#game of thrones fluff

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Heirs

Pairing: Robb Stark x Baratheon/Lannister reader

Tags: NSFW, Arranged marriage, Robb is a bad boy in this one, corruption, innocent reader, first time, angst,

CH. 2 - He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

Chapter tags: fingering, semi-public fingering, voyeurism, corruption kink,

The music from the instruments was loud, and the atmosphere in the tent was filled with excitement, but you sat in your spot, glaring.

You didn't care that you were the only one. It wasn't fair. In Westeros culture, men were not expected to remain virgins until marriage. Robb took great pleasure in this fact.

You tried to focus on the conversation your ladies were having around you, but your eyes kept drifting towards him across the room, surrounded by girls from all over the country.

He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

One Northern girl boldly kissed Robb, baring her sharp canines while he laughed into her lips as another girl ran her arms around his barely covered torso. He turned and gave you a sly wink, running his tongue across his own sharp canine teeth, knowing that it would only infuriate you more. And it did.

From his point of view, the delicate princess sat wide-eyed, chest rising in her expensive dress as she inhaled and exhaled harshly through her flared nostrils. So responsive.

Robb enjoyed provoking you - he didn't know why yet. Perhaps he was doing it to see how you would react, testing your feelings for him, or because he was unsure how to express his growing attraction. When he winked at you, it was not just to anger you—he wanted to see you break your perfect demeanor, to understand if this was just duty for you or if you had feelings for him.

Your mother taught you that wives must be composed, no matter how foolish their husband's behaved and how their behavior humiliated them. She would glance at your father on occasion, chin up and confident pose, while her eyes betrayed the anger she felt. You now understood the patience your mother exercised as you were experiencing the same thing with the Stark Prince. Jealousy made you realize your feelings for Robb, despite his behavior. You were torn between your upbringing as a lady and your raw emotions when it came to him.

As the night progressed, Robb kept up his game. You had had enough. Jealousy rendering you unnable to look anymore.

You released a grumble of frustration before getting up, lifting your skirts in a less than ladylike fashion and storming out of the tent, leaving your friends behind calling your name in confusion.

The cool night air hit your face as you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Disregarding your safety, you wandered through the beach grounds, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You couldn't understand why Robb insisted on playing mind games with you.

It was just the second time you two had crossed paths, yet he somehow made you feel inferior.

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The previous morning

Robb Stark arrived in King’s Landing with a small Northern contingent for the summer tourney. You were seeing him for the first time in years, and it was immediately clear how much he’s grown—his transformation from the boy you once knew to the formidable man standing before you now. His physical growth and his commanding presence were evident.

You stood alongside your mother and siblings as he walked into the great hall alongside his bastard brother, Jon. The two were close in age, and both had formidable height and posture, that of trained soldiers. Jon seemed calmer than Robb, more inspective of his surroundings, while his older brother took confident strides.

Robb wore a leather jerkin, the dark material molding to his broad chest and wide shoulders, accentuating his muscular frame. Beneath it, a simple linen shirt was tucked into his trousers, and the sleeves rolled to his elbows to combat the heat, revealing strong, veiny forearms. A leather belt rested at his waist, bearing the Stark sigil and his sword at its sheath.

As you stood with the ladies of the court, their laughter and hushed conversations filled the air. Your attention was briefly stolen by the sight of Robb Stark entering the courtyard, his presence commanding the space effortlessly. The women around you fell silent for a moment before erupting into a flurry of excited whispers.

"Gods, look at him," one sighed.

"Have you seen those arms?" Another chimed in, leaning in to get a better view.

The first giggled, her gaze never leaving Robb as he moved through the courtyard and kneeled in front of the king. "He’s nothing like the men of the south... I wouldn’t mind being captured by a man like that."

You weren't sure if you wanted to agree or roll your eyes.

"Do get up, boy." Robert Baratheon drunkenly grinned at the young wolf. "Your father is like a brother to me, I dont need his eldest kissing my arse."

Robb stood up, offering a respectful nod. "As you say, your highness."

"You cheeky..." Your father shook his head, grasping Robb by his shoulders and laughing how he's changed since he was a boy. The two exchanged a few words about the Starks, including messages from Ned.

Then they both turned to look at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat. Those grey eyes, which you recalled as teasing, were now alight with something else as they roamed over your figure. Robb briefly glanced to your side where your personal guard stood. His eyes narrowed on him before blinking back to you.

You hoped to impress him with your wardrobe. Your gown was a rich velvet, dyed deep red. It clung to your frame in a way that accentuated your curves. The fabric cascaded softly around your hips and flared slightly at the hem, skirts flowing elegantly around your legs.

Your hair was woven with gold thread, pinned up in a way that highlighted your cheekbones and neck, a delicate chain with a small ruby resting against your chest, his eyes zeroed in on it.

Robb turned to say another word to the King, and you watched your father nod before dismissing the young man. Conversations arose in the court as your betrothed approached you.

"Princess," Robb offered a warm smile, bowing respectfully. "How lovely you've become."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," You offered a bow in return, hoping he didn't hear the gasp in your voice.

He regarded you with admiration, his eyes glancing condescendingly at your guard before falling back on you. He leaned down to wisper in your ear. "May I have a moment with you? Alone."

His lips skimmed the skin of your ear, his breath tickling your skin. You shuddered. You overheard your ladies giggle behind you as you nodded, straightening up and collecting yourself.

He held his hand for you to take, then walked you out of the room, Ser Oliver and Jon followed close behind.

You and Robb had a pleasant conversation about your time apart. Speaking about his training and your studies. He listened patiently as you spoke about the health properties of herbs and plants, grey eyes gazing intently as you passionately discussed your favorite topics.

At last, you guessed you've spoken long enough, asking him to tell you how his sisters were doing.

He chuckled, his eyes creasing. "At each other's throats. It can be quite amusing so long as you're not in the line of fire."

You nodded. "And your brothers?"

He turned back to Jon. "They like to watch as Jon and I spar and offer useless advice."

That image made you laugh. You've always wanted a big family to watch your kids grow to be friends as you saw the Stark children did.

Your eyes switched back to him, landing on his lips, full and framed by recently shaven stubble. You caught yourself staring, opened your mouth to respond when a young voice called out your name-

"Y/n!"

You turned in the direction where your sister, Myrcella called, running up to the two of you to grasp and pull at your skirt. "Sister! He's hurting the frogs again!"

You blinked, trying your best to understand what she was talking about.

"Joffrey!" Your youngest brother, Tommen, ran up to stand alongside his sister and pull you by your hand. "We were playing with them, and he started kicking them! You must help."

Robb saw you sigh and shut your eyes like this was not the first time. He turned back to exchange a look with Jon, who shrugged in turn.

You let them pull you, turning to offer Robb an apology. "Apologies, my lord. This will just be a moment."

"Take your time, princess. I do hope the frogs are alright." The corner of his mouth raised slightly when he said it.

So, Robb considered, this is what you were up to all day, mending small animals and nannying your siblings.

Jon walked to stand alongside his brother, watching you rush into the garden to stop Joffrey from crushing a frong with a rock, scolding him while carefully taking the injured animal in your hands. "Must you always hurt the poor animals, Joff?"

Joffrey gave you an ugly glare and spat, "Why do you care? You're going to be Stark's pet soon enough, anyway."

Myrcella gasped. Tommen stared between you and Joffrey awkwardly.

Both Robb and Jon both froze, exchanging a look of disbelief at the young boy's cruelty to his own sister. Even Arya never spoke this way to Sansa.

Despite Joffrey’s words, you remained calm toward him, shielding Tommen and Myrcella from his sneers. "This is not how a future king behaves, Joff. Very poor manners, especially in front of guests."

Joffrey rolled his eyes. "A king behaves however he wants."

You opened your mouth to speak again, but he got up and walked away. Your shoulders dropped with a huff of frustration.

"Can you treat it?" Tommen spoke. You followed his gaze down to the frog in your hand. The poor animal had a cut along its limb.

"If you hold him, I can try my best." You smiled at your brother, taking your small sewing kit from your sleeve.

Over the years, you had gotten quite good. Practicing by sewing up Joffrey's scraped knees when he would fall. Tommen gently held the frog as you washed the wound with water, sewed it shut, and wrapped a small amount of gauze around it.

Jon and Robb observed from their distance.

"That's our future king..." Robb murmered quietly. "And my future brother."

Jon, being naturally perceptive, quietly pointed out to Robb. "At least her and her other siblings' kindness contrasts with his."

Robb grimaced still.

"I notice the way you glowered at her guard." Jon added before teasing him. "Perhaps your feelings for her are more complicated than just familial duty?"

"Perhaps you should..." Robb turned to sass him off, but Jon’s observation lingered on his mind. "Perhaps we should step away. This seems to be a family matter."

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Jon stood by Robb’s side, serving as support. He noticed Robb’s distracted, jealous glances toward the royal stands where you sat, observing the archers beside your guard, occasionally exchanging a few comments with the man.

Jon nudged Robb, “Could you be more obvious?"

Robb tore his gaze away from you. "Sorry."

"You’ve faced worse foes than a well-dressed guard.” Jon spoke, assessing the archers stance and technique.

Robb pulled at his bowstring, typing it to his bow while speaking, "You were always the cool-headed one," he spoke quietly. "Sometimes I envy your ability not to get so... emotional."

"It comes with the title." Jon offered, referring to his bastard blood.

"Stop it, Jon." Robb shook his head. "You know we dont think of you that way."

Jon nodded, not responding to Rob's obvious lie. "Don’t mess this up. You're the best shot in Winterfell, besides me, of course."

Robb snorted, lightly shoving his brother.

Jon continued. "This will be target practice for you. It's easier than half the game you bring back home."

"Sure," Robb wasn't concerned with the Archery contest. In the slightest.

And surely enough, you sat in the Royal stands, watching him best the other archers, hitting the center of the target from multiple distances to cheers from the crowd.

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Present Time

You were hiding behind the flap of a tent, sneakily observing a knight kneeling in front of a courtesan from Essos.

He seemed to be kissing her sex. You were confused by the position. It defered from everything you'd learned about lovemaking. The women made sinful noises. You were curious as to why.

Your eyes narrowed. But surely that wasn't right.

"He's quite good." A male voice spoke close to you.

"Gods -" Gasping, you jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to see Robb leaning beside you, hair disheveled and shirt undone at the top, a drunk bkush spread across his cheeks.

His words registering in your mind, you huffed. "As if you would know."

He chuckled, then took you by the arm and turning you to face him, your skirts swooshing between your legs as you came face to face with him, your lips a breath apart. Stormy eyes were focused on your lips with such intent that you found it hard to look. Visions of him embraced by the northern girls flooding your mind again. Your cheeks heated up so much that you had to back up away from him.

Only there was no room, and you were stuck between himself and one of the thick tent posts. The wooden surface hard against your back.

"Do I sense some hostility, princess?" He hummed.

She shushed him, whispering. "Be quiet. Let's go,"

"And miss the performance?"

"Robb!"

He laughed and let you slip under his arm to drag him away. By the time you had walked off into a more deserted area, you had reached the water's edge, away from the camp and the crowds. Your bodice clung to you as you took in much needed deep breaths to calm yourself.

"So," Robb cleared his throat behind you. "Are you gonna tell me what you were doing creeping up on the swordman coupling, princess?"

You screwd your eyes shut. "Dont you have two girls to get back to?" You tilted your head mockingly. "Or was it four?"

You heard a huff behind you. "Ah, so it did bother you." His lips were by your ear in instead to wisper. "Good."

"How much ale have you had?" You felt goosebumps running up your arm.

"Less than you think."

You rolled her eyes. "It would anger anyone."

He shook his head, his curls brushing against your locks. "It wouldn't anger an un-caring wife. I want my wife to be selfish over me."

Your breathes were speeding as his warm breath tickled your skin. His words tickled some other parts of you.

"So," he wispered. "Are you gonna tell me what you were you doing? Have you picked up an interest in the art of love-making?"

You chuckled. "If you can even call it that."

You felt his head tild behind you, as if confused. "You absolutely can."

You scoffed. "He wasn't even doing it right."

He chuckled, throwing her own words back at you, "As if you would know."

For some reason, that made you feel self-conscious, so you turned to glare at him.

He pursed his lips, throwing his hands up. "Apologies, princess. That was rude. What did he do wrong?"

You wrapped her arms around yourself. "He didn't even... he wasn't..."

He raised a brow, anticipating.

"Well," you insited, before finally, quietly saying. "... penetrate."

"Well. You can't simply begin from that." He said nonchalantly.

That made you pause. "What?"

"Princess," Robb grinned, bringing his hand to his temple as if rubbing at a headache.

You blushed, facing away from him. "You're laughing at me."

You couldnt see his eyes crease at the sides as he smiled down at your hair. "Darling, no."

"You are!" You turned back to him again, her skirts blowing with the small breaze, your eyes withholding tears. "I may not be experienced like you-" you pointed your finger at him. "-but I know enough! You can't have children by... through... what he was."

"You're right, you can't." He confirmed holding up his hands in surrender. "But who said children were the only outcome of sex?"

You remained quiet, now thoroughly confused.

"There is also pleasure." He hinted.

"Oh!" You nodded. "Well, sure, it can occur, but..."

"It must." He spoke like it was obvious. "You do know there are other ways to induce pleasure than mere penetration?" He asked.

You blinked at him.

A grin spread across his face, wolfish canines shines in the moonlight. "Oh, you're going to enjoy this study, princess."

Your mouth opened as if she wanted to say something but looked unsure.

"Trust me. The maesters won't-teach-you-this." He slurred slightly. "And if they do, that's bad. Then you have to tell me."

Curious eyes met confident grey ones, and you gave him a soft nod, taking his hand, letting him lead her down to an empty cove.

The two of you sat by the sand. At first, you took a seat side by side with him, but he pulled you to sit in front of him with you back to his chest. Never having been this close to someone of the opposite sex, you swallowed nervously.

"Breathe, princess. You're in good hands."

"The last time you said something like that, I fell out of consciousness."

"Well, this time don't. I'd hate for you to miss this." He ran his hands along the uncovered skin of your arms, you collarbone, shoulders, you skin tensing up everywhere he touched. "You shouldn't rush into things when giving pleasure."

You nodded. "Right,"

He leaned down and trailed, sticking kisses from your ear to your neck, sending a trail of goosebumps that made you gasp.

"There are other sensitive zones on your body, not just inside your cunt."

You nodded, your toes curling against the sand. "Okay,"

"Like your ears and neck," He spoke through kisses. His hands reached to her your bodice, unlacing the front exposing your breasts, giving your nipples light touches.

You gasped, arching your back against him. "Mhn,"

"Or your breasts," he continued to play with your hardened peaks, rolling and pinching them lightly. You closed her eyes, your hand eaching to grasp at the sand. His hand trailed down to your skirts, pulling them up to your waist and exposing you to the cool night air before palming your heat between your thighs.

You jumped at the feeling.

"Or this spot between your legs,"

"What is it?" You asked, voice trembling.

"It's your special spot," he replied, his fingers teasing you gently.

You couldn't hold back the whine that escaped as he continued to touch you just the right way. You had never experienced pleasure like this before, and it was intoxicating.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "you should explore your own body, princess. It's full of hidden treasure."

Your breaths quickened as he continued to rub you, faster, and faster. "I... oh-"

Unable to hold back any longer, your body tensed up and shook as you experienced the first orgasm you had ever felt. You were overcome with pleasure, and your body shook with the force of it. He pulled you by your hair, craning your neck towards himself, and kissed you roughly. You reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm, still shaking as his hand teased you through your climax.

When you pulled apart, he was happy to see your eyes still glazed over.

Robb had struggled with his feelings for you, wondering if they might be desire, or duty, but he also questioned how much power he truly had over you.

Going from girl to girl in Winterfell was a norm, but something about you was not the same. He wanted to corrupt you, to introduce you to a world of pleasure that you had no idea existed. Hed wanted to be the first to deflower the heir to the throne. It had been a long time since he had felt this type of curiosity. The image of you writhing in pleasure, your body arching, and moans of his name filled his mind, making his eyes shut to take in the fantasy.

"Is it like this every time?" You wispered, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"It should be," he leaned down to nibble on your throat. This girl. He needed to see her come undone again.

"Princess!" A male voice called in the distance.

Robb cursed. That fucking guard...

"By the gods! What time is it?" You jumped up before rushing to lace your bodice and pat your skirts back into place, tidying up her hair. Robb leaned back on his arms and stared as you rushed off, his teeth grinding.

