Christmas to you

It’s so lonely in my mansion

When does the reason become the blame?

And when you go away, I still see you

You’re the star I look for every night

I’ve been waiting for you

Shut up and drive

You’re the greatest love of my life

Joel Miller

You wanna scream don’t call me kid

She a bad little bitch, she a rebel

Don’t cry no tears now it’s Christmas baby

“I like you,” what’s stopping you?

Dina Woodward

Got kinda drunk and told her that I liked her

But I think I’m liking her more

That’s my mamacita yeah

Jesse

You’re my best friend I’ll love you forever

I just wanna be your sweetheart

Call of Duty:

Simon Ghost Riley

When I see you again

I was enchanted to meet you

There was something in the air that night

Now that you’re under our spell

Open your eyes

She only exists in the dark of my room

I’m faking all of this so they’ll take me

The only memory is us kissing in the moonlight

König

Sorry it’s over

Baby are you mine?

The Quarry:

Dylan Lenivy

I dreamt about you all summer long

Lovely to be rained on with you

Why don’t we go somewhere only we know

Have yourself a Merry little Christmas

Xoxo kisses hugs

Let’s be friends so we can make out

You’re my moonlight

We gonna party like it’s 3012 tonight

I might get lost without you

Would I lie to you?

Kaitlyn Ka

You call me, “I love you”

City lights never shine as bright as your eyes

Max Brinly

My love mine all mine

I can see the pain in your eyes

When does a man become a monster?

If you keep leading me into your room

Nick Furcillo

That boy is a monster

Last Friday Night

Run away fast as you can

Emma Mountebank

Girl, you’re such a backstabber

I’m addicted to my passion, fashion

Begging on her knees to be popular

Abigail Blyg

It’s in your smile, it’s in your eyes

My first kiss went a little like this

Jacob Custos

Oh no she likes another boy

In the center of the ring just like a circus

Let me get what I want this time

Detention

Clapton Davis

Last Christmas I gave you my heart

I’m getting feelings that I didn’t before

Stilettos and fishnets if that’s what you like

In my room, you and I

Arcane

I ain’t stopping till I see police lights

All you’ll ever have is one day with me

Jinx

Mama I’m in love with a criminal

Call me babydoll

You’ll see my face in every place

Divergent

Tobias Four Eaton

I can’t believe we’re finally alone

Welcome to Vegas baby

I wanna show you off

Resident Evil

Leon Kennedy

It’s born from just one glance

Carlos Oliveira

I would trade the world to see my son and wife

Touch me like nobody else does

Rise of the Guardians

Jack Frost

Rises the moon

Five Nights At Freddy’s

Mike Schmidt

I keep forgetting I should let you go

This that college dropout music

Red Dead Redemption

Javier Escuella

It all fell down, it all fell down

Only if you knew how much I liked you

Dutch van der Linde

I got a bad feeling about you

Think I need someone older

Arthur Morgan

When you close your eyes, do you picture me?

Spiderverse

Miguel O’Hara

I can be a better boyfriend than him

Hobie Brown

I’m breaking dishes up in here

Peter Parker

How could I hurt you?

What’s on your mind? I said, “your skin”

But girl I’m only human

I told you once I can’t do this again

Well you don’t know me but I know you

Miles Morales

I know that we’re more than friends

“I love you baby,” I think I love you too

DC Universe

Jaime Reyes

When does a candle become a blaze?

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dumbass-extraordinaire · 2 years

Text

Hips Don’t Lie

Cassie schemes. Bart wears a skirt. Jaime has a crisis.

The skirt is red and falls to his mid-thigh. It swishes and flares as Bart turns to inspect his reflection in the changing room mirror. What had Cassie called it? An “anime girl” skirt? It’s a pretty apt description from what little anime Bart’s watched with Jaime. He grins, enjoying the way the pleats flare as he moves.

Bart was skeptical when Cassie suggested they go shopping together, but he’s glad he took her up on the offer. This is really fun!

He calls over his shoulder, “Alright, I’m ready for you to see!”

“Hit me,” Cassie replies.

He steps out of the changing room, “What do you think?”

Cassie grins at him and claps her hands together, “Damn, boy! You’re rocking that skirt!” Her eyes light up, and Bart can practically see the lightbulb go off, “Ooh, I’m gonna get one too! That way we can match.”

He grins back at her, “Crash!”

...

It is a well-known fact that Cassie Sandsmark is a menace. In fact, she prides herself on it. So when she’d seen the way Jaime and Bart look at each other, she couldn’t not get involved. Of course, she also really does enjoy hanging out with Kid Flash Two: Electric Boogaloo. The kid’s a hoot, and smart as hell. They are deffo going shopping together again, no question.

“Wait here,” she tells him, “I’m gonna give you a rock and roll entrance.”

Bart grins wickedly at her, “Oooh, are you gonna do your radio announcer voice.”

“Hell yeah I am, homie,” she says returning his grin with equal fire. She marches into the living room, where the Outsiders are all lounging on various pieces of furniture.

“Attention! Can I get a drumroll please?!” she shouts. Then, in her best approximation of a 1940′s radio dj, she says, “Please welcome the hottest bitch in town, our very own Bart Allen!”

Bart jumps out of the doorway, starfishing his arms and legs and jazzing his hands, a sunny grin stretched across his face and his skirt fluttering around his legs. God he’s adorable, like a fucking puppy this one is. She just wants to pinch his cheeks, and wow she is turning into her grandma.

The team’s reactions are all positive, as she’d known they would be. None of them are assholes, and if they were she’d kick their asses into next week.

Ed wolf-whistles good-naturedly and Gar gives a big thumbs up, while Virgil nods appreciatively. Tim shakes his head at their dramatics and Vic raises an eyebrow and quirks his lips, but doesn’t say anything.

Dr. Jace looks up from her computer, “You both look very nice,” she says, her voice warm.

Violet beams at them as well, “Yes, and you are both matching! That is very nice!”

Jaime’s reaction is the most satisfying. He takes one look at Bart and his eyes go wide. If Cassie’s not mistaken, and she rarely is, then his brown skin is flushed at the cheeks. She mentally pumps her fist. Score one for Sandsmark! We have a blush, people!

Bart bounds over to his best friend, beaming, “Check it out, her-man-oh! Cassie took me shopping yesterday!” He does a little spin, making the skirt flare out around him. “Isn’t it totally crash?”

Jaime’s stares at Bart and actually bites his lip. Cassie doesn’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. “Oh, wow. Uh, si, yes, very crash,” he stutters, his accent thickening slightly.

Cassie smirks. Her plan is working.

...

Jaime feels like his brain is melting. Bart in a skirt. Bart in a skirt. He doesn’t know how to handle this. The skirt is red and pleated and only reaches Bart’s mid-thigh. And, ay dios mio, the fucking socks! They squeeze Bart’s thighs slightly, and Jaime feels like he’s going to overheat.

“Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da begins.

“Shut up,” he hisses at the scarab, “I am so not dealing with you right now!”

Bart beams at him. He’s gotten taller in the years he’s been here, tall enough that Jaime has to look up at him. Dios en el cielo, Jaime thinks, he’s fucking cute. Then his brain short circuits again because fuck, he thinks Bart is cute. Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck.

And because the universe hates him personally, Khaji Da chooses that moment to report, “Your vitals indicate that you are experiencing sexual attraction, Jaime Reyes.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he thinks desperately. His ears are burning, and he knows his face is probably beet-red.

Khaji Da continues, “Reccomended course of action: copulate with the Bart Allen.”

Jaime makes a strangled, high-pitched noise, his brain coming to a screeching to a halt. “What the fuck? No!” he splutters at the scarab, “Gah, shut up, just no!”

“It is the logical course of action,” it insists.

He can feel his eye start to twitch, “In what world?!”

“I do not see why you are so opposed to this.”

“Because it’s literally the worst possible suggestion ever!”

“Your hormone levels indicate otherwise.”

Jaime snaps. “I am not having sex with Bart!” he shouts.

“Holy shit,” Gar whispers, and Jaime feels all the blood drain from his face.

Fuck, he said that out loud. He said that out loud, with Bart in the room. This is the worst possible timeline.

Bart is staring at him, wide-eyed and red-faced. “What,” the speedster squeaks.

