AVENGERS

- One-shots/Imagines

  –You’re in love:   

              –  Tony Stark x Reader.  Songfic based off the song ‘You’re in Love’ by Taylor Swift.  Tony realizes that he’s in love with a much younger reader.

   – Would You Like to Dance?:

              –  Tony Stark x Reader.   You’re the head of a major company, and you’ve reached out to Tony for help on a major project. He says yes before he really knows what he’s getting himself into, and he ends up falling for you because of it.

   – Fight me:  

              –  Clint Barton x Reader.  You and Clint had been enemy assassins for years until one day he gets the jump on you, hitting you right in the stomach and leaving you barely able to move due to injury.  When he sees the collar that branded you as a slave of the Agency, he decides to take it on himself to help you recover, rather than turning you over to SHIELD.  Over the next few weeks, you start to bond.

   – Tony-Stark’s-Son:  

              –  Peter Parker x Reader.   For years you have been locked in a sniping war over eBay with the same account. Today, you finally meet the face behind the computer.

   –  Happy Birthday:

              –  Peter Parker x Reader.  You were Peter’s girlfriend of about one year, and you were left alone when the great snap happened. Now, you’re celebrating the occasion just like you’d promised.

   –  I Don’t Want to Go: 

              –  Peter Parker x Reader.   The battle against Thanos was over, and the team was just starting to recover, when he snaps his fingers.

   – I Want You to Stay:

              –  Bucky Barnes x Reader.   You’re a teacher in Romania. You meet Bucky after you get into some trouble and he helps you out. In the middle of the night, though, he has a nightmare.

- Series

   – Evil is Subjective:  Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8 Part 9

              –  An ongoing series about the Steve Rogers going up against a villain reader, as he slowly realizes that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

  – Lucky:  Lucky, I Can’t Forget You,The Best Day

             –  Tony Stark x Reader / slight Steve Rogers x Reader.  Three songfics for “I Got the Boy” by Jana Kramer, “Molly” by Lil Dicky, and “You Had Me From Hello” by Kenny Chesney about Tony and Steve both looking back on their time with the Reader, one with joy and one with regret.

   – Sunshine: Sunshine,I’m Still Your Sunshine

              –  A two part series about Tony and the reader, his daughter, as they both express how much they love each other through the song “You are my Sunshine.”

–Pickpocket:Part 1Part 2

              –  A two part series where you are a child that has been living on the streets for years, and over these years, you have become incredibly good at pickpocketing.  Unfortunately for you, though, you picked the wrong target one too many times.

AVENGERS CAST

- Series

   –The Interviews: The Interview,To Share an Armchair

              –  Tom Holland x Reader.  A two part series where you’re Tom Holland’s costar in the Marvel movies.  These interviews are both monumental stepping stones in your relationship.

GAME OF THRONES

- One-shots/Imagines

   –Confessions:  

              –  Jon Snow x Trueborn Baratheon!Reader. Reader was previously married to Robb, though she has always loved Jon.  She quietly admits her feelings for him on his deathbed at the wall.

   – You Are Mine Now:

              –   Sansa x fem!reader.  Reader is a wolf shape-shifter from a powerful royal house that has helped the Starks for centuries.  They fell in love at first sight, but couldn’t be married.  Now Sansa is to marry Ramsay Bolton.  But one day, the reader comes back.

   –  The Singer:

              –  Robb Stark x Reader.   Robb hears you singing to the wounded men after a fierce battle and immediately falls for you.

- Series

   –Letters: New Friends, Letters

              –   Jon Snow x Reader.  You’re the first daughter and second child of the royal family. When you visit Winterfell, you quickly find yourself making friends with the Starks and one Snow. Despite knowing you two could never be together, you’re quickly catching feelings for one another.

   – The Lion and the Fox:  Part 1,Part 2,Part 3

              –  Jaime Lannister x Reader.  Lady (Y/N) (L/N) is feared by many. She is capable of using any form of weapon against her oponent, though she favors two short swords. She is cunning and will do anything to get ahead in life. Deception is second nature to her. She is easily one of the most dangerous women to have ever set foot in Westeros. Now she’s found a new toy.

SUPERNATURAL

- One-shots/Imagines

   –You are my Density: 

              –  Sam Winchester x Reader.  Sam has finally decided to make his move and ask you to marry him.  The only problem?  He has absolutely no idea how to do it.  When Dean catches him practicing possible speeches, he decides to take matters into his own hands with the help of Jody and Donna.

   – Come with Us:

              –  Teen!Dean Winchester x Teen!Reader.  You are trying to do some research on a werewolf case when two idiots a table over start being unbelievably annoying as they play the “Penis” Game.

   – I Hate You:

              –   Dean Winchester x Reader.  Dean is trying to convince Sam and himself that he hates you. Unfortunately, you end up overhearing the conversation and have a few choice words for him, too.

summary:as children, the two of you had always been close. as teenagers, you were in love with each other and the only thing tearing you apart was her engagement to the future lord of winterfell. only after two rebellions, marriages, and children, do you see her again, but the pair of you have grown to be far different than you remember.

note:the weirdest love triangle-like idea i’ve had so far

She was running through the dewy green grass, blue skirts hiked up as to not get any stains along the hem of the fabric. Her auburn hair was free behind her, not twisted into a braid like she always had done. And she wore a smile that you had only ever seen when she was here with you.

“Y/N,” she stopped running, breathing heavy. Even exhausted, your name wasn’t a burden on her lips.

“Cat,” you smile. Her smile grows even bigger, and even in the moonlight you can see a blush paint her pale skin. The nickname was always different when it came from you, more intimate. Catelyn couldn’t help but feel butterflies in her stomach at the sound of your voice.

“You’ve been gone for so long, I thought you would forget our spot and everything.”

“I could never forget you,” you shake your head. Catelyn moves closer, sitting next to you on the cloak laid out across the grass. It was a deep red color, one that hadn’t suited the Riverlands. You never wore it or the color, it’s only use a blanket to protect your dresses from the damp grass. “Besides, I was only gone for three weeks.”

“It was a long three weeks without you,” she pouts. It was unnatural to see her this way, complaints never spilled from her lips in the light. She was a different woman when other people were around, with you she was Catelyn, and not Lady Tully. “Father was busy sending ravens. Edmure still a needy child, and Lysa… you know how she is. Fussing over Petyr because he lost in a duel.”

“I heard about that. He’s never been good with a sword.”

Catelyn hums, not pressing on about the duel. She doesn’t tell you why he was fighting or who it was with. The fewer details you know, for her, the better. “How was your trip?” She changes the subject, taking your hands into her own, “did you like visiting your family?”

You sigh, and give her hands a gentle squeeze. You had been away visiting your family, having been fostered off to the Tullys at the age of seven. You originated from a wealthy northern house, nearly as prestigious as the Starks. However, you did no good in the cold, harsh winter winds giving you too many illnesses to fight off. And with winter coming, your family feared it would take you along with it. You had been ward to Hoster Tully ever since. “It was fine. I got to see my baby brother. Mother named him after some Stark king from hundreds of years ago. Father disapproved, but mother has never really cared what he thought when it comes to naming children.”

Catelyn giggles. She met your father on a visit last year, shortly after the two of you had started whatever it was she could call this. It wasn’t courting, that was saved for a man and a woman who were going to marry. The only way for that to happen to you both would be to run away to Dorne. A fruitless thought, for Catelyn couldn’t abandon her family just for love. Family, duty, honor. There was no room for your fling between her house words. Now more so than ever.

“That sounds like him.”

“Probably wanted to name him after himself,” you roll your eyes. Catelyn hums in agreement once more, and you look back at her. Her eyes won’t meet your own, instead looking between blades of grass along the edges of a distant creek. “Catelyn?” At the sound of her full name, she looks back at you with dilated blue eyes. “Is something wrong?”

Quite frankly, she wanted to lie to you. She wanted to lie and say no, to convince you with small kisses and reassure you with nice words. But honor was a part of her family’s saying, and she had never managed to lie to you before.

“Y/N,” she says it soft and low, a small warning tone. You won’t like the next thing she has to say, you know it. “I told you how my father was sending ravens,” you nod when she pauses, finally looking to you. Catelyn looks away just as fast, “and Petyr, in that duel, it was, um,” you had always known he had a thing for Catelyn. You could never blame him, with her pretty curls and pale skin. A beauty of the Riverlands. You were fortunate, unlike Baelish, to have her return your affections. “It was for my hand.”

