#i have seen so many tiny jaimes. tiny tiny.
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Spreadsheet of every Blue Beetle III / Jaime Reyes appearance in comics !
Made a spreadsheet/list with every Jaime Reyes appearance listed in the DC fandom wiki! (+ a few that weren’t listed).
* It’s 330+ appearances!
* You can add a temporary filter to sort through different columns and select only what you want or don’t want to see.
* This is a project by fans and for fans so comments are encouraged if anyone sees any missing appereances, mistakes or wants to make suggestions and notes!
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* Please note that this is not intended nor optimized enough to be used as a reading list!
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Enjoy!
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Here’s how it works:
Divided in three sheets:
New Earth: From Infinite Crisis (2005) to Teen Titans (2011)
Prime Earth: From Flashpoint (2011) to Rebirth (2016) to Dark Crisis (2022) (his most recent appereance in the main universe!)
Misc: For things that weren’t listed in the main universe (Tiny Titans, BATB cartoon comic, YJ cartoon comic, Injustice, DC vs Vampires (most recent background appereance))
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Five columns:
Title: Name of the book
Number: Issue number or N/A if one-shot.
Date: Year and month of original release (as listed in dccomics.com)
Category: Type of appereance
Cover: Jaime only appears in the cover of the book/issue.
Background: No dialogue, in the background or a crowd, irrelevant to the story. Example: a picture of Jaime in a screen with other team members, a panel with Jaime chatting amongst the Leaguers.
Minor: Little to no dialogue, relevant to a specific moment in the story but not key to the issue, could be anywhere from one panel to a couple pages. Example: Jaime in a couple panels for a Titans mission in another book, one panel dialogue appereances.
Event: Every book that is included in that event + if it’s a minor, background or cover appereance.
Storyline: Every book included in that storyline + if it’s a minor, background or cover appereance.
Feature: Non-special multiple story books, features and second features.
Holiday special: Valentines, Halloween and Christmas specials + if it’s a minor, background or cover appereance.
Character guide: Character encyclopedias or guides.
Etc
Notes:
Notes or personal additions about the story.
Storyline parts order.
Storyline name when the category is being occupied by the event name.
Number and title of story for specials.
Suggested reading order when necessary.
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Colors:
To make locating recurring appereances easier, every book with 4 or more mentions has been given a color.
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#blue beetle#Jaime Reyes#dc comics#Blue Beetle comics#Blue Beetle reading list#Blue Beetle III#Jaime Reyes Blue Beetle#Blue Beetle Jaime Reyes#DCU#Teen Titans#Young Justice#YJTV#if youre wondering if it was inspired by that one boostle spreadsheet the answer is yes#except a little less insane#i did have to scroll through 100+ issues sometimes more than once to get some of these so. just a Little#i have seen so many tiny jaimes. tiny tiny.#follow me on twitter#this took me two days of going to sleep at 3 am fueled only by pure unfiltered autism and one lt of stale tea#extreme where's waldo#also the dccomics site is so hard to navigate wtf#did u know jaime had 5 appereances in 2020. just a fun fact
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What about Jaime liking someone who works at/owns a flower shop so he keeps making excuses to come in and get flowers? Richmond is real confused about why he’s giving away so many bouquets all of the sudden
(Ps I love love love your work! I’ve got it so I get an alert whenever you post because of how much I love it!)
this one turned out SO CUTE I hope you like it!
wishing on every one
You know you’re fucked as soon as he walks through the door of your shop.
Then he tells you he’s looking for flowers for his mum who’s visiting him for the first time, and you know you’re extra fucked.
He’s absolutely gorgeous, especially in the soft light streaming through your flower shop windows, framed by the vibrant hues of the plants lining the shelves.
Then he says, “I’m Jamie,” peers at your name tag, and tells you that you have a lovely name. You’re blushing the entire time you lead him around the shop, answering each one of his questions as best you can without stuttering. He cracks jokes, picks out a nice bunch, and leaves you one flower for yourself on his way out.
And then, the next week, he comes back.
Jamie Tartt, AFC Richmond’s star footballer, comes back to your shop and flirts with you again.
Of course you know who he his, you knew the moment he stepped through the door. You live in Richmond after all, and you agree with the great Dani Rojas that here, football is life. It’s just hard to believe that your favorite footballer is back in your tiny little store and maybe sort of kinda definitely flirting with you.
You don’t let it get to your head (much). It’s Jamie Tartt, you’ve seen him on Lust Conquers All. To him, flirting is like breathing. You also don’t tell anyone, although you feel like you’re bursting inside. Your flat mate notes that you’re smiling more and that you always seem to be humming, and could you please maybe be careful when you’re skipping around because she just mopped the floor and doesn’t want you to slip.
But Jamie Tartt keeps coming back; first once a week, then twice, then about every other day. He follows you around as you help him choose flowers for all kinds of occasions, and then he’a gone again, leaving you to wonder which time will be the last.
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At Nelson Road, things are in chaos.
Ok, maybe chaos is too strong a word. Things are… out of the ordinary.
Well, but things have been out of the ordinary ever since Ted Lasso showed up.
Things are… weird. Yeah, that’s a good word. They’re weird. And “they,” refers to Jamie.
It starts off simple enough. It's Sam’s birthday, so Jamie shows up with some flowers. He heard Sam say they were his favorites, so it makes sense that he’d bring them. No one notices anything.
The next week, he’s brought some for Ms. Welton.
“It’s for all the shit you do that we don’t know about,” he explains. “Didn’t want you to think we didn’t notice.”
Rebecca doesn’t comment on the double negative, just smiles and says, “Thank you, Jamie,” as Keeley sits forward on the couch in a slight state of shock. The Jamie she was with had never done something like that for her romantically, and here he is doing it platonically. Holy shit, he really has changed.
Rebecca also doesn’t take the flowers to mean something they don’t. She knows that the team looks to her with the same respect they would afford an older sister or even a mother (although she is not old enough). Strangely, she doesn’t mind. It makes her feel loved in a way she’s unused to, and the flowers from Jamie hang upside down on her wall so they can be immortalized.
Barely a week after that, he’s gotten some for Keeley. “It’s to make up for the ones I never got you,” he tells her. They’re all bright pink with fluffy petals. Keeley wraps her arms around Jamie with a squeal of delight. Roy grunts angrily, so Jamie pulls out a bunch of dark red and black flowers. “Didn’t leave you out, grandad,” he grins as Roy pretends to hate the bouquet. But even he isn’t cold-hearted enough to hate flowers.
Suddenly, people are getting flowers every other day. It’s become Jamie’s thing. Ted gets some sunflowers when he seems like he’s missing home a little extra. Will gets a bunch of sweet-smelling flowers that Jamie doesn’t know the name of, but he knows that purple one’s lavender because he remembers how you told him it reminded you of growing up. Dani gets a bundle of tulips and it almost makes him pass out from excitement, but luckily Isaac is there to catch him.
Dani is firmly seated on the bench in the locker room and Jan Maas has removed all tulips except one, and now Isaac has the chance to turn to Jamie and ask the question that’s on everyone’s mind.
“What gives, bruv?”
Those three words make Jamie turn bright red, but he shrugs it off with a laugh.
“What, can’t get me best mates flowers?”
“It is a little better than the PS5s,” Richard says. There’s a chorus of agreement, much to the surprise of Coach Beard.
Jamie thinks he’s in the clear and his face isn’t red anymore but then Dani says, “Jamie Tartt, why did you decide to give us flowers and not some other expensive gaming device?” and Jamie knows he’s completely and utterly fucked. He did not think this far. He has no excuse, no lie, so what comes out of his mouth is, “The flower shop girl’s fit,” and then the locker room completely descends into chaos.
The boys are firing questions at Jamie faster than he can even understand them, and Ted’s just laughing at the pure pandemonium. He remembers similar moments when coaching other football teams, American ones, and the good feeling that comes along with “boys being boys,” in the way the phrase was originally intended.
All pertinent information is successfully extracted from Jamie before the team heads home, except your name and which flower shop it is. Colin says that’s the most important bit, but Jamie refuses to tell them more than the fact that your laugh makes the sun shine brighter. Isaac nods thoughtfully and Roy shakes his head, but it’s with a fondness he reserves only for his team.
It could be any shop, really. There are conversations across the parking lot of the best way to figure out which one it is and Jamie’s getting nervous when he hears Ted’s voice call his name.
He turns, and Ted hurries over to where Jamie’s car is parked.
He carefully places a hand on Jamie’s shoulder (softly, unlike the crushing grip of his father) and looks Jamie straight in the eye.
“Jamie, life’s too short to beat around the bush. You like her. I think it would be best if you rose to the occasion and just asked her out. I be-leaf in you, son. You just gotta get clover it and do what you gotta do.”
Jamie doesn’t pick on the flower puns until about the third one. He’s laughing a little bit and Ted is too, all while regarding Jamie with a soft look that Jamie always wished his father would give him. Ted pulls Jamie in for a hug and says, “In all seriousness man, we’re rooting for you.”
Jamie gives him a look, which makes Ted hold up his hands in defense. “Alright, alright, I’m done,” he says. “For now.” Then he winks and headed to meet Coach Beard.
—
It’s the middle of the afternoon when the bell on your door jingles, and you look up from the register hoping to see Jamie.
Instead, you see a middle-aged man with a mustache smiling at you.
He says, “Howdy,” in a way that is so very American, that you can’t help but break into a wide smile.
“Hi!” you reply, “How can I help you?”
“My name’s Ted Lasso,” he says walking toward you. “I coach football here in Richmond.”
You’re still grinning. “I know who you are, Coach Lasso. I’m a big Richmond supporter. Have been since I was a kid.”
“Just Ted is fine,” says Just Ted. “I usually don’t like to introduce myself along with my job title because it makes me seem all uppity, but I thought it might make more sense if I did.”
You scrunch your nose in confusion so Ted says, “You were expecting to see Jamie today, is that right?”
You nod. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Jamie’s coach is in your flower shop and he knows that you like him and he’s probably going to tell you you can never see Jamie again because that’s the only logical reason he’s here, right? Maybe Jamie’s been skipping practice to be here with you and that all has to end now because football is life and you of all people should know that. Shit.
Ted must be able to see the panic on your face because he shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry darlin’, it ain’t anything bad. I’m only here to let you know that boy’s got it down bad for you.”
Wait, what?
“Oh,” you reply.
“Yeah, oh,” Ted chuckles. “Why’d you think he was here all the time?”
“I- I don’t know,” you say. “He flirts with everyone. I’m nothing extra special.”
Ted shakes his head again. “There’s where you’re wrong. You’re somethin’ extra special. Did you know I found you based on the way Jamie talked about you alone? He didn’t even give your name, but I’ve been in here once or twice myself and I must say, he was right when he said the sun shines a little brighter when you smile. I figured it had to be you the moment he said that.”
You’re smiling again. Jamie said that about you? To his coach?
Ted’s talking again. “Listen,” he says, a little more serious, “Jamie’s like a son to me. And sometimes dads need to give their sons a little push so they can get rid of their training wheels and just go for it, you know what I mean?”
You’re at a loss but Ted just grins. “I got here exactly three minutes before the boys take a break for lunch, which means that Jamie should be in here-” the bell at the door jingles “-right about now.”
“Coach?” Jamie asks, looking very adorable and very confused. “What’re you doing here?”
Ted shrugs. “Sometimes dads gotta take things into their own hands. Give you a little extra boost, as it were. Figured you’d be in here forever before you got the guts to make a move and by then Nelson Road would be completely overrun by flowers. Not that that’s a bad thing,” he says with a glance to you. “Anyway. I’ll be on my merry little way. Beard’s saving me a seat at our favorite lunch spot.”
Ted waves a two finger goodbye and pats Jamie on the shoulder as he heads out the door, bell ringing behind him.
“So,” you say, making your way around the counter over to Jamie.
“So…” he replies, looking down at you.
You take his hand. “Heard from a reliable source that you have a crush on me.”
Jamie grins. “Ain’t a crush babe, I’m a grown lad. Think it’s somethin’ a little more real.”
“Uh huh,” you say, smiling back at him. “Well it just so happens that I also have a crush on you as well as a thirty-minute lunch break that starts right about now…”
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#ted lasso
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How would Battinson react to his kids, his babies, dating, and growing up?
The first was Dick. He saw the growing embers of something more than friendship between him and Wally. The longing stares when one thought no one was looking, the longer than necessary touching, the blushes. It seemed like everyone could see but those two, and it was cute.
It stopped being cute when Dick entered his office one afternoon. Bruce hadn’t known what personal space was since Dick got comfortable with him. Dick would frequently invade it by jumping on Bruce’s back for an impromptu piggyback ride, though those were things of the past the older and bigger Dick got, or just giving him a bear hug.
But this was different. The way he actually walked rather than ran, the way his demeanor was more closed off and hesitant rather than open and relaxed like it usually was.
He walked to meet Dick halfway, abandoning his work. He gently held his shoulders.
“What’s wrong, Chum?”
Dick took a deep breath, in and out. “I have a boyfriend! It's Wally.” He blurted out and looked at Bruce.
Bruce saw fleeting hope of acceptance, of love in Dick’s eyes. But he also saw uncertainty of rejection in them too.
“That’s great, chum. Who confessed first?” Bruce was happy for Dick, he deserved happiness, especially in their line of work. But a small part of him felt bitter about it.
Not Wally himself, he knew the kid for years and he was a good one. But of what he represented, his birds were growing up and leaving the nest. Leaving him. Now, Bruce was happy to see his children growing into themselves. However, he feels like he isn’t needed anymore.
Why would they need a protector, who isn’t even that good at it anyway, when they showed again and again that they can provide for themselves?
The announcement reminded him of Jaime and Jason, he liked him and Damian certainly did, but his kids’ were leaving. Like, today Jason and Damian canceled dinner to be with Jamie and his family for dinner.
But this wasn’t about how Bruce feels. So even if it was bittersweet he listened to Dick rave about Wally.
Giving Bruce so much detail, he wasn't sure if this even was the same person, but he guessed being childhood best friends are different from being boyfriend.
“Alfred, have you seen Tim? He is not in the Cave or his room.” They were working on a hard and gruesome case, and just when Tim was healing from that nasty cut he got last night. Bruce knows how Tim gets when they have cases like these. He would work from day to night until he gets an answer, and that is if he doesn't fall asleep first. Even if he was recovering, and that missing spleen of his didn’t make things better.
It was one of the many things he neglected to teach Tim when he was first Robin, to have a good work-life balance, not that Bruce could talk but still, too filled with grief to see. But he is making a change, and that is starting with getting Tim to bed.
“No, I haven't, Master Bruce,” the butler answers, “but I’ll be on the lookout for him.”
Bruce gave a nod and continued to search the Manor looking for his son. He’d done this before, hiding from Bruce, because he knew what will happen. It’s childish and oftentimes annoying but a tiny part likes taking care of Tim. Tucking him into bed, kissing him on the forehead, and closing the door slowly.
Eventually, he does find Tim, he’s in Bruce’s room. His black hair, which was in that middle stage of looking long while short, looked like a bird’s nest and his eyes were dazed like he had taken a nap. His disheveled sheets and blankets were evidence of that.
“Good afternoon, Timmy.” Bruce greets him with a small smile.
Tim blinked at him like an owl and he came to his senses slowly. He looked like a misbehaving child who got caught red-handed with contraband cookies.
“Shit!”
“Language” Bruce corrected automatically. Raising kids for years will do that to you, especially Jason and Duke.
“Sh– shot! Sorry B I'll go.”
Bruce leaped forward to stop Tim’s frantic movements. “Tim, you don't have to leave or anything. I'm fine with you staying in my bed. I was just looking for you all over to take a break. But I see you’re already doing that..”
Red paints over Tim’s ears and neck and attempts to look away from them. “Well duh, I'm not a kid anymore B.”
His last all-nighter was 2 days ago. Duke found him in the dining chair.
Tim looks him straight in the eyes, “I heard you talking to Alfred. I was worrying you with my bad self-care habits and I decided to grow up. Besides, I can't live how I used to, especially without my spleen.”
Now it was Bruce’s turn to look surprised. He thought he would never see the day. But why are tears threatening to spill out then? Why was there a hole forming in his heart then? He should be happy, his children are growing into fine young men and women. So why....?
“Woah, woah, Bruce!” Tim’s alert voice yelled for him, breaking Bruce from his thoughts to see that tears were actually forming.
“Oh, don't mind me,” he shrugged Tim off and blinked the tears away. “I have some work that needs to get done, so you go rest up.” Bruce pushed Tim into the bed and tucked him into the covers, kissing him on the forehead, and closing the door slowly. A routine he’s done multiple times with multiple children, and his mind wonders when they’ll ask him to stop doing that.
He ignored Tim’s shouts to come back and closed the door. He walks aimlessly through the quiet and empty manor. It’s been ages since the building was filled with sound and laughter, now it sits in silence. So quiet Bruce can hear his footsteps echoing throughout the halls when 2 months ago he couldn’t even hear what Duke was saying while Tim and Damien engaged in their weekly arguments about everything and anything.
Oh, Duke. Gotham’s daytime vigilante, one of her many victims. He came to Bruce unsure in everything he was doing but nowadays he’s grown sure in his actions. On the last patrol, Tim had gotten hurt badly and the only way out was for Duke to drive. He didn't need Bruce or Babara to guide him.
His kids were growing up, and soon, they wouldn't need him anymore.
#soft bruce wayne#battinson#duke thomas#dick grayson#wally west#birdflash#tim drake#bruce wayne#insecure bruce wayne#jason todd#jamie reyes#damian wayne#batfamily angst#batfam#batdad
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Heart of the Great Wolf
27 - The Winter Rose
Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)
Length: 16.5k
Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, descriptions of blood and violence, mentions of character death, imprisonment, minor self harm, discussions of miscarriage and child loss, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, possessiveness
Notes: I'm sure this chapter title and the last chapter title have no deeper meaning whatsoever. Nope just totally, utterly random. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here
You were thankful Maester Pylos was easier going then most, meaning he was quick enough and familiar enough with you to listen when you told him not to ask anything about it. His eyes were drawn right to the scar as he looked over your bruised ribs, but he kept his word and said nothing regarding it. At least for the most part. As he moved on to carefully cleaning the somewhat still bloody wound on your forearm he did however comment in jest, “Should I be concerned if these ones do not heal? That might make acquiring more in battle leave you looking a little worse for wear, your grace.”
You huffed a laugh before wincing. “Don’t, I’m in too much pain to laugh.” Glancing out the open window to the night sky, your eyes narrowed in a weary thought before finding that voice. “Pylos, when did Maester Cressen...”
He pause in his work as he glanced up almost in an apologetic manner. “Not long after the start of the war. He-” Trying to cut himself off before you sat up straighter to look at him did he feel the pressure to continue. “I mean not to speak ill of him, but it was at his own hand. Poison in a goblet of wine, hoping to share a toast with the red woman. It worked on him, but not her.”
Both looking at the other in a dreaded silence, neither were sure what to make of it. Even now, with what you had lived and Pylos had seen. You swallowed heavily before relaxing a bit to let him continue in quiet. “Who else?” His eyebrows raised and your voice found itself lowering in roughness. “Who else is gone? Because of this woman?”
Sighing deeply, Pylos pulled away. Sitting back as he looked sympathetically. “There was your uncles. Lord Renly first, then Ser Axell-” Your head shot up in a confusion for a moment repeating his name as Pylos nodded. “Yes. Your father had allowed the red woman to..burn alive those who did not convert to the Lord of Light, and Ser Axell was amongst them.”
Your heart sunk in your chest, what had you allowed this woman to turn you into father?
“One of your own cousins was to be sacrificed until Ser Davos betrayed his grace’s word and aided the boy in escaping-” You repeated the word cousin with more confusion and he seemed surprised you had not known this information. “A bastard boy of Robert’s. The red woman had need of King’s blood for her witchcraft, and sought out a living bastard of Roberts and brought him here with intent to sacrifice.”
Heart skipping a beat, you heard not the footsteps approaching the door from the winding stairwell up to the top of the Sea Dragon Tower. “Robert had..well he has many bastards in King’s Landing, which one did my father bring here?”
You did not like the pause, the sorrow of something you hadn’t known. “I am so sorry, I did not realize you hadn’t known...” The pairs of feet stood outside the door, one hand holding out in front of the other figure to give a moment for both to listen. “King Joffery..he had ordered..he had ordered his City Watch to find and execute all of Robert’s bastard children. He believed that they posed a threat to his claim should the rumours of his mother and the Ser Jaime Lannister to be true. Only one remains as far as we know..”
You wanted to ask who, but the answer was sickening no matter what, because it was a boy he said. Not the innocent life of a tiny baby girl in the arms of her young, sweet mother who knew none better. What was her name? Barra? That was it, the little girl with already growing dark hair and green eyes that shined up at you when she woke up in her mother’s arms.
Lord Baelish had never specified how many of them were out there, but you could only imagine the truth. You had on more then one occasion come across the outside of his chambers, Ser Jaime Lannister posed morosely outside forced to listen to your uncle with however many women he drew into his bed that time. It was one of the few times in those last few months before Lord Arryn’s death that you and the Lannister had found genuine common ground.
That both of you found it nothing but an insult to force a brother to listen to his King insult his sister, no matter how little love existed in such a marriage. You both had joked how judging by the sounds, you couldn’t tell if it was worse if the number of women he had inside was more or less then the number you had thought of. Watching girl after girl leave and sometimes return or a new one would show, and how many of them had sons or daughters which now lay dead at your repulsive cousins hands?
Before Pylos could speak more of it, the door to his study opened and the tense air was cut short as both Jon and Ser Davos walked in. Pylos making motion to stand only to be stopped by Jon offhandedly waving off the need of a gesture of formality. Yourself however, stood as you and Davos looked to one another, a full volume of regret somewhere behind his eyes. “Your Grace, I came to apologize.”
Were Jon’s head and heart not still racing in something treading close to anger, he may have found the strength in him to laugh at how easily you dismissed that, almost not even having realized there was any slight to apologize for. “Unless you’ve committed a crime in the hours since I last saw you, you haven’t done anything I’ve taken offence with. You've known me my whole life, that allows you to think I'm an idiot sometimes.”
Almost dropping his face a bit more flat as he looked at you, tone a bit heavier but more flat as well thankfully. “What has the world come to, when it’s easier to apologize to Stannis than it is you?” Both of you had a small laugh at such, you stepping forward as Pylos gave more space to those all in the room.