Nope. Jaime is not dealing with this. He is going to find a hole to hide in for the next one hundred years. He turns around and flees the common room.

Bart is following him, and Jaime absolutely cannot deal with that conversation right now (or ever), so he throws open the nearest door. It’s a storage closet, and the irony of that is not lost on Jaime, but beggars can’t be choosers. Unfortunately, Bart just zips up to him and grabs his arm before he can get the door closed.

Bart’s cheeks are still bright red, and when they lock eyes Jaime freezes. Bart opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything Cassie shoves them backwards into the closet and shuts the door. As they tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs, the click of the lock is a funeral knell to Jaime’s ears.

Jaime lands on his back with Bart on top of him, warm and solid against his legs. Bart stares at him. Jaime stares back.

“Uh,” he says intelligently. Bart is practically sitting on his lap, and Jaime silently wills his body not to react. He’s had enough embarrassement for one day.

“Hi,” Bart says. Then, “Your hands are on my waist, Blue.”

Bart is right. Jaime had grabbed Bart out of pure reflex when Cassie pushed them and his hands are still clutching Bart’s waist.

He recoils, “Shit, lo siento, Bart.”

Bart shrugs, “It’s all crash,” he says easily, like any of this is normal.

They sit in silence for a few seconds. “So, ese, you gonna move or what?” Jaime asks, forcing lightness into his voice.

Bart quirks his lips and rolls off of Jaime’s legs. The skirt bunches up as Bart moves, and Jaime catches a glimpse of pale thigh. His face burns, heat rushing down his spine. He leans against the wall, trying to think of anything other than Bart’s weight in his lap. Bart’s eyes flicker to him, then away. Neither of them speak. Jaime stares determinedly at the ceiling. The silence is oppressive, and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

Bart coughs, breaking the silence, “So, uh... Y’wanna tell me what’s going on in that big blue noggin of yours?”

“No,” Jaime replies curtly.

“Oh,” Bart says. He drums his fingers on his thigh, fidgeting. After a minute, “But, Jaime... What happened with you back there?”

“Hijo de puta,” Jaime curses. He should’ve known Bart wouldn’t leave well enough alone. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Bart frowns, “Hey, you’re the one that freaked out and ran.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want things to be awkward!” he snaps.

Bart stares at him, “You didn’t want things to be awkward. You’re the one that said you wanted to, y’know, with me. I didn’t do anything!”

“Ugghh, I did not say that,” he groans, burying his face in his hands, “Madre de dios, that stupid bug.”

Khaji beeps affrontedly, “I simply stated the obvious.”

“I am NOT talking to you right now,” he snaps.

Bart’s horrorified yelp is almost funny, “The scarab wants to do it with me?!”

Khaji hisses, puffing up in Jaime’s mind like an angry cat, “Organic copulation disgusts me.”

“Again, not talking to you!” he repeats. Then, “No, Bart,” he says aloud, “that’s not what it said.” He grits his teeth, “The scarab thinks I’m attracted to you,” he mumbles from behind his hands.

Silence. Complete silence. Jaime risks a look and sees that Bart’s mouth has fallen open in shock and his eyes are roughly the size of dinner plates.

“Bart?” he says nervously. His chest feels funny and he’s panicking, because he does not want to lose his best friend over something as stupid as this.

Bart blinks at him. His cheeks are flushed again, and he says, “Would that,” he licks his lips, “Would that really be such a bad thing?” He looks down, not meeting Jaime’s eyes.

It’s Jaime’s turn to stare. “What,” he says flatly.

Bart’s shoulders hunch, “I just mean,” he starts, then presses his lips together. “Would that really be so awful? If you liked me?”

Jaime’s head is spinning. This entire day has been one mindfuck after another and he doesn’t know how to handle any of it. He’s so confused and his insides are twisting themselves into knots.

“Mierda, Bart, I don’t know,” he says, “I don’t know how I feel about any of it.” It feels like a confession, though he’s not sure what he’s confessing to.

Bart bites his lip, brow creased. His fingers are drumming so fast they’re a blur and in this moment he looks very small. Jaime wants to reach out, but he doesn’t know how and that scares him.

Finally, Bart meets his gaze. His expression is strange, several different emotions clashing behind his eyes. He crawls up to Jaime, so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose. His hand comes up to cup Jaime’s cheek, and Jaime stills at the contact.

Bart’s words blur together, “CanIjusttrysomething?” He takes a breath, “Can I just try something?”

Sparks dance along Jaime’s spine. Bart’s breath is warm on his face and his hazel eyes are wide and vulnerable. Jaime doesn’t know what he wants, but Bart is so close and he feels fragile all of a sudden. He nods, swallowing, and Bart leans in. Jaime inhales, eyelids fluttering. Bart’s lips are warm against his own, and he instinctively tilts his head to get a better angle. Bart makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that does funny things to Jaime’s chest.

Khaji Da retreats, skittering deep into his mind and hissing with disgust; Jaime huffs a laugh.

This is good. This is really fucking good and he doesn’t want to stop. His hands settle on Bart’s thighs as the hand cradling his cheek slides up to tangle into his hair. Bart sucks at his bottom lip, sending jolts of electricity through him.

Oh, he thinks, Oh wow. He gasps, and then Bart’s tongue is in his mouth and both his hands are in his hair and Jaime stops thinking at all. He growls, pulling Bart into his lap, and the speedster hums approvingly as he slides their tongues together. Bart’s blunt nails rasp over his scalp as he kisses Jaime with all the wild ferocity of a hurricane. He’s vibrating in Jaime’s lap and his hands have moved to his waist, sliding up Jaime’s shirt as he mouths at his jaw.

Jaime pulls back, breaking the kiss with a choked-off moan, “Espera, Bart wait, slow down, por favor chiquito.” Bart stills, his hands burning like a brand against the skin of his chest.

He pulls away and blinks up at Jaime, cheeks flushed and mouth red. “Totally crash,” he breathes, sounding dazed.

Jaime laughs, fondness fizzing in his chest like champagne. He’s drunk on this, on Bart’s hands on his skin and his smile and the high spots of color on his cheeks; he’s drunk on Bart.

Bart grins at him, hazel eyes lighting up, and in that moment he’s brighter than the sun. “If I’d known this is what would happen, I’d’ve asked Cassie to take me shopping a long time ago,” he teases.

“Madre de dios,” Jaime mutters and buries his face in his hands, flustered. Then, “Wait,” he says, hit with a sudden realization, “Cassie fucking planned this,” he hisses and untangles himself from Bart, heading for the closet door.

“You planned this, didn’t you!” he shouts, banging his fist on the closet door. “Chica, I swear if you don’t open this door right now-!” The door swings open to reveal a smug Wonder Girl.

“I can neither confirm nor deny those accusations, my friend,” Cassie says solemnly. She peers over his shoulder at Bart and then back at him, takes in Jaime’s rumpled appearance, and smirks, “Hey it worked, didn’t it?”

Jaime tears at his hair, “That’s not the point! There were a million different ways you could’ve done this, ones that didn’t involve me embarrassing myself in front of the entire goddamn team!”

It’s only just now sinking in that Bart’s not the only one who heard his outburst. Fuck, he’s never gonna live this down, is he?

“Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da intones, emerging from its self-imposed exile, “Have you finished your copulation?”

“Aghhhh!” he shouts, “Que se joda esto, que se joda usted y que se joda su madre, I am leaving!” He turns to Bart, “You coming, hermano?”

Bart blinks at him again, “Wait, you want me to come with you this time?” He’s on his feet and in front of Jaime before he can blink, looking hopeful.

“Definitely. I’m not leaving you at the mercy of this menace,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder at Cassie. Swallowing his sudden nerves, he continues, “And I was thinking we could maybe go back to my place and...continue where we left off?”

Bart’s eyes light up, “Oh, absolutely!” His grin is wicked, promising things that make heat flare in Jaime’s gut. “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing Jaime’s wrist.

Jaime doesn’t think he’s ever flown so fast in his entire life.