You hadn't even said anything. Just left as if you didn't just share an intimate moment together. He chuckled to himself, running his hand down his face and lying back against the sand.

[castieltrash1]

Can I request Jon Snow x Lady!Reader. Arranged marriage that becomes real love?

this is so sweet ty for the req :')

jon snow x afab!reader; arranged marriage, slow burn, vague mentions of sex, mutual pining-ish i think

when you’re finally brought to the godswood, gaze averted and flecks of snow glinting between strands of hair, jon finds himself relieved. he’d known his duties from a young age so when the time to wed arrived -- a wife already chosen on his behalf -- he didn’t fight it. he tried not to imagine your appearance, but it proved difficult, and many late nights at winterfell were spent concocting an image of you in his head. not nearly as beautiful or rich as robb’s future wife, surely, but you’d be worthy of a stark bastard at least… right?

it’s odd. you’re different, but somehow more beautiful. jon can’t really explain it and he doesn’t try, not wanting to offend you. the first night is painfully awkward regardless, and he’s relieved when you both agree to take it slow for now. everything happens eventually, of course, but your patience pays off. jon considers himself lucky -- he could’ve been stuck with anyone for the rest of his life, but he had you; you, with your kind words and pretty face, practically handed to him on a silver platter. he kept waiting for you to act monstrous, assuming your beauty had to be compounded by something, anything, but it’s not. your marriage isn’t perfect, but jon enjoys figuring things out with you by his side. he likes being a united front with someone. he likes the warmth you leave on the other half of the bed, sheets smelling like the oil from your baths. he enjoys keeping you happy, noticeably fulfilled when he’s seen as a good husband and dutiful partner.

the more you go through together, the deeper jon’s feelings grow. he knows it’s happening, despite his initial attempts to ignore it. you have a lifetime together ahead of you - there’s no need for him to rush things. but the affection gnaws at him, and he can’t deny himself any longer. he loves you. by the old gods and the new, he really, truly, loves you. he hadn’t expected it, thinking any romantic dedication to you would take years to build -- if it ever even came to fruition -- but now it’s here and he almost isn’t sure what to do.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue all day. he’d nearly said it in bed the night before, limbs tangled in sheets as he stared down at you, but the words were caught in his throat. now, every time he speaks to you, the declaration begs for release, desperate for you to know the depth of his feelings. three more opportunities arise before midday, but he lasts until after dinner, when he finds you overlooking the courtyard below and feels his heart skip a beat. you turn to face him and, somehow, his gentle expression tells you everything.

“i love you.”

+ after he says it for the first time, it takes him a while to work up the courage again, even if you happily return the sentiment. it felt like a reward and he doesn’t want to spoil it. the words aren’t careless to him and he wants them to mean something, not be taken for granted. soon enough, you’ll hear it five times a day, gruffly murmured in every free moment alone. and, despite its newfound frequency, it only seems to be more genuine each time.

game of thrones weekend (reqs open!)

[axelsagewrites]

Well if you still could 👀

Do you think you could do another Ned x f!wife!reader? I really enjoyed the horny!ned fic you already have but I'd be happy with anything. Fluff, sunshine, rainbows, or babies. ❤️ have a nice day 😊

Ned Stark*Sweet Wife

Pairing: Ned x wife!pregnant!reader

Word count: 942

Warnings: pregnancy and pure fluff

Masterlist Here

“My lady I don’t think you quite understand,” Lord Karstark said as you bit your tongue and tried to pretend you hadn’t had better plans for your morning than been chased down by a disgruntled Lord who thought you’d give in easier than your husband, “If you allowed my family to use that land, we would maintain it for you. Free of charge,” he said as if offering you the best deal in the world.

You took a breath before speaking, trying to compose yourself, “And while I am grateful for the offer my Lord, those lands do not belong to you, and we are already in discussion for how we will divvy them up to- “

“Okay but,” he cut you off making you sigh this time though he did not notice, “If I am trusted with them- “

“Lord Karstark,” Ned’s voice came from behind you with an unusual iciness to it. “I do believe my wife,” he said, his arm gently going around your back, his hand resting on your hip, “and I have now both explained to you your assistance, no matter how generous, is not needed in this matter. However, if your family is desperate for farm lands I’m sure a trade deal can be arranged- “Karstark opened his mouth to speak but Ned didn’t stop, “Which you can take up to the owners of the lands once I have declared them. now if you don’t mind my wife and I are late to a very important meeting,”

Karstark grumbled something under his breath but nodded, “Of course my Lord, my lady. Goodbye,” he muttered before turning to leave with his nose in the air.

“Do you think he is sniffing out the new owners?” Ned leant down, to whisper in your ear making you laugh.

Ned took your arm and began to guide you through the busy corridors, “Who do we have to meet?” you asked, eyebrows scrunched, “I don’t remember setting up a meeting,”

“I arranged it,” Ned said, smiling politely at some passing Lords, “It is of the upmost importance that we attend,”

“And whys that?” you asked as you suddenly stopped outside a meeting room.

He opened the door, ignoring your question for now to lead you inside. Once the door was shut behind you, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you with his finger tilting your chin up to face his cheeky grin, “So I can do this,” he leant down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You giggled a little into the kiss before pushing him away, “Someone could walk in,”

“So?” he asked, hand moving to rest gently on your hip, “We’re married now remember. It’s allowed,” he teased though his hand gently rose to rest on your stomach, “And soon everyone will know anyway what we get up to,”

“Shut up,” you laughed, pulling him back down for a brief gentle kiss. Your bump was barely noticeable under all the furs and wool you wore to keep the cold out but you both knew it was there, “I hope she doesn’t inherit your cheek,” you teased.

“She?” he asked, a hopeful grin on his face, “How’d you know?”

“I just do,” you smiled but it quickly faded, “I hope that doesn’t disappoint you- “

“Of course not,” he said, cupping your face in his hands, “Nothing you do, especially not this, could ever disappoint me,” his thumb gently stroked over your cheek bone. It was a tender moment, of course ended once again by his antics, “Besides I’ll take any excuse to try again,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“As if you ever needed one,”

Your laughter both stopped when there was a knock on the door. Ned held a finger up to his lip, “Maybe if we’re quiet, they’ll go away,” he whispered.

“Lord and Lady Stark may I have a moment?” said a voice behind the door. You could swear it was the diplomat Lord Bolton sent.

“I swear if this is about those lands, I may just burn them to the ground,” Ned muttered before you both stepped back to open the door.

-

You barely got to see Ned for the rest of the day. Every Lord or noble man seemed to need his attention today and you were running around Winterfell organising a banquet for Ned’s upcoming nameday. It wasn’t till you walked into the hall for dinner you saw him again.

“Hello husband,” you greeted with a small smile as you took his seat.

“You need to slow down,” he said, not even bothering to say hello making you roll your eyes, “you’ve been running around faster than the servants,”

“That’s because I need to finish organising the details for- “

“What you need is rest,” he said, cutting you off and placing a hand over yours.

You sighed, tempted to push it away but you knew his heart was good, “You cannot confine to my bed out of fear,”

“If I was to confine you to our bed it would not be for that,” he whispered making your cheeks burn.

“Ned!” you scolded, slapping his thigh making him laugh, “You are so lucky I love you. Otherwise, I’d kill you,”

He smiled softly at that, “lucky indeed. However, I’d be even luckier if you would let me announce our news,” he said, squeezing your hand gently.

You couldn’t help smiling a little despite his antics, “Perhaps it would be a nice announcement to make on your nameday,” you finally conceded, “I just wish we could keep it a secret a little longer,”

“Then your wish is my command, sweet wife.”

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[criminalamnesia]

Pretty like the sun

warnings: reader described as having long, silver hair; no use of y/n; female!reader; Targaryen!reader; sneaking around with harwin; little sliver of angst but that’s it; fluff; not proofread sorry

summary: you spend a morning with harwin.

author’s note: I miss harwin strong. that is all.

The soft, early morning light poked through the thin fabric covering your window. You stirred in bed, eyes scrunching tighter together as you attempted to will yourself back asleep.

“Good morning,” Harwin’s chest rumbled with the sound of his voice. He was almost whispering, as if afraid to spook you. One of his hands trailed up your back, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin.

“Mhm,” you grumbled, refusing to open your eyes. You snuggled closer to his side, your head laid right over his heart. The reassuring rhythm of its beat brought a small smile to your lips.

“What time is it?” You asked after a moment of comfortable silence, your eyes still closed. You could feel the heat of the sun now, its rays more intense as it rose in the sky.

“Almost time for me to go,” he replied. The hand trailing up your spine moved to rest in your hair, his fingers lightly scratching at your scalp. His free hand moved over your body, looping around you and pulling you impossibly closer.

It was always like this in the mornings you spent together. Hushed words and warm touches. The two of you tangled together, holding each other as close as possible. This time was sacred to the both of you. It was stolen from the rest of the Keep, something just for the two of you to share, damning the rest of them.

“Do you have to?” You asked, but you already knew the answer as you finally opened your eyes. You tilted your head back to look up at your lover. His eyes met yours, and he gave a small smile as he nodded.

“You know I do, Princess. I cannot be caught in here, your father would have my head.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to plant a kiss to his sternum. He hummed in contentment.

“You underestimate my power in this keep, Ser. At most, my father would have your finger. Maybe a hand, if it were a bad day for the King,” you grinned as you teased him, meeting his gaze once more.

It was Harwin’s turn to roll his eyes now. His fingers dug deeper into your scalp, massaging the skin there. You groaned and swatted his hand away, knowing his actions would put you back to sleep.

As much as you wanted to succumb to the welcoming embrace of slumber once more, you knew you’d regret it. Harwin wouldn’t want to wake you, and so he’d slip from the room quietly, depriving you of the chance to wish his farewell. You despised it when he did that– and he knew as much, yet he still tried.

He told you once that he hated seeing the look in your eyes as he left, and that’s why he tried to lull you back to sleep. He didn’t want to watch the sadness and anger seep into your expression as it did every time he snuck away.

It wasn’t sadness and anger aimed towards him, of course. It was at this whole situation– the fact that you two had to hide your affections. The King had made it quite clear you were to remain untouched and unmarried until your sister, Rhaenyra, found a match.

You disobeyed his wishes, but what the King didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him– at least that’s what you believed.

“Where do they have you stationed today?” You questioned the man below you as you turned your gaze to the villainous window that disturbed the peace the night gave both of you. “Guarding ‘Nyra again?”

“Guarding you, actually,” he said, and you sighed.

Having your lover guard you was a double-edged sword. You were with him all day, but you were not allowed to truly be with him. It was almost torture, how the man you loved was right beside you and you couldn’t touch him. You couldn’t even speak to him the way you wanted. You had to remain proper, as did he, and you had to keep up this carefully constructed facade of a princess and her loyal guard.

“You do not wish to be accompanied by me today?” He asked, and you finally pushed yourself up, your hand resting on his chest to support yourself.

The arm he had looped around you fell, his grip now at your waist. His thumb caressed the skin there as he watched your face with concern. His other hand remained in your hair, moving to brush strands of silver from your eyes.

“You know that is not the issue,” you told him.

“Sometimes it is the issue. Remember just a fortnight ago, when you asked for another guard just because I slipped out the night before?”

“You did not tell me you had to go,” you said as you shuffled over to the other side of the bed. His hands retracted from your body to let you move.

“I was not aware I needed to ask your permission to get a glass of water,” he retorted, and you scoffed.

“The last time you snuck out during the night, it was because you were sent to guard my sister for her two week journey to see whoever that lord was. Lannister? Baratheon? I do not recall— but it does not matter. You did not tell me you were leaving!”

“Love–” he began, but you spoke again.

“No, I know, Harwin. You did not know either. I am not trying to fight,” you reached a hand towards him, which he clasped in one of his own. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you smiled.

“I just worry for you. I fear one day you will slip out before I can say goodbye, and I will never see you again.”

Harwin frowned, his eyes trained on you as he gave your hand a small squeeze. You inhaled deeply. “I do not want to keep sneaking around,” you admitted.

“Nor do I, but–” he began.

“But we must,” you finished his sentence with a sigh. “Just until my sister finally meets her match. Which will probably be after we are all dead.”

Harwin laughed and used his grip on your hand to pull you back into him. You gave a sound of surprise as you fell onto his chest, both his hands snaking around your body to keep you glued to him.

“The Princess will wed soon, my love. Your father will make sure of it. And if not, then I am sure you will make sure of it. Gods help Rhaenyra if it gets to that point. You are quite scary when you are angry.”

“As scary as Daemon?” You questioned, your eyebrows raised as you glanced up at Harwin. A teasing grin painted your lips.

“Oh, much scarier. The Rogue Prince wishes he was as terrifying as you.”

“Careful, Ser,” you giggled. “My uncle would feed you to Caraxes for such an insult.”

“It would be an honorable death, dying to defend my Princess.”

You shuffled upwards so that your face was right above his. Your hair fell around the both of you, creating another barrier the sun streaming through the window fought to break through.

“You are insufferable,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“Am I?” He asked with a grin.

“Mhm,” you hummed in answer before lowering your lips to his.

The kiss lasted a few wonderful, peaceful seconds before a sobering knock sounded at the door.

“Princess!” Your lady-in-waiting called from behind the door, her knock becoming louder as she tried to rouse you. Unbeknownst to her, you were very awake at the moment.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your lover who was very much naked, very much still in your bed, and very much late to his post.

“Princess, are you awake? Are you in there? I don’t see Ser Harwin out here. Are you alright?” You could hear panic begin to sneak into the woman’s tone. You knew how it looked to her– a locked door, no guard, and a silent princess? She probably thought you were dead.

You pulled yourself from Harwin’s embrace once more and hurried out of bed, reaching for the night clothes you had discarded the night before. Harwin followed suit in rushing from bed. He began grabbing at clothes and armor, trying to be silent but quick as he redressed.

“I’m awake!” You shouted to your lady-in-waiting as you ran a hand through your hair. You turned to watch as Harwin gave up on buttoning his shirt and began gathering his armor in his hands.

“You have got to go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“I am trying! This damn armor–” he groaned as he nearly dropped his metal chest plate. You cringed as you watched his barely catch it, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. That sound would’ve had your lady busting down your door in an instant.

“Princess, are you alright in there?” You heard your lady ask as the door knob jiggled.

“Quite!” You yelled back, your pitch rising in panic. You rushed to Harwin’s side and began snatching up the remaining pieces of his armor. You ushered him to the secret passage in your room, prying open the door and all but pushing him inside. “Just looking for something!”

You pushed the armor in your hands into Harwin’s, who was looking at you with a wide grin.

“What?” You asked incredulously, curious as to how he could be smiling at being nearly caught.

“Looking a little disheveled, Princess.”

“Gods, go!” You scolded him with no real bite to your words. You shoved at his broad shoulders, careful not to disturb the mountain of metal in his arms.

He gave a quiet laugh as he swiftly ducked down to kiss your forehead. “See you soon, Princess.”

With that, he disappeared down the dark passageway and you all but slammed the door closed. You quickly concealed it once more before smoothing down your nightdress, taking a deep breath, and opening the door for your lady-in-waiting.

“Gods, I thought you were being killed!” She cried, her voice shrill as she surged into the room.

You gave a breathless laugh as you shut the door behind her, noticing a forgotten trinket of Harwin’s laying on the stone floor. You swiftly kicked it under your wardrobe before your lady turned to face you.

“Where was Ser Harwin? He was not by your door,” she questioned as she began to assess your appearance.

“Oh, I sent him to fetch me a glass of water well before you arrived. He never returned. I suppose he was roped into something more important.”

“Hm,” your lady hummed, unconvinced, but she didn’t press the topic further.

The two of you fell into comfortable silence as you went through your routine of dressing.

Finally, as your lady finished clasping a ruby necklace around your neck, she cleared her throat to speak.

“Did he at least take all his armor with him this time?”

Your cheeks turned a deep red, and your lady laughed.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Out Of Luck

"Perhaps I'm not the only one who's going to be wed in King's Landing," Sansa jeers with a grin. I glare at her, "if you weren't my sister, I'd have stabbed you." The girl giggles and takes my arm.

Petyr Baelish & Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, descriptions of reader (black hair), widow!reader, enemies to lovers?, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: felt right so I'm writing it. Yes, I added Harwin Strong, yes I know it's not canon. It is now in my world 😌 anyway, he's still dead so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ Cross posted on AO3!

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera

"Father" I call with a smile. He spots me and I lift my skirt as I jog up to him.

The man hides what he was holding behind him. He smiles and meets me halfway in the hall. He greets me good morrow when I link my arm with his and kiss his cheek.