Crossing your arms there was a beat passed between you before your own voice found the right words, “I should be the one to apologize. After what happened to Matthos..being on the other side of it wouldn’t make it any easier, it was the best option we had but that doesn’t change..” Something unsaid between both of you, and it wasn’t your place or anyone's but Davos himself to truly bring it up all on his own volition. “What I’m trying to say is, I am the one whose sorry.”
The room was quiet as was his own voice a little far away with a tinge of amusement. “Don’t imagine it’s good manners to reject a Queen’s apology.”
Only that made you laugh, and laugh hard enough that you had to stop mid way through with a wince at your ribs. “You should hear the way some of my own men speak to me, I’m not what one would call particular with manners anymore.” Your eyes shifted a bit more stern however, a question tinted on your lips to follow. “Dare I ask whats been done with our new prisoners?”
“Most of the Golden Company has been put in the main dungeons, none to happy with how crowded it is but least they’re far enough down we won’t hear them complain.” Nodding, brows narrowing as he read that too. “As for our honoured guests,” a twist of jest in his tone matching his expression to choose his words carefully. “They’ve been put in separate cells for now, Connington requesting one for each of them away from the other.”
All four in the room found something strange in such a thought, but there was little to ponder over it in the moment. Jon had been standing some feet back, arms crossed over his chest with a dark, narrowed anger in his eyes that matched the rough strain held back in his own voice. “If they are willing to cooperate I can work something out with Stannis. Their army in the dungeon, I have no reason to keep them there as well. If they hear us out they might be of some help, if not, I see no reason they can’t at least have freedom to stay here or leave.”
You nodded, having not a clue what such a conversation with your father would look like and yet it seemed most of the reasonable ones anymore were between him and Jon now. Working together in White Harbour was the most you had gotten along with him since he was still in King’s Landing. It was not your place to question that, nor did you feel the need too. As long as whatever he wanted, wasn’t going to push Jon into anything he didn’t want.
All was quiet as the three of you now walked the halls back towards the ground level, you finding specific instructions to Davos. “Gather enough men to check around the curtain cliffs for structural damage. It’s hard enough getting around this place without those paths getting cut off. And tell Amos to start clearing the bay when the rest of it has put itself out. I don’t want our shores turning into a graveyard.”
Making his leave, you found enough drive still flowing through you that you had thought to tun to Jon with something else entirely on your mind only to have him glance down the hall, before his face twisted in a deep irritation. Grabbing you by the arm and all but hauling you into a small alcove just around an empty corner. Crowding you in and instant, hands roughly holding you by your upper arms as he looked you over, the blood and grime he found even more minimal then it was still on himself before letting them fly up to cup your cheeks.
His hold was tender, but the raggedness in his voice certainly was not. “What in Seven Hells did you think you were doing out there?”
If the look in his eyes weren’t such a brightness that yet gleaned with something desperate you may have teased him, but instead your heart only dropped further then it sat within your chest. You noticeably, did not reach out to him in anyway. “We needed Connington to surrender, I did what needed to be done. “
“By putting yourself in danger?” Trying to defend yourself, Jon cut you off with his voice trying to raise but being unwilling to go anything near a yell this close to you. “What happened if you lost?”
You on the other hand, were a bit louder but high pitched in an unsure lack of confidence as he stared you down. “Aegon wasn't about to give up, he wasn't going to go willingly I had to do something.”
This time, something uncomfortable had boiled in Jon’s chest and did in fact, come out as a yell with an anger rushing through. His hands on your face dropped as he tried to turn away, only getting a few feet away before his face still twisted in anger faced you again.
“I never would’ve let you anywhere near this fight if I knew this was what you were going to do.” If he expected you to argue, you didn’t. Deep down he knew you wouldn’t. His voice a little quieter but just as on edge as he ran a hand across his mouth before he turned closer to point at you almost in a lecture. “I shouldn’t even let you within fifty feet of a sword if you think your best chance is to always throw yourself at the enemy first.”
Again, you didn’t fight him in any way. Instead your nails dug into the skin of your other fingertips as your arms sat tensely at your side, jaw clenching as you flickered between his face and the ground beside him.
Your voice far more quiet and unsure then his anger. “I’m the one who actually saw you dead, you know.” His eyes narrowed briefly but you looked away again. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see me at the Twins. You weren’t the one between us who sat there staring at your corpse all beacuse you were a few hours too late to stop it. First time you felt my scar was when I was alive, I felt yours when you were dead long enough down there your skin was turning blue.”
He had barley moved, and your voice hadn’t raised. It wavered in between upset and something darker but you just stood quiet and stiff, Jon trying to gently call your name but your jaw clenched further. A shake of your head before you continued to stare away from him. “You’re so afraid of losing me out there but I know exactly what you look like when you’re dead. You don’t think I hate not being strong enough to be at your side, to have your back if no one else does? Or do you think it’s just easy for me to imagine coming up after a battle and seeing you on the ground exactly like you were that morning?”
You looked up to him finally and found instead all the anger had transferred to your eyes, only a heartbreaking softness left in his, but now as Jon stood there you knew he wasn’t certain if reaching out to you again was a good idea. Not when you were this on edge.
“Do you really think I’m fine with the fact that I’m too weak to protect you?”
He wanted to reach out to you so badly but you’d flinch away from him the second he even twitched in your direction. His grey eyes swimming with that need however and could not hide it from your own eyes distant in a pain. Your name murmured on his lips, “Why do you think I asked you if you wanted to learn how to use a sword?” Your eyebrow raised in confusion, “That night in Winterfell, why do you think I wanted to teach you when I caught you looking at the practice swords?”
It was still one of you fondest memories of that visit. How you had been so caught off guard he swiped at your legs and it sent you knocking to the ground. Looking up in confused anger to see a fourteen year old Jon, that dashing smirk on his lips as he swung his own practice one around in one hand looking down at you. His voice at that point already having developed so close to the deep raspiness it was to this day.
He had teased you about not turning your back on your enemies before helping you up. Accepting the shove you gave him.
Risking taking a step forward, you tensed a little as you looked away but you otherwise did not try and back away from him. Jon’s voice growing softer as he spoke, trying to coax your eyes to his. “I never thought you’d ever need it. Never thought you’d find yourself having a life where you’d need to protect yourself like that. I only asked if you wanted to learn how, beacuse I wanted an excuse to spend time alone with you.”
Your eyes didn’t meet his, but you looked closer, enough that the gaze now trained on Longclaw sat at his side, brows slightly narrowed. “You spent plenty of time with me, in those days.”
Jon risked another step forward, and you tried not to let it choke up inside you how careful he tended to be when he could see whenever you were in a more high strung state. He always knew exactly when and how far to keep his distance until you settled enough. “Not the way I wanted. You spent most of your days working beside my father and when you weren’t there was always something trying to take your time away from me. It was an excuse to spend time with you and no one would be around to interrupt.”
Glancing more up, you found the blood splattered across his chest plate, somewhat covering the direwolves. You more mumbled then anything, not having the ability to argue at the best of times with Jon. “I didn’t learn how to use a bow to set a thousand men on fire, but that came in handy when the time needed it.”
Jon’s hands itched but he kept them to himself. “Never in my life did I think teaching you all those years ago meant you’d be putting your life in danger beacuse of it. I didn’t think you’d ever have any use for it, and I don’t expect you to do it now.”
It was a mistake looking up, his grey eyes were so wide and bright. A shine to them which radiated something so beautiful as it echoed against the rest of his face. How more women didn’t fall madly in love with Jon, you did not understand. Because even now, they were enough to make you melt enough he stepped within a foot of you. You tried to speak multiple times, but ultimately let a sigh out as you looked away from him in your own frustration. “I knew if I could get him alone, I might be able to overwhelm him quicker then he could me.
Looking back up at him, neither of you held any anger anymore. You both hated having to be together in a life full of blood. You hated it with Robb, and you hated it now. None of the lives you ever planned out as a wishful little girl included this much war and death. Jon tilted your head up with a tender touch at your jaw, making you meet his eyes as he leaned close enough you could feel his breathe dancing across your skin.
His other hand reached out, grasping your hand to guide it to his waist before settling his on yours, almost a prompt to tell you to let your other do the same thing. Which you obeyed. His tone was as gentle as he could make it, light and airy as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead before meeting your eyes again. “And if Aegon had killed you, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him myself.” The almost loving tone as he ran his hand on your jaw along the skin to your cheek contrasted quite strangely with the dedicated violence of his words. “You’re duty isn’t to put yourself in danger, and it’s my duty to keep you safe. I’m only asking you to stop making my job so hard.”
Finally, he had managed to pull a breathy laugh from you. Him returning one back, leaning a bit more into you with his own mesmerizing smile as he did so. One of your hands on his waist jumped up, going from there right up to dancing your fingertips along his chest plate, not caring much to avoid the blood as he you traced over the direwolves. “I didn’t do it to scare you.”
“I know.” His hand moved to run across the back of your head, his fingers clearly toying with the idea of pulling your hair loose as he was there. “I’m not trying to make it seem like I want to control you, it..I hate that I can’t always be there to protect you. I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. And I know I have to work on that, on accepting that.”
Nodding, the air between you both felt much less suffocating then before. Hard to overcome the fact that you found it scary, the idea of arguing with Jon. He felt things deeply and intensely, and you hated the thought that you could ever be the one to set him off in a bad way. Especially in moments like this, his grey eyes so soft and full painted towards you and hands gentle like you were the delicate thing to treasure in his touch.
Letting your hands reach up and cup the sides of his cheek and jaw, he moved with you in an instant as if reading every inch of your mind. Leaning down to meet you half way, the second his lips gently brushed against yours, he moved to grab your waist to steady you against him. Nothing more then a gentle dance without pushing the other too far, and yet Jon’s hands kept growing tighter despite the kiss growing no more heated.
The second a tiny sigh slipped from you as you parted, a light dizziness in your head with a satisfied hum along with it however, was a step too far. Jon’s hands suddenly dropping down to your hips, and the innocence of the moment died out as he, somewhat roughly, pushed you against the wall. His lips kissing you harshly, deepening it the second you grabbed at his shoulders with a whine, crowding you against it before letting one hand slip to the back of your head.
This time, he pulled out the ties keeping your hair up without needing a single glance. Running through the loose strands before yanking your head to tilt up so he could press against you entirely. Biting at your lip only once before demanding you let him slip his tongue inside your mouth, running along yours as the hold on your hair was keeping your lips from being able to part from him whatsoever.
It was the exact same thing as before it seemed, you with nothing but innocent intentions and Jon let it consume him like an inhuman force blinding him with a raw lust. Your hands reached up to let his hair loose but were caught in their path as Jon all but shoved your legs apart, moving a knee to invade the space between. As he shoved that same knee up against between your legs, he used his grip on your hip to grind you down against it, powerless against his strength to stop it.
Biting your lips, running his tongue along yours and tasting your mouth with an increasing demand and greed as he started to guide your hips to move in a harsh but slow grind. Too many layers keeping you from feeling it so directly, but Jon was unfair in how strong he was and he kept you pressed against him as he moved you along until he felt your hands shake against your hold on his shoulders.
Your insides burned as his did, screaming in fire at you, but not to be put out. A pleasure that twisted and turned like a coil to snap at any moment begging him to throw you into the flames at his own mercy, and your heart raced so much those across the castle were like to hear it pounding. It was as if something took over, pulling finally from your lips as his eyes now black as the night outside looked into yours.
His lips red and swollen as he hadn’t pulled from you enough to break the small strands of saliva his kiss brought between you. Lips parted he breathed heavily until he looked down, keeping you against his knee as one hand now flew to find just enough room at the edge of your pants to slip down.
Jon’s mind aggressively thinking about how much he wanted to be home. Bring you home to Winterfell so he could go back to you having the freedom to walk around in your beautiful dresses and there would be not a thing in his way but your tiny layer of fabric that he could soak you through in seconds.
Teeth almost gritting as he hissed, finding your clit as the rest of your core was shoved too tightly against his knee, still moving you against him only now his fingers pushed more. Running harsh and tightly over the sensitive spark before almost twisting it as if it were the small buds on your breasts he would roughly yank at, twist so cruelly but on something now that made you cry out.
His mouth covered yours instantly, brows furrowed as he did so as if he was angry someone might have heard you. Running your covered core along his knee and his fingers rubbing, twisting and playing with your clit as he licked his way back into your mouth, keeping you unable to moan out loud or catch your breathe. Tensing hard in his arms, Jon pushed his knee up firmer and forced your hips down as much as he could as he ran his fingers tightly and twisted the core in you so suddenly.
But you tensed up, gasped into his kiss and then nothing. He pulled away. Again. His hand, his knee, even his lips. He stood almost a foot away from you, hands now steadying you by your upper arms again as you felt so stinging you wanted to cry. Three times now, and it was starting to be painful each time he refused you. Husking down at you, accent so thick only you could understand it from being so close, “Please, don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again.”
Almost unable to speak through the thick fog in your head you nodded, but he pulled you by a hand at your chin so as he spoke his lips brushed yours. “I want you to promise me, darling. Promise you’ll never do anything like that again.”
You weren’t in the right mind to guess which, but you wondered far off if he had done this on purpose or not. Put you in such a desperate state to get you to agree to anything he’d ask, or was this just out of his own worried panic over your safety fighting with some darker need he held for you?
Either way, your hands ran along his chest plate again as you nodded,“I won’t. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Looking to his eyes, they were almost seen as water hidden behind their depths as he looked at you almost heartbreakingly. “Jon..” You bit your lip almost nervously to ask, it sounding too innocent in your airy tone for such a request, “Could..we...”
But Jon only kissed you again, one last bite to your bottom lip as his tongue ran gently over the marks his teeth left and pulling back again. His hand cupping the back of your hair once more, the other now gentle on your waist. “No.” Your eyes squeezed closed in frustration as he kissed your forehead again, speaking against the skin there too. “But I want you to start keeping track of how often I don’t let you.”
Your brows furrowing as your heart still beat loud in your ears, “Why?”
He pressed another kiss to your forehead, this time more gentle and loving. Resting his own against it as he curled the hand on your waist around your lower back to pull you more into a gentle embrace. “Because however many times I take it away from you, I’m going to double. Give you twice as many to make up for it whenever I fuck you. You’re looking at how many? Six? Eight?”
You actually laughed, and so did he. Your head falling onto his shoulder as you shook with an exhausted laughter. “Remember that day in the wolfswood when I admitted I didn’t know what having one feels like? I’ve decided I regret ever telling you that now.” He asked why and you could hear the grin, “Because you only let me have one after doing this exact thing three times then.”
Jon didn’t respond right away, but it wasn’t even in lust he retorted. Almost just enough in a dry tone that you would smack him for being a smart ass, were you still children. “If I’m adding those three, then we are up to at least twelve.” You sighed, and he grinned more. Pulling you against his chest with both arms, one more around the back of your head now as yours were at his waist. “Keep talking, darling. I’ll keep adding them. I’ll be between your legs sun down to sun up at this pace.”
Sometimes it was hard to tell if your fathers men gave a hard time just to see how long your resolve would put up with it. You had been going back and forth before the man finally accepted the orders and made his leave.
The deep rumbling of a familiar voice came up to your side as you stood watching the men around the main gates working to clear and clean of the dead. “I’d throw them off the sides of that cliff before I let a lanky shit talk to me like that.”
Glancing up to your right to find Tormund watching the same as you did before glancing to you with an amused raise in an eyebrow. You turned back with little expression, voice as flat and done with this night as before. “I grew up here. Known most of these men my whole life, they talk to me like that because they know I let them. They certainly wouldn’t speak to my father that way.”
You tried not to glance to where he was in the distance. You felt a bit conflicted on how to handle things. On one hand, you were greatly thankful for him in just the blood spilling hours before and yet Pylos’s words rung in your mind and you couldn’t stop thinking of it. You didn’t know about your uncle, he was your mother’s own brother as well how much had been burned to dust and bone on these shores?
“You did well.” Glancing back up at him with curiosity, “On the cliff. You did well, not an easy climb that kind of rock but I was impressed. You and the Greyjoy.”
Smirking you shrugged a shoulder before crossing your arms over your torso. “Should I in return congratulate or apologize that your daughters husband lives to see another day?” He chuckled deeply, and it brought a smirk out of you. Taking a moment to let it simmer before you turned to something more on the side of quiet. “Would you have it in you to do more of that, or was this a one and done sort of deal?”
Turning to face you with an amused interest, he played just as coy. “Depends on the pretty crow’s offer.”
You however jumped right to the point. “The mines we’re here for, there’s tunnels all under the island but the easier ones to access are still mostly untouched. I have a few I know that I’ve worked my way through, but before I bring any of the others down there, I need to make sure I have everything in place so I can at the least have people get down to the main surface floor without scaling untouched walls in the dark. Would be nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing down with me.”
Tormund smirked, “Not even a challenge, between you and me, we could have those tunnels ready in a few hours we leave early enough.” You nodded appreciatively, back to looking at the winding stones some now had worked to wash the blood from. “I’d ask how early we should start tomorrow but I have a feeling it won’t be so easy convincing Snow to let you out of bed, to go spend time in a confined dark space with another man so soon.” Your eyes narrowed in confusion as he laughed. “Your fancy castle is large, but it doesn’t hide as much as you think.”
Your voice cracked as you suddenly hoped the earth would open and drop you into the sea. “I’m not sure I know what you are implying.”
Tormund leaned in, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragged you into his side without care. “All the advice I’ve given him, and he didn’t even let you cum.” Perhaps you could climb to the top of Dragonmont and dive into the molten liquid if you ran fast enough. “Could join you, let me teach him by example, how to treat a woman right if he’s that fucking cruel. Show him what he’s missing out on with you.” The grin in his voice was so thick as you knew your face was flushed and mortified.
Barley finding the confidence to mumble out, “You’re getting closer and closer to me shoving you off the edge of the mine, Tormund. Right at the very top.”
There was no noise except for the echo of footsteps as they walked down the corridor. Much torchlight hung by the walls and there were enough in each heavy iron door that you knew at least he would be sitting in more then darkness. As the guards opened the door, you nodded at them pointedly. “Leave us.”
The door closing behind with a loud clang keeping you in the open space of the dungeon cell, and a thick set of metal bars adorning the second half of the room keeping him apart. Sat on the ground with one knee bend up towards him and the other splayed out on the ground, the heaviest of his armour having been taken off him and he now looked quite like an ordinary man.
His eyes met yours with a curiosity. Your voice was low and even with nothing to give away in tone or even your face. “Do you know who I am?”
His answer at least was simple in response of your name, ending with Baratheon before he paused and corrected himself with little effort in him put forth. “Or, I suppose it’s Snow isn’t it? If we are being proper, that is.”
It made sense you supposed in your mind. Jon Snow was King in the North, and you were Queen at his side and most would presume so due to marriage. But it wasn’t anything worth the effort to correct him on. You didn’t come down here to discuss Jon.
Looking at Jon Connington you could see the shorter dark orange of his hair that gave his face more youth then the lines and exhaustion blessed him otherwise. “You requested to be away from your men, may I inquire as to why?”
Glancing up at you, his own eyes narrowed trying to sense the double agenda in your question but you knew he would find none. You played no games now. He sighed deeply, looking back at the adjacent wall with a morose tone. “I led sell swords here, not an army. They aren’t too forgiving of failure, even less so with being forced to surrender. It was safer to put me and him on our own, and I knew you wouldn’t let us together.”
Giving him one nod before inhaling deeply as you looked at him now with more curiosity. “The Golden Company has never successfully taken anything in Westeros before, they will come back around from this. We out numbered you, more than you suspected we would if I am guessing correctly.”
Laughing with nothing behind it’s meaning, “That you did. Lord Varys’s little birds were wrong. About many things it seems.” You raised an eyebrow and the silence sat between until he realized this was not a back and forth. “Either he didn’t know about Stannis Baratheons army or he didn’t tell me. Also tried to spook me, saying your husband was some dead man. A walking monster stabbed in the heart. Looks perfectly fine to me.”
The walking monsters of undead nature were that of cold and ice, not flesh and blood. But the knife in the heart was all the same. “He isn’t here, Lord Varys. Why?”
Connington barley moved, “I don’t know. Left some days before tonight, had business to attend to elsewhere and said no more on it. He isn’t a man who gives away his secrets,” You agreed and it had him hesitate and turn to look up at you. “How would you know that?”
Stepping closer your posture loosened a little bit, making him relax as well. “My father and I both served on the small council for some years. Spent much time around Lord Varys, so yes my lord, I know exactly the kind of secret’s he is capable of telling. Or not telling.”
Oh the glare Connington gave you almost was enough to have you laugh. “So, how does your father being King work? He claims to be the Protector of the Realm, but his daughter and heir is married to an independent Northern King? Things sure seem to have changed since I’ve been gone.”
“By change you mean there’s more freedom to rule outside of your beloved Targaryeans?” His eyes shot over to you, and while there was no malice on your face there was something unsettling in your eyes deep if he searched hard enough. You stepped closer again. “There was only a Seven Kingdoms because those people flew in with dragons and scorched the earth and it’s people. So you can imagine I am not quite convinced on Aegon’s claim when this country is only just beginning to find footing on it’s own once again.”
Sighing deeply, Connington’s jaw clenched as he stared harshly at he wall but his voice spit out in a hiss, “So this is who rules now? The Targaryeans fought against you Baratheon’s and Starks and now you get to be the ones who are in charge?”
Your voice was non confrontational however, you didn’t come for a fight but you knew you hit a sore spot. “For the Iron Throne? It’s a three way tie currently. The Lannisters sit on the throne, my father fights for it and apparently the remaining Targaryean still alive ,wishes to come back to seek it as well.” You came close to the bars, him still a number of feet away even if you were to press right up against the cold metal. “The Starks want nothing to do with the Iron Throne. We have bigger fights in the North then for an ugly iron chair.”
That you didn’t realize, was just almost enough to get a smirk out of the man. He turned his head lazily to look up at you, “Thought you were a Snow not a Stark.”
If he was trying to be clever, you saw through it. “You and I both know that Lord Varys has told you exactly who Jon is. Who his father is.” That made him clench his jaw harder, turn away with a rigid uncomfortable look in his eyes in an instant. Crouching down to see him more at his eye level you narrowed your eyes at him. “Let's not play word games. We both are aware of who exactly you were fighting against out there.”
Connington sighed, an arm coming to rest against his knee and hold his face in his palm before flying it back down to whip his neck around to you. “Is that why you are here? To discuss Eddard Stark’s bastard son?”