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mx-misty-eyed · 10 months

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new pinned post ig

welcome to our blog, co-run by a couple of fags :D

intros + interests below the cut

yo i'm mikey. i'm a bit of a namehoarder; i also used to go by crow on this blog so some of you might know me as that. if you ask for/call my by my other names i will explode /pos

i mainly use he/him and zhey/zem (basically they/them but with a z lol, dropping the h is also ok), but other neos are fine too. if we’re close, you can use it/its as well.

i'm really interested in science and am currently in a program at my school where i can conduct research with a college professor, so i'll probably end up both enthusing about that and plugging my survey at some point lmao

i also have a sleep token sideblog: @diamonds-in-the-trees

hey i’m frankie/jaime (feel free to use either i like them both equally), a trans fag punk boy. I use he/they pronouns and i am spiderman irl.

I'm also a huge fan of movies, really all genres, filmbro shit (ex. fight club, american psycho) horror (ex. sinister, dawn of the dead (og AND remake), lost boys, tbh there's too many to list), superhero (SPIDERMANSPIDERMANSPIDERMANSPIDERMAN, blue beetle), any edgar wright movies, and whatever the fuck saltburn was. i also do art sometimes (my art sideblog is @weapon-of-choosing) and i would greatly appreciate it if you interacted with it

neither of us have a specific schedule for when we’ll be on but frankie is usually on around 9:00 pm -1:00 am pst. mikey is just on whenever he's bored, mostly afternoons (est) but don't be surprised to find me posting at 4am lol

trigger tags will be formatted as “tw x”; feel free to ask to tag something or let me know if i forget, which. happens a lot to be honest, so proceed with caution if there's something that's really distressing to you.

i'm honestly just generally bad at tagging things but i would like to try and organize stuff a little better lol, things you can expect to see include:

dan and phil

bands (twenty one pilots, fall out boy, my chem, etc)

all for the game (just mikey)

spiderverse (just frankie)

frankies art

gay shit

mikey’s cat (currently tagged as ‘crow’s cat’; ill probably keep the tag that way)

random memes/shitposts

personal posts every once in a while (mostly mikey)

whatever else we want i guess

we don't have a specific dni for several reasons, but in addition to being fags, we’re also proud trannies and queers, so do with that information what you will. basically, if you’re a bigot/exclus/generally have bad vibes (or are just annoying lol), we’ll probably block you. special shoutout to terfs/tehms, fuck off our page k thx <3

finally, we are both minors; we’re personally ok interacting with people over 18 but if interacting with/following minors is an issue for anyone, feel free to block and move on, no hard feelings

#wow that was long

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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 9 months

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tagged by @ragnarokhound <3

name: kai (yes im a trans man named kai, its a good name, okay?)

pronouns: he/they

where do you call home: eh the general answer is west of england, midlands and up. theres a sentimental answer but its a pretty small area so im not gonna potentially dox myself in a tag game dhdjsjs

favourite animal: walrus all the way, baby! although my url is actually unrelated to my love of walruses. theyre just the best animals, theyre big old chunky boys with two big front teeth that can grow to over 3ft in length. when on land, they huddle together in cuddle piles. AND mama walruses can use their flippers to pick up their babies and cuddle them to their chest; tell me thats not the cutest thing youve heard today.

cereal of choice: im not really a cereal person or like a breakfast person at all, but if im having it, golden nuggets or nothin'

visual, auditory or kinesthetic learner: ...all of them? idk, it depends on what im learning. auditory probably less so than the others just because my auditory processing isnt just trash, its trash the binmen wont take.

first pet: my parents had four cats before they had me and my brother so i guess them? they were thomas, alfred, cally and misty. my uncle, who incidentally doesnt believe in seatbelts, named alfred.

favourite scent:

no but seriously i have a very strong scent of smell which is part of why im such a picky eater like im yet to meet a food that smelt bad and tasted good, but i just,,,, dont have a favourite scent?

my brother gave me a lynx body spray of his he didnt want pretty soon after i came out the third time, as trans this time, and its definitely a he got the spirit moment so i guess that.

do you believe in astrology: nah, its not my thing really. all the more to you if its yours as long as you dont try to ascribe my behaviour to me being a taurus, thats the mental illness or the autism or the adhd or the neurological disorder thats pushing my eyes out of my skull very slowly.

how many playlists on spotify/apple music: 28 which is more than i thought i had. right now, theres only like 3 im cycling through named dead reckoning, the old swan, and dutch angle / danish pastry.

sharpies or highlighters: yeah so like, we could never afford sharpies in my house so its highlighters my default. sharpies are like mega expensive in the uk and by mega expensive, i mean unaffordable for a child of a working class single parent.

songs that make you cry: hmm. thats kinda difficult because whether i cry depends almost entirely on my mood. if i had to name some, i guess id go with:

a little fall of rain, turning and empty chairs at empty tables from the london cast recording of les mis (its vital to specify this, okay?); george blagdens secret? recording of drink with me; breathe from in the heights; flowers, doubt comes in, promises, gone im gone, and we raise our cups from hadestown (are you sensing a theme yet?); unruly heart from the prom; here i go again specifically from the rock of ages musical (and NOT the tom cruise movie, i saw this musical live and i cried); i know where ive been by queen latifah, and also from pretty much any hairspray cast recording; if i met myself again, ugly in this ugly world and hes my boy from everybodys talking about jaime and i have sobbed at all three of these songs.

and finally: grandmas song, deep into the ground, he could be a star and once we were kids from billy elliot, and yes i cry at most of act 2, i was raised working class in a working class area that was once revered for its industry and has since been forgotten and left to drown in poverty, how am i meant to not cry at it?

songs that make you happy: hmm again. throw the entirety of the first mamma mia soundtrack onto the list. then welcome to paradise & coming clean by green day (when i was a very depressed teenager, listening to green day always made me feel better, both about the world and about myself); the irony of choking of a lifesaver by all time low because its moms favourite song of theirs and weve gone to see them live five times together; merry christmas maggie thatcher from billy elliot because fuck that bitch; legend of coco chanel from everybodys talking about jaime; sexy from the mean girls musical; do it for your lover by manel navarro; strangers & i dont want to talk about me by stereo jane (the strangers music video is so fucking bisexual yall); king of my heart by sub-radio; ghost ship of cannibal rats by billy talent; carpe diem by joker out; who the hell is edgar by teya and salena; let me entertain you by robbie williams because i sang it in karaoke as a 7 year old who did not know the words and then proceeded to get obsessed with robbie fucking williams for a while; slipping away by materia; and 68 guns by the alarm which is a funny little one because it reminds me of my dad but i still enjoy the song and ive made a conscious choice not to limit my music taste just because some asshole whos not even a good hobby ghost hunter likes it too, you know?

do you write/draw/create: all three! granted i havent done much of the first two in a while, but on my defense, losing 7-8 months worth of your memories kind of fucks you up and its oddly time consuming. also developing fainting attacks and spending a week in hospital while they fail to figure out whats wrong with you other than weirdly low blood pressure does not help. but i do have a drawing planned out to do and while i went a little too much detail on one small detail (i will justify it as soon as i actually finish it), im going to finish it. i also do origami pretty often as well as baking, and i am currently building a wooden replica of the titanic AND LISTEN, i started before the titan submersible stuff happened and i havent touched it yet because it just feels weird to, you know? also, i didnt even want to do the titanic, but like, good luck finding any starter kits that arent a) titanic and b) upwards of a £100. i would love to do a ss malolo or a mts stockholm but that aint happening and while i might be able to find an ss normandy or ss united states, im not gonna be able to afford. its titanic or bust which sucks.

tagging but no pressure: @bottlesandbarricades @vaellusvitutus @rad-roach

#tag games #ragnarokhound #big thank for tag <33

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teenagedirt · 1 year

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Kissing in cars(6)

Chapter 6- aftercare

TW: mentions s3x.