You pull your own hands back, crossing your arms. “You’re engaged?”

“Y/N—”

“Answer the question.”

Catelyn sighs, “yes,” you take in a sharp breath, “I am.”

“Who?” Your responses are short and cold, goosebumps rising on Cat’s exposed arms.

She swallows, “Lord Stark’s eldest son, Brandon Stark. He… he was kind to me, and even though he beat Petyr…”

“Seven hells, if you mention Petyr one more time, I’ll think you love him instead!” You get you your feet. “I leave for a few weeks and you’ve gotten not one, but two new suitors to replace me!”

“Y/N, please,” she stands, reaching out for your arm, but you back away faster than she can reach. Her hand drops back to her side, and she sighs. “I didn’t want to marry him, I didn’t want it to happen this way.”

“Didn’t,” you echo, “past tense.” Tears prick at your eyes, and your forced to look anywhere else. You will not cry for her, for this. You refuse. “Do you like him? Brandon?” She doesn’t respond at first, and so you’re forced to keep going. “Are you fond of him? Or will any affection you have for him fade out in a year like it has for me?”

“You have to understand, it wasn’t my idea,” you don’t look at her, but you can hear a change in her voice and know she’s started to cry. “I didn’t want to marry Brandon, I didn’t want to be engaged. But my father has made up his mind, I don’t have a choice.”

You stand in silence, moments passing and all you do is stand. You listen as a small breeze passes through the fields, as water rushes over rocks in the creek not far from here. You listen to the rhythmic pattern of your breathing, at how synchronized it is with Catelyn’s. But the lack of words hurts, and your heartbeat grows louder with anticipation—anticipation for what? You had nothing to look forward to.

“That’s what everyone says when their honor gets in the way.”

With that, you turn away from her and your place you always met late at night. You were quick on your feet, rushing away from her. You had always known your affair with her would end, knew it was a lady’s duty to marry a lord and give him heirs. A small, naive part of you truly thought you would make it, that she would go against her nature for you and maybe the heat of Dorne would be tolerable with you at her side. You were wrong, and as she called out your name from where she was standing, you didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t look back or stop at her pleas for you to come back, for the pair of you to work something out. It wouldn’t work, just like this.

You should have known better at the start.

Catelyn just stands, watching your retreating form rush back to her father’s castle. She wants to run after you, to chase you down and apologize for it all coming out like this. She wants to, but she can’t. Her feet are planted firmly in the ground, watching you run off. She had never been good at watching people leave her.

Something she would have to get used to, when she saw you again in about twenty years.

*

In the years she had left her home of the Riverlands, two rebellions had taken place. Robert Baratheon’s rebellion, dethroning the Targaryens and placing the Storm Lord in charge of the realm. And then the unsuccessful Greyjoy rebellion, one that had taken her lord husband away from her during the end of her pregnancy with their third child. Five children, she had now. All lined up, ready for the king and his party to arrive.

Of course, that entailed the king, the queen, and their three children. The queen’s two brothers, as well, would be making a visit. The younger of the two, Tyrion, was the reason Catelyn restocked on wine and candles for him to read at night. Jaime Lannister, future Lord of Casterly Rock, was a surprise. Robert’s brothers did not stop their lordly duties to visit, but Jaime had. Likely due to Tywin’s suggestion that his granddaughter, Jaime’s daughter, marry the heir to Winterfell.

The initial mention of Jaime’s daughter made Catelyn wonder who had the unfortunate fate of marrying the former kingsguard knight. Whoever it was, her daughter could marry her son, a thought she didn’t like. She held no love in her heart for the Lannister lions, but her and Ned agreed to let Robb meet the girl before they decided to make the girl their daughter by law.

As the king rides in, Catelyn and her family fall to their knees out of respect. Her eyes are trained on a patch of dirt above her, all thoughts of who could possibly be Jaime Lannister’s wife leaves her. Her mindset is back to that of a perfect lady, prepared to do her duties and accommodate for the royal family.

Robert jokes with her husband, and then pulls her into a hug. He ruffles little Rickon’s hair, and then moves on to shake Robb’s hand. “You must be Robb,” the boy nods, “hear you might marry my niece! Not a handful, like her aunt. You’ll like her.”

Catelyn and Ned share a look as their king continues down the line. She doesn’t notice the queen’s carriage until Cersei Lannister is out of it, holding her hand out for Ned to kiss.

A blonde haired boy rides in alongside Jaime, both in leather embroidered with the Lannister sigil. Jaime’s son, no doubt. The two look exactly alike.

“That’s Jason Lannister,” Sansa whispers to Robb. “He’ll be Lord of the Rock after his father.”

Catelyn can hear the smile in Sansa’s voice, the girl’s eyes shifting from the crowned prince to Jason. The prince, Joffrey, looks Lannister also, but he takes more after his mother’s soft features. Jason has a look of confidence, rather than arrogance, that draws Sansa to him instead.

Catelyn recognizes the way Jason carries himself, the same way you did once. The only similarity he has to you, a coincidence no doubt.

At least, that’s what Catelyn tells herself once she figures it out. Until a second, smaller carriage appears, and Jaime gets down from his horse to open the door. He holds his hand out for his wife, dressed in red-brown furs over a golden dress. Her hair… your hair… is twisted into a braid you knew Catelyn always worn as a teenager.

She takes in a sharp breath, holding it until she thinks she’ll be able to breathe again.

You were the unfortunate woman to have married Jaime Lannister, mother to his two children. It was your daughter who may marry her son.

Followed behind you was a girl who could be your doppelgänger. Rohanne, her name was. Jason’s sister, your second child. Robb’s betrothed, if all went as Tywin Lannister wanted. She turned to face the line of Starks, offering the many children smiles when you don’t. Your expression is blank, yet somehow beautiful. Stoic, as opposed to the cheerful expression on your daughter’s face. There was nothing about her that looked Lannister, save for her pair of green eyes. Even those looked like yours, kind eyes that met Robb’s blue ones, and caused him to react just like his mother.

Two of her children had eyes for Jaime Lannister’s children, for Y/N’s. Another thing they had gotten from their mother.

*

The feast made her uneasy.

It wasn’t the food, nor was it the wine. It was the fact you were seated two seats away from her, only the queen a buffer. It was your daughter, Rohanne, fawning over Robb. It was how Sansa’s eyes were either on your son, Jason, or the crowned prince. It was Jaime’s attempt to intimidate her husband, mentions of a duel between the pair. And it was King Robert’s drunken groping of a maid bringing him ale, causing awkwardness and disrespect to his wife sitting beside her.

Cersei excused herself rather quickly, claiming she was tired though you and Catelyn knew she wasn’t. She retired to the chambers she shared with the king, leaving nothing between Catelyn and her former lover.

“Seems as though we’re going to share a grandchild,” you lift a glass of wine to your lips, taking a drink of the liquid far more bitter than you liked it. A northern thing, no doubt.

Catelyn followed your line of sight, looking to Robb who had returned from putting Arya to bed. He was whispering something into Rohanne Lannister’s ear, a smile on his lips. Whatever he had said made the girl laugh, and by the seven, did her laugh sound just like yours had.

“Maybe,” Cat stresses, but she knows how likely it is from the way your daughter and her son look at each other.

“They’re happy together,” you note. Catelyn closes her eyes for a moment, unable to look at the scene. Rohanne is telling him a story from when she visited the capital for the birth of the second prince, Tommen. Just before his name day celebration, she chased a kitten around the Red Keep, only to find it at the feet of the iron throne. Some joke she snuck in made Robb chuckle, and when Catelyn opens her eyes again, Robb’s arm is around Rohanne. “I wonder if that’s how we use to look, don’t you? Acting like we’re the only two people in the world.”

“We’re not, anymore.”

“We never were,” you agree, “even alone in the fields late at night. The world goes on, as do we. Five children, you have now? The three boys and two girls?” Catelyn can only manage to say yes before something harsh slips off her tongue. “The older girl can’t stop staring at my son. He’d be a better match for her than that prince, but the king has made up his mind.”