If he was on edge before, he paled now as you whispered into the silent air. “I’m here to discuss his aunt. Lyanna Stark. I’m sure your familiar with the name.” He said not a word, and you felt it seep heavy into the very air you both breathed. “I am going to be perfectly honest with you, my lord. Neither me nor Jon care about Aegon’s fight for the Iron Throne. He asked one thing of you in peace and you and him all but declared war for something on this island you didn’t even know was there. I don’t care if Aegon is fighting for the Iron Throne, what I want to know is how he’s even here in the first place.” Leaning forward you lowered your voice to something a little more annoyed with him. “Do we both know what I’m referring to or do we need to refresh our memories about the end of the rebellion? And how every single person in the Seven Kingdoms assumed Aegon died as a baby when Gregor Clegane smashed his face into a wall so hard it was unrecognizable.”
That did not sit nicely on his face. At all. He swallowed had with as much horror swimming in his eyes as you always felt imagining such a monstrous act. You let him sit in the quiet for a good few minutes, and you sat patiently waiting. “He was already two when they brought him to me.” Your eyes narrowed but otherwise remained entirely impassive. “Lord Varys and this associate of his, they approached me with this whole thing. I- I didn’t even know Aegon had survived...I had no idea...but then there he was..the only thing left of him right in front of me and them pleading me to help.”
“What did they want you to do?”
��Raise him. Take care of him, help make him ready. Train him to take the Iron Throne when he’s ready and hide with him until then. As father and son. Out of everyone in the world I had thought, me, Rhaegar trusted me with his son.” Your eyes grew dark and sharp but said nothing. There was a distant affection and lightness in his voice that was so far away you knew it tinged in a present pain. “I had lost him, but I had his son. Rhaegar’s own blood trusted in my hands to raise..I don’t know why he was smuggled out..or why she wasn’t..”
Rhaenys he meant. Why what sounded like nothing more than an innocent, sweet girl was left behind to be slaughtered.
He swallowed heavily, and his voice shattered to a waver. Not once did he look at you. “I spent his whole life waiting for him to become Rhaegar. The day I would wake up and see him, in his face, his eyes, anything. But..I’m still looking. I spent Ageon’s whole life waiting to see when he would turn into his father that sometimes...I feel like I missed his life..the life he had when he was just..my son. I failed his father, and now I’m failing the son too.”
Whatever was choking him on the inside, wrapped its tendrils around your throat and squeezed until something rough was forced out. “You didn’t fail. Rhaegar was the one who failed.” Connington’s eyes met yours, and it was a sorrow you rarely saw on people. “I don’t know Aegon, I didn’t know Rhaegar, but I knew the damage he left behind. I spent half my life growing up with a family that his actions led to their deaths before the war was over, and that pain has never gone away. I saw that pain live and fester in Robert’s eyes until it was so strong it almost killed what good in him was left. Good men don’t leave pain like that behind.”
Deep blue eyes and dark curls in your mind were clear as if he were right in front of you. Robb being gone was agony, but he left no pain behind. Only the agony of loss, and the desperate love of so many who knew the truth that he was the best of so many of you. Good men are like Robb, not Rhaegar.
Connington was quiet for a long time, but never asked you to leave. A quiet solace as you both thought to men you loved and lost in your own ways, but one was tinged in more guilt then the other until it spilled over as his head fell back with a thud against the dungeon wall. “For a long time I saw him everywhere. In my head, my dreams, would pass someone with just the right shade of hair that I’d trick myself into thinking there he was. I wanted to see him in Aegon so badly, but I never could. I thought I never would again, and..it wasn’t until..I suppose now I realize that maybe I don’t actually want to see him.”
“Until what?”
He looked to you with a doubt, and then he huffed a laugh. Shrugging a shoulder in a genuine amusement as he sat there behind the metal bars. “For a good minute out there, fighting your husband felt like I was back in my prime. Sparring with Rhaegar in the training arenas, getting overwhelmed by his intensity too.”
Tilting his head to you, “Damn near spooked me. Was like looking at Rhaegar how intense he was, but..he was also far better then him. I’ll give him that, your King is a skilled swordsman like I’ve ever seen. Had all of Rhaegar’s intensity and more, and I realize now that maybe I’m relieved I’ve never seen that in Aegon. I don’t know this Jon Snow, but for your sake, I hope there’s more to him then what I saw out there beacuse otherwise?” He whistled out and your face fell flat.
Your voice however had an edge to it that cut him like steel. “And you think Rhaegar was a better man?” Rhaegar thought he was better then everyone else, and that it made him untouchable. But Jon is a better man then anyone you know anymore in your current life, but he would never think that of himself. He’s a good man because that’s who he is, not beacuse he’s trying to make everyone else think so too. Leaning forward there was a real vitriol there, “Jon’s never abandoned his wife and two young children to kidnap an innocent teenage girl at the least.”
Connington’s face paled almost sickly. “Is that why you’re down here? Mock me about what he did?”
You were honest but no less hostile even in whispers. “She was Jons aunt, his fathers own sister and everything he’s heard about what your beloved prince did to her only got worse the more he was told. But he won’t ask you about it. So I will.” You leaned in as much as you could. “Why kidnap her? She died because of him, her father and brother died trying to save her. Why take her, why keep her from her family. What did he do to her that killed her so far away from where he, himself died?”
Connington’s voice was rough and you had no sympathy. “You’ve heard the story.” Asking why he did it, he said nothing. So you asked again to more nothing. Only the third did he raise his voice. “I don’t know. I don’t know why he did it. He never said what about the girl he wanted with, just that he needed her. But he had his Kingsguard keep her locked up and no one saw her until after she was already dead. He never said what he wanted with her, never told me why. And I was exiled by Aerys before I had a chance to find out.”
Leaning back, your nails dug into your palms at the guilt on his face. “Tell me one thing. The rumours of what he did to her, were those true? Or was that just the angry ramblings from Robert without any merit?”
His silence was deafening and you felt ill. Lyanna deserved better then to have men thirty years after her death, mourn the man who kidnapped and raped her until she died alone in the Dornish sands.
You backed off from him, and your tone lightened up a bit for his sake. Already struggling to look you in the eye. “Sometime soon, Jon will offer you and Aegon a peace. But I’d think long and hard, Lord Connington. Think if the man you really want Aegon to be is Rhaegar, beacuse there is none here who is on his side. But they might be on yours. You have time still. He doesn’t have to become his father, you can let him be ready at his own pace.”
“No I can’t.” You head tilted in question. “I don’t have time. Aegon needs to be ready to take the Iron Throne now or I- he can decide who he wants to be when he’s crowned but I need to sit him on the Throne as soon as possible. I...I have to do this one thing for him. I can’t fail the father and the son both.”
Your whisper was far away, “Why? Why rush into this after spending almost thirty years leading to it?”
But he shook his head. Clearing his throat before pulling his knees both up to his chest to rest his arms over them. For a while he said no more, and it wasn’t until the tense quiet of you walking towards the heavy door did he speak up. “He looks like her.”
Your head whipped around to look at him, Connington’s face more pale once again. “Jon Snow. You said he’s Lyanna Stark’s nephew? He looks like her. Suppose he looks like Eddard Stark too, but it was like looking at a gods forsaken ghost seeing him for the first time.” He laughed to himself. “Spent thirty years trying to see Rhaegar and avoid thinking about all the horrible shit he did, and in one night I feel like he, Lyanna and Robert have all come back to haunt me between the two of you.”
In only a small voice, you knew he heard you even if he didn’t acknowledge it. “You’re the one who raised him. And you surrendered for his sake beacuse you love him, not beacuse he’s Rhaegar’s. Don’t allow Rhaegar’s shadow to get in the way of that. Aegon’s not him, and he needs you for you. Not beacuse you are waiting for him to become someone else.”
As you walked out of the dungeons, all you could see was deep blue eyes against grey eyes.
For only a moment, you let yourself sit on the steps leading back to to the main floors of the castle as the night sky loomed over. Your hand traced the scar along you, and you realized maybe you weren’t the only one making that very mistake. You had been adamant to ensure your love with Robb was about him and not the guilt of Jon, and it led to a love between you both that was more then you could’ve ever imagined for the tearfully short time you were allowed to share it.
So you couldn’t do the same in return to Jon. You would always love Robb, always love the child you almost had together, but you couldn’t only see them when you looked at Jon anymore. You always said he deserved better then what the world gave him, and that included what you had been doing up until now.
The path was less treacherous then you recalled. Recently having passed your eleventh name day, you had still been small when you did this last. Your room too, it felt smaller then you remembered, cramped and uninspired with little personality. Much of you had been taken to King’s Landing where none of it existed anymore, but hidden behind a cabinet under the rug was still your spot to have searched on Dragonstone.
The path along there felt long as a girl. Long and the loud tides were frightening as if the gods telling you to stay away but each time including the fifth now, you had to pass the fear by. There was something you had to do, one last act and this time you felt horrid it was done so late.
Hopefully not only will The Mother see your beg of reason, but Robb would understand you hated not being able to do anything sooner. Whatever gods answered you now, you needed to send his son to Robb once and for all. Robb deserved that, he deserved more then that but this was all you could do.
As you came upon the clearing however, you felt a weightless sink in your stomach that almost had you drop. What more had he let her do? Your steps were suddenly slow, a painful realization that not only could the old gods of Robb not hear you from here, but perhaps the Seven of your past could not either anymore.
The statues had always sat tall and proud on the shores, close to the sept but a worship all on their own that felt closer to the earth. Four times you had come here like this, lighting a candle in the middle of each and finally to The Mother you would light all seven before beginning.
But now, only shadows remained. Burned statues of the Seven that you could hardly recognize what even had stood as what before. Burn the false idols, that was what he had let her do. You prayed in a peace to the old gods now, but not even the sliver of your life following the Seven was allowed here now. Only her fire god, as she burned any and all for him.
Now, as you stood with the torch in your hand and wind blowing your hair around with it, you only felt the pull North more intensely. Dragonstone was slowly taking away everything that was once a home with a family. Death and destruction was left.
Your hands brushed along each statues remains, and tried to recall prayers long unspoken in your mind and hoped they would accept your only offer. You knew where The Mother stood, and for once you felt a sting behind your eyes as you approached. This time it was not brothers you lost, and not your own mother by blood that you prayed for. It was you who was the almost mother praying to let the gods forgive your unborn son and pass him to his father and find peace together.
Carefully, you stuck the torch deep into the sand in front of her, and let your hands trail over the melted insides that were left. Wind blowing your hair and cloak far and wide as you begged for any hope that someone not shrouded in fire could hear you and protect him. He was your son, and you failed him and so you needed to pass him on.
You had made your way to your old bedroom earlier, shutting the door behind you sealing you alone as you pulled out the deep blue box with ornate foxes etched into it. Four hand carved toys sat inside it, four toys for your four brothers to remember by.
You had done what you did for them, written out the blessings septon would anoint a child with as they were named under the Light of the Seven. Only this time, the house sigil was that of a direwolf, and the name you called to them at the bottom had almost been enough to make you cry. The memory of horrified blue eyes looking at you with blood soaking his hands as your final memories together.
Eddard Stark
Now the burned remains sat in a small pouch along with the dagger. Pulling it out you held both ends with a choke so high in your throat were you to let it out it would sob. But the tears fell the same. You had nothing of them, nothing of either of them. Only this.
You had nothing of Robb but a scar and a dagger. His body was desecrated. He was given no funeral rites, he would not rest beside his father in the crypts of Winterfell with a faithful direwolf to guard him.
Robbs bones were lost somewhere in the Riverlands.
You could only give him this, and the tears fell as you cared not to hide them. You had a life to find now without him, with a man you truly loved but you would never find it in you to move past this kind of pain. You would always be scarred in heart with his loss, and the son you failed to give him. But you did have to accept it.
No shatters or thunder or noises to fear came about. The Mother had seen you cry and heard you in agony for the love of your life and the son you both lost, and she was allowing you to do one final thing for them.
You like four times before, stepped out into the middle of the shores, and with no wince this time, carved the dagger deep into your palm. The blood of you, Robb and your son all dried on it and now you let it twist as much as you could needing some of all three to soak your hand as you and your sons had soaked Robbs.
Letting it sit back in it’s sheath, you gently pulled out the pouch and poured it into your bleeding hand and letting the material fly elsewhere. Hand tightening around it you let your blood together soak as this was all you had of your son. Robb and you could only give him this to send him and you needed him to find his father, that was all they had of each other.
Stepping into the watering tides, you knelt down into the ground, the water surrounding you a few inches all around. Your hand sat deep into the sand as your eyes closed, kneeling down on your calves, with both hands braced beside you. The winds and tides blew around you as you saw not the blood.
Just the memory of a moment to find any joy. The memory of how scared you had been to tell him, only for Robb to haul you up into his lap and arms, the happiest you had ever seen him and the loving press of his lips against you like you gave him the world.
Eventually, your hand opened and the remains and blood all washed into the sea. You stayed there for a good long while. Eyes open looking to the stars in the night refusing to remember the pain. Only the deep love you found with him and the dreams of a family you couldn’t give him.
You hoped this far away, Robb Stark could hear you tell him you love him. Now and always.
It was more time you had planned on being away, by the time you had made your way to the room that was to be yours for a time, Jon was already stripped down from his armour and everything. Both of you having taken the time to clean the blood and grime from you before finding the other at that point as Jon now sat perched against the ledge near the open window, slight breeze flowing through his loose curls as he was cleaning the remaining blood from Longclaw back to it’s shining state.
Grey eyes soft as they looked up, you gently pushing the door closed behind you before letting your back rest against the heavy surface. A fire softly crackled in against the wall along the rooms clearing with a soft rug covering the cold stone of the floor. It was hard to tell if it was something unsure or worried in his eyes as they looked gentle but with a furrow in his brows at the fragility you stood against the door in, as if struggling more then normal to find the words.
Calling your name, but when you didn’t respond he set Longclaw aside. Standing to make his way over to you and only on the second attempt did your eyes snap back to the present as your name sounding in your ears. He stood close, but not invading your privacy and yet that sorrow in your heart melted to something that left a bright love to bleed in your gaze. “Talk to me.”
As Jon’s hand reached up to run his fingers through the hair at the side of your face, you grabbed it instead. Pulling it, and by proxy him, closer to you as you held it more over your heart as the other free hand of yours traced over his jaw, facial hair scratching at the skin. His other came to rest at your waist, both quiet as he waited for what was behind your eyes to make their presence spoken.
When you found that, it wasn’t what he expected. “I used to think it was my fault my mother lost my brothers.” His eyes narrowed at you but you had not the strained hurt in your voice, but something more gentle and easy. “She stopped speaking to me after the first, and then the night after she lost her second my father told me I was being sent North. I thought it was a punishment.” Your hand begun to trace back and run through his curls as he watched you closely. Your own eyes not meeting his as they trailed innocently over what you could see of him from such an angle. “Used to think boys were meant to come first, and by me being the firstborn I had screwed it all up, and my mother kept losing them beacuse of me.”
The hand holding his over your heart slowly slid downwards, his eyes following intently until he led your hands and reached where the scar sat under your clothes. Letting his palm almost slide across the whole thing and his eyes never looked away from it as if he wanted to see it through the material. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Nodding, you moved both of your hands to rest along his chest close to his collarbones. “I thought I was cursed. Eventually, I stopped thinking about it. It had been so long I forgot what it ever was like to be afraid I was the reason she couldn’t have them.” Your voice lowered however, and you felt him tense drastically in your touch. “At least, I forgot until I lost my own. And then I felt like a failure. I didn’t even have one before he too was gone.”
Jon tried to move, wanting to pull you closer but your hands on his chest pushed back a little to keep him at bay. His voice low and rough trying to contain something in him. “Robb would never blame you for that. Never.”
You echoed those words, not realizing as he had said them about himself that you understood exactly what that felt like. “I thought I failed Robb, and I was terrified he would hate me for failing his son too.” Jon never moved his hand from your scar, his shoulders holding a visible weight on top of them as he stood close to you. “But I realized something tonight. That if I keep holding onto that thought, all I am doing is pushing you away with it. I’m doing exactly what you had told me not to do when I married Robb. I’m letting my pain of losing them get in the way of what I should be having with you.”
His other hand not on your scar moved to run over the back of your hair as his grey eyes were bright and conflicted as he looked into your willing ones. “I’m not asking you to choose me over Robb, I’d never ask you that. I know you two loved each other and I’ve never wanted to get in the way of that-”
It didn’t matter how quiet your voice was, it to Jon sounded as if it were a yell from above. “He said I was fine.” His eyes shot up to yours sharply. “Wolkan. He said I was fine. That..he doesn’t think I should have any reason to suspect I can’t..or that we wouldn’t be able to..”
His touch was still and his eyes were wide in almost shock. Lips parted slightly as he looked you over gently before meeting your eyes again. “He said that you can..” His hand on your scar increased the pressure and he almost could lose it at how you seemed so gentle looking up at him.
You leaned back against the door more, a relax in your posture. “I thought that if I failed to give the last King in the North an heir, I didn’t deserve to fail with the second. Thought you should’ve just moved on, made me leave and find yourself a better wife that could give you all that and more. That letting you be with me was a mistake, and you’d end up hating me for wasting your time.”
Something deep in Jon’s eyes hurt, something painful cut at him hearing such a statement that there was a redness tinting behind the grey that threatened to pool out were he to let it. In an instant he moved to cup your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours as he crowded you against the door, your hands coming to his waist. “I don’t care about if you can give me a heir, I care about you. I care about how much it would hurt you not to be able to have children, and if I was pushing you for something that was impossible..but..”
The ease in how lovingly you looked into his eyes made him choke up. And the tenderness in your voice made that all the worse. “I’m not trying to influence you one way or the other, I just..thought you ought know the option is there..should you decide you want that..”
You suspected there was a lot he wanted to say but little ability to speak them into the world. His voice still a whisper as he looked at you, but a playful small smile on his lips. “I did always think your name would sound better with Snow than Stark.” You both just laughed, for a moment before he tried inhaling shakily before speaking again. “We don’t have to plan anything right now, but,” One hand started to trace down your arm, as his eyes followed, “We could always practice.”
His eyes flickered up to you, and a weight held your voice and breathe down. Maybe keeping the tears at bay too, but you swallowed heavily. Hands on his waist tightening as you slowly nodded. Jon leaned in, hovering close to your lips before glancing up to your eyes, you nodded once more before nervously shutting them as he closed the gap himself.
Jon tried to be gentle, he truly did.
His kiss was soft at first, a gentle brushing of his lips to coax more from yours. Hands on the other were both light and firm enough just to keep the other in front of them, but it was the shaking in yours as they rose up the length of his chest that made him weak. His touch back up to cupping both of your cheeks as he gently let you find a slow, sweetness in the harmony, your hands continuing their journey up to dance along his neck and wrap around the back of it, almost too gently for him to handle.
Your touch when that soft and innocent, made his blood race.
He tried pulling away a few times, wanting to at least take the heavy layers off of you, but each time he was pulled right back to your lips on his own desire, kissing a little harder each instance and getting worse at pulling back every return. The hands on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly when Jon gently nibbled at your bottom lip and you tried to gasp. He would return to a soft kiss, bite your lip harder and then kiss it soothingly before biting and repeating.
Each bite you got closer to a whine at the pleasure from the stinging he gave you, and your nails unintentionally dug into the skin of his neck as you felt yourself getting lightheaded. One of his slipped behind your own neck, keeping a firm hold cupping the back of it as if to force you not to move as the other hand left your cheek as well. Blindly working away at the laces and straps keeping your light armour still attached to your upper body as if he needed no sight to know how to take it all off of you.
As soon as it was loose enough to pull off you, he let it toss down anywhere he could throw it, biting your lip harsh as he jumped to your bottom half. His tongue now soothing over the bite mark before slipping into your mouth. His invading kiss and calloused hand running along the skin by your hips undoing your pants almost impatiently had you arching a bit into the touch and a gentle whine he caught in your mouth with his greed.
Instead of shoving them down though, his rough hand slipped in between the fabric and your skin, and suddenly it was just as it was in the castle halls earlier that night. His fingertips dancing down to where you burned for him, and his own knee suddenly shoved your legs apart to once more rut in between you. The hand slid just inside only coming back up to grab what he could of your pants and roughly yanked you down onto his knee as much as he could manage, you much more freely moaning into his kiss.
The entire time, Jon refused to let your lips part from him. Refused to loosen his grip on the back of your neck and you felt more and more like it was a wolf really in front of you. A rough hold on the scruff of another wolves neck to keep them subjugated and you let him without a single thought on the matter. There were no thoughts of anything in you that wasn’t letting him do what he wanted.
Jon’s own head screamed at him over it. This was exactly the kind of thing that led to the way he took you that night in Castle Black. In your early days together, slowly exploring one another at the same pace it was never this bad. He never felt this barley in control. Yet as soon as his eyes opened once more in the body belonging to him, as soon as his mind settled and he understood the truth of what he had experienced, it started and never stopped.
Something dark and clawing in his chest begged him to keep you all for himself, and the way you melted to his touch so willingly and so naturally made that stronger. It partially scared him, having something so intense and addicted find it’s way about you. Worried that he was too much now, he would frighten you with his need for you in his life but you weren’t. You were the one in fact, scared of over staying your welcome.
That darkness was stronger then it had been in his entire previous life, and it was that same darkness that had him take you that night. Hoisted against the cold wall in his arms, Jon had slid his cock deep inside you for the first time and he knew there was no going back. Shoving you onto the ground and fucking you deep as soon as he already came once. Waking up with you bare in his arms and you had only even just tumbled out of sleep as Jon yanked you up onto his lap.
Barley opened your eyes before he roughly bounced you on his cock and him sitting up to mark your breasts up with this teeth because you gasped so beautifully in the air whenever he did. He filled you twice that morning without ever stopping how hard he fucked you onto his cock and he didn’t understand why he wanted more and more. Couldn’t understand why he suddenly was so desperate to fill you in a way that once terrified him when he was nothing more then just a bastard boy in love with a royal highborn girl.
But now? Jon was King in the North, the King his brother, his brothers people and his home all wanted and not a thing would stand in his way from keeping you with him. He was still honest about not wanting to pressure you into thinking you had to marry him, but he wanted it. Wanted you in a beautiful ivory dress, even more elaborate then the last. Pray with you in front of the Weirwood, drape his own fur over you in that beautiful ivory dress and kiss you before finding one last string of tradition in him, and hoisting you in his arms to the celebration to follow.