He puts clean clothes on,I watch his every move,processing what happend."Hey love" he pauses looking deep into my eyes. "How you feeling" I take a deep breath. "A little sore not gonna lie" he leans down next to me. "I'm sorry love,I didn't realize that I was goin' to hard" I laugh softly "not vic,it not that, it's been what... five years since I've last done that." His face turns from a sweet emphatic look, to shocked. "Baby five years, so not since you were twenty-two" he pauses "damn I should have fucked you sooner" I smile and blush. He smirks before stating "come on pretty girl let's get you cleaned up". He opens his door and carries me to our shared bathroom. He grabs a towel and wraps me in it. He runs me a warm bath, when the water is ready he picks me as if I'm weightless. He then unwrap the towel and gently puts me in the water. The warm water soothes my muscles. I hum feeling the water on my skin. He gently massages my shoulders. "Okay darling I'll tell you what. Either I can help you,or you can clean yourself cleaned up and tell me when your done,it's all up to you" I close my eyes to think. "I'll let you know when I'm done" I pause for a second "if that's okay" I say my eyes filled with worry and anxiety. He smiles down at me. "Of course it is sweetheart" he leans down and kisses my cheek,walks out and closes the door behind him. I wash my body,feeling the water drip over my body. I wash my hair quickly. When I get out of the bath I quickly realize, I have nothing to change back into. "VIC" I yell. He knocks on the door " can I come in" "yeah" he opens the door "do you mind getting me something to wear, just something comfortable I don't care what it is." He nods and walks away. He comes back with one of his hoodies and a pair of his boxers. I smile and quickly slow them over my wet body. His face turns slightly pink as he watches me pull his clothing onto my bare body.. he wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me into a sweet kiss. His body pressed against me as we kiss,living in the moment. He pulls away and places his hands on the sides of my face. I smile and he kisses me once more. When we pull away he picks me up,I squeal "shit,I want expecting that" I say laughing. He smiles and carries me to my room,and lays me on my bed. He tickles my sides, I can't contain my laughter, he stops and flops down next to me. I turn over to face him. " i love you so Goddamn much" I say looking into his deep brown eyes. " I think there's shortcuts to heaven in your eyes" I say he smile and kisses my forehead. "My love, I love everything about you, your eyes,your smile,your laugh" my eyes bubble with tears, nobody has complemented me like that in years. "Oh no, baby don't cry" he whispers while using his thumbs to wipe my tears. "Vic, nobody has told me those kinds of things in years" he frowns and moves closer to me. "That's gives even more of a reason to tell you these things" "ughhh I have to dry my hair" I say getting up from my comfortable spot. "I can do it for you if you'd like" he says and I nod my head.

*time skip* "thank you lover boy" "your welcome lover girl" I smile and get back in bed. He follows and lays spooning me. I start to drift to sleep,but I hear his phone ring he answers then hangs up about a minute later. "Hey the album is officially done, the last two songs are completely finished and we go the album cover done, so Jaime and Tony wanna go and celebrate with us, if you feel up to it" I check the time two AM. "Like right now? Or in the morning" "in the morning" "yeah that sounds good" I say and snuggle up to him and fall asleep. "Darling wake up" I hear as I wake up to vic whispering in my ear. "Okay, what time is it"" eleven" I groan and roll out of bed. I open my closet and pull out a slipknot shirt and black Jean shorts. I walk over to my dresser and get my under clothes. I laugh as I look at vic, his eyes looming my body up and down. "Like what you see lover boy" I ask. Pulling his hoodie over my head and putting my bra on. He nods and I continue getting dressed. He didn't mind, hell if your eyes could take screenshots, he would be. He winks at me as he walks out. I put shoes on and sit on the couch waiting for him, to be ready. I still a have a question, what are me and vic, bestfriends? Fuck buddies? Together? Looks like that'll be the conversation in the car. "Hey I'm ready" he says as I grab my car keys

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winterapocalypse · 6 months

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Winter Apocalypse chapter 32

The BBQ

"Students, please!" Melisandre, in a flourish of red fabric, reached the center of the room and with a few graceful gestures silenced everyone with her exotic and unknown magic. They immediately fell silent, some astonished to see their lips move and no sound come out. "We misunderstand each other, my young hotheads. Do not be intimidated by the…rough ways of your beloved professor. The young centaur is welcome, here at Winter Hogwarts. Indeed, it is our duty to protect him for reasons we cannot yet share. " "We want explanations, and now! We almost got killed! They stabbed me with a spear!" Robb shouted loudly, egged on by the crowd behind him with sounds of "he's right!". "Boys, please…" Headmistress Cersei stepped forward, her beautiful crimson red dress embroidered with endless curlicues and her noble family's lion in gold thread twirling with her elegant steps. She flashed her most convincing smile, her eyes threatening death to anyone who was ready to contradict her. "How about we leave this ugly matter behind us? This evening I promise you a nice barbecue!" The crowd of students fell into silence, amidst various suspicious and unsure how to react looks. "Only this evening?" grunted Dave Batista, the huge guy who ran the cafeteria on the east side of the school in his free time, from among the other students. "Let's do this: barbecue all week and a Westerosi Quidditch tournament in which the continental team will participate!" she smiled brightly, and immediately the crowd erupted in cheers of approval and general euphoria.

Everyone scattered around the room to celebrate, some hugging each other, others already singing the anthem of the continental Westerosi Quidditch team. The team, after all, was the biggest thing anyone in Westeros, or rather, the entire world, could ever see. At each of their games the stadiums filled with people from all over the known world – people from Sothoryos, Westeros, Essos and Northeros side by side all wearing the team colours, black purple and green. Everyone, in one way or another, went crazy for at least one or two of the players of the legendary team, of which even Jaime Lannister had been a part in his youth, before a serious hand injury that forced him to retire. The galactic team was made up of the strongest and most courageous players from all over the world, who like all of them had studied at Winter Hogwarts before embarking on a career of success. The current lineup was made up of the captain, the very famous, young, handsome, slim, strong and very agile Shawn Michaels; the young man with a thousand talents and impossible to catch Oberyn known as 'the red viper' Martell; the wonderful and graceful but fierce Lyanna Stark, Ned's sister who had even given up her marriage to King Baratheon to join the team; the legendary and talented silver-haired young man Rhaegar Targaryen, elder brother of Viserys and Daenerys, who was rumored to have a secret relationship with his teammate Lyanna; the very strong and impregnable Arthur Dayne, whose club worked miracles; the very thick Bret Hart, one of the most technical and precise Quidditch players in history; the beautiful and very thick Chyna, a woman of great physical prowess and great aggression. Jon took advantage of the general delirium to approach Misterio, but was surprised to see him as elated as the others, a toothy smile printed on his face and his hands expressing all his enthusiasm in an applause full of excitement.

"M-mysterio…but do you…do you follow Quidditch?" Jon asked him, completely taken aback. Misterio gave him a look as if asking if he was crazy. "You're joking, I hope! I was playing with-" Misterio bit his lip, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I mean, no. I don't even really know what it is. What is it?" "Young centaur, darling, would you mind following us? We have a lot to talk about." Headmistress Cersei was at his side in less than a second, and in the general confusion she took Misterio's arm and took him away from under Jon's nose. "What do you mean? How do centaurs play Quidditch?!" Jon shouted in vain behind Misterio, who had already waved goodbye to him and was walking away with the faculty. “Can someone take this poor little shit to the infirmary?” shouted Aston exasperated, her brother still in her arms. Jon watched in astonishment as the crowd, including Robb, lifted the boy above their heads en masse and carried him away accompanied by a loud roar of stadium chants and fan songs. Jon sank into a chair in the now empty classroom. He had a big headache.

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#winter apocalypse #melisandre of asshai #robb stark #cersei lannister #batista #the Intercontinental Team #Mysterio #jon snow #aston royce

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wearelondonhq · 8 months

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(becca) welcome to london, MELISSA NELSON! did anyone ever tell you that you look just like CAMILA MENDES? well, no matter, we hear that you are TWENTY NINE and working as a NURSE. we also hear that you currently HAVE your memories from SAW and have a tendency to be CHEERFUL as well as SELF-CONSCIOUS.

(becca) welcome to london, HAYLEY MARSHALL! did anyone ever tell you that you look just like PHOEBE TONKIN? well, no matter, we hear that you are THIRTY FOUR and working as a/an FITNESS INSTRUCTOR. we also hear that you currently HAVE your memories from THE VAMPIRE DIARIES/THE ORIGINALS and have a tendency to be LOYAL as well as VENGEFUL.(would like to drop my boys (jamie lannister, Chad Meeks-Martin, Jacaerys Velaryon, Garrett and switch them to these two please)

— WELCOME TO LONDON, melissa nelson & hayley marshall! you look very familiar, do we know you from somewhere? anyways, take your time settling in because whether you want to or not, it looks like you’re going to be living here for awhile! // welcome becca, please be sure to follow our checklist here. welcome to the group! ** jaime lannister (got), chad meeks martin (scream), jacaerys velaryon (hotd) and garrett are reopened for applications!