“How—?” She starts and stops just as fast. Cateltn forgets herself when she’s with you, an old habit that didn’t die out. “When did you and Ser Jaime get married?”

“Lord Jaime,” you correct. People still call him sir, since he hasn’t acted like a lord. You usually didn’t care, but when you heard it on Lady Stark’s lips, you knew it needed to be corrected. “And we married after Robert’s coronation. He was released from the kingsguard as soon as Robert took the throne.”

“Your children?”

“Born nearly a year after the wedding, both of them. Twins are common in both Houses Lannister and L/N.”

Catelyn glances over to you, but your eyes are far away. Still shifting between Sansa’s whispers with her friend Jeyne to your daughter and Robb to Jason twirling Myrcella around. “She looks just like you,” Cat says, and she means it. Rohanne is a ghost come to haunt her with all the same features as you. “And you never had any other children?”

“Didn’t want to have too many, my dear. How do you manage all five? And still look like you haven’t had a child at all?” You look over to her, and you knew she was staring at you before. The (e/c) of your eyes are cold as they look at her, through her. “Tell me, Lady Stark, are you happy in your marriage? I know Ned wasn’t the brother you wanted, but did you enjoy giving him five children?”

Her lips part, and you let out a small laugh. Catelyn forces herself to look away from you, to find her husband drinking ale with the the king. Your own husband had disappeared—likely with the queen, as he always was, you thought—leaving her with the knowledge that yours wasn’t a happy marriage. Ned, at least, was fond of her, and she him.

It was clear Jaime did not feel the same way about you. You were not in love, but there was a clear and mutual respect. Any love between you, if there had been any at all, faded over time.

You had been thrown into the lion’s den, and became a bitter lioness yourself.

“You know this isn’t how I meant for any of this to happen,” she pauses, nearly addressing you as Lady Lannister. She’s glad she doesn’t, the name doesn’t suite you even if it’s your official title.

“I know,” you say, “but what you mean doesn’t matter now, does it?” Your eyes meet again, before you both look out from the high table at the party. “Maybe Robert has a point,” you start, once more looking at Rohanne and Robb, “love not meant to be in one generation will take place in another.”

Before Catelyn knew it, you were walking away. A sight far too familiar, but one she had never gotten use to.

anon said: please do a second part to he loves me, he loves me not where the reader stands up for herself and doesn’t take jon back and let’s it be known he wronged her and that she’ll never respect nor love a cheater

His eyes plea for forgiveness before his lips do, and his hand is heavy over your own. Jon tries to get you to look anywhere but Daenerys, and that you give him. But only because you knew if you looked at the queen’s features twisted by anger and disgust, you would break into laughter again.

About two minutes beforehand, when Jon came over and asked to speak to you, alone, you knew exactly what he wanted. His demeanor held guilt, and the way his eyes shamefully scanned the room as people began to catch on to what was happening on your side of the hall, you knew he changed his mind from the time he got home.

He could still barely look you in the eyes, but it was different. Now, when he bothered to look at you, you didn’t want him to. You did not want whatever it was you had lingering between you—he had her now. And you were alone.

It made you sad, originally. That Jon had slipped through his honorable means and, from what you saw, was clearly involved with someone else. And now? Only now, after facing the embodiment of death could he acknowledge what he did? And he had the nerve to do it at a time meant for celebration?

“I think here is just fine, don’t you?” You know he doesn’t, he asked to take you out of the room twice before. He doesn’t want to make a scene—and while you normally wouldn’t either, now, you debated it just to spite him.

Jon pulls back ever so slightly, but his hand remains over your own. “Please,” He tightens his grip, “we don’t want to make a scene.”

We don’t, or he doesn’t? You aren’t sure, but the fact he grouped you with him is enough to make your stomach twist. Your face heats up, a blush painting your cheeks, but you don’t want it to. You force yourself to look across the table, but don’t meet the eyes of the teenage boy across from you. He makes no comment, only looks to his sister and then takes a sip of wine.

“And why exactly would we make a scene?” Your eyes are trained on your plate, half eaten, and that was all you would get if this went how you thought it would. He stays quiet for a moment, like he’s debating ha confession. You had only seen him kiss the queen, but it did not take a great level of genius to know it wasn’t the first time he had. He would not admit what he did, and so it seemed you would have to do that for him. “It’s your queen, isn’t it?” You look back to him, and flash your eyes to the left to see the woman in question. She still stands angry, and you wonder how long it will be before she comes over, if she comes over at all.

Your queen. A slip of the tongue, maybe, or a disgusted tone because he knows exactly what you meant.

Jon’s lips part, and you hate that it catches your attention. Stop it, you tell yourself. “I didn’t…” he wants to lie. He wants to lie and say nothing happened, but he knows what transpired better than you do. He wants to lie, but the look on your face didn’t let him. He knows you know something. “I’m sorry.”

You start by giving a small nod, but then it turns into a shake of disapproval. An apology that was not genuine did not deserve forgiving, cheating itself did not deserve forgiving. A king cannot love and court women as he pleases, and if this was a wake up call to him, you were willing to do it. “I’m sure you are, Jon,” you scoff.

He isn’t accustomed to the coldness of your voice. Winter took a new place in the hall, and it was now you spoke to him. “Y/N—”

“No,” your voice is short, quick, and you don’t let him keep talking to you in that tone. That damn tone that used to make you forget anything else in the world was wrong, and you couldn’t let it work this time. You clear your throat to say something, but first, your eyes shift around the room. The siblings across from you sit still, watching. As is Sansa at the high table, Jon’s group of friends up where he originally was, and an angered Mother of Dragons standing with a glare. “Sorry doesn’t mean anything to me right now. You left Winterfell knowing you had me here, and you still did whatever it was you did with her.”

He looks like a kicked puppy; you don’t know how else to describe the look he gives. His eyes were wide and sad, a pretty and dark color you used to be able to look at for eternity. But that was before; before he left for the Night’s Watch, before you left to be a nurse in his brother’s war, before he left to Dragonstone and came back a man barely able to look at you with his pretty eyes. “What I did was wrong,” you forgot his hand was over yours, and you look at it, debating if you should yank it away, “and I know that, but, Y/N, nothing has happened since then.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you say, and while you meant for it to be a whisper, it was not. It was above your normal tone, and more heads turn to see what was going on than there had been before. Jon shrinks into his chair, nervously looking around. He’s guilty, he was so clearly guilty. Perhaps it was good he wasn’t the king anymore, based on the looks the spectators gave him, curiously wondering what it was he lied about. “I tried to find you, you know,” you pause, and you have to, because you were afraid to go off on a tangent then and there. He did not want to cause a scene, but in the end, he would no longer get what he wanted. He had gotten it before. “Looked through the halls; it was not that easy to find you, because you were avoiding me. Ever since you got home. And do you know where you were, Jon?” You leave a small moment for him to answer, and he doesn’t. He had great courage in battle, maybe, but none against a scorned woman. “You were with her.”

He says your name again, trying to calm you, and it only seems to irritate you. “It was a mistake, I know that,” you go to speak, but he holds up one finger, asking you to let him finish. You shouldn’t, but you do. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“You thought I wouldn’t find out.” His voice is just below his normal somber tone, still trying to hide an affair as people continue to watch. You don’t want to hide a thing, and so it seems his queen does not either. She stands like a statue, angry and unsure just when to get involved. “You thought you could do whatever you want because you were the king. Am I wrong?”

He hesitates before he answers, but his answer is all the same. He knew better than to argue. “No.”

You nod, “I’ve seen it before. We all,” You motion around the room, “have seen it before. You Starks speak a lot about honor, and yet our past three leaders, now, couldn’t stay loyal.” It breaks his heart to hear it, a bash against his brother and his father. You did not hate either one of them, and once the bitter words left your tongue and you couldn’t help but want to take them back. “Women don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve that.”

“I…” Jon has nothing to say, which wasn’t anything new that night.

“You don’t want to seem like a hypocrite. Is that why you wanted to speak to me alone?” He gives a small, sheepish nod. Jon denies nothing you throw at him. Not even the one question your heart begs you to ask, but your brain tried to push it away. It seemed your heart won: “do you love her?” Initially, he’s silent, and you can feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to cry. Not for him. He offers you a small ‘no’ that you aren’t even sure you believe. “Do you love me?” He says yes, but you shake your head. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have been with her.”