You could be each others and there would be nothing anyone could do to change that. Jon would never force it, or even press for it, but nothing would be in his way. And now? He thought too, nothing was standing in his way of getting you pregnant and suddenly his blood almost boiled him alive.
Hands finally having enough, you started to push up the soft material of Jon’s shirt until he got the message, pulling from you to let you take it off him, and letting it drop much more gently then he was treating your things. Looking down at you with wide eyes and lips parted as he breathed heavily, he stopped. Running his hand back down your cheek before just as gently taking everything from your top half off of you.
A shiver running over your chest as you were left with nothing covering you but Jon’s dark, greeding gaze. But he didn’t overwhelm, not now. Keeping a hand steady on your hip as you kept perched right over his knee, but his other explored your skin. Running flat along your jaw and neck thumb firm as it trailed down the middle of your neck to your collarbones before circling around to grasp at your breast.
His eyes were narrowed and his breathing heavy through his nose as he stared in silence, hand suddenly rough as he groped the plush skin he found. Thumb running over your nipple already perfect for him to grasp and twist. Grey eyes so dark they were near black as they flickered between his touch and your arching back and high pitched gasp you tried to keep low.
It only made Jon tug and twist at the small bud more roughly, and your gasp turned to a small cry before he finally moved to the other hand from your hip. Both hands rough and calloused and leaving bruises of his fingertips as sparks shot through your chest, pumping from your heart down between the legs trapped on either side of one of his. Jon leaning forward, pressing only gentle kisses down your neck. Nothing like his selfishly rough touch, only feather light presses of his lips making his way up to your ear before leaving another gentle one just below.
His lips only giving a peck before his hands came to slid everything left on you, off. Keeping everything in a tender touch until he rose back up to your level, you now bare before him.
Three fingers danced between your legs and grazed the growing wetness before trailing up to your clit with a touch that never really got committed. “Will you lay out for me? Let me taste you?” You bit your lip, still the act somehow making you nervous. It wasn’t something you even knew about until he was already doing it, and still it made you self conscious, but the need was deep in his eyes. “You’re safe with me, remember?”
That made you nod, and you let him gently move you to the soft carpet close to the fire. Still something nerve wracking in you, realizing you had no idea how to make yourself look alluring like this. Gently kneeling down on your calves with your hands in weak fists sat in your lap as if anything else would look like you were trying too hard. Jon however, just exhaled deeply as he looked back at you.
Grabbing your hands with both of his larger ones before leaning close, placing them along his shoulders around the back of his neck until you continued the path yourself, fingertips running what you could reach of his curls. Moving next to guide you to lay out for him, your knees somewhat bent with feet flat on the soft carpet as Jon settled partially above you.
Instead of moving you more, Jon leaned down and kissed you again. A soft brush of lips that this time never picked up, one of his hands running along your hair splayed out under you as he pulled away, after giving one final small kiss. Nothing else was spoken in the air as he moved down your neck, kissing a path just as soft and just as gentle the whole way.
Your hands slipping to his shoulders the lower he kissed, your chest already with a slight heave as your breathing picked up, but he never let up. Never let his lips press anywhere but gently along your skin. A muttering against you when he had to reach up, and direct a hand into his hair, mumbling into his path, “Keep that there.” You nodded even though he couldn’t see it.
The lower he got the more your nerves and heart raced, unsure as to why it made you so nervous but it also was something you simply never knew existed before him. Much of what you had always discovered with Jon made you nervous. He paused as he got to your scar, and just as you had his, kissed a path all the way down it and further.
Shifting to lay between your legs, Jon confidently draped your thighs over his shoulders, once more grasping your hips as he kissed along your upper thighs. Moving your hips slightly up closer to him, you felt the gentle brush of his tongue along your clit, enough to have you gasp. Would have jumped too were his hold not keeping you so strongly tethered right where he wanted.
Small, gentle licks along your clit that had your core awaken suddenly. Just a tender touch, working you up at the sensitive spot with only his tongue until he felt your thighs around him begin to shake, only then did Jon finally run his tongue flat over it much more soaking. Sucking your clit before just barely grazing his teeth over it as you tried again to jump at the spark of pleasure but he kept you in place.
Jon refused to let his mouth trail his mouth anywhere else, licking and sucking your clit with hands holding your hips tight until you felt that build up inside of you. Almost bracing yourself, knowing he was going to take it away again, you tried holding it off. Tried keeping it at bay as your free hand curled into a fist and biting your lip, but the pressure inside refused to stop.
But just as you felt the weakness, just as you felt inside tightening, Jon instead moved to grab at your upper thighs, and pushed them far. The instant you were sure he was going to pull away though, Jon moved to lick right down your folds with a deep hunger. A loud cry left your mouth as the second that feeling snapped, Jon used that hold to yank you into his mouth more. Tongue tasting every bit of wetness you were gracing him with before trailing back to your clit and down again.
Legs shaking and your breathing airy as your orgasm ripped through you but he didn’t pull back, only held you close. His tongue making his way deep inside of you, and your cries were loud and free by then. Unable to stop, as your hand curled into his hair with a beg of his name which meant no other words.
Jon grunted into your cunt, licking and tasting you with greed at the feeling and sounds you made above him. Hands pushing your thighs wide and off his shoulders, and instead as he run his tongue against something sharp and sensitive inside of you, his hands slid down your thighs to pull you again closer. Not realizing you had arched away from him the more your head fogged with pleasure rolling around your veins. Hands almost grasping now tightly at your ass, fingertips leaving deep bruises already as his mouth drank from you with his own need.
His own sounds vibrating through you and up leaving as cries from your mouth. Soaking his tongue and yet Jon didn’t back away for a second, his own need refusing to let go of you as suddenly that wave of pleasure shocked. Back arching for him, as your hand tightened in his hair. The sensation causing Jon to growl into you and his hands on your ass holding tighter as your orgasm rippled through you, babbling need saying words you heard not in the snapping pleasure burning your insides.
Perhaps it was so close to your second that it made it simple, but Jon so quickly drew a third. Not letting himself simmer down to a gentle coaxing as he started, instead keeping the desperation in how deep he tasted inside of you and how much he drank everything you soaked him with. You almost rolled right into a third as you begged this time, “Please- I can’t, don’t..” Nothing was close to a sentence and Jon didn't stop until he could will himself to leave by force.
Your eyes stung as it almost was too much between you did Jon kiss a path to your clit, and instead of marking his way back up, he all but leaped to your eye level. Pulling you in by the back of your hair as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Making you taste what he was addicted too as his covered cock rutted into your soaking bare cunt. His hands held your waist as he rolled more into you with intention, breathing growing heavy and the second he pulled away from your lips a snarl almost formed on his face before he bit your lips into another rough, deep kiss.
Your hands attempted to reach down, but a soon as you got to his pants, Jon leaned up again. Saliva still pulled from both your panting, swollen mouths and now yours was as shined with wetness as he was giving you the mess you let him drink from. Eyes black as he watched you, taking over for your hands and pulling the last of his own clothes off. Trailing down to look at you, yours shyly looked down to him.
Hard and thick, slightly red with need and his own seed already leaking as he looked at you. Pulling your legs wide as he moved back to you. His cock brushing against your soaked folds had him shudder and you whine, hands at his shoulders. Eyes still on you, his voice was strained, accent strong as he rasped down at you, “No matter what happens,” One hand drifting to your scar as your eyes stung, “We’re family now, we’re together.”
You swallowed, nodding yes before Jon kissed you gently. But the kiss was a distraction.
The pressure as his cock slid inside of you, your nails dug deep into his shoulders and Jon kissed you harsher. One slow, gentle glide inside of you and he slid as deep as your cunt could let him go. Stretched thick around him you burned and cried, tears coming from your closed eyes. Hands running through his hair, Jon kept your lips on his too.
He was slow about it, savouring every inch of you around him so warm and tight, your own walls being pressed against as you wanted to cry at the pleasure it stabbed you with each inch. His cock slid in and out smoothly, you utterly soaking around him as Jon would pull out almost just to the tip before just as slowly, sliding right back. Making you feel every moment of his cock filling every inch of you, his tongue brushing into your mouth as he did so, and the gentleness matched.
Your lungs were no more as he fucked you slow. Every gasp you tried to have, Jon would steal it with his kiss and refuse you any air that he didn’t give you. He wanted everything you were to be at his mercy, trust him to keep you right where you were and you did. Legs falling wide around his hips, the coil inside of you twisted and cracked as you held his kiss even closer with your hands raked deep in his curls.
His hands on your hips kept you in place, making every thrust of his cock had you shake, but the pace so you were to feel every second as you clenched so tightly around him. By the time he drew another orgasm out of you, you had tears genuinely at how overwhelmed you felt with his slow pace inside of you.
But then he pulled from your lips, looking down to watch his length disappear into your soaking cunt, Jon didn’t notice his hands on your hips grew tight the longer he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Teeth gritting, he started only to realize how much you were scratching at his insides when you cried his name out. “Jon- fuck, please, gods, please, you feel so good,”
Then, Jon picked up. Not the speed, still mostly just as slow but his hips suddenly skipping past a gentle increase and moving right to a hard, rough thrust inside of you. Looking up to your closed eyes as your back arched, hands now splayed in the carpet around your sweating hair. Jon fucked you rougher, stuck hovering over watching you. Each slam of his hips making the sounds between you slap, a rough smacking of skin that had him growling and holding your hips in place. As if he needed to control just how rough he fucked you at all times.
He had once dreamed of being kind and gentle with you in such a manner, but now he could see your overwhelmed pleasure, watching how well your soaking cunt let him pound deep inside like he was destined to fit with you, and the obscene sounds of his skin against yours and how wet you were every thrust. Part of him still wanted to be gentle, but something else that had only awakened when he came back, made him feel like he was a wolf destined to take his mate.
“I hate every second I’m not with you.” His accent so strong you could barley hear its low rasp through the rough slap of each time he pounded inside you. A hand coming to press right beside your head as he looked down at you, almost speaking in tandem with every pound of his cock. “Hate every second I’m not inside you, not filling you fuck after fuck. That’s all I can think about, should lock you in our bedroom in Winterfell, keep you tied to my bed and never leave. Do nothing the rest of our lives but fill you deep with my seed,”
His head dropped as he hissed, trying to control himself but the roughness was going to leave you good and sore and it made you beg for more in yielding. “I- anything, fuck Jon I’ll do whatever you want, you’re so good..” Pulling you up by the back of your head to meet his lips in a rough kiss, Jon thrusted only a few more rough times into your cunt before he shook above you with a groan into your lips.
Cum unusually warm as he spilled inside of you, and thick as he spread your legs as wide as they could go on the ground beside you as he kept going. It was a lot of thick, very warm cum and he bit your lips with every heaving breathe or snarl inside him at the feeling of you so deeply taking him, and keeping all he spilled inside of you.
He wasn’t done, almost as if it made him harder. Grinding deep inside you did you cum before he was even done though, coating his cock in your wetness and forced to take his cum deep as you cried his name. But Jon, only got rougher. Fucking into you with pounding slaps that would have echoed through the castle halls by that point, any passing close by would be able to hear the slap of skin from the ground, or even the sea.
Burying your face in his neck as your hands wrapped around and into his curls, Jon almost pulled you closer, pressing your bodies as close as he could as he pounded into you. You didn’t know if keeping each one slow was meant as torture or not. Because you couldn’t tell if you needed him to go faster, or you might cry and beg for him to slow down if he changed his pace at all. Your voice was breathless and muffled in his neck, “I love you, fuck, Jon I love you so much,”
As possessed as Jon felt, the almost tearful genuity in your voice made him bury his face in your hair, hands tight holding you to him.
“You, gods- fuck, you deserve better, better then this, better then me.” Jon tried to protest, begging you not to say that but you clenched tightly around him and made him groan just as loudly into you as he fucked you. “Tell me what to do, please, fuck tell me what to do for you. I want to give you anything-everything, tell me what to give you to let me stay.”
If he wanted to cry before, Jon certainly did now. His cock screaming to cum deep in you again, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours were music if he’d ever heard it but you had begged him. Hand running along the back of your hair, Jon mumbled into your ear, voice wavered and shuddering with his own breathless desire. “Marry me, let me take you home and marry me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,”
He knew he felt tears hiding in his neck, but he also felt you orgasm around his cock and he yanked your watering eyes to kiss you. Keeping you pressed to his lips, only pulling back to brush against them as you were jostled hard under him, asking as if he hadn't already. “Can I fill you? Will you let me spill inside you?” Nodding yes, he kissed you with a biting sloppiness to it before pulling back as his muscles strained the closer he got and the more your orgasm shocked around him like a sparking fire. He was barley comprehensible, so close to his own orgasm he slurred against your lips. “Fuck, fill you with my seed, fill you with a son. Give you my son..”
His hips left their rough, slower pace, as Jon lost all control. Fucking fast into you, the slapping pounds turned to obscene speed and smacking as he roughly kissed you, your hands tight in his hair. Jon sped towards filling you once more, and you managed to pull away enough, voice high pitched and crying in loving need, “Anything, Jon, anything you want, I promise.”
That time, your final, sudden and flooding orgasm snapped in your veins with an almost painful wave of pleasure, as Jon shook against you, and thrusted deep inside you, and you felt his thick cum spill inside of you. Cum almost as warm as the fire burning hot next to you, sweat covering both of you.
Jon cupped the sides of your face, and you did his. Both knew there was something not normal about how blindly desperate you both felt for the other when he was inside you, but neither were sure anymore if either of you wanted it any other way.
You hadn’t been in this room in a very long time, many years. The painted table was a long wooden table that was constructed to map out all the known lands of Westeros from Dorne to the Wall, and raised and lowered depending on the structure of the lands, all painted in accordance to how such an area around it looked.
Just by walking in you could tell what the pieces came from, your father’s own collection as opposed to whatever Aegon and Connington brought. Planned out acts still set partially to what you now knew were your fathers own organizing.
While it had been years since you had stepped foot in the room, it wasn’t unusual when you were on Dragonstone to appear in here. In only a few hours the sun would begin to rise from across the Narrow Sea, and yet you found your mind too worked up to sleep any longer.
You had woken up with a panic, a gasp for air as you came close to jostling Jon from his peaceful sleep, from the force it awoke you with. The dreams had gotten out of control. Dreams of fire, and wolves and roars that you couldn’t identify had finally bled into something that you didn’t understand but found to be compelled to.
This time, the green fire exploding from the torches in the Winterfell crypts were not followed by a burning flame roaring across the ceiling. Instead this time the direwolf which jumped from the statue of Ned Stark had ran behind you, and when you turned around you were standing deep within the sandy lands of Dorne. Sun blazing above and a tower standing tall in the distance with the red mountains looming in the background of it.
A direwolf stood with many at his back. A small lizard short to the ground, what looked like ten small wolves at their backs, a black horse with a bright red main and scattered across the lands like rubble were two crossed long axe’s with dark black handles, a silver gauntlet curled to a fist, and three buckets scattered and all but the wolf and lizard were coated in blood.
Standing across from them was a cluster of nine black bats all flying to hide the sight of a white tower crowned with grey smoke and burning flames as a lilac falling star crossed it, the tail almost in the shape of a white sword but just as the star fell across the morning so did everything but the Dornish tower behind it all, and a bloody direwolf and lizard.
The tower however, begun to bleed as well. The wolf on the bed in the crypt had melted into the sheets and painted it with the red and blues of it’s fur and the tower begun to bleed such colours as well and suddenly as you looked around to any, the animals were gone.
The closer you stepped to the tower, the more you heard a high pitch of crying. Something that was not an animal but also sounded too young to even be an adult, it sounded that of a baby until the crying morphed into the tiny growls of a young sounding wolf. Little growls and howls came from the tower as it continued to bleed.
You took only a step forward more, and the tower had enough of your watchful eyes. From the ground it was ripped from the sands, and in it’s place roared that which followed fire. From the place which the tower had stood, came out a great dragon in it’s place flying high in the air swirling the lands with it’s fire. It’s scales burned your eyes with a pure white colour as it’s own eyes and flames from it’s mouth shined that like blood. But the roar it gave out was not one you imagined of a dragon.
The white scaled dragon had flown to the top of the red mountains, perched high and what was supposed to be a roar, was a mighty growl of a wolf. A powerful growl that sounded like one’s you’ve heard on many direwolves now before.
And just in the seconds before you had been startled awake, a gentle, dainty hand grasped at your shoulder covered in blood. When you turned, the figure was nothing more then a mist as if covered in vines of blue roses wrapping around your limbs. Just as the cold, blue roses came to wrap around your throat, the dragon behind roared like a wolf’s growl and a gentle, desperate voice of a young woman came to you from above.
“Promise me, Ned.”
You had startled awake, at that point and now found yourself here. In the room your sleepless nights on the island commonly found their way too. Walking to the side of it, your eyes narrowed as you spotted something tossed on it’s side carelessly.
Reaching forward you grasped the wooden figurine and found it that of a dragon. Walking to the main seat you had many years watched your father sit at, you sat down gently. Leaning your forearms on the painted table, your hands held the wooden dragon with sharp eyes watching as you turned it in your hands.
The dream was that of many you had before it, and your mind swirled without your permission to put it together of what you were being shown. Only, it wasn’t just the dream it connected too. It was the words of an intensity seen, it was the sight of a ghost. Your mind raced and flew words and images around in your head all staring at that dragon figure.
When it connected, you didn’t know why. But it all screamed and cycled together into a blend coming into a painted image that was clear as day and suddenly your entire body felt as if it had fallen fifty feet in place. A shocking jolt in your mind and a twisting in your heart.
Your face morphed from that of a squinting thought, to a wide shock. Mouth slowly opening agape as your eyes widened in a sight only you were seeing in your clues. Many secrets scattered across the lands of Westeros, but your dreams had led you right to the heart of a secret none knew even existed.
None perhaps, but one. One who went to the grave without telling a soul and you felt something faint inside you, realizing, now the other person who knew this secret, just might be you, and it shocked your heart into a stunned quiet until the sun rose in the outside behind you. Your hands had dropped the wooden figurine.
The only dragon on the painted table, and you had dropped it right at the Prince’s Pass, as the wooden figurine fell, it cracked right down the middle.
Splitting the dragon into two even halves, in the sands of Dorne.
#jon snow x reader#robb stark x reader#jon snow#robb stark#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#jon snow x you#robb stark x you#jon snow imagine#robb stark imagine#game of thrones imagine
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Hi! if your taking requests I’d like to request something! Could you please write a Jaime Lannister x fem!reader in which she’s his friend and has always had feelings for him, and she’s one of the few people who has never called him kingslayer because she couldn’t believe he was a bad person even if she didn’t know the whole story. And maybe after he loses his hand he comes back to king’s landing and he feels worthless (cause he can’t fight anymore and everyone even cersei is treating him badly) but reader stays by his side and reassures him. So he notices that she’s the only one who’s always been there for him and in a moment of vulnerability he tells her the whole mad king story. And she feels really bad for what happened to him also because she sees how it’s something that still haunts him so she hugs him and he has someone to comfort him for the first time. He’s been though so much and I just want him to have someone who’s there for him because they genuinely care 🥲.
I hope what I said made sense because english is not my first language. Anyway feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t inspire you! :)
For the first time - Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader.
Author's Note: Hii! Thanks for your request, I hope this fic is to your liking and if maybe you wanted something different, please feel free to tell me.
Also, I think I got carried away with this one, let me know what you think.
Plus, if there is something in the warnings or in general that I forgot to mention, you can tell me without problems.
Oh I also recommend the song For the first time by Mac DeMarco for this one.
Pairings: Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader, mentions of Cersei Lannister and Bronn.
Warnings: English is NOT my first language; possible grammatical errors; not very much proofread; a tiny bit of angst; mentions of blood; fluff.
Word Count: 3710.
As the sun set, the Red Keep was under surveillance of the royal guards, even more so than in the morning.
When the servants lit the lanterns, Y/n knew that her watch had begun and she would have to keep an eye on the corridors of the king's residence.
By now she knew her shifts by heart and had got used to them, as she had been serving the royal family as a knight for years.
Her father was an old acquaintance of the king, so it was not difficult to obtain this role in the fortress.
Y/n was the only woman among all the other knights; she had to protect others but also herself, as many of the men she worked with were uncouth and often disrespected her.
However, she unfortunately had gotten used to it and had her reflexes ready for any hypothetical attack.
Whilst wandering through the corridors faintly lit by the flames of the torches, she could only hear subtle whispers, precisely of two voices overlapping, one interrupting the other and not even giving each other time to breathe.
As she proceeded, Y/n had to take great care not to make noise with her armour, which barely scraped the walls against which she had flattened herself so as not to be seen.
By doing so, she was able to see who the voices corresponded to: one belonged to Cersei Lannister and the other to Jaime, her twin brother and a close friend of Y/n's.
"You're ridiculous, it's as if you're betraying me." Said the queen with venom, lowering her clipped voice even more after hearing a footstep around the corner of the hall. "Know that if I fall into the void, you come down with me."
With such words, or rather threats, she left the golden-haired knight on the spot, his gaze lost in the darkness..
Jaime was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not even notice the presence of his dear companion, at least not until he heard her voice muffled in his ears.
"Is something troubling you?" Y/n repeated for the umpteenth time.
She had only eavesdropped on a minimal part of the conversation between the two siblings, but from the expression on the man's face before her, Y/n could deduce that it was not particularly pleasant.
"To tell you the truth, yes.'" The young Lannister replied, his arms crossed against the thick metal of his golden breastplate. "Our days are so hectic that we haven't even had time to exchange a few words today, I have truly missed your suave voice."
"I see that flattery never lacks, what an honour." Y/n said snarkily, a hand on her chest as noble women do when they receive compliments from high-ranking lords. "Don't make me blush with your beaming smile, I don't think my heart can handle that."
Actually, Y/n really liked her friend's compliments, they made her feel important and her princely smile always gave her goosebumps. But she would never confess that to him, she had no intention of inflating the man's ego.
"Seriously though, I know when something's wrong, Jaime, I can see it in your sad eyes."
At that point his gaze lowered to the stone tiles on the floor. No matter how hard he tried, his friend was capable of reading a person as if they were a young lads' book.
"Nothing relevant, simple bickering between Lannisters, you know how it is by now." He laughed it off, but Y/n could swear she saw the man's eyes glaze over, as if he was exhausted and wanted to cry cascades.
Instinctively, she embraced him, and the clash of metal protecting them could be distinctly heard in the cool night.
The so-called Kingslayer was taken by surprise, but he did not budge; on the contrary, he reciprocated this action that was almost foreign to him, as it was full of affection.