#submission #multifandom rp #mumu rp #fandom rpg #city rpg #au rpg #the vampire diaries rp #oc rpg #saw rp #wal: accepted #town rpg #melissa nelson #hayley marshall

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jasmineplays · 1 year

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Cothilda Cristinez von Floridsdorf, who is the late King Alfonso secret bastard and currently the wife of Fernando's Court Physician Walter di Cremona, has two murder plots ongoing on her life. It can be seen how much hatred there is for her as evidenced by her 2 rivals Hartwig and Queen Joana.

King Fernando finally decides to usurp the throne of the King of Aragon, King Remiro II, who now goes by Infante Remiro Sanchiz of Aragon with his one remaining controlled County of Huesca. In addition, Fernando vassalises him under normal feudal obligations.

El Cid has become quite the poet and dedicated a mournful poem to King Fernando which is truly beautiful and touching. Fernando tells El Cid his thoughts that it is heartfelt, but doesn't quite know why El Cid would dedicate a sadness and mourning piece to him. Maybe it's because Fernando has many friends who recently died because of old age? Who knows...

King Fernando's Antiquarian Christine von Floridsdorf's husband died recently, and thus we played matchmaker and found her a new husband in Sigurdr Eyjing who is a viking. His previous liege King Obeko of Navarra describes him as a brooding boar, but so far as long as he makes an excellent knight and fighter, we welcome him.

Agnes de Barcelona, the betrothed of our brother Infante Osorio Jimena has finally come of age at 16. She is also King Fernando's best friend Duke Pere Ramon's daughter. We marry them together even though she is severely injured, hopefully she recovers soon enough to give Osorio children.

I did not capture the pregnancy of Queen Joana this time, but she gave King Fernando a proper heir in the form of a beautiful son named Infante Jaime Fernandez of Leon. I did not name him Jaime it was the random naming by the game, turns out Jaime is a Spanish name with pronunciation of the 'J' as "h" sound.

At King Fernando's royal court, there presents a 13-year old boy by the name of Fernando Nunez de Celanova who apparently lacks a guardian to take care of him. King Fernando tasks his Court Physician Walter di Cremona to look after Fernando Nunez.

#crusader kings iii #crusader kings 3 #ck3 #royal court #gaming #iberia

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s-o-n-de-r · 1 year

Text

Taylor Acorn

10.20.22 | Rebel Lounge | Phoenix, AZ Written and photographed by Brian Andersen

Have you ever really honestly tried something out and it wasn’t for you so you adjust until it does? Taylor Acorn can relate. While supporting Real Friends and With Confidence on their Fall Tour, Acorn confessed to a sold out show at the Rebel Lounge in Phoenix, AZ that she had been covering Jaime All Over by Mayday Parade for a long time but it wasn’t until recently that she started playing to crowds that appreciate the cover. You may recognize her from her feature with Arrows in Action on Uncomfortably Numb. Recently Acorn made an artistic shift from country to the pop punk scene. Her more recent tracks will fit right into any playlist featuring the late 00’s and early 10’s classics like Paramore and We the Kings and of course she felt right at home alongside the rest of the fantastic touring artists. Add her to your playlists, you can’t go wrong.

Acorn was first to perform. Accompanied by only a guitarist and a drummer, the stage felt anything but empty. There was so much energy radiating from the stage, it was hard not to bop along. As previously mentioned, they played an acoustic cover of Jaime All Over. She requested crowd participation and boy howdy, the crowd participated, belting every word back at her. She says it’s things like that that make her feel the genre switch was a good move. (It was.) The crowd reacted equally electrically for her originals like Psycho and Shapeshifting. She did a proper job of warming up the crowd for Seattle 5-piece, The Home Team. Who subsequently did a fire job of adding to the heat. Sporting certified bops like She’s Quiet, Slow Bloom, and Watching All Your Friends Get Rich, it’s impossible to sit still with these guys on stage. They bring such a fun, infectious energy, and with the intimate spacing of the Rebel Lounge, everyone there caught it. Unlike Covid, though, the only symptoms include having a really great time, increased chance of post-concert bangovers and thrown out necks. See, these headlining acts get all the glory for being the main attraction of the tour and all that, but their job is made significantly easier with killer openers like these.

By the time With Confidence hit the stage, the crowd was ready for it. Making the trip all the way from Australia, Phoenix gave them a huge, warm welcome. Some fans literally brought them roses. They brought the fan favorites like What you Make It, and Moving Boxes and the crowd went nuts for it. Finally Real Friends closed out the show. They did their typical Dog Meet and Greet at Los Olivos Park in Phoenix before the show. Unfortunately Kyle Fasel was not feeling well and so the band performed without him. We definitely missed him, but by no means did the show feel lacking. They gave everything they had and the crowd gave everything back. They definitely demonstrated why this was a sold out show. Cody Muraro of Real Friends promised to be back in Phoenix, but next time they’re booking a bigger venue.

Unfortunately as of this writing, the tour has concluded. But if you get a chance to catch Taylor Acorn or any of these other incredible artists, I highly recommend you jump at the chance.

---

Like this? Sonder is an independent music, travel and photography publication at sonderlife.com. Give us a follow here or at our Twitter, Instagram or Facebook if you like this!

#taylor acorn #bands #band blog #features #by brian

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timelesstimesgoneby · 2 years

Text

Show Episode

Bionic Sm Specials

Sm = Six Million Dollar Man Disc 1

Bw = Bionic Woman Sm The Six Million Dollar Man "the Moon And The Desert"

Sm Wine, Women And War

Disc 2

Sm The Solid Gold Kidnapping

"Sm Season 1

Disc 2"

Sm S01E01 Population: Zero

Sm S01E02 Survival Of The Fittest

Disc 3

Sm S01E03 Operation Firefly

Sm S01E04 Day Of The Robot

Sm S01E05 Little Orphan Airplane

Sm S01E06 Doomsday, And Counting

Disc 4

Sm S01E07 Eyewitness To Murder

Sm S01E08 The Rescue Of Athena One

Sm S01E09 Dr. Wells Is Missing

Sm S01E10 The Last Of The Fourth Of Julys

Disc 5

Sm S01E11 Burning Bright

Sm S01E12 The Coward

Sm S01E13 Run, Steve, Run

"Sm Season 2

Disc 1 "

Sm S02E01 Nuclear Alert

Sm S02E02 The Pioneers

Sm S02E03 Pilot Error

Sm S02E04 The Pal-mir Escort

Disc 2

Sm S02E05 The Seven Million Dollar Man

Sm S02E06 Straight On ‘til Morning

Sm S02E07 The Midas Touch

Sm S02E08 The Deadly Replay

Disc 3

Sm S02E09 Act Of Piracy

Sm S02E10 Stranger In Broken Fork

Sm S02E11 The Peeping Blonde

Sm S02E12 The Cross-country Kidnap

Disc 4

Sm S02E13 Lost Love

Sm S02E14 The Last Kamikaze

Sm S02E15 Return Of The Robot Maker

Sm S02E16 Taneha

Disc 5

Sm S02E17 Look Alike

Sm S02E18 The E.s.p. Spy

Sm S02E19 The Bionic Woman (1)

Sm S02E20 The Bionic Woman (2)

Disc 6

Sm S02E21 Outrage In Balinderry

Sm S02E22 Steve Austin, Fugitive

Sm Season 3/bw Season 1

Disc

Sm S03E01 The Return Of The Bionic Woman (1)

Sm S03E02 The Return Of The Bionic Woman (2)

Sm S03E03 The Price Of Liberty

Sm S03E04 The Song And Dance Spy

Disc 2

Sm S03E05 The Wolf Boy

Sm S03E06 The Deadly Test

Sm S03E07 Target In The Sky

Sm S03E08 One Of Our Running Backs Is Missing

Disc 3

Sm S03E09 The Bionic Criminal

Sm S03E10 The Blue Flash

Sm S03E11 The White Lightning War

Sm S03E12 Divided Loyalty

Sm S03E13 Clark Templeton O'flaherty

Sm S03E14 The Winning Smile

" Disc 3 Sm

Disc 1 Bw"