"And is that... a very important tool of the Lord Hand?" I tilt my head as I ask, "might I not even see it?"

He sighs and slowly brings the object in front of him. We both look at the brightly dressed doll. My father has an apprehensive look on his face. I hold back a laugh, "ah, a pretty dolly. Are you quite bored of your job already? Do they give dolls to the Hand or were you duped into buying this?"

"I knew you'd say something like this," he mutters.

"If you knew I'd say it, why'd you still get it, papa?" I chuckle.

"I bought it for your sister."

I make a face, "my sister?" I raise a brow, "which between Arya and Sansa do you think would prefer playing with such an ugly dolly?"

He calls my name out.

"What?"

He lowers the doll, "it's not that ugly."

"So even you agree," I snigger, "and yet you still bought it!"

We both begin to walk down the hall.

He warns me, "I'll tell on your mother."

"For what?" I hold back a laugh.

"For calling me papa," he lifts his nose.

I chuckle at the thought. Mother never liked it when I used mama and papa; improper for a lady, she says. I think it's also because when I use it, I pull on their heart strings and manage to make them do my bidding. Twas the gift of the first born.

"I can hear it now," I grin at the man as I squeeze his arm, "Eddard Stark," I motion vaguely, "stripped of his title as Lord Hand for his poor taste in dolls."

My grin widens at the sound if his low laugh. I give a louder laugh, happy to have gotten the reaction I did out of him. It's been a while since I've heard my father chuckle, or anyone from my family, for that matter.

"I wouldn't worry about it, love," father pulls me into his chest, "the king's taste in dolls are surely worse than mine."

I let out a giggle. My father joins in.

I look out the window as we saunter down the hall and turn back to my father when he mutters, "she's changed quite a lot since we've moved here."

He looks at the doll in his hand.

It takes a moment before I smile and give a playful look, "have you seen any of your daughters play with dollies lately, father?"

My words do not work this time. My smile fades at the sight of the line between my father's brows. I mutter softly, "haven't we all changed?"

He turns to me then stops.

I raise my brows. Ned Stark offers me a smile. He takes my hands and shakes his head, "not you, my daughter," he rubs my knuckles with his thumb, "never you."

My heart clenches at his words. I cannot bring myself to smile back because I knew it wasn't true.

"Forgive me for intruding on a private moment."

We both pull away and turn to our side. There we see a blonde doll wrapped in steel. Ser Jaime bows, "Lord Hand, Lady Stark--" he stops himself and lifts his head, "oh, apologies. It's in bad taste for me to call you that."

My father shifts in his spot.

I play it off, "nonsense. I am born of house Stark," I pull my lips into a tight smile, "and my husband is dead."

"Ah, yes," the knight sighs, "poor man. Just had a taste of being one then--" he shakes his head to make his point. He raises a finger, "he was your age, wasn't he?"

I clench my jaw and nod.

Ser Jaime rests a hand on his hilt, "what was his house again?"

Before I can respond, my father blurts, "have you come to rub salt in my daughter's wounds, Kingslayer?"

I turn to my feet with wide eyes. I slowly turn to the see the fuming look on my father's face and whisper, "papa."

Ser Jaime lifts his nose. An smirk masks his face, "not at all, my Lord."

I look back at the kingsguard, not enjoying how quickly tension solidified between us.

"The king demands your presence," growls the Lannister, jaw hardened, golden mane wafting with the breeze.

Father's face is stern but he nods and raises the doll, "I will go to him after I-"

"Get that bloody Ned here now," Jaime speaks. He watches Ned lower the doll. He purses his lips while father's expression sours even more. He shrugs, "King's words, not mine."

In an instant, all the tension in father's body is gone. He looks like he's about to smile and it makes my stomach churn because I knew what that meant. I take the doll from him before anything else. He looks at me and I nod, "I'll give it to Sansa."

He stares me blankly.

"I'll try to force her affection onto the thing," I look at the doll, "maybe she'll let it chaperone us to the tourney later."

I smile at the sound of papa's low laugh.

He nods.

Ned's smile fades when he turns back to Jaime. Jaime gives a wry smile, "I'll escort the lady back to her chambers in her father's stead."

Neither of us decide to argue over it.

Father walks off, eyeing Jaime as he did, and I purse my lips when I turn to him, "I'm actually headed to the library."

"Mmm," he furrows his brows, "then I'm actually headed there too."

We begin to walk down the hall. I laugh as I look at the doll in my hands.

Jaime turns to me upon hearing this. He decides not to note on the ugly doll, "like reading, do you?"

I look at him and smile, "I do."

"You sure you don't go to that musty room to hide from everyone?"

I raise a brow, "you seem to have experience."

"Tyrion was like that," he looks forward, "except father never bought him a doll as a companion."

I look away just as Jaime looks back at me, "does the library match the fantasies of a book lover?"

I chuckle. I turn to his side again. I am unable to stop myself from thinking how dashing his grin at the moment was, "It definitely is as grand as I expected it to be. Winterfell is not blessed with nearly as many tomes."

"The younger Stark girls must not like reading as much as their big sister, considering the ugly thing in your paw," he nods at my direction.

"I'm sure one of them will find use of it," I lift the thing up and look at it. I glance upon Jaime, "oh, goodness. It actually looks quite like you."

Jaime pulls his chin back, "you clearly have issues with your eyes."

"No, it's uncanny. Yellow hair, evil intent."

"Evil intent?" Jaime stops in his tracks, "you mock and slander me," he raises brow and grips his hilt, "I should have your tongue for it."

"Mmm," I turn to him and slowly walk backward, "kingsguard takes the tongue of the Lord Hand's daughter? Sounds like a page out of my books."

He tilts his head, looking me up and down before chuckling as he turns to his feet. He lick his teeth then furrows his brows, "lend me that book once you're done."

We reach the stairwell the connected to the gardens.

I tilt my head and stop in my tracks when I see Sansa and her handmaiden.

"Sansa!" I call, waving at her. She looks at me and waves back.

I turn to Jaime and curtsy, "I have changed my mind, ser," I rise and smile, "I'll be joining my sister in the gardens instead."

Jaime nods and gives a lopsided smile, "very well, my lady. Bid my greetings to the pup. I pray she doesn't get a heart attack from your father's gift."

I chuckle, "she used to have a wolf, you know."

With that, Jaime and I part ways.

Sansa immediately grabs my arm once I am close enough, "what were you doing with Jaime?"

"Ser Jaime Lannister," I correct her, raising a brow, "I didn't know you two were familiar."

"Was he courting you?" Sansa asks as she releases my arm.

I immediately shush her, "do not speak of such things, girl. You know how quickly gossip spreads here." I hand her the doll, "he was escorting me to the library in father's stead."

"This isn't the library-"

"Clearly not."

She takes the doll, "what is this?"

"A gift from father," I grin, "a chaperone to the tourney later."

Sansa glares at me, nearly turning red as her hair. She chucks the doll to the ground and storms away.

I huff and pick up the doll, "Sansa." I follow after her, "it was a joke."

"I haven't played with dollies for years!"

"I know," I rush up to her and grab her arm, "papa bought it for you to try and ease your worries."

She grits her teeth and corrects, "father should just do his job and stop treating me like a little girl." She breaks away from me and moves past me.

"You are a little girl."

"I'm going to be queen one day," she turns to me, "and you won't be able to make fun of me then."

"Sansa, I'm not making fun of you!"

Sansa does not listen and simply walks away.

Her old handmaiden turns to me and smiles. She takes the doll from me, "I'll put this in her room."

I nod and smile.

By the time we were seated for the tourney, Sansa and I made peace by giving the doll to Arya for her to mutilate. All three of us enjoyed the bonding experience very much.

Right now, we were huddled together, pointing at the players. Sansa whispered to me who she thought handsomest and Arya exclaimed over who she thought was strongest. I alternate my attention between them, swooning with one, cheering with the other, but it doesn't take long for them to get into a clash, as always.

They begin to bicker over me and I would have just snapped at them had we not been in public. I instead silence both of them by swooning and cheering for the Hound once we spot him from afar.

Both young Starks gawk at me in disbelief and disgust.

"You can't be serious," Sansa mutters with a pale face.

Arya tilts her head, "I mean, he is pretty big."

I laugh at both of them, "can't I cheer for all the players?"

"No," they say at once.

I tear my gaze from the tourney grounds to look over my shoulder. I gaze upon the crowds, looking to see if father was already here. I mutter to no one in particular, "I wonder what's taking him so long."

"Look," Sansa, on my left, tugs at my arm, "ser Jaime is going to be riding!"

I ignore her and push Arya, who was seated to my right, behind as I crane my neck to look for farther.

Sansa leans on my back and mutters to Arya, "ser Jaime likes her."

Arya grins and looks down at me, "oooh. The lion and the wolf."

I quickly sit up and eye both of them, "shut it, you."

They giggle with each other.

"Father will not be pleased if he hears you are wanting to feed nasty rumors."

"Oh, but nasty rumors are the most intruding, wouldn't you agree, Lady Strong?"

The three of us turn to the man walking over. He stops just below where Arya was sat.

"Or should I say, Lady Stark?" he smiles and nods at me. He looks to my left, "Lady Stark," then to my right, "Lady Stark."

I offer a smile and my first name, "you can simply call me that to avoid confusion, my lord."

"Petyr Baelish," he grins, blue eyes glistening with apparent mischief.

"Lord Baelish," I nod. I squeeze both my sister's hands, prompting both to greet all the same.

Lord Baelish smiles, "I'm glad to finally meet the eldest Stark," he reaches a hand out to me, "the words spoken about your beauty do you no justice."

Both my sisters make a face when I take the man's hand and he leans in to kiss it.

He straightens up and brings his hands behind his back, "my deepest sympathies to you. Lord Harwin Strong left us too soon. I've heard a great many things about Breakbones, how he puts the strong in House Strong."

Arya side eyes Baelish before turning away to look at tourney grounds.

Sansa stares hotly at him as she clutches my arm.

"Thank you, Lord Baelish," I nod and pull a smile, "if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer not to talk about him more than this."

"Of course," he bows. He tilts his head back as he smiles. He walks off and climbs the stairs to get to his seat just behind us.

"Do you know who's going to fight first?" Arya asks as she leans on my lap. I wrap my arm over her shoulders and turn to where she was looking. I spot Jaime speaking to whom was probably his squire from afar.

"Don't worry, little one, they'll announce it," Baelish speaks from behind, making all of us turn to him then back front. When I look back, I see Jaime looking our way.

"I hope ser Jaime starts on our side," Sansa mutters as she leans into me, though her eyes are still fixed on the Lannister.

Arya turns to me and toys with my black hair, "I hope he defeats the Hound to win your affection."

Baelish makes a face upon hearing that.

I snort at the thought then shoot her a half serious face, "shut it."

"I see you girls are fond of the Kingslayer," Baelish says, making us turn back to him again.

Arya side eyes him once more. Sansa looks away, uninterested.

I respond before turning frotn, "he is a rather good swordsman. Or so I hear."

"He usually doesn't play in tourneys. He says he's too good for them," Baelish mutters, "something must have made him change his mind."

"Maybe he's trying to impress someone," Sansa replies, not bothering to look back anymore, "maybe a lady?"

I squeeze her arm when she says this. She does not even spare me a glance.

"Yes," Baelish darting his eyes below him, "perhaps."

We look to the sky when a rumble suddenly cracks.

"What's taking them so long?! It's going to rain, and then the games will be cancelled!" Arya complains.

"They-"

"They're waiting for the king," Baelish replies.

Arya makes a face. I'm the only one that turns back to the man. I smile at his already smiling face then turn to Arya, "papa's not here either. The king is probably making him do something."

Baelish chuckles under his breath, muttering lowly to himself, "papa? How sweet."

Then suddenly, truly out of nowhere, it began to rain.

My sisters and I quickly stand. I immediately grab them and we run off to the nearest place that could offer cover. We head to a tent, but the trouble was, everyone was heading there too.

The rain quickly begins to pour harder.

I do my best to cover Sansa and Arya's head, but my hands could only do so much. The three of us look up when something comes above us.

I feel someone behind me. I turn and see it's Lord Baelish. He's taken his tunic off and used it to cover us.

"Come, my Lady Starks," he speaks over the loud patter of the rain, "I will escort you back inside!"

We turn to him, his dress shirt now dripping and stuck to his form. I nod at him, "thank you, my lord."

"Don't thank me yet," he smirks, face wet with rain, "one of you may yet slip on mud."

Lord Baelish leads the way, uncaring of how wet he's gotten, and offers his arm out to us intermittently. Meanwhile, we hold up his tunic overhead and huddle under it, treading as quickly yet carefully as we can on the mucky ground.

"I do hope the rain does not ruin your fine garb, Lord Baelish," I call as Sansa and I lift our skirts up and do our best not to trip on it.

Arya was very much glad to be wearing pants, and cheerfully steps into puddles without a care in the world.

But then she slips.

Baelish manages to grab her arm before she falls. He pulls her upright and chuckles, "careful now. You wouldn't want to take your sisters down with you."

Arya let's out a hmp when she is released.

"And don't worry about my tunic," he smiles at me, "I'd rather it be ruined than have 3 ladies get sick under my watch."

Sansa gasps and grabs my arm when her heels sink in the wet dirt. I help her keep her footing and smile back at the man, "thank you, Lord Baelish."

"As I said, don't thank me yet. It's still quite a walk to the Keep," he comes to Sansa's side and helps her straighten up, "and call me Petyr."

I part my lips at the thought.

He shakes his head and chuckles, "I insist."

[heavenlytouches]

i saw you write for Game of thrones, can you write a female reader and Kingslayer (Jaime Lannister) taking a bubble bath together in his chambers? That bath scene with Brianne is still etched in my head. Thankss

Hi darling! Thank you so much for a great request! And yes of course I can write about Ser Lannister :0 let's go, head first El <3

Ser Jaime Lannister- a splash of love

.ೃ࿔*:･

FEM reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- mentions of blood, suggestive talk (nothing too bad)

Helping Kingslayer after a rough day

SERVANT! reader

Ser Jaime Lannister

As you move quietly through the opulent halls of the Red Keep, the scent of lavender and beeswax fills the air, a stark contrast to the dark bloodstains smeared against the polished stone walls.

You are just a servant, quietly carrying out your duties, but you feel the weight of the world around you- a world where the rightful lords and ladies command power, while you merely serve. Today, though, the world holds a peculiar charm.

You approach the lavish bathing chamber, where a warm bath awaits, its steam curling into the air like whispers of long-hidden desires.

Jaime Lannister sits in the tub, tired and covered in the remnants of his last battle- a unique blend of blood and grit smeared over his golden skin. He glances up at you, and your breath catches in your throat.

He gives you that familiar teasing smile, the one that always makes your heart race, and you feel a heat rise to your cheeks.

“Come on, don’t you have a task to help with? Or do you plan to stare at me all day?”

His tone is light, but you can see the fatigue behind those mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Ser, I have to.."

You begin, your voice barely above a whisper before you catch yourself, flustered. You shouldn’t get too close, but the urgency of your duties pulls you toward him.

“Help me wash, perhaps?”

He suggests, delighted by your evident struggle. The words tumble out like a gentle tease, and you can’t help but feel the electricity that crackles between you, teasing the edges of propriety.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate, my lord,”

You murmur, your heart pounding as a flurry of sensations engulfs you: his warmth, the inviting water, and the very real danger of crossing lines you never dared imagine.

“Come now, I promise I don’t bite.”

Jaime chuckles, his cocky bravado hanging in the air. He knows how to charm, and the glint in his eye beckons you, pulling you closer even as doubt whispers in your mind.

You hesitate, your hands clenching nervously at your sides. Yet something deep within you ignites; the mundane fades, replaced by curiosity and an unexpected desire to ease the weariness stamped across his rugged features. Clenching your jaw, you take a tentative step closer.

“I suppose I could help, my lord..”

You murmur, your voice wavering from nerves as you set the basin on a small table beside him. His grin only widens, reflecting a mixture of appreciation and mirth.

As you dip your hands into the warm, fragrant water, you feel an undeniable thrill at the thought of touching him, the bravery you muster as vital as any shield he wears as a knight.

You reach for a cloth and begin to gently scrub at his shoulders, the tension in your shoulders melting under the steam and the soft lapping of water.

“Ah...that's good..”

Jaime lets out a low sigh, letting his head fall back against the edge of the tub. You can’t help but sneak a glance at his face- the way the sunlight cascades through the windows highlights his sharp features, making him seem as though he’s carved from the finest ivory.