He had not received such intense and warm hugs since he was a toddler.
"It is not fair of me to insist on this subject, however, know that you are not alone and that you are loved." She breathed into his ear, her voice like a sweet melody he wished he could hear every morning.
Y/n loved the man and would have given her own life to make him realise how remarkable he was.
Jaime's hand covered by his thick leather gloves moved to the woman's shoulders, as if to attract her attention. The golden knight almost wished he could caress her scarred face from the past, yet he considered it might be an inappropriate move.
"You know, from a distance you definitely look shorter." He received a hearty chuckle from the brave woman in front of him. "Glad to amuse you so much."
"Let's say you can be hilarious at times, if you don't wake up in a bad mood." She sneered, the muscles in her face almost hurt from how much they tightened, but she couldn't stop laughing.
And it was in that pleasant moment, that Jaime had the desire to capture Y/n in a painting, for in her simplicity and modesty, with her hair dishevelled and a few wisps surrounding her face, the blond lion saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. As he had thought the first time he saw her.
"Do I have something on my face?" Once again she roused him from his thoughts, Jaime's eyes constantly lit up with every interaction with the well-known cunning knight. "This is not the time to be distracted, Ser Jaime Lannister, the long night awaits us and we must remain alert for the coming of morrow!"
"You're the one who talks in circles and makes me lose focus, don't talk bollocks!" He replied, patting her on the shoulder, thus beginning a brief fight of playful shoving, their thin laughter heard only by the stars in the dark blue.
Gathered in the courtyard of the Red Keep were the royal knights, led by Jaime Lannister, ready to move on the new enemy, Robb Stark of Winterfell.
"If we follow the plans, we will be able to trample that brat and prevail over his soldiers." The golden knight's voice boomed against the walls, making it impossible to miss. "And if all goes as planned, we will be able to return to King's Landing with victory in our grasp."
As he concluded his speech, his gaze crossed Y/n's confused one on the other side of the yard.
"I didn't think there was a gathering, nor that we had to leave." Said the woman as soon as the young Lannister reached her.
"That is because I did not actually mention it to you."
"It doesn't matter, it happens to anyone to make a mistake, so around what time of day is the departure?"
Jaime looked at her as if in sorrow and in order to speak to her privately, he gently took Y/n's wrist and led her to a hidden corridor, away from prying eyes.
"I did not mention it because you are not coming with us." He grimaced, feeling guilty and expecting a strong disappointment from his friend.
"But I cannot stay here and do nothing while you fight, it is not fair for you to lose your blood out there while I am safe in here." The brave young knight felt the world falling on her, she could not just stand there while the others left, only to perhaps not return.
The woman’s glazed eyes met Jaime's again, her lip quivering to prevent her from shedding any tears, and that heartbroken expression made the blonde-haired knight's heart ache.
"I want to come with you."
"No, no, no, no, Y/n, I implore you." Instinctively, the young Lannister captured the lady’s face in his hands, holding her firmly by the cheeks. The warmth of her skin made his palms tingle almost in a pleasant way. "I have not made this decision to make you grieve and distress, not even to invalidate your abilities. I did it for you, Y/n, for you are as dear to me as the Moon is to the Stars."
Was it strange on the lion's part to find the doe's face extremely bewitching during her cry?
The usual strands of hair escaping from her ponytail were now as if glued to her cheeks, tears and sweat had held them against her rosy, freshly sun-kissed skin.
And Jaime had never felt his stomach in a knot, as if thousands of butterflies were flapping their wings inside it. Often blinded by the presence of his twin sister, he had never paid attention to how much Y/n truly cared for him and loved him, perhaps even more than Cersei.
"Listen to me carefully, hm?" The knight before him nodded, so that he could proceed. "I will return to you, I promise and I mean it. You know well that we Lannisters always keep our promises."
Without debating Y/n moved closer to the crook of Jaime's neck, so that she could feel his scent and the warmth of his body a little closer, as if her mind had to remember those minor details so that she would not be feeling lonely in the days when the blond knight was absent.
Oh, how she longed to confess all her love and adoration to him, and how she wanted to hurt those who called him terrible names without even knowing the truth about his past.
"Know that I will wait patiently for your return, and I swear by the seven kingdoms that if you do not make it back, I will come directly to get you from the depths of hell where you will end up."
They both smiled sadly, as if to relieve the tension of the moment.
"Make a safe return, Ser Jaime Lannister, and know that, even from afar, I protect you." Y/n recomposed herself and the two shook hands for the last time, him putting more pressure as if he did not want to leave her there, but duty awaited the man.
That was the last time Y/n saw Jaime Lannister in King's Landing, still intact and with every piece of his shining armour on his shoulders, his golden hair only barely concealed by his helmet, and his friendly voice overpowering that of all the other men as he made the way to their destination.
On a particularly heated day in the blazing sun, Y/n had obtained a free morning off of duty, so she took the opportunity to read some old letters sent by her father.
Sometimes she missed her hometown, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting up to her chamber window and the voice of her father commanding everyone around him with his booming voice.
Immersed in the words of ink on the thin parchment, the knight had not noticed a presence under the archway at the entrance to her chamber.
She was so quiet and beautiful, as if he had seen her for the first time.
"Y/n." Faintly from the man's cracked lips came the name of the woman, who turned around, stunned, as if she had seen a ghost.
As she rose from her bed, she dropped all the letters on the ground, but it mattered little as seeing Jaime Lannister again after so long made her fling herself at him.
"Are you real? Who did this to you? I convinced myself you were never coming back, I thought... I thought you were dead." She asked frantically, but received no reply. "Does Cersei know of your return?" She questioned again, helping him reach the masters so they could tend to his wounds.
"No, you’re the first person I wanted to see." He managed to say, and if it hadn’t been for Y/n, his face would have collided with the red rock tiles of the castle, as his legs were giving out and he was about to fall.
After the proper care, Y/n offered to help Jaime take a hot and relieving bath.
It would not have been an uncomfortable situation, since they had known each other all their lives and she was there especially to protect him in that vulnerable state.
"You should not be here to assist me, I have never deserved any kind of attention from you." He murmured in a grimace, as his friend poured warm water on his head. "This water is boiling, do you perhaps wish to see me bald?"
"Nonsense."
And Jaime did not understand if that reply referred to what he said first, or to his complaints.
"I promised you I would come back and here I am in the flash, or at least most of it."
"Also thanks to Brienne, because your tongue could have stopped you from returning to King’s Landing." Y/n responded seriously, her calloused hands massaging oils through his now dirty blond hair.
He bent his head back to glance into the woman's sweet eyes.You should have seen the look on her face. The look I've seen for 17 years on face after face." He bent his head back to glance into the woman's sweet eyes. "You are the only exception and this makes me feel less of a human shit… but everyone else? No, they all despise me. Kingslayer. Oath breaker. Man without honour. Ever heard of wildfire?"
"Of course."
"The mad king was obsessed with it. He loved to watch people burn--the way their skin blackened, blistered, melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn't like; he burned Hands that disobeyed him; he burned anyone that was against him." The weak lion shook his head as his past resurfaced before his eyes, he remembered it all as if it had occurred the day before. "Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere, so he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city: beneath the Sept of Baelor, the slums of flea bottom, under houses, stables, taverns, even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally, the day of reckoning came."
Y/n was somewhat shaken, but this did not prevent her naive curiosity from knowing more about the story.
"What happened afterwards?" She asked timidly, moving in front of the man, as if to show she was all ears.
"Robert Baratheon marched upon the capitol after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the mad king as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the king didn't listen to me, didn't listen to Varys, who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that grey sunken cunt."
The woman shuddered at the name of the Grandmaster. She never liked him, and he was merely a court rodent who should have been eliminated a long time before.
"He told him that he could trust the Lannisters, since they have always been loyal friends of the crown. So, we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Fucking imbecile." He laughed bitterly. "Once again I came to the king begging him to surrender. He told me to bring him my father's head. Then he turned to his pyromancer and told him to burn them all. "Burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds." He ordered him… tell me, if your king commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women and children were burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then?"
Jaime looked straight into her eyes, but he did not really need an answer, for he already knew it. Y/n would never have let that happen and would have made the same decision as the young Lannister.
"So what did I decide to do? First, I killed the pyromancer, and then when the king turned to flee I drove my sword into his back. "Burn them all," he kept saying. "Burn them all." I don't think he expected to die. He meant to burn with the rest of us and rise again reborn as a dragon and turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen."
"And that's where Ned Stark found you." It was not difficult for the clever woman to put the pieces of the puzzle together, thus revealing why the lord of Winterfell loathed and despised Jaime so much.
"Exactly. That's where Ned Stark found me."
"If this is true, why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell Lord Stark?"
"Stark. You think the honourable Ned Stark wanted to hear my side? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me. By what right does the wolf judge the lion? By what right?" The man suddenly stood up, ravaged by fury and anger.
By then, the bubbles in the tub had vanished and the water had turned cold, like a winter's night.
In order not to disrespect her superior, the woman turned away, subsequently handing him a bathrobe to cover himself.
"I believe you and I guarantee that I have always been on your side, and always will be, for better or for worse. I know there is little I can do, for the damage has now been done, but I have no intention of ever leaving you alone." She promised Jaime, slowly ushering him towards his chamber.
Y/n's hands gently held the figure at her side, as if she had become accustomed to its fragility.
She was used to holding her sword firmly and tightly to unsheathe it against her enemies; but with the man she loved, her hands were tender and cautious, as if he were the feather of a dove.
Settled in his bed and wrapped in the soft sheets, Jaime could finally rest, or at least recover before getting back into the swing of things.
"Get some proper sleep, you and I will have a lot to do together over the next few days." Y/n gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead and bid him a good night.
"See you in the morrow." Whispered the knight, more to himself, touching the spot on his forehead that was graced by the most exquisite lips he had ever seen.
"You are very clever Bronn, but not clever enough!" Y/n exclaimed in amusement, and between laughs continued to smack her friend's backside as spite.
Joining the two on the shore of the beach was Jaime, and every time he saw her, he could swear it was like seeing her for the first time, in which he was completely dumbfounded by her persona.
"Look who's here, finally the princess has joined us."
"Funny Bronn, really, I didn't think you could be so funny." Replied the blond sarcastically, already having his sword drawn in his left hand.
"I'll leave you two alone, be sure to knock her ass out, avenge me my friend."
And so it was that the two companions were left alone, the waves of the sea the only audible sound other than the clashing metal of their swords.
Jaime Lannister was visibly tired, although training had only just begun, but he wasn’t used to sparring with his left hand after losing his dominant one.
"I believe in you and I know you can do it, just a little more effort and we’re done." Y/n encouraged her friend, not to annoy him or rush him, on the contrary, she wanted to help him believe again in his strengths and abilities.
With one blow forward and too many steps back, the lion tripped and fell on the sand, too exhausted and out of breath to get up.
"I am not as strong as before, Y/n, I am no good to this world."
He gave up all too soon and she couldn’t accept it, not when aware of his immense potential.
"Listen to me carefully, your attitude won’t help. I know how you really are and I will help you recover, even if I have to wait a lifetime to see you getting your ass off the ground. Have I made myself clear enough?"
Initially Jaime was stunned and taken aback by her words, but his astonishment turned into a smug, satisfied grin.
He was completely enamoured with the wonderful woman before him.
"I love you," Those two words slipped from his lips very clearly. "But not like I love my family or my dear twin sister. No. I truly love you, Y/n, and I was a fool for not admitting it sooner. Or I have my vulnerable state to thank for prompting me to confess my feelings for you."
"Apparently I should push you more often into situations like this, if they allow you to talk and allow me to find out what is always running through your mind." Y/n smiled sweetly and slowly kneeled before him, to reach his eye level, as he was still sitting on the grainy sand. "But I love you too, silly man."
Y/n gently caressed Jaime’s chin and then his cheek, the newly grown beard tickling her hand, but that did not bother her at all.
The blond, with some of the courage he had left in his body, took the sweet woman’s hand into his and left a short trail of kisses across her palm.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to taste your lips that night under the stars."
"What’s keeping you from doing it now before the sunset?"
"Always so clever, are we?"
And so their lips finally met. It was as if they were destined to touch sooner or later.
It was an intense and extremely passionate kiss, they had lusted after each other for so long that they couldn’t even get enough of it.
At that very moment, Jaime Lannister said to himself that, perhaps, despite all the misfortunes, he deserved a happy ending.
#artedimichelangelo#game of thrones#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones one shot#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones jaime lannister#got x reader#got fanfiction#got jaime lannister#jaime lannister#jaime lannister x reader#jaime lannister fanfiction#cersei lannister#cersei lannister x jaime lannister#robb stark#house of the dragon#fanfiction#house of the dragon x reader#hotd fanfiction
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Snippet from my untitled Blue Beetle & Teen Titans rejects fic :)
Click. Snap. Click. Snap.
They're sat inside a Big Belly Burger, waiting for their order of fries. A female singer he doesn't recognise croons Spanglish over weirdly retro beats on the speakers. Eddie is fidgeting with the catch on his now-useless slider phone, out of nerves or boredom, he doesn't know.
The first thing they did once they got into town was to buy a mobile phone. It's strange, but there aren't many payphones around, and whatever happened to them while they were in the Bleed and subsequently in their fall back to Earth must have fried their cellphones. Luckily, he found one of those rundown stores selling spare electronics for cheap that accepts cash and doesn't ask questions. At least one thing hasn't changed.
Click. Snap. Click. Snap.
The phone they bought is a palm-sized thing with a wide touch-screen, one of those smart-phone models that only came out last year, and yet the store owner seemed almost happy to part with it. "It's ancient," he'd said in a comfortingly thick accent, "I was about to chuck it out with the garbage. I'd sell it to you for free, chiquito." Things only get stranger from there. It took less than a minute for Khaji to jail break the phone and recalibrate itself to the local network. They tried his family's numbers again, even tried the Titans Tower secure line, but no dice. What Jaime found on the internet was even less reassuring.
Click. Snap. Click. Snap.
"Hey, Eddie."
The fidgeting stops.
"Could you go grab us some drinks? I need a minute alone with the scarab."
"Sure...?" Eddie throws another glance at Jaime, not quite hiding his worry as he slides out of his seat.
[ You were vexed by his opening and shutting of his phone case. ]
"I didn't realise it was state the obvious hour."
Khaji Da does not respond. Jaime rubs his temple.
"Sorry, sorry. Yes, I'm stressed. Tell me you have some good news, at least."
[ You are still alive, as is Eddie Bloomberg. You have enough money to acquire sustenance for another week, during which I can help you find a job and — ]
"Khaji. I need to get home."
[ You are technically in your hometown. ]
"But it's not the El Paso I know. Right? Tell me I'm not crazy."
[ Jaime Reyes is correct. Based on our quick search of the government domains, social network platforms and news sites, the Reyes family never lived in El Paso. There is no record of your parents or extended family in the state registry. Your name does not exist in the class registers of your high school. Your sister— ]
"Also doesn't exist! I know! I got it the first time." Jaime looks over to the self-service machine. What is taking Eddie so long? "I asked you for good news, Khaji."
[ Actually, your sister exists. Milagro Reyes, age 18, enrolled in Edge Keys High School. According to her posts on Instagram, she was last seen at the Kord Centre Mall — ]
"Did you say eighteen? And where the heck is Edge Key?"
[ I have some more good news. While there is no record of your other family members in the state of Texas, a Reyes Auto Repair Shop was recently removed from the business registry in Edge Key, Greater Palmera City. ]
"What? We have to go to Edge Key!"
"What's Edge Key?" Eddie sets a tray down, almost spilling the two extra-large cups of soda balanced precariously on it. The fries look tiny in comparison.
"That's what I'm trying to find out. Khaji, can you — hold on, I'm syncing you to the phone so Eddie can see."
The phone lights up, and Jaime expects Khaji's words to crawl across the screen like text messages the way he's done the few times Jaime tried to sync the scarab to his old phone via blue-tooth. Instead, the phone starts talking in a lady computer voice.
"Your scarab was a chick this whole time?" Eddie exclaims, the half-chewed fry in his hand forgotten.
"What? No! I didn't even know it could speak like this."
"I simply utilised this phone's built-in text-to-speech system. It is not my problem that the manufacturers could only imagine AI voices as female."
"I think it just insulted every super-computer in the cape community..."
"Anyway, the coordinates?"
[ There is one last thing you should know before you go, Jaime Reyes. The Blue Beetle was last sighted in Palmera City six hours ago. ]
The boys pause and look at each other.
"Show me, Khaji."
And on the screen of the phone appears a crisp, 4K picture of a guy in a costume that looks exactly like him, mid-flight in the streets of a city he's never been to.
#jaime reyes#eddie bloomberg#teen titans#blue beetle#kid devil#I typed 3 chapters of this au for 3 hours straight and now my hand is fucked :')#I still have shit to prep for tomorrow but I'm ok. I'M OKAY#Eugenia writes
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One True Queen Pt.2 Finale
Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader
Warnings: none
Words: 2075
Summary: You return to the Red Keep to claim your rightful place.
Part 1
Dawn was barely breaking through the sleepy sky as your party finally reached the Red Keep; your little dragon having kept you warm the entire ride back. All the Targaryen soldiers were still in shock at what had unfolded.
The little dragon that had hatched hours ago was snuggled against your chest, snapping at any soldier that dared to look your way. Red scales burned brightly as he would every so often peek his head out from behind the cloak that Ser Arthur had draped over you. Bright yellow eyes stare curiously at the rising buildings. Someday he would be larger than any of them.
An actual dragon after so many years. Everyone said that dragons were extinct, The ones that were able to hatch didn’t last long and didn’t grow any larger than a dog. You immediately fear of what your father, Aerys would do once he found out that there was a dragon alive. What would he do to your poor little one?
As if reading your mind, he looks up at you and opens his mouth in a soft squeak. You scratch at his head scales with your index finger, he happily rubs his tiny skull against your touch. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” You were finally a mother.
“My lady, may I help you down?” Jaime Lannister asks, a bit hesitantly; his green eyes darting to the scarlet creature in your arms. Normally Ser Jaime was fearless; one had to be to have achieved being a knight at such a young age. Even Jaime was wary of your scaly child.
Being a few feet off the ground you took him up on the offer despite Little Red hissing in protest. He nearly snapped at Jaime’s fingers making the knight flinch away after he safely set you down on the ground.
From there you knew the way. Up the stone steps and into the Red Keep. You knew you would have explaining to do. The other knights and soldiers would have to explain to your father that Robert Baratheon had nearly had you killed in the fire that took down the inn and many other lives. You knew the only thing he’d be interested in was your dragon.
You were escorted into the Throne Room amid a cloud of shouts and yells that even Aerys couldn’t control with his own voice.
“Just give back the Stark girl!!” Someone shouted.
“A war with the Baratheons isn’t worth it!”
Ser Arthur swiftly moves to your side as the crowd in front of you blocks you from view. He clears his throat and announces “MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCESS!!”
It was loud enough to cut through everyone else as the crowd begins to turn around; a collective gasp filling the arid chamber. Eyes widen and mouths openly gawk. Seeing the crowd ripple and buzz with soft murmurs had King Aerys standing from his seat on the Iron Throne. Your father still looked the same; decrepit and insane with his long white hair and gnarly nails that looked more akin to talons from a falcon. The crown on top of his head was crooked, fitting too big for his undernourished skull. Beside the large throne forged of the fallen blades of those who had undermined Targaryen rule were your brothers. Viserys standing on the tips of his toes and Rhaegar. Lyanna was nowhere to be seen, something you were grateful for.
Everyone parted, making way for you as you took slow steps toward the throne. Now the rest of your family saw what the other royals had. The precious dragon in your arms. Red like the three-headed one on your sigil.
“Impossible.” His voice is dry as he stares incredulously your way.
Viserys’ lilac eyes sparkle, wide with astonishment. “By the Gods. . .”
As if to finish everyone else’s thoughts, Rhaegar breathes out “A dragon.”
Then slowly a wicked smile cracks on the Mad King’s withered face as he cackles “A dragon! A Targaryen dragon!! Well done (y/n)!! Come closer! Let me see it!”
A bit confident with your little one in your arms, you step up to the base of the Iron Throne, trying to avoid Rhaegar’s gaze.
“Remarkable.” Aerys continues to grin, coveting your newly hatched dragon. It had been centuries since the Targaryens last were able to hatch a dragon, let alone have it grow to it’s full mass. And now there you were. His daughter, bringing back the true Targaryen legacy. You saw the twinkle in his pale eyes. The thoughts that were rolling in that demented mind of his. Already you knew that he would try to monopolize him. To use him to terrorize his imaginary enemies. You wouldn’t let that happen. “Was it true that that Baratheon bastard tried to burn you?”
You nod. “Yes. The fires did not scorch me though.”
“A true dragon. Who would’ve thought my daughter would bring back the dragons!” He rises to his full height. “BEHOLD! MY DAUGHTER! MOTHER OF DRAGONS!”
Applause erupted and your dragon slithered onto your shoulders. Daring to look at your brother, his focus is down on the ground. Shame.
As soon as you arrived, buzz of you and your dragon spread through Westeros like wildfire. And just like you had thought your father tried to monopolize your dragon and use it to his own will. He invited many other lords to witness the fearsome glory of the Targaryens. In all that time You barely saw your brother Rhaegar. You didn’t know how it was possible for him to continue to break your heart, but he did. Everyone was paying attention to you except for the one person that mattered most.
One evening when you were finally able to get away from your father’s court and the mystified eyes and kiss ass words of the other noblemen, you and your dragon, took a much needed stroll. He was already growing so quickly. Balerion ate the finest meats and despite your father wanting to lock him up, you let him roam freely and took him outside so that he could stretch his little wings even though he couldn’t yet fly. He made small attempts to catch flight but he was still too tiny.
You giggle at another attempt of his. “Soon my little Spitfyre.” You had named him such due to his already feisty attitude. Already he had nearly taken off one of your father’s fingers and singed Maester Pycelle’s beard. He didn’t like when any other man was near you. Even Viserys was not allowed near your vicinity.
Mood already growing lighter, the last thing you wanted to see was Rhaegar with Lyanna. The stopped immediately as did you. Spitfyre continued to romp around the grounds, hunting down bugs or even better, stray rats. Once he sensed your uneasiness though he turned his scaly head to you then to the couple. Releasing a mighty hiss, he scampered back to you and made his way to your shoulders.