“Of course I love you,” Jon argues, and you’re so painfully aware you never pulled your hand away from his.

“I loved you too.” You say. Loved, because you couldn’t bring yourself to love him anymore. “Gods know I loved you,” you take your hand away and place it in your lap. “And now, I want nothing to do with you.”

“Y/N, please…”

“No,” you tell him, “no. You can’t defend it. You can’t defend any of it. Maybe I should have said it earlier, it would have saved us both some time.” You take in a breath, closing your eyes, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know exactly what you did, but I know enough. More than enough. You said you’re sorry, and I don’t believe you. I don’t trustyou.”

Jon glances at his hand, cold from its loss of contact with yours. “There’s nothing I can do, then? No way you can forgive me?”

“No.”

“Theremustbesomething.” You glance back at him with narrowed eyes. Your words were just going in one ear and out the other. You say no, but he denies it.

You blink, eyes back to their normal size. “You want me to forgive you? Because I won’t. You can’t even own up to this Jon, you haven’t even admitted it. How can I forgive you if I don’t respect you? If I don’t…” if I don’t love you? Is that what you wanted to say?

“Can you please,” he begs you, “keep your voice down?”

Your features twist in disgust, and his request only makes you angry. Irritated. The whole situation was unfair, and he had the nerve to ask you to keep yourself quiet? He didn’t want a scene, but you would give him one. He wanted you quiet, but now, maybe all of Winterfell deserved to hear what you would say next. “Keep my voice down?” You echo. You didn’t even know how loud it was. “I don’t have much else to say, Jon. You want my forgiveness, but you won’t get it. I have no respect for cheaters, and I wouldn’t want one as my king.”

When you stand, it’s painfully obvious the room was watching, and it’s even worse when the Dragon Queen sways on her feet. Her eyes locked with yours, and your stomach turns. You weren’t used to the attention, the feeling of so many eyes on you, but you refused to crumble in front of them. Instead, you give the queen a cold look before stepping around the bench, making your way out to the hall.

You stop in front of her, and allow yourself a moment of pettiness to take in her appearance. She was pretty, but now you couldn’t help the insults swirling in your head. You knew it wasn’t her fault, that it was Jon’s, but you couldn’t help yourself. “My lady,” you tease before dipping down into a curtsy. Is this causing a scene, Jon? You ask yourself the question as you stand back up. When you walk past Daenerys, fuming from being addressed as a title below her own, you can’t help but shake your head. Did you cause a scene? Yes, to an extent, you did. But did you care? No, you really didn’t.

stuck with me (iii)

part onepart two

anon said: hey i’m loving the arya x reader fic, i’d like to request the third part, maybe with some interaction with jaime, yk discussing the fam

note: i have rewritten this four times, and now it’s back :) also i love dad jaime

There was some sort of poetic irony as you cradled your injured right hand to your chest. Your arm was wrapped and placed into a sling, only one of the injuries you acquired in battle. Another was a shallow stab wound in your thigh, now wrapped and bandaged and propped up with a pillow.

Your father had been up towards the front lines, whereas you never left the castle. You hadn’t fought with him, unable to find each other during the fight.

It lead to him searching frantically once it was clear your side had won. Jaime found you on the ground, bloody leg and barely conscious.

He hadn’t left you since.

You were brought to the room you were given, Jaime pulling up a chair while you were asleep. His only surviving child, his heart broke to see you in such a state.

“Father,” you stretch your left arm out, hitting his leg when you couldn’t reach his arm. You remembered passing out from blood loss and exhaustion as soon as Jaime had you in his arms. “Father,” you try again, louder. He’d fallen asleep in the chair he pulled up next to your bedside. “Jaime!”

“Hm?” His eyes open and he takes his left hand and rubbing his forehead. “Gods, that sounded like your mother.” You give him a half-smile, unsure of what to say. “You had some visitors, you know,” Jaime sits up in his seat, “I didn’t know you were so popular among the Starks.”

“Am I?” He nods, “what makes you say that?”

Jaime sighs, adjusting himself in the chair. “A few people asked about you. And the Stark girl, Arya, only left about an hour ago. The girl forced a maester to tend to you first; didn’t even let him check her own injuries.”

“She’s hurt?” Your words nearly blend together at how quickly you say them. Jaime gives a confused look, raising an eyebrow, but he doesn’t ask a thing. Your eyes scan over him, and he hasn’t changed into new clothes. There are slashes in the fabric and stains that have an equal chance of being dirt as they do dried blood. “Are youhurt?”

He shakes his head, “I’m alright.”

“You were on the front lines—”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he takes his left hand and places it over yours. “I promise.” You bite the inside of your lip, deciding not to say anything else and just letting your father hold your hand. “There’s going to be a feast later,” Jaime says, “do you think you’ll be alright to go? I think some people would like to see you.”

Some people, you think you know who.

“Oh, that depends,” you smile, “can I have wine?”

Shaking his head, your father refuses to let go of your hand. Wine, you want wine. It’s hard to tell if he should compare you to your mother for that or your uncle. “Some,” he says, “but remember what happened last time.”

“In my defense: northern wine is different,” your voice is louder than it should be, and Jaime can’t help but laugh. Maybe he meant the time before then, but it didn’t matter. “This feast, is it a celebration or…?”

Jaime sighs, “it’s supposed to be,” he stops, “We burned the dead this morning; I don’t think people are necessarily in the mood to celebrate.”

You nod your head, looking away from him. You wondered how long you’ve been in this room, if the battle was only the night before or if there’s been a day in between. And in the very back of your mind, you wonder how long it is you’ve been away from your mother. Your mother who doesn’t even know if you survived. Cersei…

“Father?” The word isn’t foreign on your tongue, but it was odd for him to hear. He had always been Uncle Jaime until just before Myrcella died, and then father to you since he returned from Dorne. “What do you think will happen to us if Daenerys wins the war?”

Where the question came from, Jaime doesn’t ask. Your eyes too far away in thought, and a question he had himself. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Your mother has men to outnumber her—”

“She doesn’t have dragons, though,” you think out loud. Your mother and grandfather had tried to shape your mind to think like them, but you were fortunate you never had to sit on the throne and make the decisions they made. You were your father’s daughter, after all. Meant for a sword and not a seat made of them. “She could still lose.” He doesn’t say anything, and you continue, “what happens to us if she loses?”

You wonder if she would strip you of all your titles and exile you, or if she would kill you. Your father, it was likely, and your mother… you knew if your mother lost she would lose her life as well. Never get to meet her youngest child, only have four children. Your uncle would remain the queen’s hand, but you? She said she wasn’t her father, and you had to hope she didn’t treat you like yours.

“I don’t know.”

Again, you think out loud, “what happens if she wins?”

Jaime shifts in his seat at the thought. If you went back to her, if he went back to her, he didn’t know how that would go either. He remembered the last time he saw Cersei, she had nearly ordered the Mountain to kill him—but he hadn’t told you. All you knew is your mother lied to him about sending your armies north and he needed you to come with him. He hadn’t told you she had no intention of marrying Euron Greyjoy and was debating offering your hand for the sake of their unborn child, he just whisked you away from the situation and to Winterfell once more.

“I don’t know,” he says, again, truthfully. In the back of his mind, however, something you said before repeating itself as a mantra. Why would I remain loyal to a family that causes so many problems? “Y/N?” You hum in reply, leaning closer to him, “at the trial, what did you mean when you said you didn’t want to be loyal to our family?”

Your lips twist into a frown, exhaustion keeping you from losing your expressions. You had never been as good at it as some of your family members, but you still tried. “That’s not what I said. I asked why I would want to be, she didn’t answer me,” you pause, swallowing and taking a moment to figure out what to say next, “it’s what they needed to hear.”

“Did you mean it?”

You want to say no. You do. You want to tell Jaime that nothing would stop you from fighting for him, your mother—your uncle, even—and your unborn sibling. But your mind goes back to Joffrey and how you weren’t truly loyal to him, even if you didn’t understand everything he did.

He takes your silence as an answer.

“I remember,” he starts, “when I came back from Dorne. With Myrcella… after what they did to her. I remember your mother was heartbroken, angry. You, though, you were furious.” The Baratheon words had never suited you until then, he thought, but he knew better than to say it. A lioness’s anger, he thought instead. A Lannister stolen from.