“How is it? How does it look?”

He asks, his voice soft, almost intimate. He was asking about his blood stained body, your eyes watching something else. You look at him, caught between a world of duty and an aching need to remain close.

“Nice,”

You whisper, your voice hushed as you try to conceal the warmth rising in your chest.

“I mean the bath, um, it looks nice.”

A teasing laugh escapes his lips, and he captures your gaze.

“Is it just the bath, my dear? Or are you noticing something else?”

His tone is lightly suggestive, turning heated, and your heart evens out in a chaotic rhythm as you feel the intensity of his stare.

You scold yourself internally; this is absurd! The attraction between you seems both uniquely magical and utterly reckless. You fight the urge to retreat, to hide behind the modesty surrounding your position.

But as your hands glide across his muscular form, the warmth of the water and the connection between you both grow.

“Most servants would turn on their heel at such an offer.”

He remarks playfully, breaking the tension as you wash his arm.

“Mainly because they’re worried about their standing, or about getting into trouble. But here you are, helping me.”

“I- well, I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. You looked like you could use some help, ser.”

You admit, your fingers tracing across his skin as a gentle flush brightens your cheeks once more.

“Helpful servants are hard to come by, but I suppose I’m lucky today.”

His tone turns serious then, and for a moment the teasing facade falls away.

“You know, I’m grateful for your kindness. It’s the little things that carry me through.”

The sincerity in his words sends a flush through you, and you smile nervously as you catch his eyes.

“It’s just, um, my duty my lord.”

You reply modestly, even as a multitude of thoughts scatter in your mind, overwhelmed by his charm and allure.

“Not everyone sees it that way.”

He whispers, the hidden meaning in his words resonating deep within you.

“They are often so caught up in what they think they deserve.”

He takes the cloth from your hand unexpectedly, catching you off guard with his attitude; then he begins to wash your arms in return, the warm water slipping down your skin in soothing waves.

Your breath catches in your throat again; there is something intoxicating about the shared intimacy of the moment- a spark igniting across the surface.

“This must be how we find solace; even if only for a moment in our turbulent lives...”

He murmurs, his eyes darkening with emotion.

Your heart fights against the weight of what you know: the chasm of class between you, the rules that separate servant from lord. Yet here you are, soaked in warmth and laughter, and for just this fleeting moment, nothing else matters.

“I think you’re right, Ser Jaime.”

You say, your pulse quickening.

“And while we both know this can’t last, I…”

You falter, biting your lip to stem the rush of emotion. You wish you could capture this moment forever- the warmth, the laughter, and the gentle brush of hands against skin.

The bathwater swirls around you like possibilities yet to unfold. Acceptance and longing tangle deliciously, leaving you breathless, as the kingdom outside carries on unaware of the magic forged in a king’s guard and a humble servant's hidden connection.

"Maybe... maybe if no one knows. I am Ser Jaime, no one will question my actions or attractions."

With a soft laugh, Jaime splashes water toward you, breaking the tension, and you can't help but smile brightly as every droplet shimmered like hope- a secret you both would carry, one that stretched across the burdens of nobility and servitude alike.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment a little longer, shall we?”

He invites, mischief twinkling in his eyes. And as you lean closer with warmth against warmth, the world fades away, leaving you only with a heart that races in the bubble bath of Kings Landing.

Phewwww I love this one! Jaime is such a tease tho TwT

I can write anything for any character babes and don’t forget- requests are always open and welcome <33

I love you guys so much

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[eufezco]

so i've always had this smut fic in my mind about lannister!reader x obery martell but idk if anyone would want to read something game of thrones related in big 2025 😭

can you like this post if you'd read it?

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Brienne of Tarth Masterlist

Mommy… Master List

Approach at your own risk... smut = * extra smutty=**

One Shot

“I love MILFs” Shirt

Initialized Necklace ~GN!Reader

You’re Too Good for Me ~Larissa Weems xBrienne of Tarth*

Oh and I take Requests, so hit me up with your ideas 😉 Requests & Prompt-List

[venusbyline]

Cregan, Jon, Harwin, Young!Tywin, Visenya and Erryk as Earth lovers????? YEAH I AGREE WITH YOU 😭😭

This headcanon isn't about zodiac signs, but as a person obsessed with astrology and with my big 3 being only earth signs (I'm Capricorn with rising and moon sign in Taurus), I can admit that almost all of these characters would actually be earth signs, whether Taurus, Virgo or Capricorn 🤫🤫

Also... I guess I'm kinda mountain earth lover type (romantically and platonically)

ASOIAF lovers as elements (part earth)

The Earth lovers are defined as stable and grounded, in most cases they may often come off as brute, rough around the edges, stern, and scary even but with time you will notice other softer qualities

The core ways an Earth lover would show their love for you is through loyalty, supportiveness, and protectiveness

The Earth lover can further be split into different subgroups where they can fall in all categories, some categories or be more of one than a other

They can be like the mighty oak tree where their love is deeply rooted and no force can ever come between their love for you. They are extremely loyal to you and would never be unfaithful to you. Never even faltering for a second if anything no matter how tempting tried to come between you two

Or they can be like the plant. In order for most plants to grow and bloom into something strong and beautiful they need to be in the best conditions and for your lover your relationship is the plant and they are the gardener. This type of Earth lover is very nurturing, ensuring you are well taken care of in every aspect of your life. Their top priority is your wellbeing and happiness , even spoiling you a bit because they never give you anything but the best. Their loyalty also shows here as well as patience. More than likely your marriage would be due to a political agreement thus you two would start off as strangers. They will be patient and not force or rush your growing relationship and they will be loyal, staying devoted no matter how long it takes for you two to be finally familiar and comfortable with each other

Like the mountain the earth lover is usually has steadfast and stubborn in personality. This may seem negative but it can also be positive. When trouble comes they are unyielding and refuse to buckle under pressure and will be quick to act as a sanctuary and anchor to keep you grounded so you won’t fall. You can always count to lean on them as they are unshaken and ready to take on issues

earthquake are terrifying, dangerous, and violent. The earth lover protection toward you is like an earthquake. Most of the time your earth lover prefers to stay silent and steady but the moment you are hurt, threaten, disrespected even they erupt in a terrifying and violent anger. So terrifying and violent it leaves not only the threat but any one else who’s witness this anger to be afraid. They respond so recklessly and violently immediately because they want no confusion in the slightest with how important you are to them and what will happen if someone tries to come between that

Earth lovers may seem unapproachable like a vast forest, intimidating like a mountain, or unyielding like a boulder, but they are also like a geode and if you take time to explore them getting to truly know them you’ll find beauty within them

Cregan Stark, Jon Snow, Harwin Strong, Young!Tywin, Visenya Targaryen, Erryk Cargyll

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Heirs

Pairing: Robb Stark x Baratheon/Lannister reader

When Ned Stark comes to King's landing, he learns that out of Cersei's children, you, the arranged bride of his eldest son, are the only legitimate heir of Robert's. This discovery challenges the Lannisters and costs Ned his life.

When Ned Stark is executed, Robb is left broken, his family torn apart... and the only person he can take his frustration out on is you, his arranged bride, and the sister of the boy who ruined his life and had his father killed.

Tags: Arranged marriage, Robb is a bad boy in this one, corruption, innocent reader, first time,

CH. 1 First Meeting - Ned Stark's eldest son and Robert Baratheon’s eldest (legitimate) daughter got off to a relatively exciting start.

Chapter tags: fluff, first meeting, Robb and reader are kids here, teasing, Cersei is nice,

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The lord of Winterfell sat stoic, alongside his lady wife at the long table, on which one side seated his people, across from the other, which seated the party from Kings Landing. Ned Stark's sons were sitting by his side. The eldest, Robb, had just turned eleven. Now, in the midst of his warrior training, the boy wasn't small by any means. Though his body was developing and he had already reached his mother in height, Robb still maintained a spark of childlike michieve in his grey eyes.

Ned had wanted Robb to have a good childhood, but circumstances had forced him to educate his son to fight and rule from a young age. He was glad Robb still had cleverness in him to retort his brothers jests, and the chivalry to protect his little sisters, but knew the playfulness would someday come to an end when Robb will need to lead his people into winter.

The Baratheons visiting from Kings Landing sat alongside the Starks, eyeing the table in front of them, some were eating away happily, like the king, while some, like his wife Cersie grimaced at the display of meat, likely not used to the lack of decorum in her sheltered palace.

Ned hid his guilty smirk at the discomfort. Cersei and her children all sat together as well, the eldest, a pretty girl of nine was helping her rowdy little brothers and sister to food, mixes of greens consisting of fruits, nuts, and vegetables, with measured and delicate movements.

Ned both loathed and excited at the idea of betrothing his son to the kings daughter. There would be peace in the realm on one hand. On the other hand, the Lannisters' reputation for manipulation made him uneasy.

The girl was frail, weak even compared to Rob’s small and hyper siblings, let alone to Robb himself. Already you were attracting attention, as the boys at the table kept turning to look at you. With long hair falling on the side of your tanned face and freckles decorating blushing cheeks.

Before the feast, he was pulled Robert and Cersei aside and discussed the match.

Not enjoying the attention some of the boys and even some men were giving you, Ned gave Robb a nudge, interrupting his conversation with his brother, Jon. "Perhaps you should entertain your guest, son?"

The boy followed his fathers gaze to you, then to the men eyeing you and understanding set. Robb nodded and stood to head over to the table where you sat. He bent down and whispered something in your ear, making you jump in surprise at first, before listening in. You looked up at him, feeling a slight warmth on your ears and cheeks, and turned to ask your mother for permission to go with him. The queen nodded at your request, smiling fondly at you, momentarily eyeing Robb with suspicion.

The boy offered one of his signature, easygoing smiles, offering you his hand before leading you outside.

One of his footsteps was twice as big as yours. You had to jog rather than walk to keep up with him, lifting up your dress high enough not to trip but also low enough not to expose yourself. He didn't slow down to match your speed either, which caused your father, the king, to smirk to his old friend.

Ned and Catelyn watched their heir leave the feast with the princess, then turned to his men, who asked him questions about the following year's harvest.

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You let yourself be led out of the warm and loud comfort of the great hall and out into the chilled, windfilled night of the north. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere," the boy leading you replied. "My father told me to entertain you."

"Oh," you let out a small breath and looked down shyly. Of course, he wasn't with you of his own free will.

"Wanna see what northerners do for fun?" He asked.

You felt a flash of nervousness go down your spine. "Is it dangerous?"

He turned around to look if you were serious, grey eyes studied you in amusement before he let out a chuckle. "No. We just climb up the walls," He nodded towards a massive stone wall of the castle of winterfell, rising up to touch the night sky.

Your eyes traveled all the way up, and your mouth dried. Your fear of hights warred with your desire to impress him. In the end, your fear won. "Then, m-maybe we shouldn't."

"Oh, princess." he teased, tilting his head mockingly. "Are you scared?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Nevertheless, you would stand your ground, just as your mother taught you to. "You can not speak to me that way."

He stopped walking and turned to look at you. "So you do have guts…" He said calmly, approaching you. Deep grey eyes staring at you under messy dark brown hair. Taking a step back, you had decided you'd rather he yelled. It would have scared you less than this.

You tried your best not to cower. "I don't want to do anything dangerous -" you winced at how your voice rose louder than you had intended, making you sound all the more afraid. "Sorry," you added in a small voice. "Can we do something else?"

He raised one dark brow at you as if considering your question. Finally, he spoke again. "No." He said, and he pulled you by the hand anyway.

Your eyes widened in fear, and you glanced back to the feast to your mother and sister.

"Easy, princess." He said before facing you again and saying quietly, "I won't let you fall."

The two of you climbed up the wall. It went up around five meters and was already on a hill. It was the highest you had ever been, and the effects were obvious, as you panted, your lungs trying to catch up with you. Robb had no trouble, effortlessly climbing the slope, not carefully stepping around the slippery ice like you were. At some point, he began pulling you along with his free hand, bringing you both to one level. How was he holding on to the jagged, frost-covered brick without a rope? Without gloves? And able to carry both of your weight?

You didn't trust him, but it didn't feel like you had much of a choice, like you were fighting an uphill battle.

You felt lightheaded as you gripped onto him. At last the two of you reached the flattened top. The sounds of laughter and signing caused you to turn to the right. There were young people everywhere along the top of the wall. A few of them cheered and waved as they saw the two of you climb up.

You blinked and let herself be put down, concentrating on staying upright. You were taking labored breaths, and you turned to look at their surroundings, gasping when you saw the view. The snow-covered roofs were magnificently illuminated by the full moon, and misshapen clouds danced in the stars above you. You were looking in fascination when all of a sudden, a flask was thrust in front of you.

"Drink up," You turned to see Robb wipe at his chin, a clear liquid making his lips shine.

She took the bottle tentatively, gasping "What's in it?"

"Something tasty. Trust me."

"I don't think I should." You shook your head.

He rolled his eyes at that. "Live a little, princess. I already said I'll look out for you. If anything bad happens to you, the king will skin my ass-"

You gasped.

"- so you're safe."

"Why do you speak like that?" You admonished. "You are a lord of a great house!"

You eyed the container and shook your head, handing it back to him. He took another couple of sips and howled at the moon, startling you again. His was followed by a series of howls from the teenagers on the rocks. They sat on a cold rock and looked over the clouds and mountains. There wasn't enough time to take in all the gorgeous scenery, from the hills to the planes to a big snowy mountain in the distance.

He gave you a condescending smirk, flashing a set of perfect white teeth.

For some reason, you didn't understand. Some Northerners sharpened their canines. Robb was one of them. Had his teeth even fallen yet? You snapped out of your thoughts when he said. "Because it's fun to watch you squirm. Are you gonna have any or not?"

He draped one arm around your shoulders casually, which made your labored breathing even more difficult. Bringing his shaggy head close to hers, he squinted. "Do you know what you're looking at?"

"The wall," you supplied. From his close proximity, you could smell the metallic scent of the drink coming from his lips.

"Very good,” he nodded, the praise making a warmth spread in your chest. "The wall. So far away, and here we are. And all our problems. So insignificant." You felt a tug at one strand of your hair and turned to see his hand pulling at it playfully.

You disregarded the gesture, which made your heart speed up and focused on his words instead. “What's beyond it? What's it hiding?”

His look turned serious all of a sudden as he gazed on to the faraway intimidating pile of ice. Then he turned back to you, grey eyes staring in melancholy into your soul. "Nothing a princess should ever worry about."

You blinked up at him, and a shiver ran up your spine. You turned back and looked at the moon. It was marvelous that up close,you could clearly make out the craters and valleys. You wondered, not for the first time, how it came to be.

You were opening your mouth, about to follow up with more questions, but the climb had tired you out quicker than you had expected, and your vision blurred. You felt herself fall back, waiting to hit the ground, when your vision went completely dark.

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You woke up to a black sky filled with stars. Blinking, you realised your head was in someone's lap, and someone was gently stroking your cheek. You took a long breath, and your vision became clearer. The muffled sounds around you were clearing up as well. You realised whose lap your head was in and who was stroking your cheek. You got up with a start, making him move his hand. Grey eyes focused on you with curiosity. "I've never seen anyone pass out from speaking before. Good instinct on not drinking the ale."

Your brows furrowed. "The what? Nevermind. It's the air. It is hard to breathe up here."

You felt yourself going dizzy again. In Winterfell, you had never been this elevated before back in Kings Landing, but sitting on the walls of the castle itself… What were you thinking about again?

"Woah!" Rob caught and held you before you could fall once more, heat from his large, muscular body bringing you somewhat back to reality.

"Bring... me... down," you managed between gasps. You mustered the strength to add, "or my lungs will rupture, I will die, and my father will skin your… ass."

But it looked like the second part of your rant was unnecessary because he lifted you in his arms, said goodbye to his companions, who hooted and laughed. You caught some muttering about a "first timer" or “southerner”. They were laughing at you. The king's daughter. But you didn't have it in you to care as you struggled to stay awake.

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By the gods, this girl was fragile, Robb thought to himself while he carried the gasping, shivering little thing to the edge of the castle walls. He felt around with one hand to find his rope, always neatly tied at his belt. He'd thought to himself, could carry you all the way down and have a boring evening, or, he could excite you a bit. He chuckled to himself, knowing exactly which option he was going to choose. He lowered you to stand on your own and got his axe from his belt before tying it to his rope. He zeroed in on the tall oak in the courtyard. His target. He's practiced and hit with longer distances. He will be fine this time.

You shivered and stared as he did so.