You couldn’t help but look over Lyanna Stark. Unable to resist the resentment you immediately held for her. To make matters worse, she was utterly beautiful in that cold, northern, way of her’s. Beautifully pale skin that must be suffering from the south; rich, dark, hair that gave her an even more edgy appearance. And those eyes. Piercing gray eyes, decorated with long lashes.
Lyanna shifted uncomfortably next to your brother, cautiously eying Spitfyre. A northerner’s natural instinct was to be mistrustful.
“(y/n). . .”
“Rhaegar.” You reply cooly and nod to Lyanna. “Lady Stark.” You refused to call her a Targaryen mostly out of spite. It was her fault after all. She was the reason why Robert Baratheon tried to kill you. Then again, you wouldn’t have had Spitfyre if it wasn’t for Lyanna. You would have to thank her later once all your wounds had healed. She purses her lips yet doesn’t dare to antagonize you. “Princess (y/n). So glad to see you back, safe and sound.”
“Yes, too bad Robert Baratheon forgot that fire cannot kill a dragon.” Absentmindedly you scratch at Spitfyre’s chin. He stretches his wings out while softly making a noise akin to a cat’s purr.
Rhaegar takes a step forward. “(y/n), I’ve been meaning to talk with you.” He turns slightly to Lyanna. “I’ll meet you back inside.”
Warily Lyanna shifts her gaze toward you before leaving.
Now it was just you and Rhaegar. It had been quite a while the last time you were left alone with him. Everything was different now. “What do you have to say to me?”
“You know I love you. I can’t apologize enough for what has happened. When news came about Robert. . . I nearly lost it. The thought of losing you-”
“I don’t want anymore of your faux sweet words, Rhaegar.”
“They aren’t fake (y/n).” Rhaegar tries once more but then decides it’s useless with a shake of his head. “We can deal with that some other time. There’s urgent business I wanted to discuss with you. If. . . If you will follow me.”
Digging his talons a bit in your shoulder to stabilize himself as you follow Rhaegar, Spitfyre flaps his wings a little bit at the jostling movement.
Deep in the cells of the Red Keep, you began to grow suspicious, even Spitfyre was displaying his attitude in being confined in a dark tunnel. Rhaegar opens a heavy door; inside resides Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Jon Connington, Varys, Barristan Selmy, and several other house delegates, even including a Lannister messenger.
Scowling, you lift your chin up to look questioningly at your brother. “What’s going on?”
“Please come in, Princess.” Varys insists. “Then we will let you in on all that we’ve been working on.”
Spitfyre hisses as Rhaegar moves behind you to close the door. It was incredibly dark besides a small candle that Varys held; casting shadows across the faces of the other men in the room.
“(y/n), we’ve been planning for some time on over throwing our father. Surely you know how insane he’s become. He isn’t fit to be king anymore. Now more than ever. . .” explains Rhaegar.
Barristan Selmy nods. “Indeed. Ever since you came back with your dragon, he has become even more delusional, I’m afraid. He’s getting ideas in his head.”
“Yes, I’ve heard talk that he’s been wanting to take your dragon away to use as his own.” Varys informs.
That scared you. You had known the moment you set foot back at the Red Keep that he would want to do something like that. To take Spitfyre and use him for his own gain. But to overthrow him?
“So what, get rid of father and make you king?”
“Not exactly. . .” Rhaegar rubs the back of his neck.
Ser Arthur Dayne speaks up “This is where you come in Princess. We want to crown you as Queen of Westeros. True, Rhaegar is beloved by many but with this stint with Lyanna. . . Well, it has upset a lot of people. You though. . . You have sparked a new inspiration in many. You have brought back a dragon. Surely you can do more miracles.”
“Me as queen?” The title was weird on your tongue. Yet it would’ve been the title had your father died and Rhaegar become king. “What about you Rhaegar?”
He sighs. “You heard Arthur. I’ve stepped on many toes. I would step down on my claim. If you’ll have me, then I rule beside you to a smaller degree. . .”
You spit out “What about Lyanna.”
That made the others murmur quietly among one another. Even Rhaegar was hesitant to reply. “I don’t want to give her up (y/n). . .”
Laughing bitterly you shake your head. “So you’ll give me up instead?”
“No-”
“What I believe your brother is trying to say” Varys steps in frantically, not wanting to lose your attention “is that you would solely be the ruling figure. Lady Lyanna would not have the title as queen and Rhaegar would not be called king. That is unless you want him to be your king.”
“The point of this all is that we want you to be Queen of all of Westeros.” Griff pipes up.
“The one true queen.” Rhaegar says softly.
They all knelt before you. Everyone of them ready to pledge their loyalty.
You close your eyes. Spitfyre crying in approval and encouragement.
#reader insert#fanfiction#fanfic#game of thrones fanfiction#asoiaf fanfiction#game of thrones fanfic#game of thrones#got fanfic#got fanfiction#asoiaf fandom#asoiaf fanfic
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Mother’s Day
Enjoy ☺️
————
When Omega told their parents they had a surprise for Mother’s Day, none of them knew what to expect. Unpredictability being their children’s specialty, they are just as likely to walk into a screaming match as a dance party. But they trust them. They expect a brunch or party or even a supposedly friendly competition for best mother—undoubtedly leading to a fist fight.
What they don’t expect is home movies in the Manor’s viewing room. The teenagers had stocked up on their mothers favorite snacks and drinks, along with some gifts. The best one, though, is the memories filling the screen.
Two-year-old Jon Kent running around in Superman onesie, a red blanket tied around his neck. Five-year-old Lian headbanging in the kitchen with her parents. Four-year-old Milagro shrieking as Nine-year-old Jaime chases her through sprinklers. Eleven-year-old Damian’s soft look at his baby sister, whose giggles at his scowl, telling Selina that Helena wasn’t afraid of him. Six-year-old Jai and Irey delivering at TED talk about why dessert should be before dinner.
“Alright, who’s next?” Tim asks, with Helena, now five, hanging off his back.
“I am, Uncle Timmy.” Mar’i calls, settling back beside her father, “I sent you the video.”
Omega keeps chattering among themselves, ignoring the looks their parents send their ways. What on earth are these children up to?
Suddenly a warm laugh fills the room. For a second, they think it’s the resident princess, but the voice that follows isn’t hers. “Irt’cla, Bumgorf!”
On the screen, Queen Koriand’r appears on camera. From the bottles and makeup in view, she must have it set up on her vanity. Their breath catches as a little girl flies over. They know those dark curls, mischievous impossible green eyes, and bright smile, a near-perfect miniature of her mother. Their Mar’i, so much younger than they had ever seen, with an odd stuffed doll in her arms.
While they are undeniably speaking Tamaranean, someone had added English subtitles.
“Alright, my Star, how are we doing your hair?”
“Like yours, Mommy.” Little Mar’i looks up, almost questioning if that’s allowed. A gentle hand smoothes a stray curl back.
“I would be honored to match the birthday girl.” Kor’i teases, reaching for a spray bottle, “How old are you today?”
Brow furrowing, Mar’i holds up four tiny fingers. Kor’i gently pulls her thumb free, kissing her head, “Silly Star. You’re five today.”
“Oh….How old is Daddy now?”
Such a simple question shouldn’t feel like a gut punch. Kor’i’s brows furrow, just like her daughter, as she says, “He’d be about 29, almost 30.”
“Is that old for humans?”
There’s that laugh again. God, how long has it been since Dick heard it? Braiding the front section of curls, Kor’i shakes her head, “Hardly, though some think it is.”
“Like Uncle Roy? Or Uncle Wally?”
“They thought that about other people,” Kor’i says, not bothering to hide her smile, “You know Uncle Roy has a little girl, about a year older than you.”
“Lian…would we be friends?”
“Oh Star, you two would save the world or destroy it. Especially if you met Uncle Wally’s children.” A snort from Lian and the twins confirms that.
“Is Daddy like that? With Uncle Roy and Uncle Wally?”
“Oh, absolutely, but he has a very special talent,” Kor’i muses, “He has such a sweet face, no one could believe he was a troublemaker.”
“Like me!” Mar’i says. With a pang, so many notice how she smiles like her father. Kor’i pins part of her hair as she nods, laughing again. “Daddy can’t fly like us, but he a….a…aco-bat.”
“That’s right, Star, an acrobat.” Kor’i gently combs another section, “You have a lot of Daddy questions today, huh?”
Little Mar’i nods. Present day Mar’i rests her head on her father’s shoulder. Kor’i scoops more cream into her hands, smoothing flyaways in the braid, “Remind me what Daddy’s name is?”
“Richard Grayson.” Little Mar’i says it slowly, like the words don’t quite fit in her mouth, “Everyone calls him Dick.”
“That’s right, sweet girl. Dick Grayson is your daddy. So, if we were on earth, your name would be….?”
“Mar’i Grayson.”
Kor’i holds a hand to her heart, pretending to be emotional, “Such a smart star I have. How’d you get that way?”
“K’norfka.” Little Mar’i squeals as her mother tickles her neck. The sweet scene makes their hearts ache. This was Mar’i’s childhood. Granted, she’d told them about the princess lessons and training to control her powers. But she had this too—a mother taking time from ruling to shower her affection, to tease her, to make her feel beautiful and smart and seen.
“If you’re so smart,” Kor’i teases as she stops the tickles, “Can you tell me why Daddy is on Earth?”
Dick tenses in his seat, no doubt scared of the little girl’s answer. The adults all had some vague details, but they all know letting Kor’i go is one of his biggest regrets.
“Because you both didn’t know I was in your belly.” Mar’i chirps, “You kept me and didn’t tell him just yet.”
“Why would I do that?” Kor’i asks, a bit of sadness in her eyes, though she doesn’t let her daughter see.
“Because Daddy spent a long time protecting other people, he didn’t take care of himself.”
“That’s right.” Gently tilting her daughters head up, Kor’i brushes her thumb over Mar’i’s cheek, “I made that choice, baby, not him. He’s figuring things out for himself. But don’t you think for one second you aren’t wanted or loved.”
“I know. You and K’norfka tell me all the time.”
“Love isn’t just words. It’s action. If someone says they love you, but their actions always hurt, that’s not love.” Kor’i says, twisting her daughters hair up, “When you find people who show you their love, you hold on tight. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright.” Kor’i has her stand in the chair, hugging her from behind. “All done, my Shining Star. Ready for our power words?”
Even at five years old, Mar’i straightens up, looking at her reflection. “Ready.”
“I am Mar’i.”
“I am Mar’i.”
Kor’i smiles with pride as Mar’i repeats her. “I come from warriors, their strength and bravery is in me. I am allowed to take up space and use my voice. I have a clever mind and kind heart. I deserve love for who I am, not what I can do. I am enough for the people that matter.”
Several throats close, tears rolling down faces. Dick squeezes his daughter’s hand. She should be crying, but she just smiles softly at the screen. How many times has she watched this video? Or repeated those words to herself?
“Oh! I forgot one!” Kor’i’s eyes twinkle with mischief as Mar’i frowns. Then the little girl shrieks with laughter as she’s attacked with tickles and kisses, “You are trouble, trouble, trouble!”
Mar’i wiggles free from her mother’s grasp. As she flies off screen, still giggling, Kor’i reaches for the screen. Softly, like she’s mostly talking to herself, Kor’i says, “Oh, my Silly Star. I named you perfectly.”
The video ends, Kor’i’s smiling face frozen on the screen. It’s quiet for a moment. Then Lian’s voice rings out, “Omega, all in favor of previewing Mar’i’s shit moving forward?”
“Aye.” Comes from the other six members, including Mar’i’s boyfriend.
“Motion passed—“
“On what grounds!” Mar’i scoffs. Lian gives her friend an incredulous look.
“You should be crying your eyes out. Yet you’re not. So you obviously watched this video multiple times in preparation. Like the sadist you are.”
“Mmmm in this context wouldn’t masochist—“
“Knowing you? You’re both, princess. But,” Lian gestures to the screen, “Not hard to see where you get the confidence from.”
“That’s still not grounds to pass a vote—“
“Get one person to agree with you, we will drop the vote.”
A wicked grin spreads across Mar’i’s face, “Oh, Jonny—“
Omega whips around at the youngest Super. Pointing a finger at him, looking eerily like her mother, Irey hisses, “Jonathan, If you can’t be strong, be silent.”
Normally Jon would not respond. However the look he gets reminds them of who’s son he is. Leaning forward in his chair, he says, “You wanna check that tone, Iris?”
“You wanna check these hands—“
“Easy, sweetheart,” Linda puts a hand on her daughters shoulder, “Let’s get one day without a fist fight.”
“Or heat vision.” Lois agrees, shooting her son a look.
“Really any explosions, fires, fighting, random stabbing,” Bianca nods. Her children had, smartly, stayed quiet.
“Or pickpocketing, Helena Claire.” Selina calls. Huffing, the little girl starts handing her brothers their stuff back. “Now! Who’s next?”
#mar'i grayson#irey west#damian wayne#lian harper#jai west#milagro reyes#jon kent#colin wilkes#koriand’r#mothers day#dick grayson
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Ch 29 - The Pack Survives
Part 30
Fire Of A Stark
@dragonixfrye
Walking through the halls of the Red Keep I wanted to leave this city the second we rode into the castle gates. My brown hair was tied up in a bun with me wearing some gray trousers and a brown tunic shirt. Small black summertime boots tied tightly with a sword hanging on my left hip. “I don’t understand why I had to come here. My wedding won’t even take place until a few months. I could have stayed back North for all they care.” I muttered to myself in annoyance.
“Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. The more people you love the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t. You’ll act a fool to make them happy, to keep them safe.” Halting in my tracks I peeked into my sister's room seeing the queen talking with Sansa. “Love no one but your children. On that front a mother has no choice.”
My sister asked softly. “But shouldn’t I love Joffrey, your grace?”
“You can try, little dove.” The queen responded leaning back in her armchair.
Pressing my body up against the doorway I hid around the corner listening in on their conversation like I would do with our parents back home. I always felt like everyone was lying to me since I was born a true Targaryen and didn’t find out until years later that I wasn’t a Stark. “Will that be the same for my sister Cadence. Is she going to have the same fate as I am?”
“My brother is a different story. He has been sworn to the kingsguard for many years. He swore to take no wife and have no children. So from that notion I would say that he isn’t capable of loving anyone.” The golden lioness speaks in a dry tone where I could sense she was leaving something else out.
Sansa leaned forward in her chair trying to have some hope for my well being. Now that she was starting to see who the Lannister’s really were along with the Baratheon children. “But he would protect her with his life, your grace. Even if he may never love her as you say.”
“He will do whatever my father tells him to do. Become lord of the Rock and put a child in your sister.” The queen rose to her feet making me press my back against the wall hoping she won’t see me when she leaves. “As I told you moments ago, little dove. The only thing she won’t be able to resist is loving the children he gives her. All the rest she will be incredibly lucky to receive.”
Lifting my head up from sleeping on my horse while we rode the last few miles I could see a tiny image of Castle Black in the distance. I never imagined that I would ride further North and away from Winterfell but here we are. Jaime was still holding our baby girl in his arms since the horses weren’t running as fast since we we’re reaching the gates. Kicking my horse in the belly I called Joanna flying beside me rushing straight towards the place in my sights. “Heya come on girl. Come on now!”
Jaime chuckled at my forwardness following after me on his own horse. Galloping towards the gates Joanna released a shriek flying over the castle causing some of the guards to point their weapons to the sky. Most people in the North had rarely ever seen a dragon even during the time the Tarageryns ruled the land. Northerners stayed where they felt safe in their own areas. The gate lifted up by the time Jaime and I were waiting outside. Together we slowly walked inside for me to immediately attempt to dismount my horse seeing Jon standing there smiling at me. “Jon!”
“Cadence!” He rushed forward once my boots hit the snowy ground and I fling my arms tightly around him. He secured his arms around me spinning me around in circles of laughter, finally sitting me back down on my feet once more. “Gods I’ve missed you, little dragon.”
Gripping his forearms in my hands I felt happy tears falling down my face at the sight of him here before me now. The last time we saw each other he left his hair that curly mess and was heading off to join the knights watch. Now he has his hair in a bun and from what Sansa wrote in her letter he had been named Lord Commander. “It's beyond words how happy I am to see you, Jon. I honestly never thought I would see any of my family again.”
“Is that a bloody dragon flying above our heads now?” One of the men of the watch asked pointing his hand up to the sky. Joanna was still circling the castle until I wissled up to her, making her land just outside the gate door since she was too big to come inside the courtyard.
“Don’t worry she won’t attack anyone unless I give the order. But I won’t so she’s perfectly harmless.” I replied hearing Jaime grunt making me turn around and take our baby from his arms before he could fall face first into the snow. “Here sorry honey. I’ve got her.”
Jaime grunted dropping his feet onto the ground pulling his hood down staring down at me. “It’s alright I know how long you’ve wished to ride back here Ben if this place isn’t your home.”
“Cadence!” Whipping my head around I gasped almost squealing like a child seeing the familiar sight of red hair running towards me. Her dress flying behind her as she went flinging her arms around me while I still held a baby in my arms.
Little Rhaenyra started making a fuse so we broke the hug with me hugging her with one arm grinning ear to ear at the sight of my sister still being alive. There was a time when I thought she was dead the second she managed to escape Kings Landing. “I can’t believe you are still alive, sis. And I’d like you to meet your little niece, Rhaenyra Lannister.”
“Oh she’s adorable. Can I hold her??” She asked me holding out her arms where I placed the girl in her embrace staring in Jon’s direction.
He was wearing a winter cloak that looked like our father’s. At least from what I could remember now since it has been a few years since he was gone. “I can’t believe you and Jaime actually are making the relationship work. That is a rare thing in this world we live in.”
“That is true. But I am grateful for such a sight.” I responded hearing Jaime shiver behind me so I glanced over my shoulder. I knew he didn’t like the North all that much. But I didn’t get too used to the warm south when I was forced to move there for the wedding ceremony. “If it’s not too much to ask could we get a room to rest for a night. We’ve been traveling for months on end.”
Sansa was cradling our daughter in her arms sending me a kind smile looking at our brother. “I’m sure we have a room to spare. I am unsure of how to feed a dragon though so I will leave that up to you.”
Jaime intertwined my hand with his left before I led him into the winter castle. Sansa had requested to spend time with little Rhaenyra giving us time alone from the long ride. Closing the door behind me I flopped down on the bed laying with my arms over my head hearing it crack with Jaime joining me. “I am relieved that we don’t have to ride on horseback for a while. My legs are too tired to do anything. I just want to lay with you until the end of our days.”
“That is tempting Jaime.” Holding myself up on my elbow I smirked leaning forward pressing my lips onto his. He smirked, raising his hand up to my hair, twisting his fingers through it gently. Pushing him onto his back I moaned into the kiss running my fingers through the short golden hair, even though I still missed the longer locks he once had.
The kiss deepened where I gasped when he rolled me onto my back breaking the kiss trailing my neck instead making me moan. “But we can’t stay in this bed forever. We have a daughter and we need to help take back the North.” Pulling away from the kiss he grumbled holding himself up with me laying underneath him.
“Do we seriously have to talk about this now because I would rather be pleasing my little dragon-wolf wife.” He leaned down capturing my lips with his once more feeling my hands scrambling to untie the strings on his shirt.
Breaking the kiss we both removed our shirts, crashing our lips together in another heated kiss. Jaime broke the kiss before we quickly removed the rest of our clothes laying under the blankets. “For tonight we won’t leave this room but we have to talk about the war. The Northerners should know that a lion and a dragon have come to fight by their side.”
“It will take time to convince them that a Lannister doesn’t want something out of it. Sadly my father has left us a long list of enemies that I have added to before I met you, Lynesse.” Jaime locked his green eyes onto mine, intertwining my hand with his real one squeezing it gently. “I can promise you that I will not abandon you and our little lion cub.”
Moving my freehand through his hair I sent him a kind smile snuggling into his warmth feeling him shiver not used to the harsh weather like I was. “You are a good man to me, Jaime Lannister. And shall be a good father to our little girl. I only have one request: we forsake tradition and Rhaenyra and whatever other children we have shall inherit the Rock.”
“Whatever you want, my chosen queen you shall have. A Lannister always pays their debts.” He vowed kissing my forehead, muttering softly. “I love you, little dragon .”
Kissing him quickly we both laid together listening to the winter wind howl outside the window of the castle. It was a sudden change I must say since I had gotten used to listening to the waves crashing against rocks for almost four years now. “I love you too, my lion.”
Comments really appreciated ❤️
#fire of a stark#jaime lannister#jaime lannister x stark reader#jaime lannister x targaryen reader#jaime lannister x oc#jaime lannister x reader#jaime lannister x reader fanfiction#nikolaj coster waldau#oc : cadence stark#oc : lynesse targaryen#freya allan#sansa stark#jon snow#rhaenyra targaryen#house of the dragon#house stark#house lannister#brienne of tarth#dragonback#dragons#cersei lannister#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones fic#game of thrones#wattpad fanfiction#ask box is open for feedback#comments really appreciated
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first sentence game!
Thank you so much @bettsfic for the tag! I really enjoyed doing this (and realised how many WIP fics I have, yikes.)
Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.
this includes published and non-published/wip fics, in reverse chronological order (i.e. most recent first).
Her lightsaber was a comforting weight between her shoulderblades. Rey leant back into it just for a second, like a cat pushing up under an outstretched hand, then set her legs into the climb once more. Cloud vapour was thick around her, wet in her mouth and on her hair. It tasted faintly – like everything else on Coruscant – of fuel.
(WIP Reylo, canon role-reversal AU.)
It starts with winter creeping down from the mountains two months early.
(WIP Darklina A/B/O fic for the Lovesick Valentine's collection – yes, it is extremely late).
The body adapts. It’s one of the first things Dr Tarth told her that initial afternoon in her office, sunlight drifting across the carpet, dust motes dancing in the air, the lake vast and placid through the window. It had taken Sansa an hour to stop picking at the hem of her sweater and supplying bland answers to probing questions and admit, I don’t even know what it feels like not to be afraid anymore.
(Insomniacs, WIP, modern AU ASOIAF, Sansa/Jaime).
It should not be permissible to be twenty-six and already jaded like this.
(The Bleak Midwinter, modern au Darklina, Grisha trilogy.)
Jaime Lannister steals her from the Gates of the Moon in the dead of night. It is only three days until she is due to marry Harrold Hardying.
(Expedience, ASOIAF, Jaime/Sansa.)
The car pulls up outside while she’s cupped in the gables above her room, smoking a cigarette stolen from her housemate’s stash, prodding at her rage the way one might provoke a caged tiger.