Bw S01E01-S03E15 Welcome Home, Jaime (1)

Bw S01E02-S03E16 Welcome Home, Jaime (2)

Disc 5

Sm S03E17 Hocus-pocus

Disc 1 Bw

Bw S01E03 Angel Of Mercy

Disc 5

Sm S03E18 The Secret Of Bigfoot (1)

Sm S03E19 The Secret Of Bigfoot (2)

Sm S03E20 The Golden Pharaoh

Sm S03E21 Love Song For Tanya

Disc 1 Bw

Bw S01E04 A Thing Of The Past

Disc 6

Sm S03E22 The Bionic Badge

Disc 1 Bw

Bw S01E05 Claws

Disc 1 Bw

Bw S01E06 The Deadly Missiles

Disc 6

Sm S03E23 Big Brother

Disc 1 Bw

Bw S01E07 Bionic Beauty

Bw S01E08 Jaime’s Mother

Bw S01E09 Winning Is Everything

Bw S01E10 Canyon Of Death

Bw S01E11 Fly Jaime

Bw S01E12 The Jailing Of Jaime

Bw S01E13 Mirror Image

Bw S01E14 The Ghosthunter

"Sm Season 4

Bw Season 2"

"Disc 1 Sm

Disc 2 Bw"

Sm S04E01 The Return Of Bigfoot (1)

Bw S02E01-S04E02 The Return Of Bigfoot (2)

Disc 1

Sm S04E03 Nightmare In The Sky

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E02 In This Corner, Jaime Sommers

Disc 2

Sm S04E04 Double Trouble

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E03 Assault On The Princess

Disc 2

Sm S04E05 The Most Dangerous Enemy

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E04 Road To Nashville

Disc 2

Sm S04E06 H+2+o = Death

"Disc 3 Sm

Disc 2 Bw"

Bw S02E05-S04E07 Kill Oscar (1)

Sm S02E08 Kill Oscar (2)

Bw S02E06S04E09- Kill Oscar (3)

Disc 4

Sm S04E10 The Bionic Boy

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E07 Black Magic

Disc 4

Sm S04E10 Vulture Of The Andes

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E08 Sister Jaime

Disc 5

Sm S04E11 The Thunderbird Conection

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E09 The Vega Influence

Disc 5

Sm S04E11 A Bionic Christmas Carol

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E10 Jaime’s Shield (1)

Bw S02E11 Jaime’s Shield (2)

Disc 6

Sm S04E12 Task Force

Sm S04E13 The Ultimate Imposter

Sm S04E14 Death Probe (1)

Sm S04E15 Death Probe (2)

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E12 Biofeedback

Bw S02E13 Doomsday Is Tomorrow (1)

Bw S02E14 Doomsday Is Tomorrow (2)

Disc 7

Sm S04E16 Danny’s Inferno

Sm S04E17 Fires Of Hell

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E15 Deadly Ringer (1)

Bw S02E16 Deadly Ringer (2)

Disc 7

Sm S04E18 The Infiltrators

Sm S04E19 Carnival Of Spies

Sm S04E20 U-509

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E17 Jaime And The King

Disc 8

Sm S04E21 The Privacy Of The Mind

Sm S04E22 To Catch The Eagle

Disc 2 Bw

Bw S02E18 Beyond The Call

Bw S02E19 The Dejon Caper

Bw S02E20 The Night Demon (aka Daemon Creature)

Bw S02E21 Iron Ships And Dead Men

Bw S02E22 Once A Thief

Disc 8

Sm S04E23 The Ghostly Teletype

"Sm Season 5

Bw Season 3"

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E01 The Bionic Dog (1)

Bw S03E02 The Bionic Dog (2)

Disc 1

Sm S05E01 Sharks (1)

Sm S05E02 Sharks (2)

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E03 Fembots In Las Vegas (1)

Bw S03E04 Fembots In Las Vegas (2)

Disc 31

Sm S05E03 Deadly Countdown (1)

Sm S05E04 Deadly Countdown (2)

Sm S05E05 Bigfoot V

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E05 Rodeo

Disc 2

Sm S05E06 Killer Wind

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E06 African Connection

Disc 2

Sm S05E07 Rollback

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E07 Motorcycle Boogie

Disc 3

Sm S05E08 Dark Side Of The Moon (1)

Sm S05E09 Dark Side Of The Moon (2)

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E08 Brain Wash

Bw S03E09 Escape To Love (aka A Matter Of Love And Death)

Disc 3

Sm S05E10 Target: Steve Austin

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E10 Max

Bw S03E11 Over The Hill Spy

Disc 3

Sm S05E11 The Cheshire Project

Disc 4

Sm S05E12 Walk A Deadly Wing

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E12 All For One

Disc 4

Sm S05E13 Just A Matter Of Time

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E13 The Pyramid

Bw S03E14The Antidote

Disc 4

Sm S05E14 Return Of The Deathprobe (1)

Sm S05E15 Return Of The Deathprobe (2)

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E15 The Martians Are Coming, The Martians Are Coming

Disc 5

Sm S05E16 The Lost Island

Sm S05E17 The Madonna Caper

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E16 Sanctuary Earth

Disc 5

Sm S05E18 Dead Ringer

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E17 Deadly Music

Disc 6

Sm S05E19 Date With Danger (1)

Sm S05E20 Date With Danger (2)

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E18 Which One Is Jaime?

Bw S03E19 Out Of Body

Disc 6

Sm S05E21 The Moving Mountain

Disc 3 Bw

Bw S03E20 Long Live The King

Bw S03E21 Rancho Outcast

Bw S03E22 On The Run

Sm & Bw Specials

Disc 1 Sm

Sm & Bw The Return Of The Six Million Dollar Man And The Bionic Woman

Sm & Bw Bionic Showdown

Sm & Bw Bionic Ever After?

#the bionic woman #bionic man #six million dollar man #tv series #episode #episode guide #tv series episode

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bellarkeselection · 3 years

Text

Wolf Sword - part 2

Part 1

Y/n Lannister rides into Winterfell with her husband, Jaime. But how will her family react to her return and an unexpected surprise.

Finally after a long ride on horseback we ride through the gate of Winterfell. The cold wind hits my face with small snowflakes sticking in my hair. King Robert Baratheon dismounts his horse causing everyone who lives in Winterfell to bow, following my father's actions. The family is lined up with Rickon, my mother and father, Robb, Sansa and Arya with Bran on the very end. My eyes watch the interaction before me. "Your Grace." My father rose when his king commands by the show of his gloved hand, everyone followed. "You've gotten fat." Is the kings first words to my father who eyes his friend before the pair hug chuckling. "Cat." The pair broke away to hug my mother who bowed after they hugged. He goes down the line. Shacking my eldest brother's hand. Smiling at Sansa and forgetting Arya's name. Having Bran show his muscles before he turned back to my father. "Nine years why haven't I seen ya. Where the hell have you been?" My father spoke of his duty as Warden of the North. "Guarding the North for you, your grace. Winterfell is yours." Cersei or as I should properly address her, the Queen steps out of the carriage heading to greet my parents.

Jaime lifts his helmet off shacking his golden locks about before eyeing me. I shuffle my dress skirts dismounting my horse making my sword hallster swing slightly out from under my cloak. He dismounts his horse to squeeze my hand as we slowly approach my parents. This is it the moment where I'm either rejected or loved after being away for 5 years. I curtsey before the pair as Jaime kisses my mother's outstretched hand. "My lord, my lady." I breathe out seeing my father looking me up and down. The gold and red colors of House Lannister combined with the grey and brown of House Stark. My mother does the same but makes a concerned face eyeing the sword attached to my hip. Luckily my father opened his arms gratefully and I rushed to them without a second thought. "Y/n, welcome home." I hug him back tightly clutching the furs of his cloak in laughter. "Thank you father. It's good to be back home after so long." My mother steps up to hug me as well voicing. "My darling girl. I've missed you." I broke the hug to smile sweetly at her. "I've missed you too, mother."