Robb kissed the hilt of his axe, saying a quick prayer. "You may want to crouch."

You did so instantly, making a ball on the ground. Robb took aim and held the end of the rope, which wasn't tied to the axe, and sent the blade flying. It pulled and pulled on his rope until wedging itself sideways in the oak.

Robb grinned down and said, "You can get up now, princess."

You stood up slowly, your eyes widening at his shot. "How…?”

He grinned and tied the other end of the rope around himself, then offered you his hand.

You eyed his outstretched hand, then the rope, the tree, then the wall. "I think I'll just go down the steps-!" He pulled you against himself and jumped. Your lungs must have recovered because you screamed the whole way down. Robb used his weight to swing you both once around the oak before landing in the snow.

He looked down at you and saw a shudder when you glanced back at the top of the wall where you both were a minute ago.

"Gods," you gasped before turning to look up at him, your eyes reflecting the stars. "Thanks for not dropping me."

He raised a brow, implying that you did not need to say that.

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That evening, his father told him something Robb already suspected: the king and queen had arranged a match between you and him.

[catsteeth]

She's My Collar

Sandor "The Hound" Clegane x Baratheon Princess

+:✿ Request ✿:+ 

Request: “This request is for sandor of course!! I am all for angsty, yearning sandor clegane!! My train of thought is all over the place but heres a list of something I hope you could include in the one shot: •hozier level yearning •unrequited love/want •perhaps stark!reader or baratheon!reader •fleeting interactions like something small but it sticks with sandor •“im not a religious man but ill follow her” kinda vibe if that makes any sense!!" CW: MDNI, ANGST, afab reader, alcohol consumption, unrequited love, yearning, misogyny, arranged marriage, violence, joffrey being joffrey, mention of death.  A/N: He’s pathetic and I love it

Word Count: 5K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The girl was born a Baratheon, born to Robert Baratheon during a previous marriage. Her mother, born to some wealthy house. But her memory would be lost in time after she died in childbirth. Robert did not speak of her. Cersei despised the mention of her name. So not much was known of her. Though she must’ve been pretty, as the girl born to Robert Baratheon was a girl of beauty. And soon after her mother’s death, Robert married Cersei Lannister. 

Either due to jealousy or embarrassment Cersei would treat the girl with malice, and hostility. But unlike the King's eldest son, the girl was kind and good. 

The boy was born to a man who wanted nothing more than for his sons to be knights of the Seven Kingdoms. His ambitions blinded him, allowing his eldest son Gregor to commit horrid acts. So long as the boy was a knight, none else mattered. The man's youngest son was kind. He was just a boy, no more than six years old. 

The little boy dreamed of being a knight just as his father did. Dreamed on the good deeds he would do in the name of his king and the Seven Kingdoms. Though those dreams would be dashed and discarded once the boy's older brother showed him the cruelty the world is capable of. The cruelty he was capable of. The cruelty the world rewarded him for. 

The boy grew into The Hound, Sandor Clegane the second most feared man in the Seven Kingdoms. The girl grew into a princess, one hated by her stepmother and eldest half brother. But loved by her father, her half siblings, the realm, and by a Hound.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

The Hound and the princess grew alongside one another most of his life. He could remember when he and she were much younger. The Lannisters and the Baratheons were traveling across the Stormlands. It was a hard journey, soon food became scarce. Naturally the scraps of whatever the royals did not eat were left to the guards and any other member of the traveling crew. But the princess would offer a young hound the meat from her plate every night.  He always hesitated, but was too hungry to deny her charity. She never held her charitable act over him, never even mentioned it. 

He was not one to appreciate beauty, nor was he one to indulge himself in fantasies of love. But the princess’s beauty was one that haunted Sandor. His whole life he looked at her as though she were the maiden herself. And the princess did not look upon the Hound with grotesque curiosity. Nor did she flaunt his presence to others in a manner of threatening them. No, the princess was kind towards him, kind when she did not have to be. He often found kindness a weakness in people, but in her kindness he found a comfort. 

The girl was different from her father, different from her brother. She was kind, she was honest, and he would follow her as if she was a God.  

He could also remember the first time she bestowed her favor onto him. 

Sandor never feared the tourneys he fought in. He did not fear the joust, he did not fear the competitors. What he did not like was the tradition of asking a noble lady for her favor. 

Sandor never liked this tradition. Never liked having to speak to noble ladies much less ask them to favor him. Not only was it ridiculous to him, the ladies often grimaced at his gesture. But at this tourney, and every tourney after it, he would pick the lady he wished to have picked each time before. 

As he rode his intimidatingly large black ill tempered stallion around the tournament pit. He looked up at all the noble ladies above him, looking down at him. They all sneered at his gaze, wishing not to be picked. The noble men all snickered amongst one another. But there was one person who looked upon him with indifferent eyes. The Baratheon girl’s eyes were not filled with pity, disgust, nor anticipation for the violence he was about to insight for the high lord's entertainment. She simply watched him with her same kind eyes. 

He did not think much of it, it came naturally to him as he stopped his horse in front of the royal family's seating. “I ask the favor of the Princess.” He said begrudgingly. 

The princess rose from her seat with a smile. She grabbed a ring of florals and silk. The flowers were yellow and the silk ribbon was black, the colors of both her house and his. As she approached him, she smiled upon him and placed the favor upon his joust. “I wish you good fortune, Sandor Clegane.” Sandor, he did not know she knew his name. Her voice itself was gentle and hushed, only for him to hear. Her smile was gentle and warm, one that he would have killed to see each night. One that he won the tourney for. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

Once, Joffrey had decided that a servant boy had shot him a momentary disrespectful glance. If he had, it would not have been unwarranted, though who is to say if he even did. Joffrey, sometimes bored, would pretend small disrespectful gestures were made against him. Allowing him to justify any horrid act he found amusement in subjecting any poor soul to. 

“I am sorry, my prince! Please if you would give me another chance-” The servant boy pleaded on his hands and knees. His cheek red from the blow Ser Meryn had given him moments before. 

Sandor never liked being Joffrey's sworn shield. Never liked that blonde cunt at all. Whenever he wanted to feel powerful, wanted to hurt someone weaker than him for no good reason, it bored and irritated him. 

Though it hardly ever embarrassed him, until she stepped into that room.

“Brother stop this!” The Baratheon princess commanded with a look of disgust. Sandor, though he’d not laid a hand on the boy, swallowed hard and stood straighter at her sudden presence. He worried how she’d look at him now, would her kind eyes fade for him?

“Why should I?” Joffrey asked her back with a raised brow.

The girl, bravely scoffed and took a few steps closer to her younger ‘brother’, “Because I commanded you to.” She said with angry eyes, an expression Sandor rarely saw from her. She looked beautiful even when she was angry.

Joffrey narrowed his eyes at her, “Who are you to command anything of me?” he stifled a laugh which only enraged her more. And only enraged Sandor more.

She took another step closer to him. Her hand gently trailed along the extravagantly dressed wooden table. “Your elder sister, the Kings first born-” 

“First born daughter.” Joffrey finished her words for her. “Daughter. You are not heir to anything. I’ll be king one day and you, a princess for a lifetime.” He said laughing as if he were amused by some great jest. “And as your king, I could have anything done to you that I like.” He walked closer to her, with a threatening gaze. “In fact, as heir to the throne, I could do anything I like. I could have Ser Meryn hold you down and-”  And with that the girl's temper got the better of her. She grasped a glass goblet from the table she stood by, and threw it with great force at her brother’s feet. The goblet shattered into a hundred pieces. Bits of it flew and cut Joffrey’s right hand. And some other bits cut Sandor’s cheek, not deeply but enough to bleed. “You cannot do that!” His shrill voice cracked as he grasped hold of bleeding palm.

“Clearly I can.” The girl said with little emotion. It would have made Sandor laugh if he didn’t have to worry about the other royal guards. He worried that they would put their filthy hands on you, or would be foolish enough to draw their swords. 

Though none would. The guards were shocked by the scene. This princess had never done so much as raised her voice, and now she was assaulting their future kind. They had to think of defending one of the King’s children from the other. They stood, unsure of how to act.

Furiously Joffrey shouted, “I’ll tell my mother!” Knowing his father would do nothing but ridicule him.

The princess raised her hand, and slapped the boy across the cheek, “Tell her I did that as well.” She added. 

Her slap was enough to leave a red imprint across the boy's face.

In a fit of anger, the young prince grabbed hold of his sword. Prepared to draw its blade and point it at the princess. Just before Sandor could grab the prince, a different Kingsgaurd stepped between the two royals. “Stop this!” the man commanded. Joffrey let go of the sword's hilt and the girl began to walk away, ready to face whatever punishment her step mother desired. 

With her back turned, and the guards' attentions divided. Joffrey ceased his moment, and drew the thin blade of his sword and readied himself to strike the princess. 

“Boy!” The princess turned back as the Hound’s loud voice boomed out through the dining hall. She was stunned by the sight before her. The prince’s attack was stopped by the Hound ceasing the blade with his bare hand. Blood from his hand trickled down the blade of the sword.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Soon the two royal children were brought before their father the King.

“How the fuck did any of this happen? You are meant to protect my blood!” King Robert questioned the KingsGuard furiously. 

“Never had to protect a princess from a prince.” Ser Meryn attempted to explain, “Or a prince from a princess.” He said in a lower tone that angered Joffrey.

“Shut up!” King Robert angrily shouted, sick of hearing whatever excuse they had. He sat back in his chair, and huffed loudly. He looked between his two children. “Well done, my girl.” He said in a gruff low tone.

Joffrey looked surprised his father would congratulate her on striking her brother. “But look what she-“ Joffrey began, holding up his cut palm.

Though Robert interrupted him, “How could you ever be a king if you cannot win a fight against a woman?” 

“Father!” Joffrey’s shrill voice shouted, 

“Leave!” Robert shouted back. With an infuriated huff, Joffrey left accompanied with two guards by his side. Though Sandor stayed in the room. “Girl, come ‘ere.” Robert commanded much softer to his daughter, waving his hand, beckoning her to come closer. 

She did as her king commanded. Stepped closer to him with her head lowered. Robert stood before her, and held her chin up with his fingers. “You’re more of a man than your brother.” He said proudly. He meant it as a complement, it was a rare thing to receive as a child of Roberts. With a sigh he patted the girl on the back, “Go on then.” He said softly dismissing her. 

She nodded and took her leave as her father requested. 

As the girl left, Sandor turned to follow her out. Though the King’s voice beckoned out, stopping him in his steps. “Dog.” Sandor stopped, and turned towards the King, “If that yellow haired shit lays a hand on my girl you beat him.” The King commanded. Sandor needed no other instruction. He was quite content to do so. “Understood?” The King pressed.

Sandor nodded, “Aye.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As the Hound walked down the Halls of the keep, he saw the princess walking in the opposite direction. He tried to keep his eyes ahead, not looking at her at all. 

Though his illusion of disinterest did not deter the girl, “I beg pardon, ser.” Her serene voice called out gently. It felt like a cool breeze on a hot day, a relief. 

Sandor looked up at her, hoping she was not speaking to him. If she was, he knew whatever words she spoke to him would haunt his thoughts. As he looked at her, he knew she was speaking to him. He swallowed and then croaked out, “I’m no ser.” 

The Baratheon princess shook her head, “No. You are more true than any knight.” He knew her words would haunt him, but now they would torture him. The girl stepped forward, making him almost flinch, “All the knights in that room were content to let my brother kill me. What you did today-“

The girl began but the Hound interrupted her, knowing if she thanked him, his stomach might turn. “It’s my duty to protect you.” He grumbled, attempting to not look the girl in the eyes. Her beautiful eyes.

“I’d call it brave.” She chimed, making him stop and turn to face her once again. He was about to tell her it was not brave but she continued, “But I know you’d not. You are a hard man with many scars. You needn’t courage, nor praise. But I thank you for what you've done.” 

Fuck.

He was never thanked for doing his duty. Never thanked for anything. He was commanded and he did as he was told. 

Her eyes wandered over the Hound’s face. It made him feel weak, for the first time in a very long time. “I am sorry-” She said, her voice sickeningly sweet. Sandor looked at her with confusion, “Are you hurt?” She asked as she reached her hand towards the cut on his cheek. Her sudden movement made him flinch. 

“No.” He rasped quickly. 

The girl however was scared of the Hound. She continued forward and placed a hand on the Hounds shoulder. Even though her hand was separated from his skin by his thick armor, he still felt a chill run over his body. “Oh but you are-” She began, concerned for him. A feeling that was new for him.

“It’s a scratch.” Sandor interrupted the girl.

She shook her head, “Still, I caused it.” The girl reached into the neckline of her gown, making Sandor almost blush. Such a strange thing, a man who had seen every part of a woman, and every sexual act no matter how deviant in almost every brothel in KingsLanding would blush at such a thing. She pulled out a handkerchief embroidered with her name, “Take this.” She said holding it out to him.

He could not take it. He could not, no matter how badly he wanted to. “Don’t need it-” 

“I command you to take it, as your princess.” The girl said without hesitation. Reluctantly Sandor grabbed the cloth, “I am sorry.” She said once more before continuing on and walking past Sandor. 

She did not know that he would worship that cloth. Keep it in his armor, and keep it in his rooms when he slept. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

When Robert mixed drinking and hunting too often, a boar attacked him. Leaving him so injured he was on a deathbed.

The princess visited her father each day, morning, noon, and night. And when he died, she stayed confined to her chambers. Her only company she’d allow was her Septa. Though the girl was grown enough to be without a Septa, hers was closer to a mother. Since the girl never had one, her septa was there for all her girlhood. So she insisted on keeping around. 

Sandor often checked on the girl, though of course she was not wise to this. 

He would open her door, just a crack. He would listen in just to be sure she was alright. One day when he decided to open her door he heard her and her Septa speaking plainly. 

“Do you think the boar was the Gods doing?” The girl asked as she stared out her window with a stoic and dazed expression.

“Hm?” Her septa responded, looking up from the needlepoint she mindlessly toyed at.

The girl did not look at her septa. Simply continued to stare out her window into nothingness. She paused for a moment, not speaking, “I’d a dream the Stranger came to those woods. He changed into a boar and killed my father for his deviance.” She spoke of such morbid dreams with no emotion attached to it at all.

“How awful.” Her septa gasped, throwing her needle point down onto the table in front of her. “No dear girl I don’t think it was.” She said more gently, “You dream too much.” 

The girl shrugged, still not looking at the old woman. “I suppose I’m trying to find the Gods in everything I do.” 

“Prayer is best for that. Not such morbid dreams.” The old Septa said, picking her needle point back up. 

The girl did not respond for a moment, still simply staring out into nothing. “Do you think they’re real?” She asked softly and without shame. “Do you truly believe it? Never did you doubt it?” She asked, finally looking at the Old Septa.

“They are real.” She asserted sternly, “You believe they aren’t?” 

The girl sighed, not wanting for a lecture, “I know the Gods are a necessity for people. Like food, water. I know they must exist. But I also know they don’t.” She said calmly. Her words stuck with Sandor like a knife driven into his back.

“What a terrible thing to say.” Her septa said shocked.

“Is it?” The girl's eyes narrowed in confusion, “It’s just my thoughts.”

The septa shook her head looking back to her needle point. “You think too much, dear girl.” 

The girl sighed and went back to looking out her window, “Seems I do too much and not enough.”

Without many words at all, this lonely girl would consume Sandor’s every thought. She was smart and kind. Two things Sandor did not think of himself. 

He did not believe in the Gods, because if there were Gods, why did they punish this girl? Perhaps she was his punishment. Perhaps he was hers. Perhaps it was the world that was their punishment. 

This girl should be queen. She’d be a good one, a better one then her cunt brother. She’d be loved by the small folk and no doubt able to keep some kind of peace, even with the war. She’d not let her pride keep the seventh kingdom. If they wanted independence they’d have it. Clearly they could fight well enough on their own. But she was not queen. But she was his. 

How her hair laid against the delicate fabric of her pillow. She was all too precious for his affections. He couldn’t help it really, he felt drawn towards her. Felt a stronger pull towards her than he felt towards anything, even food or water. But he’d never subject her to his presence. 

He simply needed to see her, needed to know she was safe.

She slept sweetly, her breathing though loud was the calmest noise he’d heard. It was like the sounds of waves meeting the sands. 

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes he would fantasize about what it would feel like to sleep beside her. For her to invite him into her bed. To sleep in his arms. He’d feel her heartbeat against his own. He’d smell her scent, and feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. He never slept well, but he believed if she was in his arms, perhaps he could. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As time went by, the royal family debated what to do with the girl. She was not a Baratheon Lannister, she was the reminder of Robert's first marriage, a reminder that Joffrey was not the true king. 