(Larceny, Daemyra, modern au ASOIAF, unfinished.)
There’s an ulcer coming up on her lip. Amelia worries at it the whole drive; nearly four hours from San Diego to China Lake, the sun beating down on the top of her mom’s car all the way.
(Sleeper Hit, Top Gun, Amelia/Bradley)
The papers don't look like much of anything. A little pile of white in the middle of that heavy, forbidding desk.
(honey-throated, WIP Stardew Valley Harvey/OC).
The sky yawns so vast here. Alina always feels so small beneath it, tiny and squashed down like a bug beneath a child's finger.
(Transition Stunt, modern AU Darklina).
There was no ignoring the strangeness of it. Like a missing tooth, your tongue prodding into the gap, tasting metal and space. (WIP Twilight fic, AU Carlisle/Bella.)
I can't think of anyone active on Tumblr who I haven't already seen tagged, so I'll say if you haven't done this and you're a fic writer, consider yourself tagged!
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Spin-Centric (Trans Spin Fic)
I hope you guys don't mind me having an oc in this story, but if you do, I can try to avoid featuring them heavily.
Spin spent the next few days training exclusively with Leo, Bree or Chase. It was nice, having these people who supported him.
Chase told him that he was trans too. Spin tried to argue this, as he’d seen Chase shirtless before. Chase explained that he came out so early that he was able to get on puberty blockers and then T, so he went through an average male puberty.
Spin envied that. It was too late for him.
Part of Spin was happy for Chase, because he didn’t have to go through what Spin was going through. But that didn’t mean he was okay with going through it either.
It was still nice to know that Spin wasn’t alone.
He wondered if Bree knew that her brother was trans, as she’d mentioned earlier not knowing many trans people. Was Chase one of the few she knew, or was she not even including him because he had a mostly masculine childhood.
After a week, Spin was cleared to bind and train again.
He took a single, tiny dose pain reliever before training. Just in case. His ribs were still a bit tender. He’d stop in a couple of days, it was temporary.
When he arrived in class, he noticed something. Jaime.
The colour on their shoulders was green now.
Are you… fucking kidding…
“Did you seriously get fucking credit for fighting me while I was injured?” Spin asked, shoving the blonde back.
“What? No, I—”
“You’re wearing a colour up,” He said, shoving Jaime’s shoulder where the colour started.
“That’s because I—”
“You didn’t beat me because you’re skilled, you beat me because I was already hurt!”
“Spin!” Jaime practically yelled. “I fought someone else to get green,” They said. “Even if they’d offered me green for ‘beating,’ you, I wouldn’t have taken it. I want it fairly.”
“Oh,” Spin said quietly. He backed up. “Sorry,” He admitted.
“It’s okay,” Jaime said with a small laugh. “Are you okay, by the way? I know I was tough on you, you seemed really hurt.”
“Yeah,” Spin said, “I’m feeling better now,” he said, running his hand over the side of his ribcage. It was true. He was feeling better now.
“Good,” Jaime said, crossing their arms, “Wouldn’t want to kick your ass while you’re hurt, now would I,” They said with a small laugh.
“You wish,” Spin retorted.
“Hey, I’m serious. I don’t want to injure a fellow classmate just because they’re already injured. I’d rather leave a few bruises than break a few bones,” Jaime said. Spin shook his head realising that Jaime definitely didn’t get the point of that quip, but let it go.
“So, who’d you fight to get it?” He asked, changing the subject.
“Thomas,” Jaime said, admittedly smug. Spin’s eyes widened in shock.
Jaime and Spin were among the shorter students. In fact, Jaime was a year older than Spin and was only 2 inches taller. Thomas on the other hand was 5’10, about 10 inches taller than Jaime, and a full foot taller than Spin.
“Seriously? Dude, that is so cool!” He exclaimed. Jaime shrugged.
“Yeah,” They said, not even trying to be humble about it. “I honestly don’t know why I was ever put in yellow. I think it’s just because we’re young, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Spin agreed, although he did feel guilty when he was automatically bumped up by Mr Davenport when he showed off. It felt… icky. Sure, it was a nice feeling to one-up Leo, but sometimes it felt like Mr Davenport pitied him.
It was like he was ranking him not as a bionic hero, but as a child. He was better than your average child, so that’s what made him good.
“I mean, you probably should’ve been in green to begin with; you’ve always had really good control of your powers.”
“I mean, I only really have the one,” Spin admitted. “So it’s not like I have to practise with multiple powers to master all of them. I can only practise with one, so I get the most practice with one.”
“Hey, you know we get more bionics as we grow up,” Jaime said, poking Spin in the arm. Spin looked at Jaime, confused. “You did know that, right?”
“No,” Spin said, confused.
“Yeah, dude. Like, Before I only had super speed. But now I have plasma spheres too,” Jaime said excitedly. “I think I might also have superstrength, but I haven’t talked to anyone about it,” They said quieter.
“I thought you always had plasma spheres. I don’t remember seeing you without them,” Spin said, still confused. Jaime laughed nervously.
“Right,” They said. “I probably was just bumped back down to yellow since I got new powers that I needed to master.”
Jaime themselves sounded unsure about the excuse they’d generated.
Spin raised a brow but didn’t get a chance to interrogate them, as the class started.
As Spin thought back, he realised that he really hadn’t seen Jaime when he first went there. He only really saw them pop up after… hm. Oh, after he and Bob helped the police catch those robbers.
Only then did he see them around. He figured he’d remember hair that obnoxiously bright blonde and the oddly confident stature.
But at the same time, Jaime had numerous scars that they wore happily on display that could’ve only formed if they were there the whole time; if they were part of the bionic army from the beginning— if they had been going to the academy the whole time.
Various half-healed cuts, gashes and burns, and a single frozen scar on their left bicep. There’s no way they’d only been there for the few months between now and visiting the mainland for the first time.
And to Spin, that just begged the question… where the fuck did this person come from?
#lab rats#lab rats bionic island#spin lrbi#spin lr#trans spin#trans chase davenport#original character#original lab rats character#jaime lrbi#jaime lr
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“Look at me.”
Hi there. I’m new here, but also very much not, which is to say you’ve probably seen me pop up a few dozen (hundred) times in your notifications with likes and comments and the occasional ask when I’m feeling brave, sliding under the radar from the safety of my obscure fandom-turned-main account.
POINT IS, I’m no stranger to the wonderful works of this community, and CERTAINLY no stranger to whump appreciation, even if I haven’t always had a word for it. And because I’ve been so inspired by all the talented writers here, I’ve decided to finally cut loose and throw my own work into the ring, and the whole @whumpmasinjuly thing seemed like an opportune time to pop up.
I’ve aggressively lurked on so many of your pages in the last year so I’m sure I’m leaving someone out, but I did want to tag a few of the writers who have really motivated me to start this page just by reading their writing:
@ashintheairlikesnow @orchidscript @deluxewhump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain
And if you’ve made it this far into the post, we’ve arrived at the actual content. This snippet is from a project I started writing before I knew about the existence of the BBU, but I’ve slowly started molding it into something that fits more-or-less within the bounds of that collective universe. Some things may take slightly different turns to the rules established there, but it’s the same general concept.
Without further ado.
PROMPT: “Look at me.”
WARNINGS: General BBU-esque warnings, human trafficking, slavery, non-con (fade-to-black ish but the lead up is… Not Great). Let me know if I missed anything!
He knows something is off right away when Mr. Torley calls to him from the end of the long hallway on the other side of the house.
When the children are home, Jaime is confined to the main common areas: the living room that spills into the large open-concept kitchen, the guest bathroom, the laundry room (where he has already spent most of his time working), the boys’ toy room (where he has only gone to clean up after them), and of course, the small room he has been given to sleep in, which he is sure once served as some sort of storage area.
At the mouth of the living room is a corridor that leads to Mr. Torley’s study, and across from that, his bedroom. So he is told. Jaime was given instructions never to go into that wing of the house unless explicitly invited. He has been in his new home assignment for three days now and has never once been asked to cross those bounds.
Until now.
Carefully, Jaime places the mug he had been diligently scrubbing in the basin of the sink and shuts off the tap. He looks around for the hand towel and, remembering he had thrown it in with the last load of laundry, dries his hands on his t-shirt instead.
There’s a shift in the air, something thick and weighty and terrible as he steps into the opening of the hallway, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate. He pads near-silently forward, toward the only open door, all the way at the end.
In the threshold between the hall and the master bedroom, Jaime’s toes brush against where pristine hardwood meets soft carpet. It feels good against his bare feet after days of standing on an unforgiving surface without the allowance of shoes or socks, but not nearly good enough to settle the uneasiness building in the pit of his stomach. Mr. Torley sits on the edge of the bed, a long, deep-colored robe covering most of his body, save for the deep strip of exposed skin down his chest where a few patches of thick, dark hair peek through. Jaime forces his eyes up to his.
“You called for me, Sir?” His voice low and steady, even as his eyes draw unwittingly to the lamp on the bedside table, which has been dimmed to an orange glow that makes the room feel small and suffocatingly warm.
“Come here,” his Keeper beckons, and Jaime’s muscles operate by the hand of some unseen force, pushing him forward. He only makes it half a step in before Mr. Torley raises a hand, gesturing to where the light of the hallway spills in around his silhouette. “Close the door behind you.”
Jaime’s limbs feel very heavy all of a sudden, but he moves anyway, a phantom sting buzzing beneath his skin at even the briefest thought of hesitation. Never make your Keeper wait. Never let your Keeper ask twice.
The hallway is plain and sterile, much like the rest of the Torley house, but Jaime stares longingly out at it as he pulls the door shut, wishing he were out there instead.
When the door clicks shut, he can feel a pair of eyes rake down his back like cold fingertips. It raises the hair on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in an unpleasant chill, but he forces perfect neutrality into his expression before he turns around. He zeroes in on the sensation of soft carpet under his soles instead of the prickling dread under his skin as he makes his way toward the bed, coming to a stop a couple feet away.
Mr. Torley chuckles under his breath, a low, amused sound that Jaime is already getting used to hearing. He seems to reserve it for Jaime alone and it always serves to make him feel like there is some sort of private joke he’s not been let in on. Or, more accurately, that he is the joke, and he can’t quite stifle the lingering sense of shame that comes with that.
“I said, come here.” It’s a direct order, but paired with a hint of amusement and something darker swimming behind his eyes. He rubs a hand invitingly, pointedly, over the comforter next to him and Jaime swallows back a lump in his throat that feels a lot like bile.
He isn’t stupid. Despite everything that’s been told to him, he’s not. But in that moment he wishes maybe he was, and then ignorance could be bliss for just a few more seconds. He knows where this is headed, and he knows that it’s wrong. It is against the policies, against the rules, he knows it is, but he isn’t surprised, either. It hadn’t taken long at the training facility to discover that the system on paper looks a whole lot different than the system in practice.
“‘We uphold a zero-tolerance policy for the sexual exploitation and abuse of Domestic workers,’” a cruel, mocking voice recites in his head, alongside the memory of a leather-gloved thumb sliding between his lips, his wide, tearful eyes glued to the tiny, black remote in his handler’s fist.
The skin beneath his collar burns at the memory, and he raises his fingers absently to touch there, half expecting to feel the heavy weight of the electric clip attached. He doesn’t, of course, and the only electricity he feels now is of a different nature, coming off his Keeper in waves as he waits, a bit more impatiently with every second, for Jaime to sit.
So he does.
Mr. Torley crowds his space immediately, and his instinctive response to pull away is smothered by a heavy arm draping over his shoulders and a droning voice inside his head. You must make yourself available at all times. You may not refuse any order or request that does not directly interfere with the wellbeing of another person. Jaime allows himself to wonder, for the briefest moment, if his wellbeing counts for anything. He knows it doesn’t. They had just spent the past three months teaching him, in every way imaginable, that he was not, in fact, a person at all.
All the offhand remarks from the trainers, the lewd sneers, the heavy-lidded glances and roaming hands… they had all painted him a picture of what to expect. He had just tricked himself into thinking that maybe, hopefully, if there ever really was a god in this universe that loved him like he was sure he once believed, that he was wrong. In the three days since he had stepped foot into his newest post, Jaime had managed to convince himself that maybe, possibly, he had gotten one of the good ones.
Mr. Torley is all too happy to shatter the illusion as his finger and thumb find Jaime’s earlobe, rubbing it between them and then ghosting down the side of his neck.
“Take off your shirt,” he whispers.
Jaime’s blood runs cold.
You may not refuse any order or request. He can’t conceal the trembling in his fingers as they curl around the hem of his standard-issue grey t-shirt. You may not refuse any order or request. The warm ambience of the room feels startlingly cold against his naked torso as he pulls the fabric over his head, letting it fall in a soft whisper onto the carpet. You may not refuse any order or request. His arm is back around his shoulders instantly, hot and cold assaulting his skin all at once and he feels so exposed and he doesn’t want to be here he doesn’t want to do this.
Mr. Torley places a heavy palm against his chest, running it slowly downward, and Jaime can picture what it looks like without even looking; calloused pads scraping over soft skin, all thick fingers and subtly unkempt nails, the beginnings of age spots and wrinkles and small dustings of black hair across the knuckles. He thinks his keeper must be able to feel the way his heart is pounding through his ribs, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that he was sure the training should have beaten out of him.
It’s because you weren’t trained for this, the panicked voice in the back of his head screams as the hand trails lower, grazing the thin patch of hair below his navel. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is against policy. You weren’t made for this. His skin feels static in every place Mr. Torley’s fingers brush, and he wishes he could dissolve under them.
“You’re shaking, baby.” Jaime winces at the unexpected term of endearment. So far, it has only been boy, curt and abrasive when thrown in his direction, usually followed by a direct order. “Have you never had a man touch you like this?”
His mind supplies a horror show of memories, flashes of images behind closed eyelids - leather-gloved hands and concrete rooms of the training facility - and he realizes he doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to cry. Can’t cry. Isn’t allowed to cry. Then there are fingers on his chin, on his jaw, softer than any of his touches have ever been; soft like the word baby on his lips, soft like the half-lidded eyes that he is forced to meet.
“I asked you a question.”
“I haven’t. Sir.” His voice shakes, barely a whisper.
It is mostly true, probably in the way Mr. Torley really meant it, and unfortunately seems to be exactly the answer he was looking for. Dread splits Jaime in two. One part, the part of him that’s hazy and pliant and good tells him he has done a good job, that he has pleased his Keeper, he has said the right thing. His keeper’s needs are his needs, if his Keeper is happy, he is happy.
The other part just keeps screaming. And screaming. And screaming.
He doesn’t want this.
It doesn’t matter what he wants, he’s not supposed to have wants.
But this isn’t allowed.
His Keeper is happy.
Please, please stop touching me.
He can’t say no, no is forbidden to him.
Please don’t make me do this.
His keeper is smiling.
“You’re very lucky,” Mr. Torley says, dragging the thumb that was holding his jaw over he’s lower lip. “They could have given you to any one of your bidders, and trust me… there are some messed up people out there who invest in the services of Domestic Companions. But I can be good to you.”
Somehow, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.
“Yes, sir,” he says, a bit breathless as fingers trace up and down his spine. His own fingers curl into the bedsheets on the opposite side of his thigh where Mr. Torley can’t see the outward signals of his distress, though from the naked delight in his eyes as he watches him, he doesn’t think he minds.
There are lips on his before he can even process what is happening, and he feels his whole body go rigid in his Keeper’s hold. He’s never been kissed before and the cold wetness against his mouth is nothing like the movies make it out to be. It’s hard to wrap his head around the overwhelming sensation, but the one thing he knows for sure, immediately, is that he hates it.
He hates his first kiss unlike anything he’s hated before. Terror and humiliation seize him in equal stride as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to do. He is frozen, for a moment, his own pulse beating wildly in his ears as slimy lips move against his own. When Mr. Torley cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to lean into the kiss, his mouth opens instinctively, submitting to the insistence of the movement, and this seems to be exactly what he was looking for. A low, throaty hum vibrates against his mouth and Jaime clamps his eyes shut tight. He feels like he might die. For a moment, he kind of wishes he would.
He doesn’t register the pressure of the hand against his chest until his back is already pressed into the duvet. Mr. Torley sits up then, breaking the kiss, then stands. Jaime doesn’t look at him - he can’t bring himself to - but he can feel his eyes on him anyway. Thick fingers hook into the elastic of the thin, gray pants he had been given three days prior, and his breathing goes flat. Please don’t please don’t please don’t, his brain lights up with panic, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. But he doesn’t move, other than to close his trembling fingers around the material on either side of him, curling the soft fibers of the duvet into his fists. He wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them burning, then swimming with moisture, and he knows if he clamps his eyelids shut, the tears will spill over and he doesn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Torley.
Instead, he stares up at the ceiling fan, focusing on the long, thin blades of wood instead of the feeling of cool air against his lower half as the material is pulled away from him. He hears the rustle of cloth as his pants join the discarded shirt on the carpet at his feet, and then another sound of the same, this time heavier, but he doesn’t dare look away from the grey clump of dust dangling from one of the fan blades above him.
Worse than the chill of the exposure is the heat that follows in the form of skin on skin, an immovable weight settling over his body. His throat jerks in another attempt at a sob, a plea that can’t let free. He swallows it down and tells himself that if he just keeps staring at that one spot of dust, he isn’t really here, that his keeper is not on top of him, that this isn’t about to happen to him.
But he is. It is. There’s no stopping it now. There never was.
“Look at me.”
For the first time, he allows his eyes to slip shut in a quiet moment of defeat - just a singular moment of hesitation before he follows the command. He feels the moisture slipping out at the corners but he can’t do anything to stop them even if his hands weren’t being slowly pressed above his head and into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into the cold expression hovering over him, fully eclipsing the spot of his previous focus. It’s just him now. It’s all him, every one of his senses besieged by the one person whose life he is supposed to center himself around now. In that context, perhaps this should feel exactly right.
Somehow, it doesn’t. Not at all.
#whumpmasinjuly#whump#tw: noncon#bbu#kind of#like bbu adjacent?#further exploration to come if i can manage to keep posting#Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian#Jaime#Mr. Torley
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Protection - Part 10
Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
Part 10/?
Summary: Jaime and his wife make it to Sunspear, but what will be waiting there for them when they arrive?
Author’s Note: Hi everyone! so….it’s been a while. I never wanted to leave this fanfic unfinished and I promise I will eventually get to finishing it, I just needed to know where it was I wanted to go with it and in all honesty, the way the show ended kind of put me off thinking about that. I am going to give this another go though, and Protection will be finished one way or another (else it might haunt me for the rest of my days). I have also started writing more original content which can now be found on Dreame and the link is in my Masterlist! Thank you all for the continued support and I hope you’re all staying safe. Thanks for reading- Abby x
Protection Tags: @mikariell95, @evyiione, @sleepylunarwolf, @wnygirl2012, @purpose4fan-fiction, @mmmcchan, @lxdyred, @duvetsandpillows, @d34d-0n-th3-1ns1d3, @bshelley322
Masterlist | Buy me a coffee!
_______________
Jaime wrapped the child in a blanket, clutching it tightly to shield it from the sand that whipped around them in the wind. It had cried, it had screeched as its mother fell to the ground, her arms unable to take the weight of the tiny being.
She was now slumped over the front of Bronn’s horse, Bronn’s arms showing veins where the strain of holding her up was getting to him. It hadn’t been pretty, but she had done all she could and she had the child before fainting in exhaustion and dehydration. Jaime tried not to let his fear show, tried not to disturb the sleeping infant in his arms, but he couldn’t help but let it eat away inside of him. They had to reach the Martells before it was too late for her. Bronn had managed to bring a maester, who lingered behind them on his own horse. He seemed hesitant to help them until Jaime had explained that she was not of Lannister blood, but the daughter of Ned Stark. The argument had persuaded the master, but Jaime was not sure if it would sway the Martells to his cause. They would be happy to let her die even if it was just to spite him.
Whilst the journey to the Martell’s residence was a short one, it felt longer than any of their time at sea. Jaime looked down at the child in his arms, a young boy. Cersei would be disgusted. A new Lannister heir. He didn’t really care what Cersei thought. The boy looked strong and healthy, despite the heat he did not seem bothered, his chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm of sleep. Jaime looked over to his wife, her eyes flitting open for a moment before closing once again. At least she was still alive.
The edges of Sunspear became visible above the dunes. The tips of its golden spires were visible above the large walls that surrounded the building. There were guards at every entrance, all sporting the Martell crest of the spear bursting through the sun. Jaime thought back to Oberyn, the way he fought the Mountain with a spear and his courage. He had nothing but respect for the Martells, but he could not say they would feel the same way about him.
The maester rode up to meet the level of Jaime and Bronn. He stepped down from his horse and went to check on Jaime’s dear wife, still slumped over Bronn’s horse and mumbling something Jaime could not hear. He attempted to give her some water, but she laughed, batting the vessel away in delirium. Jaime was no maester, but even he could see she was delirious. He felt panic rise inside of his, the child sensing it and fussing in his blankets. He watched as the maester stepped ahead to the two guards, murmuring something to them as they nodded, one turning and making his way into the walls of Sunspear as the maester returned to Jaime and Bronn.
“They have asked that she enter Sunspear alone with the child,” the maester told Jaime.
“You expect me to give my wife up to my family’s enemies so freely? No!” Jaime replied, his voice rising in anger. He would not leave her. She would not die alone. “Put me in chains for all I care, but I am following her in there-“
“Jaime,” Bronn’s voice, level and calm felt like a bucket over water, washing away his anger and bringing him back to the present, “you’re going to be no good to anyone in chains, mate. Let her go in.”
Jaime wanted to take out his sword. He wanted to fight. That’s what he knew, what he had always known. That was where his strengths truly lay, but he also knew they would not serve him here. He was not here to fight the Martells. Whatever his intentions before, he was now there to beg for their help.
“Take her,” he murmured, “and him…” Bronn’s eyebrows shot skyward. He had not known the child was a boy, and he understood the implications. His wife was taken on the horse whilst the maester took away his son, leaving Jaime and Bronn sitting uselessly with their arses in the sand as they leaned up agains the walls in the shade, waiting for word from the palace.
After hours, the sun remained high in the sky, but the guards had changed. Bronn and Jaime had mainly been sitting in silence, Jaime staring into the distance, Bronn drawing crude shapes into the sand in some attempt to entertain himself until he could not hold onto his thoughts any longer.
“So, a boy,” he said to Jaime, clicking his tongue in thought. Jaime scowled, but it did not deter him. “What’s going to happen when Cersei gets a word of this then?”