“She was my sister.”

“And she was my daughter.” Jaime swallows. The words don’t slide off his tongue easily, the truth he could never speak to anyone but Cersei. Your eyes flicker to him, and he looks far away. Jaime’s mind has drifted back to that day, when Myrcella listened to his attempted confession even as she knew the truth.

I’m glad you’re my father.

It isn’t hard to tell he thinks back to the first moment he had as her father, the only moment he had. You could see in his stature how heartbreaking it was to have that moment ripped away from him and his oldest daughter dying in his arms.

He then thinks of Joffrey, as do you. He died with your mother holding him and pleading for help; you saw from where your grandfather tried and failed to keep you behind him. You had always seen death whenever they tried to hide you from it.

And then Tommen, jumping out of his bedroom window after taking off the crown he didn’t want. The loss of a wife your mother hated, and blew up along with countless others in the sept where she should have been for a trial.

Gold their shrouds, the words haunted your mother and they haunted him too.

He won’t let you end up like that.

He can’t.

You forgot your hand was holding his until he squeezed it.

Trying to bring him back from his thoughts, you ask, “when is this celebrationlater?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, “in an hour, or so,” he looks back at you. “We can go whenever you want.” We,he says. He didn’t plan on leaving you at all.

another missing stark girl

—a short little thing based on an old idea of mine i just found again

“It must not be a good time for you,” the queen doesn’t greet Ned when she enters the room, eyes on her husband’s childhood friend. Ned bows his head when he sees her, giving Cersei a quiet ‘your grace,’ that she doesn’t acknowledge. “The recent death of your father-figure, your eldest daughter disappeared, and now my husband is trying to take you away from the family you have left.” Ned doesn’t respond to her immediately, a small nod he barely registers. Cersei continues—get into his head. Get into his head and make him not want to say yes—“Robert wanted her to marry our Joffrey.”

“Aye,” Ned nods, “I remember. Y/N was barely two when he proposed it.”

“Y/N,” Cersei echoes your name, and though your father doesn’t flinch, it hurts him to hear it off her lips. An older name in the Stark family, Catelyn picked it out. She and Ned had barely known each other before he left her for the rebellion, leaving his new wife pregnant with twins. Robb, clearly named to win favor with him and their new king; Y/N, however, was a surprise. A name not used since Aegon’s conquest of Westeros.

Y/N Stark, second of her name; the firstborn to Ned and Catelyn Stark; sister to Robb, Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and little Rickon; betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon; the future Queen of Westeros.

And her new title: gone.

She disappeared a few moons ago, there in the morning and gone in the night. Guards had been sent throughout the northern lands, all returning without Ned Stark’s daughter and any idea where she could have been.

Another missing Stark girl.

Many similarities could be stemmed from that statement alone, Ned thought. It hurt, but it made sense. A nickname Y/N had throughout the north was Little Lyanna, for her resemblance to her aunt. It scared Ned, if he were being honest, the similarities between his daughter and his sister. He said nothing to his wife or anyone else, keeping yet another secret about the child-woman buried in the crypts. Nothing as Y/N looked like her, and nothing as she held the northern personality like his sister once did.

Beautiful and willful, and dead before her time.

Y/N wasn’t dead.

But like Lyanna, she was gone. Disappeared, and in doing so, breaking off her betrothal to the Baratheon heir—another similarity.

One more that Ned would never know was Y/N’s location, hidden away in Essos and trapped with a Targaryen heir who promised he would make her his queen.

anon said: hey can you do a jon x reader where he cheats on her with daenerys and is very cold towards her ignores her and goes to dany chambers the reader finds out and is hurt but then angry she ignores him and he notices. after the battle of the night king he sees her and suddenly feels so much shame and guilt dany noticed he doesn’t even look at her and sees he looking at the reader she feels jealous and tries to get his attention reader notice and start laughing dany get angry can you do some part pleas

Jon should be back today.

You had been wondering for weeks when he would return to you, coming back from the invitation to Dragonstone. You didn’t like that he left, siding with Sansa and saying it wasn’t the right time for him to leave. The King of North should stay in the North, and you agreed. Jon didn’t listen, leaving Winterfell to Sansa and setting off to ask the foreign queen for dragonglass and her assistance.

Last you heard, he bent the knee to get it. Something the lords had said they would never do again, something you remembered when Robb was named king. You had been with him for a majority of his reign, working as a healer for the bannermen of the independent kingdom. You hadn’t attended the Red Wedding, which was how you survived long enough to hear what Jon had done.

You had loved the black-haired boy since the age of thirteen. Your parents moved into the Winterfell castle just after the Greyjoy Rebellion, your mother being a healer and the one to teach you her trade. That was when you met him, back when all the Starks were together and, for the most part, happy. Jon had returned your feelings, but nothing had come from them, him being too afraid because of his bastard status. He had given his confession the night before he left to the Night’s Watch, and then placed a kiss on your lips meant to be a goodbye.

When you saw each other again, post-Battle of the Bastards, did the small spark between you erupt into flames. He was no longer a brother of the Night’s Watch, he was the King of the North. And with that came the idea the king can love who he pleases, and he loved you.

You were given another goodbye kiss before he left the land he ruled over to meet with Daenerys Targaryen. You didn’t know much about her other than the fact she hailed from Essos with a great army, not enough to form a valid opinion on her. But you watched as Jon rode off with Davos at his side, and you knew your lack of knowledge would come back to haunt you.

In the time he was gone, both of his missing siblings had returned to Winterfell. It wasn’t you who sent a raven, but you knew he had received it. Sansa tried to keep you informed on Jon, knowing you wanted to be kept in the loop.

You were talking with Sansa when someone came rushing in, asking to be pardoned for the intrusion, before taking a breath. He’d been running to see the Lady of Winterfell bearing important news. “They’re back, my lady. Your brother saw the banners.”

If Sansa’s posture hadn’t already been perfect, you knew she would have straightened her back in anticipation. “Thank you, ser,” she says, and the man nods before leaving the room. You watch him leave, and Sansa turns to you. “You’re smiling.”

“Hm?”

“You’re smiling, Y/N.”

“I—”

“It’s good,” Sansa assures. “He’ll have even more people to welcome him home.”

*

Years ago, when King Robert came to Winterfell, you stood more towards the back of the masses. You weren’t highborn, not meant to be in close proximity to royalty. Now, however, you stood directly behind Sansa, waiting for her instruction to open the gates.

Knowing you were nervous by the sway of your feet, Bran turned his head back to you. His eyes were cold and curious, doing little to settle your anxiety. It was odd, Bran was odd. You wondered what happened to him in the time he left Winterfell and the time he returned home. He turned away, knowing something you didn’t.

Something you couldn’t ask.

When the gates opened, Jon’s horse was first to enter. His eyes glanced over the crowd before ending on his only brother left, immediately getting down from his horse and running towards Bran.

Jon kneels down, wrapping his arms around Bran, and pulling him into a hug. While you don’t see Bran’s expression, his body language doesn’t change and you can assume neither does his face. “Look at you,” Jon hold’s his hand to the back of Bran’s head, taking in how he looks. The last he saw the boy, he was unconscious and might not live; now there he was, his former Tully looks darkening to look more like Ned than Catelyn. “You’re a man.” His smile makes your heart warm, and brings a smile to your own face.

“Almost,” Bran responds, leaving it at that. Jon squints in confusion, and looks to Sansa.

She, too, smiles at him, as he gets up and embraces her too. Sansa wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer, until she sees who’s followed him in.

“Where’s Arya?” He lets go. When he does, he turns, refusing to meet your eyes. Your smile falls, watching as his back is turned so he doesn’t greet you. Sansa glances back at you, a phrase she can’t say aloud said through her look. Something is wrong, different.

Sansa’s line of sight is trained on a foreign woman standing away from Jon. The other woman’s eyes are on Jon, as are yours. Until you see her, and then you cannot bring yourself to tear away.

“Lurking somewhere,” Sansa answers. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking, knowing exactly her implication.