Sandor stood guard by the small council’s chamber door as he heard the girl’s step mother Cersei say, “She’s as wild as the boar that killed her father. No man would want her, she is too difficult. So give her to the Tyrell’s, a poisoned gift.” 

Overcome with a myriad of emotions, anger, sadness, and grief, Sandor rushed to the girl's chambers. 

Sandor stood behind her door. His hand firmly grasped the door handle, and his forehead rested against the wood of the door.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. 

He wanted to open the door, ask- no beg you to run away with him. He wanted to tell you all the things he felt for you. Wanted to protect you. 

But he was a second son, a kingsguard, he had no land, and no money. He had nothing to offer you, he didn’t even have a handsome face to bargain with. 

And so, he let the handle of the door go, and he walked down the hall. He considered it mercy. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Instead of subjecting that poor girl to his company he decided to subject tavern dwellers to him instead. That night, as her marriage was announced, Sandor sank into his cups.

Though even there he was not protected from talks of her betroval. 

Beside Sandor at another table were four men, 

“Say what you will, I think it’s a perfect match! Loras Tyrell loves a Baratheon!” Some oaf shouted as he slammed his cup onto the table laughing. 

“Aye but she’s missin’ a cock now isn’t she!” A shorter guard shouted out.

Sandor wanted to break the fool's jaws for speaking of her situation with such amusement. “Too bad for Loras, and too bad for all the other men in the realm!” A bald guard added,

The shorter guard raised his cup, “Hear hear. I’ll miss seeing that girl… Miss seeing her bend over to pick flowers.” 

The bald guard nodded in a facade of sadness, “Aye that ass will be missed-”

“No, her pair of tits will be missed!” The fatter guard spoke up.

“Nay her cunt! Ah and what a waste she’ll be giving it to a boy whore.” One of the men said, it was enough for Sandor to slam his cup onto the table in anger. He was trying with all his might to hold onto his restraint.

Though this did not go unnoticed by the men at the table. The oafish one spoke up again, “What of you Clegane?” He said getting closer to the Hound, “You guard that sweet stag so loyally. Surely you’ve thought of what her cunt tastes like-” 

Without another thought, Sandor took the man by the back of his head and slammed it into the table. His nose broke and his teeth cracked. Sandor took his dagger out and stabbed it through the man's hand. His blade took one of the man’s fingers. 

Sandor stood, taking his drink with him, “You speak to me like that again, I’ll take more than a finger.” He warned as he left the tavern in a huff.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

Against his better judgment, that night Sandor checked in on that girl. 

She was with her Septa again. He hoped that she were alone, if she were perhaps in his drunken state he’d have actually begged her to run off with him.

“My father would never have allowed this.” The girl said with a scared and sorrowful waiver of her voice, “Though I suppose it will be a relief to be gone from this place.” She sniffled, “I just don’t want to be forgotten.” 

“You’ll not be forgotten, dear girl.” Her Septa said petting her hair. 

“I suppose if I were to marry anyone in this city it would be him.” She shrugged, “But, I am unsure of how I could please him. You know of his nature. Know of his relationship with my uncle. I care not for any moral righteousness and I hold no judgment of it. But how could I ever make him happy?” She asked desperately, frightened by the prospects of her future. 

Her Septa grasped the girl by her shoulders tightly, “You will make him happy by giving his children royal blood.” 

“And how can I even do that?” The girl put her face into her hands,

“You are familiar with the act, I have explained it-”

The girl interrupted, “I won’t want it.”

Her Septa sighed, “A dreadful duty for some wives. Just lay there. Look at the ceiling and memorize the pattern of the trim. Count the seconds. Anything to let your mind wander away from your body.” She tried her best to comfort the girl, but clearly was doing nothing to help the girl’s fear.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As Sandor took leave of his duties. He threw off his armor without caution, and nearly ripped his clothing off himself. He was angry, no, he was enraged. 

This girl did not deserve this. She deserved none of the shit those blonde shits put her through. And the words of ‘advice’ given to her by her septa only enraged him more. She should have told her to slip poison in his wine. 

Sandor sat down on his bed in his small clothes with a huff. His weight made the bed creek and bow. He drank from a wineskin as he thought of it all. Soon his anger subsided, replaced with a defeated sorrow. 

Naught could be done for her. This much he knew for certain.

So, after his wineskin ran dry he laid down. Finally allowing his body to rest even though his mind could not.

As he laid there, stripped of his armor and steel. As his sensitive skin laid against the rough material of his bedding he was reminded once more that he, and his body were punished. Punished by both too much, and not enough.

Too much combat, too much drinking, too many tourneys, too many cuts and bruises. So much he endured, and his body was punished for it. He ached and felt pains all over his body all the time. His scars were sensitive and hurt in warm bath water. 

But as he laid there he was again reminded how he had not enough. Not enough gentle touches, enough love and care. Though of course he’d never admit it to anyone. His body felt truly alone in his bed. He wished he could have felt her around him. He’d fucked before, that would not shock anyone. But he’d never made love to anyone. And Gods did he need to. 

He thought of it often, kissing her. He’d do it gently. He’d be gentle with her. She deserved gentleness. He’d kiss her while he held her face in his palms. Kiss her neck, press his lips against her skin and lick where she was most sensitive- wherever those spots were. Gods he wanted to know where they were. 

He felt shameful for thinking this way, he really did. He was no better than those men in that tavern. But, he’d be good to her.

He’d make her his wife, in the eyes of The Seven. He’d build her a home. It wouldn’t be like the one she’d been brought up in. Not a castle, but a house made of stone and wood. He’d give her safety, love. And as his hand began to wonder his punished body he thought of how he’d give her children.

He wished to know how her body would feel in hands. How it would feel to have his hands caress her breasts, the curves of her body, the soft plumpness of her belly. He wondered how it would feel to be inside of her. How his cock would feel to slide in and out of her slick, warm, inviting cunt. He did not know, but he did know it would have felt oh so much better than his calassed hand that was wrapped around his length now. 

Though his actions were vulgar and sexual, he did not think of it as that. He couldn’t think of her for long without feeling the need to have her. To be close to her. To please her. To hold her close and make her feel safe under his touch, to make her feel loved and desired with his body, his hands, and his mouth. 

He thought of what her septa told her. That she’d have to lay down and take it. If she was with him she’d want it, she’d never be forced. Bedding would be a pleasure not a duty.

His groans loudened, and his breathing quickened as he thought of how she’d ask him for it. How gentle her touch would feel on his ruined skin. 

Soon he was awoken from his day dream as the hot splash of his release jolted his mind back to reality. 

He did not have her, and she for all he knew, did not want him. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

And so the Hound was left with nothing to do but sit and watch as the love of his life was preparing to leave his life forever. 

He felt his heart breaking as he escorted the royals to the docks with the rest of the Kingsguard. He felt his eyes water as she began to step onto the dock, and approach the boat that would take her away from him. 

Naught could be done for her. 

So without a word the Hound offered the girl his hand. She took it, gently. He helped her into the boat. Her gaze fell onto him, and Gods it felt warm. He wanted to cut through them all. Wanted to take her off that boat and ride her away on Stranger. He’d do all the things he thought of the night before. Build her a home, keep her safe, and he’d love her. But they didn’t live in that world. 

The princess would marry that Tyrell. She’d have his sons, whether she wanted it or not. And she would never know how much her dog loved her.

The Hound watched as the boat sailed away with the girl he had loved all his life.

It’s the world that’s awful.

Thank you so much for your request! It was so much fun to write!!

Requester: @rhinestonecowboysworld

[axelsagewrites]

Can I please request a Dom!Theon with Sub!F reader smut!! Like the scene with Theon and Yara on the horse but continued later that night🥵 I love your writing!!

Theon Greyjoy*Give it Back

Pairing: Theon x f!reader

Word count: 1330

Warnings: teasing, enemies to lovers, make out, f! receiving oral, smut, 18+

A/n: this does deviate from your request a bit but I just couldn’t figure out how I wanted to do it that way so hope this dom theon works instead lol

Masterlist Here

You had arrived at Winterfell a couple of weeks ago with your family while they were conducting business with the Starks, but business was far from your mind. For some reason your mind had been taken over by some cocky, good for nothing, ridiculous, mean, pompous, gorgeous boy who somehow was so attractive despite his arrogance. You say this since the first time you met Theon, he tried to flex on who his father was and who he was and how great he was. You were half tempted to punch him in his very kissable face.

Instead, you decided to try ignoring him to curb your stares. “Look who it is,” Theon’s voice snapped you from your peace. You were sat at a table in the courtyard reading a book when you felt Theon’s arm fall over your shoulders, “Little lady sunshine,”

“Hello Greyjoy,” you said, refusing to take your eyes off your book.

“Leave off,” Robb laughed as he pulled Theon from you and moved to sit beside you. Theon quickly moved to sit across from you with Jon beside him. the three of them continued their conversation while you read, trying to ignore them all when suddenly.

“Hey!” Theon snatched your book. “Give it back!”

“Or what?” Theon snorted, “You’ll make me? I’d like to see you try,”

“Oh really?” you asked, standing up and pretending to be tough though you new it was a façade, “Give me it back,” you instructed again holding your hand out.

Theon laughed as he stood up, holding it out however just as you reached out, he snatched it back, “Or what?”

You sighed as you stepped over the bench and went to leave, “You are an ass Greyjoy,”

“Cmon,” he called after you. “Was only joking,”

You however ignored him as you rushed inside and decided to walk back to your room however you heard footsteps following you, “Hey wait!” you ignored Theon’s calls as you walked up the stairs with him coming closer to you. “Cmon I was only teasing,”

You turned round the corner heading to your chambers when you felt Theon grab your wrist, “Here you can have it back,” he said, holding the book out to you again.

This time you paused, sizing him up before suddenly trying to grab it but instead he just held it up out of your reach. You angrily sighed and went to storm down the corridor but Theon quickly caught back up, grabbing your wrist and turning you till your back was against the wall and he was stood in front of you, “You’re a feisty one,” he said and you hated the fact you were getting turned on by this asshole.

“Are you gonna give it to me or not?”

Theon smirked, stepping closer to you, “Well I could. If you asked nicely,”

“I’m talking about the book,”

“So am I,” he teased, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Though we both know you want something else from me,” his lips across your cheeks till they hovered over your lips, “Go on. Tell me to go away and I will. Unless you don’t want me to that is,”

You felt your breath get caught in your throat then suddenly your lips moved up as if with a mind on their own as they pressed against his. Theon was shocked at first but soon melted into the kiss. His hand moved to hold himself up against the wall while yours moved to his shoulder, trailing down his arm then…

“Hey!” Theon protested as you snatched the book and ran down the corridor giggling. You managed to open your chamber door but as you went to shut it Theon held the door open, “You took my book,”

“It’s my book,”

“Says who?”

“Tells me,”

“Oh yeah?” he said, pushing his way into your room not that you were trying very hard to stop him, “Why’d you kiss me?” His question however caught you off guard as you tried to stutter a reply, but he continued speaking cutting you off, “If I didn’t know any better id say you like when I tease you. think I don’t notice it when you blush?”

“I don’t blush,” you mumbled, realising the door was shut.

Theon laughed, raising an eyebrow, “No you do. I see you do it. I see that cute little face of yours get all embarrassed when I rile you up,”

“You’re an ass,” you tried to say but he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his chest making you gasp, “What are you doing?”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his eyes searching your face. You tried to avoid his gaze, but he used a finger to make you face him, “I asked you a question. Do you want me to leave? Or do you want me to show you how a Greyjoy does it?” he asked, his hot breath fanning your face.

Your lips really must have a mind of their own cause they were suddenly pressed to his again. You dropped the book, no longer caring about it as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue ran over your bottom lip. When you didn’t open his hand suddenly moved to squeeze your ass. You gasped into the kiss and Theon took the opportunity.

Suddenly you felt him walking you towards the bed. Your knees hit the back of the frame and Theon only broke the kiss to push you to fall on your back on the bed. “What are you- “you tried to ask as he sunk to his knees in front of you, pulling you to the edge of the bed, “Theon- “

“Its my lord to you,” he instructed as he pushed up your skirts, “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” he asked, his hands wandering up your thighs, “Me in your chambers like a dirty little secret? Teasing you, touching you, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull?” he said before suddenly nipping your thighs making you gasp, “I asked a question,” he said with a pointed look.

“Yes, my lord,” you said though it was half a whimper when his head dipped down and you could suddenly feel his hot breath fanning your wet cunt, “Please Theon-I mean my lord. Please just fuck do something please,”

“That’s more like it,” he grinned, kissing your inner thigh, “Love it when you beg for me. Knew you were dirty, so I did. fucking love, it,” he said, his mouth moving further up till he placed a kiss to your clit making you moan.

He took this as encouragement however as his lips moved to lick over your clit, your hand shooting out to grab his hair as he did so. His tongue began to work wonders, massaging your bundle of nerves before moving down to your hole. You gasped when you felt it sink in, your legs moved to rest on his shoulders. Theon’s hands moved to grab your thighs, his fingernails sinking into your flesh as his nose began to nuzzle against your clit.

You couldn’t help the moans and whimpers that came from you especially not with a knot quickly tightening in your stomach. As you felt yourself come closer to the edge Theon moaned against your cunt, vibrations shooting down your spine as you felt your body tighten before you finally reached your peak while tugging on his curls. “Oh fuck, Theon,” you moaned, his tongue not stopping till you fell limp on the bed.

You were both panting as he came up for air with a grin on his now wet face, “So much for hating me,” he chuckled as he moved to lay on the bed beside you. he brushed the hair out your face as his lips moved to hover over yours, “Now where were we?”

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[raven-dor]

me and my husband

In which gwayne hightower is overprotective of his pregnant wife, and she begins to worry about the outcome of the birth

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader

WARNINGS: angst, anxiety, rough pregnancy, mentions of blood, arguing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

🎶 : me and my husband - mitski

AN: ♥️💗 - I read "chose me" by @entitled-fangirl and had to write something similar for gwayne!! this could also be read as part of the come back to me universe, but you do not have to read any other fic to understand the context!!

She watched from the dark hall, her heart fluttering as he leaned back in his chair, exposing his neck and upper chest. Pregnancy awoke a dangerous animal inside her, one that needed her husband near her at all times. 

Instead, he sat in his office. 

She could not blame him; it was hard work, taking care of Old Town in place of his uncle’s absence. Seeing as his cousin had died recently, Gwayne would stand to inherit the Hightower title, and he all but jumped at the chance to begin his training.

But as of late, it seemed as if she needed him more than he needed her. Mere thoughts seemed to drown out her happiness, every attempt to block them futile. The larger she grew, the closer she got to the inevitable. She cleared her throat, making herself known to her husband. 

“Gwayne?” He looked up, smiling brightly. 

“My love! You should be in bed.” He stood up, ushering her over to a cushion. She glared, letting him coddle her for now.

“I am not inept.” 

“I know, darling.” He knelt in front of her, kissing the back of her hand gently. “But you also know that I cannot help but worry for you.” He caressed her stomach, whispering. “And how is our little one?” 

“You have no need to worry, I assure you. The Maesters say the babe is perfectly healthy; there is no cause for concern.”

“And you?” He kissed her hand once more, his tone softer than before. “How do you fare?”

She was taken aback by that question, avoiding a direct answer entirely. “Do not worry about me.” 

“That is my job as your husband.” He walked back to his desk, putting out the flickering candle. “And Maesters are not always correct.” 

“That is a rather skeptical view.” She grabbed the chair's armrests and pushed herself up. Gwayne glared. 

“Please ask for my aid next time you plan on standing.” 

“Shall I ask you to help me relieve myself as well?” She glared back. “I love you; you know that I do. But I am not a frail piece of straw. I will not break from a gust of wind.”

“You are carrying the future heir to the Hightower name, my dear.” 

Terms like that make her uneasy. That is all she heard all day. ‘Future heir,’ ‘Hightower name,’ ‘a boy.’ All phrases she had heard over a hundred times. She just wanted a moment of peace where she was not reminded how little she mattered in this situation. A tight smile graced her lips, and all humor once held in her tone vanished. “As I am ceaselessly reminded.” 

He grabbed her hand, walking slowly out of the office. “All I ask is that you take care. If not for me, then for the sake of our child.” 

“I am careful.” She glared. “You know this. It’s not as if I go looking for things to hurt the babe. Do not treat me like a child to be watched over.” 