"So Lord Jaime have you been treating my daughter well?" My father's voice made me turn to see Jaime reply. "I have, Lord Stark. You raised a lovely daughter and between you and I she is very skilled with a sword." I immediately blush knowing my mother never approved of such things for young ladies. Sansa was always good about acting lady like. Arya on the other hand dreams of being a knight, seeing lady things as stupid. At least that is how it was wrote in the letters my mother sends me. "Yes Indeed father. But Jaime only taught me at my request to learn how to use one." My father nods seeing Jaime and I both smiling. Even though my mother doesn't fully trust my husband I can see a small smile on her face as well. Enjoyed at the sight of me being as happy with my arrangement as she has been with her own to my father for years now.

"Y/n!" Arya's young voice squeals out charging my direction and breaking the neat line. I grunt a little at her embracing me so quickly. "Arya." But I bend down on my knees to hug her reguardless. "Where's the imp?" She questioned grinning at my sword. "Tyrion is off having a few drinks before the feast." I reply ruffling her hair. "You have a sword. Can you teach me how to use one, please?" She drags out the last word a little longer tugging at my arm gently. I grin big at her desire to wield a sword reminding me of how much I remember being like her at that age. I secretly want to tell her she can do whatever she wants. But I know our mother is trying to raise her to be a proper lady not a boy. Tilling my head up to Jaime I see a huge grin on his face of our interaction. "I do believe my husband and I may have some time to teach you....out by where the servants wash the clothes." I whispered low in her ear so no one else could hear making her grin bigger.

"Arya. You shouldn't have done that!" Sansa barks but I playfully shake my head as both Bran and Rickon join in knocking me backwards into the dirt. All three aweing at my return home. "Alright, that's enough. They'll be plenty of time to play with your sister later. But she and her husband need to get ready for the feast tonight." My mother explained pulling the three to their feet and they all ran off to play. Jaime holds out his open hands pulling me to my feet gently helping me dust off my dress a little. "It's a joy to see you finally home, sister." Robb finally spoke coming to gently hug me.

"Yes. It's been awhile since I saw you last, Robb. Wasn't it a year after my wedding and you were still following me around like a lost dog." Robb chuckles and I loved hearing it once more. "Yes, well I only wanted to ensure you were safe. I am your older brother after all." I giggled at his gentleness. Robb is the oldest to everyone else except me. I was born the first Stark child but he was born the first Male so he gets to reign over Winterfell. Shortly after though I feel my head starting to spin and my stomach moans like I must have eaten something spoiled. "Y/n, darling. What ever is the matter?" I sway in my boots instantly Jaime noticed securing his arms around my waist to hold me up and I can hear the panic in his voice.

I feel like I'm about to vomit so I put a hand over my mouth mumbling out. "I don't know - I think I'm gonna be sick." My father exclaimed for Jon, his bastard son to help me as he was standing behind Sansa. "Jon help your sister!" My mother ordered Robb to tag along. "Robb, take her to the Master. I'll be up to check on her shortly!"

Jaime hands me over to my brother's arms eyeing my uneasy state with fear. I squeeze his right hand in mine before Robb carries me bridal style inside the castle. Jon opens the door to my old chambers running to fetch the old man. Robb started to lay me down but I forced myself away from him to vomit in the chamber pot on the floor. He bends on a knee holding my hair back as I puked up whatever was upsetting my stomach. Why is this happening. I know I hadn't ate anything rotten before we left the Red Keep.

Finally Jon appeared with the Master who assures both of them out at once. He helped me to lay down in the bed making sure I was done vomiting. He examines my body and asking me questions related to if I were pregnant. "When was the last time you concemated with your husband, Lord Lannister?" I croked out. "About a month ago..." He asked me next resting his hands over my stomach feeling around for something. "When was the last time you've bleed?" I bite my lip having to think for a moment. "The end of last month." The master stood exiting the room without a word to return with my mother who gently closed the door behind herself.

"Mother, what did he say?" My voice cracked when the words came out. I hope it isn't a fatal illness that has come for me. I loved Jaime and I didn't ever want to leave him. She takes a seat at my bedside after pulling up a chair, a slight smile on her face as she takes my hand in hers. "Y/n, honey everything is quite alright. Robb informed me that you puked once you got up here." I nod my head yes feeling my heart race in such concern. "Yes, I did. But what does that have to do with this?"

She rests her other hand over our intertwined ones. "Darling have you and Jaime tried to have children before?" I raise my brows at her question. Of course we had. That was the duty of a wife and Tywin Lannister was insistent we provided an heir to Casterly Rock. Although I had fallen pregnant twice during the first four years of our union but sadly I'd lost both of them. Finally Jaime and I agreed to try one last time and if I lost the child then we would discuss the news with his father. Tyrion has told me their father probably wouldn't be pleased to hear the circumstances but I haven't fallen pregnant so there hasn't been a need to worry.

My mother's smile grows bigger as she reveals with joy. "Y/n. You're with child." I hang my mouth open in shock and horror at the thought of losing another child. At the possibility of having to face a furious Tywin Lannister. But also the joy to know Jaime and I could be parents to the next lord or lady Lannister. "I'm pregnant." How will Jaime react. How will the rest of my family react.

Part 3 will be posted sooner if requested

Please comment and reblog 😊

#jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x stark reader #jaime lannister x wife reader #feedback appreciated

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sailorshadzter · 3 years

Note

Hiii! Welcome back!!! If you are still taking requests, how about an one shot where Cersei kind of notices the tension between Jon and Sansa and comments on it? Maybe in a "We are not so different" way? Or she straight up encourages them bc she's a horrible person and thinks if there are rumors about the Starks, they'll forget about the Lannisters?

ANON. whew this has been in my ask box for a while! but i opened my inbox to find some inspiration to write and yours was the one that clicked first! so i hope you see this, anon, wherever you are, and know that i FINALLY got to your prompt request!!!

as always, you're always welcome to drop a prompt request in my inbox.

enjoy!

The ball is grand and glittering.

Cersei has ensured that this night would be perfect, putting far more coin into it than Robert ever would have allowed. But there is little else she can do, what with the trouble brewing all around them. She's lost one son already, she will not lose another- and so she has gone to great expense and trouble to make sure that this room was full of loyal nobles and fearsome knights. This wedding would not end the way the last one had, even if the bride was the same.

From where she sits, she watches as the young Sansa Stark dances with her half brother, the bastard born Jon Snow. The young man had been intended for the Night's Watch, but Tyrion had developed a fondness for the boy during their visit North, and so, he'd come along with the Stark's. They are close together, the dance bringing them so, but the smile that lights up the redhead's face is one that Cersei swears she's worn herself, but when she looks upon Jaime. And the usually stoic Snow looks just as delighted to spin his sister out and back in, hands at her waist to lift her high into the air as the music swells. Cersei chuckles, wondering how's she's not noticed it ever before. The wheels in her brain are suddenly spinning, whirling several thoughts throughout that bring yet another smile to her face.

As if her thoughts have conjured him, she feels Jaime's presence at her elbow; he bows over his arm, ever the courtier, but she knows it's more for show than anything else. "What has you so cheery?" He asks, his green eyes scanning the dance floor, where sure enough his gaze falls upon the Stark siblings as they finish their dance among all the others, though it quite seems they've forgotten they aren't alone. "They make a handsome pair, do they not?" Turning back to face his lover, he sees he's right, for she's staring down at them with a look he's seen before. "What are you thinking?"

"That proud Ned Stark's children are falling in love right before our very eyes." They both knew what the world would say about two siblings, albeit half, falling in love. Was it not why they themselves took every precaution? Cersei shudders to think what would happen if the truth was ever discovered... The rumors were bad enough. But this... Two Stark children in love? It would cease the rumors about her and Jaime, that she was certain of. She watches as Sansa dips a quick curtsy to Jon before he offers her his arm, which she readily takes, and they disappear into the crowd.

"See that Lady Stark is brought to me tomorrow morning, won't you?" She says to the nearest lady, who nods, curtsying before she scurries away to do as she's been bid. Cersei turns back to face the dance floor, but it's suddenly become far less interesting.

And so she must wait until morning.

[ x x x ]

It's late, yet she cannot bring herself to leave his arms.

Jon holds fast to her, kissing the top of her head, her silk gown soft beneath his touch as his hands span the length of her spine. "I should go..." She whispers for the tenth time, though his grip does not relent, nor does she make any attempt to pull away. He smells of spice and smoke, comforting and strong; she buries her face deeper into his chest, wishing she could sink into him. "Jon..."

His name is soft on her lips.