Seeing where Sansa is staring, Jon calls over the woman in white furs with elaborate braids in her silver-gold hair. Her horse was also a pale white, and you wonder just how colorless she is compared to her wardrobe. When Jon’s hand moves from her direction to in between her shoulder blades, your eyes narrow. You don’t speak out, simply watching the woman offer false courtesies and a smile. You watch her, and wheels turn in your head, thinking. It doesn’t take a great player in the game of politics to draw such a simple conclusion, only a pair of working eyes.

For all his faults, Petyr Baelish had been right. The Dragon Queen was beautiful, and it was a dangerous thing.

*

If you had been trying to avoid Jon, it wasn’t hard.

You knew a battle was coming, knew there would be a time when the multiple armies now under the King of the North’s care—former king, you meant—and with them came more work for you. More supplies to gather and prepare to use, because even if it was unlikely the lot of you won, men would be injured and you wouldn’t leave them to die.

Since the first night of his return, Jon holed himself away in his chambers. You tried to see him once, knocking on the door. He told you to leave before he even knew it was you.

Sansa told you about her conversation with the new queen after Jaime’s trial. Explained she had no intention of allowing the kingdom to remain independent, how there was a sense of… oh you forgot what she said. Arrogance? Smugness? Either way there was something about her that Sansa didn’t like.

She didn’t tell you how their conversation had changed to Jon; didn’t tell you what the queen has said about him. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep it from you, but Sansa knew it wasn’t the time to tell you that Daenerys may have been in love with her brother.

It was something you would have to find out for yourself.

After days of his self-proclaimed isolation, you’d had enough. He hasn’t acknowledged you before he shut himself away, let alone now.

The Winterfell halls were familiar twists and turns. Jon know occupied a different room than he did years ago, but you memorized the route to his new one quickly. On your way, you passed a pair of bannermen, simply nodding your head and walking by. Didn’t even listen to their conversation as they kept going; you were on a mission.

The closer you got to his room, the less you wanted to. The walls weren’t thin in Winterfell, an attempt to keep the rooms warm, but they were never thick enough to be soundproof. Not thick enough to hide the voices you heard just outside his door.

It makes you stop, standing just outside his room and door. You can hear the voices, but not what they say. Jon is quiet, allowing the woman he’s with to speak. You recognize the voice, but you can’t pair it to it’s owner.

It’s not Sansa, not Arya. Not little Lady Mormont, she had no reason to see him, and besides, her voice was higher pitched. Alys Karstark you had seen earlier with some of the ironborn, it couldn’t be her. Other women were elsewhere, either with their families or waiting by the crypts.

A muffled expression comes through the door, an expression you’ve heard Jon say in defense of his decision to bend the knee, and you knew who else was behind the door. Your new queen.

Curiosity got the best of you, your hands inching towards the handle of the doorknob. The metal was cold against your fingertips, the hinges quiet as the door opened slowly, as to not startle the two people inside.

You didn’t want to go in, you knew better than to interrupt private conversations. You didn’t know better than to eavesdrop, though, not many did. The door was opened just wide enough for you to see them, Jon’s face in the queen’s hands. Their words were hushed now, only meant for each other to hear. You could see her pale hands run through Jon’s dark hair, your heart falling further the longer her hand lingered.

Her forehead and his were pressed together, standing in front of the fire place to keep him warm. The bed, unmade, and what seemed like an obvious reason why.

The queen’s words were low and clear as her hand went from Jon’s hair, then against his jaw. Her thumb traces his bottom lip and breaks your heart in one stroke. You see her move closer, and you know exactly what she does.

You don’t care if you slam the door as you run away, don’t care if they know someone saw. In the time since they first got here, Jon avoided you like you were some sort of plague.

Now you knew why.

The idea the king can love who he pleases, and he loved you.

He did, you thought he did. But if he loved you, he wouldn’t be in the arms of someone else.

Is this how Lady Stark had felt all those years ago, when Ned brought back an infant boy claiming him as his son? A living, breathing piece of proof of an infidelity not meant to be paraded around? Jon had sired no bastard—none you knew of—but you could see it. There was no hiding his new affections for the queen, not even behind closed doors, no sense of guilt.

Almost as if the two of you were nothing, as if you are nothing. Thrown to the side for another woman he found beautiful, throwing away all those nice things he would say.

Had he meant any of them at all? Were you not beautiful enough for him anymore? Not willing to do things perhaps the Dragon Queen did? Were you not… anything?

It was an endless cycle, harsh words about yourself circling through your mind.

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

Silent tears began pouring down your face, leaving trails of water for more to spill over until you truly did cry a river for him.

Why? The only thing you could think of, why would he do that, what gave him the right? Was it because you weren’t there?

No.

That couldn’t be it, it couldn’t be the fact you weren’t there. He hadn’t wanted you there… he hadn’t wanted you.

Tears ran down your cheeks, dropping onto the neckline of your gown. You refused to look up, not wanting to see anyone in passing. All you wanted was to go to your room and be alone, wrapped up in a blanket by the fire. If you had to enjoy what could possibly be your last night, that’s what it would be.

It used to be with Jon, but that wasn’t an option now.

As soon as you were in the security of your own room, you fell against the back of the door you slammed shut. On the cold floor, you pulled your legs as close to your chest you could get them, resting your forehead by your knees.

How could he… how dare he?

You knew it couldn’t be for the sake of an alliance, Jon’s mind didn’t work like that. But you couldn’t help but have a small sliver of hope.

You run your own fingers through your hair, stopping quickly. That’s what she did with him. What you used to do.

How could she take that away from you…?

No.

While Daenerys was the new queen, and though you were not her biggest fan—especially not now—it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault that Jon found her beautiful, found her more enticing that he did you.

It was his.

And if he didn’t feel guilty about it, neither would you.

*

The crypts were dark and crowded, women and children and a few men who couldn’t fight all in rows against the statues.

Statues holding dead Stark lords—all buried, never burned.

When the weights broke through the concrete, you were stuck hidden behind the statue of Ned Stark, hands covering your ears not to hear the sounds from the people and the undead behind you. Gods, you should have been fighting. Why hadn’t you learned to fight?

As more and more of them appeared, you cowered into a ball. Like that would save you.

Your mind wonders how the men outside do it, how they all fight the creatures, how they kill them. You wonder, even, how Jon can do it, if he was alright.

The Dragon Queen would have him, though. If he were in danger. You hated her motivations for it, but you knew them to be true.

Even if he didn’t love you like he used to, you wanted him to make it out of there alive.

*

The aftermath was not what you were expecting. You were expecting dwindling groups of soldiers, broken limbs, and shocked expressions; you expected the grounds of the courtyard to be smeared with blood and corpses.

When you emerged from the castle, however, you were greeted with melting ice, proving the wights had been defeated. Nothing like the aftermath of any battle you had seen in all your years.

Quickly you were rushed off to the surviving soldiers. So many were lost, you quickly noticed. So many left injured and alive.

The patient you were tending to refused to look anywhere but the sky. He couldn’t be much older than Rickon Stark would have been, he had no place on the battlefield. He had a head wound, the blood drying from where it trailed down from his temple. His wrist was sprained and he had a series of scrapes over her legs.

“Don’t close your eyes,” you tell him. Your voice is low, quiet, so you don’t startle him. “What’s your name?” He doesn’t answer, and you sigh. His brown eyes still look to the horizon. Moving on, you grab a clean bandage from the too small a stack you brought with you. You take a bottle—near empty—of alcohol used for cleaning wounds. “This might sting a little,” you warm as you dampen the cloth. He winces when it’s placed against the gash. He’ll need stitches, you conclude. But you don’t have a needle or anything to stitch it with in the small basket of supplies you brought with you. You would return to him in time. You have to.

Eventually, you move along in your line of patients. Small children who ran off in the crypts, women who tried to protect them, Unsullied soldiers, Stark bannermen, a few Knights of the Vale, wildlings. So many gone, and yet, so many left.

With minimal injuries sustained, the former king stands watch as you move through the masses. Jon remembered, from long ago, you following your mother around after the Greyjoy Rebellion. Soldiers had been staying in Winterfell temporarily, and their had been so many maesters you and your limited medical knowledge didn’t do much then.

“Why are you doing that?” He remembered asking.

He remembered your answer clearly: “I want to help them.”

Jon swore you stole his heart right then.