He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. “I do not mean to upset you-” 

“Well, you have.” She scoffed. “You have somehow managed to insult my care for your future line and my child in one blow. It is astonishing, truly. I applaud you.” 

“You know that was not my intention.” He shut their bedroom door, removing his shirt. Y/N tried to keep herself from blushing at the sight, but when he looked like that, it was hard to do. He knelt in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. “I am sorry.” 

She hummed, walking away and sitting in front of her vanity. “Yes, well, I suppose I forgive you.” 

He grinned. “I am glad of it.” 

The woods were peaceful, a nice retreat from the bustling of Old Town. Her velvet green dress dragged behind her as she strolled along the frequently traveled path. She hummed, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the trees swaying.

There was a lake nearby that she desperately wanted to swim in and stare up into the sky of blue. Pushing the tall grass out of her way, the clearing stretched out before her, the lake at the center. She grinned, running down the hill with a newfound joy.

“Y/N? Where are you?” 

Her smile fell, remembering the whole reason she had even been ‘allowed’ to go on this excursion. He’d only let her go if he came along. She sighed, turning around and walking back up the hill. “Coming, my love.” 

The auburn-haired man smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Where did you run off to?” 

“The clearing.” She traced shapes on his chest. “I was thinking, perhaps you could join me for a swim. It is the perfect day for it.” 

“I woul-” 

“My lord.” Their guard’s voice echoed through the forest. Y/N groaned, falling against her husband’s chest. Gwayne kissed the top of her head, smiling sympathetically. “Another time, I swear to you.” She sighed, nodding. A finger hooked under her chin, his eyes serious. “You look far too melancholy, my love.” 

“Well, perhaps if-” 

“My lord, I’m sorry, but it is most urgent.” 

Gwayne sighed, intertwining his hand with hers. “What is it?”

The Maester’s Wing was dim, with just a few candles keeping light. Gwayne had been summoned to settle a squabble between the townfolk, leaving Y/N to visit the old man herself. She tapped her foot against the stone floor, waiting for the Maester to ask her the questions she dreaded.

But those questions never came. 

“My lady.” 

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Maester Jon, it is wonderful to see you.” She held her stomach. “Tell me, any developments my husband or I should be aware of?” 

“Unfortunately, yes, my lady.” He sat down. “It seems, from what we can tell so far, that the birth may result in a breach pregnancy.” Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she felt her breath catch. “A breach pregnancy may result in a choice needing to be made.” He leaned forward, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do you understand what this means, my lady?” 

She nodded, standing up quickly. “I do. Thank you, Maester Jon. I shall relay the news to my lord husband.”

She gave one last glance at the dark corner before practically running out of the wing. She burst through the hall doors, dinner in full swing. There sat Gwayne, eyes drooping, visibly exhausted from his duties. 

Who was she to worry him anymore?

Y/N sat beside her husband, kissing his cheek. “How was your day, my love?” 

“Infinitely better, now that you are here.” He smiled. “How was the visit?” 

She took a large sip of her wine. “Well. All is well.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you.” 

He grinned, squeezing back. “I love you much more, my dear.” 

If he chose the babe, she knew she would surely die from heartbreak before she bled out. She laughed, her eyes watering ever so slightly. “I do not think that is possible.” 

Since learning of the news, she’d been restless, barely sleeping and often waking before the sun. Its bright rays peeked through the curtains, hitting her skin. The warmth soothed her for a moment, but it was just that, a moment. 

The babe kicked harshly, a quiet groan leaving her lips. She stared at the ceiling, thinking that in just a few short weeks, she’d be giving birth in this very bed, staring at the very same ceiling. 

It had always been described to her as horrible and painful beyond recognition. And now that she was carrying an heir, which could possibly be breach, she almost wished she could go back to when they first met and stop herself. When she didn’t have to worry about what she did or where she went, she could just be free. 

He would be pressured into choosing the child over her; she knew this. Sometimes, when the need for an heir was strong, women had been carelessly cut open, being left for dead. It had been done many times, most notably in her lifetime, by King Viserys. Rhaenyra had told her of his actions: how he’d carelessly cut Aemma open, and her mother bled out on the bed without ever getting to hold her babe. 

She looked over at her husband, fast asleep and dead to the world. His hair covered his eyes; his face was shoved into the pillow haphazardly. She giggled; he’d always slept like there was no tomorrow; it was heartwarming, to say the least. She leaned over, pushing the hair out of his face, kissing his forehead gently. 

 Rolling to her side, she quietly stood, careful not to wake him. Pulling on her deep green robe, she made her way to the dining hall, eager to eat something of actual sustenance. 

After learning of the news, she'd picked at her dinner, telling Gwayne it was because the babe made her nauseous. 

In a way, it had. 

The smell of bacon and eggs flooded her senses, and she rounded the corner, the doors of the hall wide open. Greeting the occasional servant that passed by, she sat down, piling food onto her plate. 

“My lord.”

Her attention was drawn to the threshold of the hall, smiling for a moment at the sight of her husband.

He looked angry, stalking toward her, not even acknowledging the man who had greeted him. Odd, he normally slept as long as he could before starting his day. She smiled brightly. “Good morning, my love.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it a good morning?” 

“Quite.” She tilted her head. “Why? Is something amiss?” 

He nodded, crossing his arms. “I awoke, and my wife was gone. Imagine my surprise.” 

She felt horrible leaving him, she could admit. And fighting would only give him more cause to choose the babe over her. “I am sorry if I scared you.” 

“You should be. And another-” He stopped, shock adorning his features. “You are sorry?” 

“I should have woken you. It was my mistake.” She pat the chair next to her. “Please, join me.” 

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have to meet with the steward this morning.” 

Her heart clenched. “I can join you if you’d like-” 

“It is not necessary. I will only bore you.” 

She murmured, reaching out to grab his hand. “You have never bored me.” 

“You are kind, but I’m sorry, I cannot be distracted.” He grabbed a plate, placing a biscuit and two pieces of bacon haphazardly.

She scoffed, glaring at her lord husband. “I did not realize I was such a distraction."

"Y/N...."

"Perhaps I should stay in my chambers for the remainder of my pregnancy. To keep you from further distraction.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” 

She stood, her eyes cold. “I know nothing of the sort.” She looked over his shoulder, beckoning over a servant. “Please move my things into the adjoining room. I will be sleeping there-” 

Gwayne sat his plate down, looking at the servant. “Do not move her things.”  

“My lady?” The young girl looked frightened, scared of the argument she was caught in the middle of. 

Y/N sighed, dismissing the girl. “It is alright.” She walked away, yelling back at her husband. “I shall do it myself.” 

“Y/N!” Gwayne yelled, dropping his plate and running after her. “Come back here at once.” 

She ignored him, walking faster. The stairs proved to be a challenge, holding the railing tight. Gwayne placed a hand on her back. “Let me-” 

She flinched, pushing him back. “Don’t.” 

He mumbled. “You may hate me all you want after this.” 

“After what-” He hooked his arm under her legs, carrying her up the stairs. “Gwayne Hightower! You let me down right now!” 

The top of the stairs was a relief; she practically leaped out of his arms. She walked into their joint chambers, filling her trunk with things she would need. Gwayne sighed, watching from the doorway. “Will you please just-” 

“I will leave you to your devices, my lord. I hope your meetings prove well spent.” Dragging the trunk through the door, she slammed it in his face. 

That had been three days ago. Other than the meals they shared or meetings both were forced to attend, she had steered clear of her husband. For the better part of the day, he would be in a meeting with the patrons of Old Town, or so she’d heard. Y/N took that as an opportunity, rushing out of the castle’s gates. Squealing, she cut through the tall grass once more, racing down the hill towards the lake. She threw her dress off, her petticoat barely revealing her modesty. Not that anyone would see, this part of the wood was only known by the family. 

The water did wonders for her nerves, cooling her skin. Her hair stretched out past her waist, flowing like the tall grass that surrounded this oasis. She floated for what seemed like hours; the babe had not stirred once. She hummed, caressing her bump gently. “It is quite peaceful here, is it not?” 

A kick. 

Y/N grinned, her eyes tearing up. “Please, try your best to make this an easy birth. It would break my heart not to meet you. If that is the case, don’t worry. Your father’s a good man; he’ll raise you well.” 

No kick. 

She laughed. “Do not ignore your mother. It’s quite disrespectful.” 

A kick. 

“I miss him too, my love.” 

A voice broke through the silence. “Miss who exactly?” 

Y/N jumped, standing in the water. “My lord, I did not expect you-” 

“I was in a meeting when a guard informed me you were running out of the castle gates.” His face looked conflicted, but she didn’t want to address the fact that he most likely heard that whole ‘conversation,’ so she remained silent. “Is there something you wish to tell me?” 

So he had heard.

She smiled, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. “I do not know what you are referring to, my lord.” 

“Stop.” Gwayne sighed. “You haven’t called me that since before we were engaged, and I do not wish for you to start again.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Please come out of the lake.” 

She walked past his hand to her dress, every attempt to retrieve it proving futile. “Here.” Gwayne knelt down, picking it up off the stump. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?” 

“I would have figured it out, thank you very much.” She glared, pulling the frock over her head. “Do you not have another meeting to attend, my lord?” 

“I canceled them.” He laughed, stepping forward. “After I heard my wife was running away from our home, I thought it best to tend to the matter myself.” 

“How wise of you.” Y/N crossed her arms. 

“Shall we go to bed?” 

“I am not tired.” She walked up the hill, leaving him behind. “Have a restful night, my lord.” 

She slammed her bedroom door shut, leaning against it. She was tired; she hated to admit it. But she wouldn’t have told him that. She walked over to the window, placing the bouquet she picked on the mantle. A reminder of the freedom she once had. A reminder of life before she faced death itself. 

A knock rang out. “May I come in?” 

She tensed. “If you must.” She faced the window, too scared to face him. If she looked at him, truly looked at him, his eyes bearing into hers, she knew she would begin crying. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“I have to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

She nodded, walking away from the window and placing her robe in her wardrobe. “Ask it then.” 

“Do you still love me?”

Her heart stopped. “I-” 

Gwayne stepped forward, wrapping a singular arm around her waist. He drew her in, his scent engulfing her senses. She fought herself not to fall for his spell, but as he leaned his head down, and his breath hitting her neck, she knew she would not last. “If you do not, speak it plainly because I- I cannot go on like this any longer.” 

She turned around in his arms, placing her hands on his chest. “I do not believe I could ever stop loving you. Trust me when I say this.” She smiled. “I’m afraid it’s terminal.” 

“Ah.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Then what is it that troubles you so?” 

“I do not know what you-” 

“I beg you, do not finish that sentence.” He tilted her chin up, worry in his eyes. “What ales you, my love?” 

“I am simply nervous.” She could not be in his arms any longer. The more she lingered in his embrace, the more compelled she would feel to tell him. “It is nothing, I swear to you.”

He raised his eyebrows, pulling her hands from his chest and kissing them gently. “Please do not lie to me.”

“That night I visited the Maester, he told me something.” He nodded. “He said with the way the pregnancy is progressing, it is possible that the babe will be born breach.” Her voice grew quieter the longer she spoke. 

“That’s not all, is it?” 

She pushed out of his hold, walking to the other side of the room. “I’m so sorry, Gwayne. Truly, I am. Please forgive me-” a sob wrecked her body. “But I want to live. Please.” 

Gwayne shook his head. Where was this coming from? “Whatever are you talking about?” 

“I know I have been acting radical as of late, and I apologize, I just thought-” She hiccuped. “I thought it would make your choice easier.” 

“What choice, darling?” 

She whispered. “Between me and the babe.” 

“Why would I-” It dawned on him. Had she really been dealing with this all by herself? “Oh, my sweet girl. Why did you not tell me?” 

“I didn’t want to stress you any further.” She hugged herself. “Please, Gwayne. I swear I will give you another heir if this pregnancy-” She shivered. “Just don’t cut me. I beg you.” 

He dropped down in front of her, grabbing her hands in his. “Listen to me well. I could sire a hundred children, but you. You are one of a kind, and I will always choose you.” He kissed the back of her hands once more. “Irreplaceable. You must know this.” 

“No one is truly irreplaceable, Gwayne.” 

He stood, his eyes dark. “Do not say such things again. Swear it to me.” 

“I-” 

“Swear it, Y/N.” 

“I swear.” She whispered, cheeks red. “I swear to you.” 

He nodded, smiling lightly. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For coddling you.” He stepped closer, caressing her bump. “I am scared as well. My own mother had many a difficult pregnancy, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” 

“I am sorry as well.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “I should have come to you with my worries. I did not want to burden you. And I will make sure you have your heir. I promise you that.” 

“I do not care if the Hightower name crumbles away into nothingness. As long as you are content, I will be as well.” He leaned down, their foreheads touching. “There would be no point to this without you. I fear I could not do this if you were not by my side.” 

“You have been doing perfectly fine as of late.” She frowned. "I truly am sorry.” 

“No more of that.” He whispered, staring at her lips. “May we please go to bed?” 

She nodded, knowing if she tried to speak, that words would fail her. She lay on the bed beside him, tracing his freckles. “Sleep, my love.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I will be here when you wake, I promise.” 

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[ireneispunk]

Duty

Jacaerys Velaryon x female reader smut

After a rough start to your marriage, whispers from the palace cause you and your betrothed to start what you should have done months ago; produce an heir.

w.c: 1487

c.w: SMUT 18+, NO use of Y/N, not exactly enemies but y'all beefing, hate sex (if you squint, but more like dislike sex and its more just sass idfk), mention of pregnancy, breeding kink, afab reader, p in v sex, fingering, overstimulation, pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so i recently watched the queen charlotte bridgerton spin off and i absolutely loved it, this is very inspired by charlotte and george's earlier dynamic tee hee.

Four months and 3 days. That is how long it has been since your wedding, and how long you have loathed your husband. The two of you were not exactly close before your betrothal on account of the rapidness of it but the tensions that spread between parts of his family did not help. You both seem to fight every conversation you had thereafter, so it became easier to avoid each other. That was until around 3 months into your betrothal that questions of when you would need your dresses altering had you worried. You were supposed to making heirs but you both exploded whilst in the same room as each other.  You’d visited the prince in his separate room and communicated the issue, he was reading by the fire. You played with your fingers in your hands as he eyed the flaw, thinking intently. He placed his book face down on the table as he petted the bench beside him. You hesitated for a moment, before sitting next to him. “Once a week, we will fulfil our, uh, duty to try and produce an heir. Once you are with child we will stop.” You thought for a moment, before nodding. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink. This was not what you had wished for in your marriage. Jacaerys was a painfully handsome man, dark curls that framed he chiselled features.

“It is the end of the week today, your grace.” You spoke, not fully considering the implications of the statement. But the quicker your belly was full the better.

He turned to you, hesitated for a moment before moving closer to you and pulled you onto his lap. You were surprised by the sudden closeness of someone, let alone your husband. He looked up from beneath you with a glimmer of what he had on your wedding night, without the naïve hope. His hands slid up from your hips to the bust of your dress, he looked into your eyes before giving the bodice of your dress a quick tug down allowing your breast to spill out. You gasped as his hands cupped over your breasts, massaging them before running a thumb over your nipple. You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a warmth spread over your body. You didn’t dare look him in the eye, keeping your eyes shut or trained on the ceiling. You felt as one hand left your breast and hike up your dress further up your hips. He sighed to himself slightly, at the sight of your exposed cunt. He could not believe his luck the first time he had saw you. You were quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and unfortunately that did not change the more you both disliked each other. If anything, it grew. Seeing you from across the room at formal engagements, gluing to his side when you needed to seem like the happy couple. It made the frustrations between the two of you even more palpable over the past few months, given the lack of relief. You opened your eyes to see his dark eyes looking up at you. He brought his two first fingers up to your lips, “Open.” His soft tone contradicted the demand and look upon his face. His fingers slid into your mouth, gliding across your tongue as you closed your lips around them. Out of sheer lust you grinded your hips against him, needing to feel some release and gaining small jolt at the feeling of your cunt rubbing against his clothed cock. His free hand shot to your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He removed his fingers from your mouth, admiring his spit covered fingers for a moment before they reached between your thighs and lightly grazed across your clit. You jolted, leaning forward to grip the bench behind him.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your mouth as his fingers slowly ran circles across your clit. He smirked as the noises that fell from your lips, knowing how much you couldn’t bare to be around him but fell apart in his arms was a satisfying feeling.  “I did not know you were so needy, dear wife.” The honorific felt like a pin prick. Insincere and laced with sarcasm.