Their gazes meet and he's lost, as he always is, in the depth of her blue eyes. "I know," is all he can say, knowing as well as she that it was best for her to go. They both knew where this moment would lead- after all, how many times had they been here before? But more than anything, they both knew what would happen if they were discovered in such an embrace. And yet... There's a part of him that doesn't care. There's a part of him that wishes with all of his might that they could be together in the way that they wanted. No more secret midnight rendezvous that only left them both feeling more strained than being without the other. "I'll walk you to your rooms..." He begins, but she shakes her head.

"Shae is waiting," she says softly, finally freeing herself from his grip. She feels cold without his touch and that is almost enough to send her back into his arms. "I will see you in the morning," she goes on, reaching out her hand to tenderly touch his. Jon nods, catching her hand so he might bring it to his lips to kiss. The brush of his lips to her knuckles steals the breath from her lungs and time is suspended as they stand there, the only sound in the room that of the fire burning in the hearth. "Until the morning..."

"Until the morning," he parrots back as he let's go of her hand. "Good night, Sansa."

The way he says her name sends shivers down her spine. "Good night, Jon." She says instead of every other thing she wants to say.

[ x x x ]

In the morning, a lady arrives at her door to inform her she's been summoned to see the queen.

Though no longer truly queen, Cersei Lannister runs the Seven Kingdoms through her youngest son, the now King Tommen. Just a boy, he's been married to Margaery Tyrell, who only several weeks before had instead been married to Joffrey. Poison had taken care of him, but Margaery and her family, ever the schemers, ensured that she would take her place as queen. Sansa was certain that it would not be long before a new power struggle would emerge. Soon, it would be Margaery and the Tyrell's fighting for control of poor, young Tommen.

Once she's dressed, Sansa, with Shae beside her, makes her way down to Cersei's office.

When she's been announced, she steps into the room, one which she has spent much time in over her years in King's Landing. Once she had been thrilled to be invited into this room, to spend private time with Queen Cersei... But things have changed. Though she dips her the curtsy due to her rank, Sansa does not return the smile offered to her by the golden haired woman behind her oak desk. "Lady Stark, tell me, how did you enjoy the ball last night?" Cersei asks, gesturing for Sansa to take the empty chair across from her. The young woman frowns, but does as she's bid, clearly surprised by the question. Cersei notices she wears a new gown of pale blue damask, made from a bolt of fabric she was given by Jon Snow a few short weeks ago; though it is fashioned in the Southern style, Cersei sees that the trailing sleeves are stitched with falling leaves, weirwood leaves, like those that grow in the North. Even her hair, which once she wore in styles that mirrored her own, is fastened into braids in a way that reminds Cersei of Catelyn Stark. It is Sansa's way of breaking with the Lannister's entirely; she is no longer theirs to control.

"It was wonderful, your grace," Sansa answers honestly, shifting slightly in the chair, brushing a lock of red hair across a shoulder before she accepts the goblet of wine being offered to her. "Very grand." She goes on, though she's no longer thinking of the ball, but of the last dance she and Jon had shared together.

"Your brother is quite the elegant dancer, I must say I'm surprised." Cersei's voice breaks into her thoughts and Sansa blinks in surprise. This certainly was not the topic of conversation she expected to have upon being summoned to this room. "The two of you make quite the couple." At this, Sansa chokes on the sip of wine she's just taken, her stare wild and frantic as it rises up to meet the queen. Inside, Cersei is laughing- she's been right there was Sansa was before, so many years ago. Back when her feelings for Jaime had first begun to grow into what they were now. She could recall their dance lessons, when a compliment on how well they fit together would leave her blushing and stammering, just as Sansa Stark was now. "You needn't hide it from me, Lady Stark," she goes on, taking advantage of the young woman's silence. "I see how you look at him... And how he looks at you."

Sansa's heart was beating fast within her chest, so fast she can barely catch her breath. Was she and Jon truly so obvious? They had painstakingly tried to keep what was brimming between them beneath the surface... But had last night been their very downfall? "I-I do not know what you mean, your grace," she says, adopting a cheery but confused tone, cursing herself for being a terrible liar. From the way Cersei is smiling, Sansa knows she does not believe her, not even for a moment.

"You know, Lady Stark, if there is one thing in my life I regret... It is not ever being with the one I truly loved." Cersei speaks from total honesty, saying aloud the words she's never spoken before to anyone. Not even to Jaime. She knows what it will take to sway proud Ned's child into something such as diving head first into an incestual relationship. But she knows the way to sway the young woman, for it was the same way she swayed herself all those years ago. "Someday you will be married to a man who you likely do not love," they are both reminded of a similar conversation, one they had shared before her marriage to Joffrey was to take place. "You should experience true love, even just once in your life." These words resonate with her and Cersei knows it. Her blue eyes widen and she opens her mouth as if she means to speak, but cannot find the words. "We cannot help who we love," Cersei says, though now she wonders if she's still speaking to Sansa, but rather to herself. "But if any love was so truly wrong, why would the Gods allow us to feel it in the first place?"

Sansa's heart beat has not ceased in it's pace, but a slow realization is dawning upon her as she listens to Cersei's words. There is meaning behind them and she knows, those words are not meant only for her. She recalls the rumors spread just before her father was beheaded, rumors about the truth of Joffrey and his siblings parentage. The truth about Cersei and her brother, Jaime. There is a part of her that worries this is just a trap, a set up to catch her and Jon in the act, something that would earn them the scorn and disgust of all of King's Landing and likely the North.

And yet...

You should experience true love, even just once in your life... Those are the words she's replaying in her brain, over and over again, knowing that Cersei was right. It would not be long before a marriage was made for her, one that would likely be loveless and political, one that would do nothing for her but everything for the Lannister's. Without her father or mother or even Robb to protect her from such a fate, she would be doomed to marry a man of Cersei's choosing.

When she's dismissed a few minutes later, Sansa wastes no time.

Shae, who has waited for her outside Cersei's room for her, rises up from where she sits on the windowsill. "Find Jon for me, won't you?" She asks in an undertone, to which her lady stares back at her for a long moment before she nods. If there was anyone she could trust with what she was about to do, it would be Shae.

Once she's back within her own chamber, she brings herself to stand before the looking glass, staring at her own reflection. She knows that doing what she's about to do will change everything, but she knows she cannot go on in life without knowing what it will feel like to be held by a man that truly loves her. If she can only taste his love this one time, then she will go willingly into any marriage presented to her, for Jon's love she will carry with her for the rest of her life.

A knock on the door comes.

By the time she's turned around, the door has opened and it's Jon standing there. He's staring at her, taking her in as he always does, those Stark colored eyes enough to bring her to her knees. "Sansa," he greets, feeling just as she does, the shift in what lays between them. She crosses the room as he does and so they meet at the center, a minimal distance between them. The blue damask gown suits her in a way he cannot describe and he's, as always, struck by her beauty. Somewhere behind them, Shae quietly ducks into the antechamber, out of sight, out of mind- but there all the same.

There's so many things she wants to say, so many things she needs for him to hear. But the words do not come, no matter how hard she wills them to. And so, instead, she does the only other thing that makes any sense; she kisses him. She kisses him with as much passion as she can muster and he falls into it, his arms winding around her only so he might pull her closer. When he breaks free moments later, it's to stare into her eyes, to ask her one single thing. "Are you certain?" She nods.

That's all he needs.

This time, he's the one to kiss her, leaning in to capture her mouth with his. One hand remains perched at the small of her back, though the other one slides into her hair, uncaring of the pins he knocks loose. She's kissing him back, meeting his tongue with her own, the sensations rushing through her body unlike anything she's ever felt before.

It does not take long before they stand at the side of her bed, the canopy hangings pushed aside so Jon might sit upon the edge. He beckons her closer and she comes to stand between his knees, allowing him to turn her around so her back instead faces him. Then, she feels his hands as they begin to loosen the laces of her blue gown until it begins to slip over her shoulders. That is when she turns back around to face him and she allows the gown to fall to the floor at her feet, all so she might stand there in nothing but her chemise.

And then, Jon draws her down into the bed, and into his arms.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #writing prompt #anon ask #send me prompts #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #my writing #i wrote this #man this one just FLOWED so quickly #it's been a while since i wrote something in one sitting

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