You didn’t feel his eyes on you, too engrossed in wrapping a stab wound on a man’s forearm. I want to help them, and you did. You had a good heart.

A good heart Jon knows you gave to him, he knew it, and what had he done with it? He left you, he betrayedyou.

And now… now he wanted to make up for it.

*

The feast was a dull affair for a group of people who thought only a day before they could all be dead. You understood the silence, everyone drained of all their energy from fighting or losing people or both.

You say across from the same boy you gave stitches to hours earlier. He still hadn’t said his name, but he was a good kind of quiet company. He listened to anything you said, nodding along as he ate his food. Next to him was his older sister, and she didn’t speak much either. There was a space between them, like they were still waiting for someone to come in from the farewell.

Up at the high table, where Jon usually sat between Sansa and Daenerys, he wasn’t there. Instead there was an empty chair where he usually sat, and then Tyrion Lannister wedged in between like a would-be buffer.

Instead, you see him having moved not too long ago, sitting with Tormund, Sam, and Davos, a quiet conversation—as quiet as Tormund could make it—among the four of them. The men all had cups of ale in their hands, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about.

Davos was quiet, listening to one of Tormund’s odd stories or comments, you were never sure which one. Sam was quiet, too, eyes glancing across the room in search of Gilly and little Sam.

You tried not to look at Jon, but it didn’t work. He was listening, facing towards his friend who was speaking. He took a sip of ale just after he laughed, and even if you couldn’t hear it, you remembered you loved the sound.

He isn’t yours anymore, stop staring.

Remember what he did.

You tried, you really tried, to look away from him, but you couldn’t. He must have known you were staring, and looked your way. When your eyes met, you wanted to look away, wanted to be mad because now after near-death, he cared.

He gives a small smile, one that’s genuine and happy, one you don’t return. You just look at him and wonder where that boy of thirteen went, the one you fell in love with all those years ago.

With both your eyes on each other, you don’t see the queen’s glare. Don’t see her stand up, but you hear a chair move.

She moves away from the fire she’s always been close to, walking towards Jon and the other three. Daenerys places her hand on his shoulder, trying to turn him away. A familiar twist of your stomach makes you look back across your own table, to the boy and his sister beside him.

When you look back, he shrugs off her hand, turning back to face you across the room.

Daenerys follows his gaze, and though the woman has an affinity for fire, her glare is cold.

The three other men at Jon’s table look between each other, awkwardly aware of Daenerys and Jon and what they’ve done.

Her head dips lower, her lips right next to his ear. You see her mouth move but don’t know what she says; you don’t want to.

Jon is quick on his feet, standing and moving away from her. He’s jumpy. You don’t blame him.

His friends are watching, curious, and so are you.

Jon says something to Daenerys, and though she doesn’t shrink back, you know she wants to. Her jaw is clenched now, only released and her lips parting when Jon steps away from her.

You hold your breath as he walks towards your table, hesitant when he actually asks to sit next to you. “Y/N,” he says. You wonder when was the last time he said your name—before he left to Dragonstone, you’re sure.

“Jon.” Your voice is monotone, trying to show no emotions despite the very fact you might cry or scream or something you don’t want to do in public.

“Y/N,” he says again, taking the limited space next to you, and placing his hand over yours. You want to snatch it away, but you can’t will yourself to move it yet. “Can we… can I talk to you.”

Your hand slides out from under his, and when he tries to catch it, he fails. “What is it you want to talk to me about?”

He looks around, nervous. You know exactly what it is he wants to talk about. “It’s better if we’re alone.”

You look at his eyes, sad and dark as they always are. You look behind him, to the queen standing in burgundy red, with arms crossed and an angry glare. Her eyes are squinted in your direction, and her lips pucker into a pout.

She’s jealous.

Your eyes meet hers instead, and you’re fortunate her dragons are tired and injured, and won’t burn you alive. The longer you glare at her the more people catch on. She doesn’t want to make a scene, but she will. You know she will. You can’t help but laugh at her reaction. You can’t help but laugh at the whole damn thing.

i present to you, a drabble based on promise me/i promise i wrote instead of paying attention in class

It was cold and dark as she made her way through the undergrounds of Winterfell, her brother-in-law and Ned leading in front of her. Y/N hated that Robert made her follow, the look on her sister’s face when he forced her to tag along was full of hatred and disgust. Jaime’s nearly matched, but it did nothing to stop her from leaving them for the tomb of Lyanna Stark.

Y/N tried to keep a distance between the two men and herself, not wanting to impose on their nostalgia at the mention of Jon Arryn. She, too, was suspicious of his fever, but unlike Ned, had the sense not to wave her thoughts around.

She stopped early, once Robert did.

“I need you, Ned, down in King’s Landing. Not up here where you’re no damn use to anybody.” Ned opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing. Y/N sways on her feet when Robert continues. “Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King.”

Ned closes his mouth, looking to the ground and thinking of what to do. Y/N simply watches as the man before her takes to his knees. She had known from her brother Tyrion’s raven that Robert was coming for something, though she hadn’t expected it to be Ned. “I’m not worthy of the honor.”

“I’m not trying to honor you; I’m trying to get you to run my kingdom while I eat, drink, and whore my way to an early grave.” Though her years raised under the eyes of the former king and queen taught Y/N to control her expressions, she couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose in disgust. “Damn it, Ned, stand up. You helped me win the iron throne, now help me keep the damn thing. We were meant to rule together. If your sister had lived, we would be bound by blood.” Ned still doesn’t meet his friend’s eyes. Robert’s, however, drift to Y/N Lannister, the woman still not having spoken, “more than we already are.” Her eyes narrowed, in all her years she had never grown used to such comments. “Well, it’s not too late: I have a son, you have a daughter. We’ll join our houses.”

Robert doesn’t give Ned the opportunity to respond before he walks farther into the crypts, trying to get closer to the late Lyanna.

As Robert gets farther away, both Ned and Y/N move to follow him, but the Lannister’s hand catches Ned before they leave. “You aren’t really going to take up his offer as Hand, are you?”

Ned looks back at her, looking into her eyes purposefully showing him concern. He cannot place what it’s for, if she thinks their lie will fail them under Robert and her family’s watchful eye or she doesn’t want him in the capital. She knows the system of King’s Landing better than he does, but there was an underlying sense of fearin the green of her eyes. “He is my king, there is no choice to make.”

Y/N shakes her head, “there’s always a choice to make,” she says, before she leaves him, too, following after the king.

▾

The statue barely held a resemblance to the woman it was supposed to be. Maybe once Y/N had seen Lyanna look as the statue did, the first or second time the girls met years ago.

Robert may have forgotten her face, but Lyanna’s features haunted both Y/N and Ned every time they looked at Jon. He was a true Stark, like his mother. The only thing he had gotten from Rhaegar were mannerisms, but even those were sparse.

The king’s chubby hands place a delicate feather in the statue’s stone hands, a gentleness unexpected from the man behind so many war stories. “Did you have to bury her in a place like this?” Y/N closes her eyes. “She should be on a hill somewhere, with the sun and clouds above her.”

“It’s what she wanted,” Y/N remembers, “to be here with the rest of her family.”

I want to go home.

You will, Lyanna, you will. I’ll take you there myself.

“She was my sister,” Ned agrees, “this is where she belongs.”

“She belonged with me!” Robert scowls. He makes a throaty sound, on the verge of tears, but the king refuses to cry. He takes his hand, placing it on Lyanna’s stone cheek. “In my dreams, I kill him every night.”

Y/N looks down, a small, inaudible sigh escaping her lips. Ned follows her actions, no longer looking at the statue of Lyanna or the man once meant to be her husband. Y/N knows the truth about what Rhaegar did to Lyanna, and she’s never told a soul. Not the truth, not the whole thing.

She never will.

“What’s done is done, your grace,” Y/N assures. What was one more lie to a king who didn’t know the difference? “The Targaryens are gone.”

“Not all of them.”

GOT Preferences - Kisses

Jaime - Jaime’s favorite kind of kiss is a goofy kiss. Jaime spends a lot of time in his own head, doubting himself and his abilities. Sometimes he feels as if the whole world is against him. For this reason it is nice for him to have moments with you where he can let loose and laugh. When he leans in and the two of you bump heads, causing you both to laugh as you go in for a kiss. Feeling your mouth smiling against his as he indulges in your taste and your scent. 