Despite the tightening growing in your stomach, you could not let him have the final word as usual. “You hadn’t been paying close enough attention, your grace.” A flash of frustration flashed upon his face as his hand moved to grip your hair and fingers plunged inside of you. A gasp left you as his fingers thrusted deep inside of your cunt, you had gone from strolling towards an orgasm to being thrown at it. The tips of his fingers curled slightly, deliciously massaging that spot inside your pussy that drove you wild. You jaw fell open, eyes going wide at the loss of contact when he removed his fingers from you. You went to protest before seeing his cock in his hands, brows furrowed as he stroked the length.

You couldn’t hold off any longer before you took a hold of his wrists and pushed his hands away to his sides. You took his cock into your hand giving it a few pumps, watching an expression of lust spread across his face. You leaned over slightly, letting a ball of spit leave your lips and watch as it slid down his cock. He hissed, returning his hands to your hips pulling you closer to him. You took the hint, angling his cock towards your pussy, rubbing the tip over your clit for your own pleasure a few times, before lining him up and sliding down slowly, a large groan left his lips as be bottomed out inside of you. You had forgotten just how big his cock was, and just how good it had felt filling you up. You began to raise your hips up and down, moans leaving your lips as you did. You worked at a steady pace but after being accustomed to his hands began to push up and down with the movements of your hips moving you faster. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into you, no matter how much your stifled your moans, you gave him the satisfaction of them loudly leaving your lips. His hand reached up to yours, removing it from his shoulders and moving your fingers between your legs. You immediately got his instruction, fingers latching onto your clit. You worked tight circles into it as you got filled over and over with Jacaerys’ cock. A familiar tightness returned to your stomach as your head dropped back and numerous illicit words left your lips. Recognising your peak, he pulled you forward by your thighs, almost pressing your bodies against each other as he quickened his pace. Your orgasm cascaded over you, feeling your pussy tighten around Jacaerys’ cock and your body buzz from the overstimulation. You rode out your high atop of him, watching as his eyes screwed shut and his thrusts became sloppier.

You took the opportunity to return your knees to the bench either side of him and bob your hips up and down as fast as you could. His fingers reached the lip of the bench gripping it until his knuckles turned white. “Mmm, my grace,” You moaned out. His eyes shot open, his heart pounding at your remark. “Please fill me with your seed.” You pleaded and moaned, half doing it for a reaction, half because it felt too good. His jaw hung open in shock for a split second before he sputtered a moan from his lips, hips snapping into yours. You felt satisfied as a warmth filled your pussy. Your hips moved slightly, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you still. His hand shot to your hip, mumbling something, before you placed your hand flat across his chest. You bobbed a few more times on his cock, being sure to be as full as possible with his cum. You smirked to yourself seeing his head throne back, lip quivering, veins prominent in his hands gripping your waist, sweaty curls sticking to his neck. You slowly raised yourself off of his cock, standing to your feet and trying to mask your wobbliness as adjusting your dress.

You stole a glance his way, admiring his beauty before he spoke and ruined it. He panted through his mouth, arms outstretched over the sides of the bench. You smirked to yourself, admiring how he too had crumbled for you. The opening of his doorhandle caused him to call your name from behind you. You glanced at him and smiled. “Goodnight your grace, see you in seven eves’.” He opened his mouth to response, but you had already shut the door behind you. You hoped it would be sooner before he fucked you again.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Clearly Not Me

The second prince of Dorne is famously a punk-ass rat. He's never had someone put him in his place before, let alone a bartender that was serving him.

Oberyn Martell x Reader | 1k+ | cw: gender neutral!reader, modern au, bartender!reader, crack fic, dummy!Oberyn 'Bobby' Martell, typos, etc.

A/N: @sloanexx likes feeding my fic demons

Tagging: @multifandom-fangirl4 @pinksirensong @aralezinspace

"What can I get you?"

A man in a sits down in front of me. And though I was busy wiping the bar top, I could see he was wearing a bright yellow shirt.

"You're new here," he speaks as I arrange a few glasses and bottles.

I put some away in the back station and the cabinet beneath the bar, "not really." I straighten up with a sigh and lock eyes with him. I lean on the bar and repeat, "what can I get you?"

The man with dark hair and an exposed sternum raises a thick brow at me. He props his elbows on the surface between us. It was apparent to me that his top was not really a shirt, with how open it was, or yellow, but a mix of gold, browns, oranges, and like hues. It had intricate patterns that would've made him look tacky had it not been as apparently expensive as it looked. What a pompous asshole.

But then again, everyone in this fucking place was. I mean I was just serving a Lannister two seconds ago, and not the self aware one.

"I would know you if you weren't new," he says, resting his right fist down, "and you would know my order."

Ahh, gotta love asshole hour.

I lean forward, making sure not to let my annoyance seep through my sweet smile, "should I guess or will you just tell me what I can get you?"

The man chuckles. His smirk is lopsided. He licks his teeth and leans in until we're less than a foot apart, "a dry Manhattan with some olives on the side."

I nod and pull back, "dry Manhattan and olives."

I begin to work on his order.

I can feel him watching my every move, but I could honestly not care less.

"When did you start working here?" he shifts on his bar stool to watch me as I walk across the bar. I smile back at a regular who waves me goodbye. Prince Viserys gives me one of his greasy smirks and I return it with a polite one. I walk back to the man I was serving.

The said man eyes the Targaryen. He turns back when I reply, "about a month."

He purses his lips in thought, "makes sense. I was in Dorne at the time." He straightens up and clears his throat after saying this. He waits for me to react to his words, looks like he's half dreading it, but what he fails to realize is that he's acting far too guilty with someone who doesn't give a fuck.

I begin to mix his drink. He relaxes slightly at my missing reaction.

"You made friends with Viserys Targaryen within a month?"

I raise a brow at his words and set my shaker down, "are you my friend?"

He chuckles, shifting his weight on his elbows, "well, we've just met my dear."

"Then why would I be friends with Prince Viserys?"

I pour his drink.

He chuckles again, "he's not really a prince who says goodbye to people though."

"Well," I place an olive on his Manhattan and hand it to him, "maybe he liked my drinks."

I hand him his extra side of olives as he takes his drink. He raises his Manhattan with a brow, "maybe."

I watch him take a sip. He licks his lips after and turns to his margarita glass. He nods and smiles, "it's good."

I tilt and raise my hands at that.

I walk off to attend the back station. I realize that this man must really love hearing himself talk when he starts talking again even though my back is turned to him and I'm carrying a shit ton of glasses.

"He tips well?"

I scoff out a chuckle and look at him to see if he was being serious.

With the way his lips purse beneath his stupid mustache and how he clarifies, "Viserys, I mean," he's clearly pretty damn serious.

"With all due respect, none of you tip well," I retort as I put away the washed glasses into the cabinet.

He narrows his eyes and pushes his shoulders back, "I find that offensive."

"You know, save for maybe Tyrion Lannister," I add.

He scoffs and mutters under his breath, "you place me beneath a Lannister."

I pretend I don't hear it.

"Well, you'll know me well enough after tonight."

I do not withhold the face his words illicit because I was turned back to him again. I finish tidying the glasses with a sigh and turn back to him, "alright, Mr. Yellow Shirt."

"Excuse me?" Mr. Yellow Shirt pulls his head back in offence and furrows his brows, "this is not a shirt."

I raise a brow and walk over to him.

"It's a robe," he words sternly.

I make it a point not to apparently react to his words. Leave it to rich people to wear the most ridiculous things outside. I mean a robe? Really? My mother would have smacked me if I did that.

I lean over the bar and examine his clothes. He eagerly stands and flaunts it.

I mean it is a pretty good robe-- the man grins from ear to ear and stretches his arms out --but still.

I raise my brows at him and nod, "and so it is."

He chuckles and sits back down. He moves his drink aside and pops an olive in his mouth, "only three like it in the world, and all of them belong to me now."

Gosh, I better shut this down before he goes off and thinks I actually want to talk about it.

"Good for you, Mr. Yellow Robe."

The smile on his lips flattens. I fix the tools behind the bar.

I feel the man try to burn me with his gaze but I don't give him the satisfaction of looking back at him.

I cave when he gets eerily quiet.

He's immediately on the defensive, "my name is not Mr. Yellow Robe, and this is not any yellow," he motions to himself, "it's mustard yellow. #e1ad01," he leans on his elbows again, "I would know."

I cannot contain my expression. I'm honestly surprised he knew something like that. It both makes me gain respect for him while simultaneously thinking he's a bit looney.

"Alright the-"

"Oberyn Martell," he cuts me off and sits up straight.

Ah.

There it is. That's why he's such a prissy princess, because he is one.

I decide to do what I always do when people here introduce themselves to prove a point, I smile and introduce myself back. It normally gives me a chance to take hold of the conversation since these big names don't expect a nobody to match their energy.

True enough, Oberyn stills in his seat.

I wipe a glass, "you got a nickname, Oberyn Martell?"

He pulls his head back, "what?"

I watch a line form between his brows. I hold back a chuckle. Didn't the folks who write the gossip spreads call him Prince of the People because this man is for the streets?

I shrug, "what kind of nicknames does a kid named Oberyn grow up with?"

He furrows his brows.

I raise mine when I think of something, "Bobby!"

His ghost leaves his body, "what?"

"Like for Robert!" I place the glass bow, "Bobby! Or Bob," I tilt my head, "Bob suits you well, I think."

Bob's jaw drops as he scoffs, "I am not a Bob."

"Bobby then," I smile, "Bobby's cute. Bobby's sweet. Bobby's an approachable baby boy who buys you bubblegum cotton candy."

He looks like he's actually about to turn a shade of red. Mustard and Ketchup.

He takes his glass and mutters before drinking, "do I look like someone who buys bubblegum cotton candy?"

I chuckle as he downs his entire drink, "only to people who call you Bobby."

He lets out a breath as places his empty glass down.

"You know," I decide to further fuel his flame, "you and the prince of Dorne are actually both Bobbys."

I mask my chuckle at his mortified look with a smile when I turn greet a woman who calls for me from across the bar. I walk up to her, chuckling under my breath as I take her order.

I walk back to my station near Bobby to make her drink.

Bobby watches me and stretches his neck, "I'm not the prince of Dorne, if that's what you're getting at."

I stop in my tracks and knit my brows as I look at him. Oh, so we're playing this game? I shake my head, "of course you're not." I look back at my drink.

Bobby takes a moment to register my words. He quips back, "what?"

I ignore him in lieu of finishing making my drink. He does not enjoy this one bit and raps on the table to catch my attention. I usually don't entertain rude interactions like this, but I couldn't help myself.

I look back at him, nearly gagging in laughter over his sour expression. I finish the order before deciding watch to reply. I match his expression, "the prince of Dorne would never wear something so garish, Bobby boy."

I smirk as I walk away with my finished drink, pleased with myself over the choke-like sound he makes at my words.

"Garish?!" he barks then calls out my name.

I hand the woman her order and smile at her when she thanks me, pays, and gets up to leave. I take her cash payment and smile, "now that's how you tip."

[heavenlytouches]

Jon Snow- red snowflakes

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

GN reader

<3 (SFW)

TW!- mentions of wounds, nothing too graphic

Jon is hurt and you're the one to help him

Reader is a nurse at the Wall

Jon Snow

The wind howled outside as snowflakes danced through the air, their crystalline forms glistening in the dim light of the Wall’s narrow corridors.

You pulled on your thick, fur-lined gloves, making sure your cap was snug against your head. As a nurse stationed at the Wall, tending to the Night’s Watch was both your duty and your calling.

You had grown accustomed to the chill, but tonight the cold felt heavier, almost palpable.

With a soft sigh, you made your way to the infirmary. The stone walls echoed with the sound of your footsteps, a reminder of the solitude that often filled this place.

Most of the brothers were outside, braving the elements to keep the Wall secure from the threats that dwelled beyond it. But, you had a more immediate concern weighing on your mind: Jon Snow.

He had returned earlier that evening, his clothes muddied and torn, his breath visible against the frigid air.

You’d seen the grit and determination in his eyes as he led his men, but near the end of their mission, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone wrong. As you entered the infirmary, worry clawed at your heart.

“John?”

Your voice broke the silence, soft yet resonant.

He looked up from where he sat on the cot, his frame outlined against the flickering candlelight.

There he was, the man who had carved his name in tales of bravery and honor. Yet, beneath that stoic facade, there lay a vulnerability that only you seemed to notice, the shadows of weariness darkening his usually bright eyes.

“Hey...”

He replied, attempting to sound casual, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. You stepped closer, taking a seat next to him, your presence a comforting balm in the chilly room.

“Let me see..”

You said gently, taking his arm to inspect the wound. A gash ran along his forearm, the crimson line still fresh and weeping, telling tales of a near-miss with an enemy blade.

“It’s nothing. Don't worry about it.”

He grumbled, trying to pull his arm away, but you held firm, looking up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were tinged with a rosy hue- not from the cold, but from the warmth of your concern.

“Jon, you’re hurt. This needs tending, or it could become infected.”

You offered him a reassuring smile, your heart swelling with compassion.

For a moment, his rough exterior faltered, and you saw the boy behind the man- the one who longed for care but hid it beneath layers of bravado.

“Fine, just… be quick about it.”

He relented, though his tone was more playful than angry, a hint of that familiar shyness seeping through.

With deft hands, you began cleaning the wound, your touch gentle but confident. You could feel him tense at first, but gradually, he relaxed, allowing you to work. You could feel the unspoken bond between you, thickening in the air like the snowfall outside.

“What would you do if I hadn’t come back?”

He asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice lowered, and the question hung heavy between you.

“I’d be worried sick..”

You admitted, pouring a touch of antiseptic onto a cloth and dabbing his injury carefully.

“You’re important to me, John. Not just as a soldier but as a friend.”

His gaze flicked toward yours, something electric passing between you.

“Not a soldier?”

He echoed, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. His dark brows furrowed, and you could see the uncertainty that clouded his features.

You looked down, taking a deep breath as you finished bandaging his arm.

“You’re more than that, really. I care about you. A lot.”

The words slipped out before you could tame them, vulnerable yet liberating.

For a moment, silence enveloped you both, and Jon’s cheeks flushed crimson. He seemed to struggle with the right response, his manly demeanor crumbling beneath the weight of raw emotion.

“I—uh… I care about you too.”

He stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

As if the weight of the world had been lifted, his gruff exterior melted away momentarily, revealing the soft-hearted man you’d always seen.

You managed a shy smile back at him, and in that instant, two souls connected over the snowy night- a unique blend of warmth amid the cold that surrounded the Wall.

“See? It wasn’t so bad.”

You teased, trying to lighten the mood and drawing a small chuckle from him.

“Now, what would you like? A cup of broth to warm you up?”

“Aye, that would be nice.”

He said, his earlier gruffness returning somewhat, but there was an unmistakable softness in his tone.

“Thank you. For everything.”

You stood to fetch a bowl, your heart buoyed by the exchange. When you returned with steaming broth, Jon had settled back against the wall, his expression still contemplative.

“You really do care for us, don’t you?”

His voice was a gentle murmur as he took the bowl from your hands, your fingers brushing against each other for a fleeting moment.

“It’s what I do.”

You replied, barely able to suppress a smile.

“You all fight so bravely for the realm. It’s only right that someone looks after you.”

He took a sip, the warmth spreading across his face.

“You’re different from the others.”

He said suddenly, sincerity lacing his words.

“You make this place feel… less lonely.”

That moment-wrapped in warmth on a bitterly cold night- felt sacred. Your heart ached with the sincerity of it, the beauty of a connection forged from shared moments of care and vulnerability.

“Do you ever think of what life would be like beyond the Wall?”

You asked, drawn into a deeper conversation. For hours, you sat together, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s company, discussing dreams, fears, and the whims of a world beyond your reach.

As the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the night in its icy embrace, the fire between you began to spark.

Moments of laughter interspersed with hushed confessions created a bubble of intimacy that felt like home. And though the dark and dangerous world lay just beyond, within the walls of the infirmary, love began to bloom against the backdrop of the coldest night.

His hand brushed against yours as he spoke, igniting heat beneath your skin and pulling you closer. That night at the Wall, beyond the gruff exterior of Jon Snow, a tender bond flourished- one that promised something beautiful amidst the cold and darkness.

Hear-ye! Hear-ye! Finally GOT posting!! I adore this one, I might sound egoistic rn TwT Hope y'all liked it too <3

I can write anything for any character babes and don’t forget- requests are always open and welcome <33

I love you guys so much

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)