Jaime sighed. “I’m trying not to think too hard about it. I’m more concerned whether they’re alive in there.”
Bronn shrugged, “they’ll let you in eventually, just need to assess the threat first.”
“There’s one of me and a thousand of them, how much of a threat can I be?”
“Aye,” Bronn smirked, “but you’re the Kingslayer.”
___________________
She awoke as the sun was setting, her mouth dry and everything sore. A maester was stood aside from her, whispering to a tall, slender woman with a mouth that seemed it would permanently be turned downwards in a disapproving manner. Her hands fluttered to her belly, still swollen but empty now. She remembered the desert, she remembered the searing pain, but then she had no clue. Had her child survived?
She wanted to cry, but her eyes couldn’t sacrifice losing the little moisture they had. She shut her eyes. She had not seen Jaime, but she hoped his was not far from her. He had promised her protection, hadn’t he? But protection did not mean safety, not anymore. She’d seen her father protect her mother as best as he could, but neither of them had ever been safe, not when there were so many threats.
“Lady Stark?” It was the tall woman. Her voice should have been comforting. She had always liked the lilt of the Dornish accent, but her name had come out as more of bark. All she could do in response was nod, her throat too dry to croak out some sort of response. She had not been a Stark for a long time, but the name was like a childhood blanket, and she clung to it for comfort.
The woman came closer, holding up a flask so that she could take a drink, speaking to the girl who called herself Stark whilst she drank.
“We did not think you would manage to wake up so quickly,” she told her, “you were on the edge of madness when my maester bought you to the doors of the palace.”
“The child?” She managed to choke.
“The child is safe and well. I’ve had someone nurse him, although I imagine he will need his mother soon.” She smiled kindly, but it did not reach her eyes. “Your husband is going to be a problem for us, though. He waits for now outside the walls but his patience will not last forever.” She examined the woman lying down, as if assessing if she was a threat despite the fact she could hardly move. “I think perhaps we could allow him inside with the necessary precautions, but you will stay here with us whilst he can take residency in a cell, I think.”
Part of her wanted to protest, but she knew it would be useless. The best she could do for now was try and figure out what the Martells wanted from them. It was her turn to protect him.
#Jaime Lannister#jaime lannister imagine#jaime lannister x reader#jaime lannister x stark!reader#jaime x reader request#game of thrones#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones imagines#lannister#ASoIaF
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What are your opinions on Teen titans
'Teen Titans' is very broad. lots of things that could refer to, so i'll give my opinions on all the possible ones i can think of:
Vol. 1 / Silver Age - i have read like 3 total comics from that era but love the vibes tbh
1967 Filmation shorts - THESE ARE SO FUNNY PLS WATCH THEM!!! they're like on youtube. theres so much going on
The New Teen Titans (80s) - i still need to actually read this run start to finish not just in random chunks when the mood strikes/i have a specific question im trying to answer but like, iconic
Vol. 2 (90s) - i forgot this one existed until i was just looking at all the different possible teen titans things to talk about. so. i think that says my thoughts about that
2003 Cartoon - i grew up on this one babey (like i remember watching it as new episodes came out and everything) its always gonna hold a special place in my heart and tbh was one of my first introductions to superhero stuff in general
New Teen Titans shorts - these were so cute. the who is red x one where gar insists its jason... iconic
Vol. 3 (2003) - Geoff Johns face my wrath for what you did to the core four. but um. a WILD ride from start to finish i can tell you that!!!! i shit talk this comic a lot but like it does definitely have its moments and there are some cool and interesting things it did, it just also showed a blatant disregard for previous characterization of four of its main characters which annoys the shit out of me and always will.
Tiny Titans - SHOWSTOPPING. LEGENDARY. THE ONLY COMIC EVER
Teen Titans Go! - im going to be so real with you i understand why so many ppl hate this show but its actually so fucking funny to me. i dont regularly watch it or anything but like. it is so amusing to me. every time i remember the urn marked 'Robin II' displayed next to a crowbar i lose MY MIND. or the 'NOBODY CARES ABOUT TIIIIM DRAKE'.
Vol. 4 (2011/New 52) - this comic caused me physical pain to read. nothing makes sense. none of the characters are themselves. shit is just a mess, an absolute mess. however Bunker? Miguel? I love him. best thing to come out of this damn comic.
Teen Titans Go! To The Movies - go watch this right fucking now if you haven't seen it. its literally so good even most ppl who hate ttg still will admit its good. my friend recently reminded me that when we saw it in theaters there was a part that made me laugh so hard i literally fell out of my chair
Vol. 5 (2014/Still New 52) - this one is also really bad but at least its kinda funny. definitely more pleasant to read than Vol. 4 but like its still not good or pleasant to read, i just mean that like, in comparison. the last two issues i actually genuinely like tbh (bc #23 is a standalone like, just nice team story, and then #24 is a memorial for Tim after he 'died' in Rebirth)
Justice League vs Teen Titans movie - the dcamu is a fucking fever dream but like the concept of max from wizards of waverly place voicing jaime while violet from american horror story voices raven amused me so much. also the FUCKIN UHHH MAGICAL GIRL-ESQUE TRANSFORMATION SCENE WITH DAMIAN THEN JUST TRYING TO BREAK INTO THE CAR FOR HIS SWORD IS SO FUCKING FUNNY
Teen Titans: Judas Contract movie - its the judas contract. it is what it is.
Vol. 6 (Rebirth) - i have not read too much of this one (like. ive read... chunks of it but not the whole thing) but eh. i've heard bad things about later parts of it especially and from what i've read that seems to... line up.
Titans TV show - a hot mess. superhero riverdale. i binged the first two seasons within 48 hours. very nice costumes and mostly very well cast but the writing makes me die
Tween Titans - in that one episode of dc superhero girls. im just obsessed with Dick having the thick jersey accent its so fucking funny
Teen Titans Academy - I really was not vibing with it early on but as we've actually gotten to focus on the new kids more i've liked it more, but overall its just way too bloated of a cast. having the new characters students, the previous team older students, and then the og titans as teachers is just... too much to focus on in one book. then also did not like the attempt at dick/babs/kory love triangle drama in like issue 2 get tht shit outta here
and if u meant more just the team overall like. i think the titans are cool
#do not think about the order of things here too much i was trying to do chronological#but also just kinda when i remembered things
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KNY oc/ Demon Slayer OC time!
So this is more or less my designs for my oc, Cecilia. One thing to note in her design that I failed to show was is that Ceci is chubby. Also featuring her different looks throughout her life. Though that last design is just an idea. Since I kinda feel like my oc is boring since she's just an everyday civilian compared to most kny ocs I've seen.
☆ Now SUPERCUT of her backstory ☆
Cecilia is the daughter of talented cook and a seamstress who unfortunately passed away when she was only 6 while on there way to sell goods to neighboring towns. Since then Ceci, along with her 4 older sisters, were taken in and raised by another family.
She ends up marrying her childhood friend Jaime, but he was killed a year later in a demon attack. Ceci was one of the few survivors of the attack that left her entire hometown in ruin. Though the entire situation was covered up and all the survivors agreed to not say a word since they themselves didn't understand what had happened or the concept of demons.
If it weren't for some demon slayer who were sent over to Latin America to rake care of the situation, many more towns would gave been destroyed too. Ceci actually keeps in touch through letters with some of the Demon Slayers she met.
Ceci has always put everyone's needs before her own. But with Jaime passing away, Rosario, Ceci's son, has become her priority in life. She will put his happiness before hers in a heartbeat.
3 years later, Ceci and her friend Aledia end up immigrating to Japan for a fresh start in life. They really didn't have anything to lose back home.
☆ Click below to read the long cut of her backstory ☆
Also there will be some sensitive topics beyond this point. So you have been warned. There is mentions of age of consent, teenage marriage, death, pregnancy, mentions of robbery. They are not the focus however it is context and I know some people can be sensitive or triggered by these topics.
☆ Historical Context ☆
She’s from Mexico, specifically from a tiny rural town in Guanajuato, Mexico. Now reminder for those who don’t know, Taisho Era Japan takes place around the 1910s to 1920s. If I’m correct, Demon Slayer takes place in 1915.
In Mexico, it was very common that if children became orphans, they would be taken in by any remaining family or family friends. If not, they would would get sent to live in an orphanage. Though children who happen to be orphans often were stigmatized by the community despite the death of their parents being out of there control.
Now a more sensitive topic, age of consent and marriage. Mexico, in the context late 19th century and early 20th century, had high mortality rates. Most children would pass away before they could even reach the age of 3 due to illness and lack of medicine. So it was common for teens to get married early and start families early on so the age of consent was 15. Typically courtship would begin around the age of 15 and by the time people are 20, they are already married and most likely already had a kid. Also it was common that the woman in the relationship is to move out of her hometown to move in with her husband in his hometown.
Lastly we have to mention the corruption of government and bandits. By this point in time, the mafia is brewing and slowly taking control over areas. It was common for bandits as well to be roaming around at night in search of people to loot from or potentially people to extort. I won’t do a deep explanation about this, but keep this in mind for certain things and choices that Cecilia will make in her life because of the fear of bad people coming to harm the innocent.
☆ Back story ☆
Cecilia’s parents names were Vicente Ochoa Hernandez and Sarahi Fuentes Santos (She changes her surname to Fuentes de Ochoa) Vicente was man with a talent for cooking and catered at parties and festivals in his hometown while Sarahi was a seamstress. Together they had 5 daughters, Cecilia being the youngest of them all. Her older sisters names are Rosalva, Norma, Monica, and Manuela. Monica and Manuela are twins.
Ceci actually ended up inheriting her father’s love and talent for cooking. She was closest to him since she would often watch him as he cooked. He often let her help out in small ways and promised to let her read his recipe book when she’s older. He always told her that everyone deserves a good meal and food, she should never let someone go hungry. This was a lesson Ceci would hold onto for the rest of her life.
In order to have enough money to support their family, Vicente and Sarahi would often take trips out of town to sell their goods such as food and clothing. In the meantime, their family friends, the Castro family, would take care of their daughters. Unfortunately, during one of their trips to a neighboring town, they were cornered by bandits would killed and looted them. Cecilia and her sisters were now orphans and would have been sent to an orphanage in another town if it weren’t for the Castro family deciding to take them in.
These events would lead to Cecilia becoming hyperaware of the stigma around her. Adults would pity her for her circumstances while children her age would mock her for being one. Thankfully, the only daughter of her new guardians, Aledia, was always there to defend Ceci. Ever since Cecilia was taken in by her parents, Aledia and Cecilia have been the best of friends. Despite how much Ale would tell her to ignore what people say, Ceci couldn’t. Where ever she goes, she will always hear a comment about her situation. It didn’t help that her older sisters started getting married and moving away to other towns to live with their spouses. By the time Cecilia was 13, all her older sisters had moved away.
Thankfully, as she got older, the stigma around her started to fade as people started to recognize Cecilia as a charming young lady. She was a good student and she would often give food to those who didn’t have lunch. She often played with younger kids and tutored them as well. It was only a matter of time when people started asking Aledia’s father for permission to court Ceci.
When she was 15, Cecilia was courted by her childhood friend, Jose Jaime Martinez Oregel. The two were already close, so their transition to couple and eventually to marriage was very smooth. Once they both turned 16, they were married. Ceci finally felt complete peace with her life. She had a loving husband, amazing friends, her loving older sisters who she gets to visit from time to time, Ceci had a baby on the way. Life was great. Unfortunately, as soon as her life was finally together, everything was ripped at the seems.
Muzan was trying to spread his forces overseas and he started with Latin America. A number of demon slayers were sent over to destroy the demons before they could dominate the night in Mexico. Ceci and Ale ended up meeting two demon slayers who were lost and didn’t know how to navigate in Mexico because of the language barrier and not to mention, the locals have never see a demon before. Those two slayers happened to be Giyuu and Kyojuro. Giyuu did not to interact with any of the locals at all while Kyojuro insisted they do so they can at least learn how to read signs and fast routes to travel from place to place.
Cecilia’s hometown ended up in ruins one night because of demons. Many people died, including Jaime. Because of the stress of the situation, Ceci ended up going through labor while in hiding. Once the attack was over, only a number of people had survived, none of them were able to understand what had attacked their homes and taken the lives of so many innocent people. And eventually, the entire attack was covered up. Cecilia was left scared and alone, all she had left was her new born son and Aledia.
Cecilia ended up moving in with Ale since Ale was living in another town at the time with her soon to be husband, who also died during the demon attack. There she slept for 2 weeks straight since she went through a lot of trauma from that night alone. The few demon slayers that were present helped clean up the area and in a few months time, they had left to return back to Japan. Surprisingly, Ceci and Ale forced kind of a friendship with Giyuu and Kyojuro during this time. When they had to leave, Ceci ended up giving her handkerchief to Kyojuro as a way to remember her and they kept in touch through letters. Ceci would also send letters to Giyuu, though he would never reply back.
3 years later, Ceci is trying to live her life the best way she can while supporting her son. Things have not been the best for her or Aledia. Even though people forgot she was an orphan. There was wow an even harsher stimga around Ceci for being a widow and a mother. Older people pitied her, people telling her to remarry since ”she’s still her prime”, people telling her she’s a bad mother for not remarrying, etc. Cecilia tried to ignore everything but all these comments slowly started to eat her away. She didn’t want to remarry, at least not until Rosario is grown up and live independently. Not to mention, Ale and Ceci had to take any odd job they can in order to have enough money to survive. Ceci would often sell food and cater much like her father once did while Ale worked at a primary school as a teacher. Many people looked down on them since neither one of them were married.
That’s when Aledia suggests they just immigrate to another country. Life isn’t so nice to them in their hometown, there’s a war going on in bigger cities, the rise in bandits. Ale noted it would just be better if they leave and never come back. After a lot of thinking, they ended up deciding to immigrate to Japan, seeing as they would at least know someone there. They allowed Ceci’s sister, Monica, and her family to move into their old home, and left to have a fresh start and a new life.
#brightpinksunriseart#oc#my au#fan oc#kny oc#demon slayer oc#oc lore#kny oc lore#lore post#character bio#demon slayer#kny#kny oc cecilia#kny oc rosario
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Getting this juuuuust under the wire. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @naomignome!!!
Day 621
At the newest round of giggles down the hall, Brienne took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was the Thorn President-Elect, not their den mother. Their quiet study area on the second floor of the house, once filled end to end with studious sisters, had dwindled down to only her and a few others. Truth be told, Brienne was done with her exams, but was sticking around until their last member was finished, just in case of last minute nerves.
Most everyone else was packing up and blowing off steam. And giggling. A lot.
“Brienne,” someone hissed from down the hall. “Come look!”
She reluctantly got up, cast a glance around the room and decided that if they needed her, she wouldn’t be far. And if she was able to clear out the noisemakers? Bonus.
Elinor grabbed her hand once she came into view and pulled her to the front window. “Some Sigma got strapped in!” she gleefully reported.
“Really?” Brienne drew up to the glass and craned to see down the block, where a herd of guys in red shirts was lugging an item - well, a person - between them. She’d seen it a few times over the last couple of years, but while it was a… celebration of sorts, it wasn’t a dignified one.
Jaime and his cohorts had insisted it was a cherished tradition, but Brienne always thought it was a little mean to duct tape a newly engaged man to a slab of lumber and then cart him around campus before delivering him to his intended.
Okay, so it was a little funny.
Still mean, though.
Curious, Brienne squinted at the crowd of men and asked, “Who is it?”
“Can’t tell yet,” Meera replied. “Did you hear of anyone planning to pop the question?”
There was a chorus of no idea and I don’t think so’s and Myranda sniggered something about someone managing to get their MRS degree right under the wire. It was perhaps unkind to agree with her, but Brienne had seen a rash of quick engagements from other houses at the end of each semester and couldn’t necessarily say Myanda was wrong and then suddenly someone gave a muffled scream and another girl loudly shrieked and then, as one, every single sister on the landing turned in one direction.
Hers.
Brienne took a small step back, from them and from the procession that had made it to the Theta front lawn and stopped there. Her voice quavered to match how her knees had gone watery. “What?”
Wide eyes met hers for a solid two seconds, all of them frozen in place, and then Elinor trilled, “You and Jaime are ENGAGED?”
It broke the standstill and they descended on her from every angle, with demands for an explanation, calls of congratulations, some happy cries of I KNEW IT and more hugs than she’d received in the last six months combined, not counting from Jaime.
Jaime.
What.
The.
Fu-
“Jaime,” Brienne nearly shouted, and broke away from her ecstatic sisters and their pleas to see the ring. What ring?! she wanted to shout, but “I need to go check on Jaime” came out instead.
They stampeded down the stairs after her, but she legged it with a determination that had her first out the door, where she nearly slammed into Addam where he was about to knock and Brienne demanded, “What did you do?”
“Well, may I be the first to offer my congra-” Addam fell sideways into some shrubbery when Brienne elbowed him out of the way. Served him right.
“HEY!” came the loud cheer from her brother frat, with fists pumping in the air and a fair few jumping up and down, all of them surrounding Jaime, who hovered roughly a foot above everyone else due to the position they’d put him in. Duct taped him in. Same difference.
Jaime caught sight of her and wiggled in what would have been a frantic motion if he hadn’t been duct taped so securely. She couldn’t guess how many rolls they’d used, except that it was nearly from neck to toes, with tiny strips of his clothes peeking through where the tape didn’t completely overlap. His eyes were big and pleading and he would definitely have been giving her some sort of explanation if one large piece of silvery tape wasn’t keeping his mouth steadfastly shut.
Pod, not reading Brienne’s horror at all, dropped to one knee and held out a pair of scissors to her as the other boys yelled out Sigma! Theta! Sigma! Theta!, the cries taking on a higher pitch as the Thetas joined in and Brienne had to take yet another deep breath to skirt around all of them to get to Jaime and to slooooowly peel away the tape from his face.
“Jaime,” Brienne said as she did it, with a calm that unnerved even her. “What is this about?”
“Hell if I know, they jumped me out of nowhere,” Jaime rasped out and glared at everyone else. Raising his voice to be heard over the clamor, he asked, “Does anyone else want to explain?”
“You can’t be that pissed,” Addam said as he approached, brushing away leaves and twigs from his clothes. “You were the first one to break out the tape when it was Bronn’s turn.”
“That’s because he was actually engaged,” Jaime said in vicious, seething tones, enough to make everyone around him finally go silent.
Addam faltered and then waved his finger between the two of them. “You mean, you two aren’t…”
“No!” Jaime and Brienne retorted in exasperated tandem.
Whirling on Lancel, Addam said, “You told me they were!”
“You took his word for it?” If outright indignation were enough to break Jaime’s bindings, Lancel would have been in real trouble, but Jaime could only wiggle in place some more. “Lancel?”
“But you said so!” His cousin looked startled and skittered backwards when Brienne took a step towards him. “He did! Yesterday!”
“Well, that’s news to me!” Jaime thrashed around with little effect and Brienne returned to his side, carefully taking the scissors from Pod’s slack grip as she did.
“And me,” Brienne said as she started carefully snipping away. She had to set a hand on Jaime’s chest to make him stay still, continuing on when he did. It took more effort to ignore the assembly of friends encircling them, listening with rapt attention.
“Start running, Lancel,” Jaime ordered but Brienne fixed a glare on the Lannister cousin, freezing him in place.
“He did, though,” Lancel whined plaintively, apparently deciding Brienne was his last chance for refuge from Jaime’s anger. “Last night, we were all shooting the shit and I told him what my dad said and Jaime said it was true.”
“I said what?”
Brienne patted his chest and took another long breath. “Lancel?” she said as evenly as possible. “Explain.”
“Our dads were talking about all of us,” Lancel nervously began. “Uncle Tywin was telling my dad how much he likes you for Jaime, how you suit each other” - Jaime’s chest went still under her hand and then he moaned an almost indecipherable oh good gods - “and I told Jaime about that and he said-”
“I know what I said!” Jaime tried to interject, to no avail.
“-he said, ‘yeah, I’m going to marry that girl’,” Lancel finished triumphantly.
“Oh,” Brienne said. It came out far more softly than the blaring cacophony in her head. It came out again, without her say so. “Oh.”
Then she turned and focused on freeing Jaime, not looking him in the eye as he called Lancel an idiot with renewed passion.
“So you… didn’t propose?” Lancel backed away slowly.
“I think you just did it for me, thanks,” Jaime said sarcastically. He sounded like his first point of order would be to wrap his hands around his cousin’s neck but when Brienne finally let his hands loose, they fell to his sides and she could feel his eyes on her. “Brienne?”
“It was a misunderstanding, it’s fine,” she said quietly and started sawing away at another chunk of tape. Jaime reached out, his hands going over hers and he asked, somewhere past her, “Can we get some privacy, maybe?”
There were several awkward moments as most everyone found something better to do - and likely far away from Jaime’s retribution - but when it was discovered that the post Jaime was attached to still needed support to stay upright, Addam braved coming close and said, “I’ll hold it up, but I’m not even here, I swear.”
“Uh-huh,” Jaime muttered as Addam held his hands against the back of the post and then turned his head to stare in the opposite direction. When most everyone else scattered, Jaime looked back at her and said, “Sorry about all this.”
“Don’t apologize.” Brienne gave undue attention to where his shoulder was still strapped down. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Jaime sighed. “Then why does it feel like I did?”
“Because it’s your family members that tend to do some real questionable shit?” Addam suggested.
“I’m sorry, I thought you weren’t here,” Jaime snarled over his shoulder.
“Sorry, sorry. Not here starting… now.”
Brienne laughed under her breath and put her forehead against the shoulder she freed and Jaime tilted his head down to rest on hers.
“This isn’t how I thought I’d ask,” Jaime murmured against her hair and Brienne was too overwhelmed to feel surprised anymore. She’d be a liar if she claimed she never thought of their future; surely Jaime had, too. “Thought it’d be a while from now. Less public, less telephone style through my dad and cousin and maybe less duct tape, too.”
“Well, good news,” Brienne said against his shirt, “you haven’t asked.”
“That’s true. I haven’t asked,” Jaime said and she felt him nudge his nose against her head and Brienne smiled as she tilted her face up. He kissed her, sweetly and with promise. “And you haven’t said no.”
“No,” Brienne replied. “It seems I haven’t.”
#rush me all night long#day 621#jaime x brienne#my fic#ficlet#i know nothing about frats and sororities#but i DO know about some absurd traditions#and one i knew came rarin' around for this special edition#for our dearly beloved naomignome on her birthday#naomignome
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