Sandor- Sandor’s favorite kind of kiss is a small one. It would be an understatement to say that Sandor is not the most affectionate of men. He doesn’t often let himself feel. However he likes getting affection from you. Just not too much. When you lean in and give him a little peck on the lips or the cheek to let him know that you’re there and you care about him, that is more than enough for him. 

Petyr- Petyr’s favorite kind of kiss is a controlling one. Petyr is used to being in complete control in every aspect of his life. His business, his relationships. It’s all under his command. So when it comes to being with you he likes when you let him be in control of your pleasure. Pulling you in by the back of your neck so you can’t move away and keeping you there against him until he has his fill of you.

Jon- Jon’s favorite kind of kiss is a slow one. A lot of Jon’s life has been dedicated to others and serving those around him. He leaves little time for himself and the things he wants. You help to show him that he can indulge himself in you from time to time. Kissing you is one sweet perfect indulgence for him so he wants to make it last. They’re always slow so that he can take his time enjoying you.

Robb - Robb’s favorite kind of kiss is a deep one. Robb is the kind of person that takes the things that he wants. And when he gets what he wants he gets it in excess. You are no exception. When he wants to kiss you he wants all of you. He makes sure to take you in as much as he can. When he kisses you he’ll pull your body close and press his lips against yours as deeply as he can, always wanting more of you.

Tywin - Tywin’s favorite kind of kiss is a demanding one. Tywin is a man in charge. When he walks by he strikes fear into the hearts of others. He doesn’t ask for things, he takes them. When he kisses you, he doesn’t ask. He demands of you. He would simply walk up and press his lips hard against yours with a hand on your throat or your jaw. He would want to know that you belong to him and only him.

Bronn- Bronn’s favorite kind of kiss is a relaxing one. Bronn is a pretty nonchalant guy. Whatever life throws his way he is able to deal with no problem. He wants to help you see life the same way. When kissing you he would scoop you up and meld your mouths until he feels you completely melt into his arms. He loves to stroke the side of your face as he kisses you calmly. He loves your sighs when he does.

Jorah- Jorah’s favorite kind of kiss is a romantic one. Jorah is such a romantic at heart. He wants you to know that you have his complete love and loyalty, no matter what. When he kisses you he wants you to know how much he cares about you. He would pull you in so sweetly and gently, holding one side of your face as he goes in for a kiss. When he finally kisses you, his lips press against yours so tenderly that it’s almost a ghost of a kiss, his breath warm on your cheek.

Ramsay - Ramsay’s favorite kind of kiss is a painful one. Ramsay loves to be in control of you. One of his favorite ways to claim ownership of you is to mark you. Leaving a hickey or a bite mark on your skin. It’s the same way when he kisses you. He likes to pull your lip between his teeth and bite down until it trickles with blood. Then he’ll pull away and lick up the blood before giving you a real kiss.

Stannis - Stannis’ favorite kind of kiss is an intimate one. For Stannis, you are his one and only. You mean the whole world to him. Sometimes he’s not the best at showing that but he does so in the ways he can. Kissing is one of them. When he kisses you he holds your face in his hands and maintains eye contact before pulling you in and pressing his lips deeply into yours, taking your breath away.

Oberyn- Oberyn’s favorite kind of kiss is a sexual one. It’s no secret that a lot of the time Oberyn leads with his dick. He is almost always thinking about you naked in front of him and kissing you just makes him want you even more. His favorite kiss is the one he lays tenderly on your clit while he’s eating you out until you beg him to stop.

Sansa- Sansa’s favorite kind of kiss is a mutual one. Sansa is used to having things taken from her. She has felt so much heartache in her life and she wants things with you to be different. That’s why her favorite kisses with you happen when you both look in each other’s eyes and know what you want. When you lean in at the same time and feel one another kiss back because you love each other.

Dany - Daenerys’ favorite kind of kiss is a passionate one. Dany leads with her whole heart, in ruling and in love. She never worries about hiding her emotions. When she kisses you she wants you to know that she is so passionate towards you. Her hands would be all over you as she sloppily kisses you everywhere. She would suck your lip between her teeth and tug, making your eyes roll back.

Brienne - Brienne’s favorite kind of kiss is a tender one. Brienne doesn’t get a lot of tenderness in her life. She is used to being the tough one and never getting nice, soft things. When it comes to you, she wants to experience those things. When you kiss her, you would hold her so gently and your lips would touch ever so softly, making her shiver and cling to you as she enjoys all of you.

Margaery- Margaery’s favorite kind of kiss is a confident one. Margaery is used to getting her way and being a leading lady. She wants the eyes of the world on her and to do that you must have confidence. And she does in excess. When she kisses you she always takes the lead. She pulls your body into hers and tilts your head back before taking a firm hold of you and kissing you nice and deep.

Tags:@talesfromtheguild@lannister-slings-and-arrows@gamingaquarius@gryffindorwriter@nopeforyou@evyiione​@sheerfreesia007@roxypeanut@ohpedromypedro@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa@readsalot73@the-mechanical-angel@races-erster @pascalisthepunkest@paintballkid711

GOT Preferences - With A Virgin

Jaime- Jaime would be really encouraging your first time. He knows you’re nervous and would want to make you comfortable. He would tell you that if you want to stop you can at any time. He is a consent king, especially that first time. He would be a little cocky as to his level of experience, guiding you the entire time you’re together. You would get a lot of charming smiles throughout the experience which makes your heart flutter. That first time together would be in his bed at Casterly Rock. He would take you away on holiday to his home and that’s when you’d both decide you wanted to go all the way. He would start very gently, taking his time to make you feel good. Once he enters you he would go very slowly and over time he would increase his pace until he’s pounding into you quickly, causing you to throw your head off in ecstasy. When he cums he does so on your tits, still rubbing you until you cum with him. Afterwards he pulls you close to his chest and strokes your hair until you fall asleep.

Sandor - Sandor would be really nervous being your first time. He has never been with a virgin before and he knows that he’s not the most gentle of men. He would push it off for a really long time, choosing to relieve his tension by jacking off rather than risking ripping you in half on accident. After a great deal of convincing he would finally agree to take you in the way that you want. Your first time would be in the bed of some inn you’d stop in while traveling. It would take a great deal of patience on both sides but it would be so worth it in the end. The first time would be taken at a slow pace and you’re very grateful because he is not small. There may be moments where he’d speed up unintentionally. You’d take it for as long as you could but eventually you’d cry out, asking him to slow down and he would. Sandor very rarely apologizes but that is one case in which he would. He would be sure to pull out and cum all over your stomach before collapsing beside you and passing out, his arms wrapped around your side.

Petyr - Petyr would be very instructive your first time. If you don’t know anything about sex when you walk into his chambers, you will leave an expert. Petyr would want to help you find out exactly what your body can take and what it is that you want. At first you wouldn’t have any idea but after talking with him you would know what makes you feel good and the things that you like. That first time nothing would be off limits. If you think it will make you feel good, he’s willing to try it. Your first time with him would be in his chambers at the Vale. He would light candles all around the room because he wants you to be able to see him and what he’s doing to you. He would very slowly undress you, making sure that you feel his fingertips all the way down. Once you’re naked in front of him, he would talk with you about all the things you want. He would show you how to suck his cock and he would introduce you to cunnilingus. He would offer to tie you up, he would finger you, he would play with your ass if you wanted him to. He would want you to have it all. When he enters you he would be slow until you find a pace that you really enjoy. It would last all night and then once you’ve both cum, he would cuddle with you and talk with you about what you’d like to try next time. 

Jon - Jon would lose his virginity with you on your first time together. When you told him you were a virgin you expected him to be surprised or upset but he simply responded that he was too. That’s the day he knew he had to make your first time so special for the both of you. He would very stealthily find the right books and do some research about what to do to make you feel as good as possible. At first he wouldn’t be too on edge but the more he thinks about taking your virginity the more nervous he gets. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. He wants to make it so special for you because he cares about you so much. That first time would be in his bed back at Winterfell. He would make sure the bed was extra comfortable for both of you. When it starts there would be a lot of foreplay between the two of you. He would take his time, making sure to kiss every inch of your body. He would undress you slowly and you would do the same for him until you are both naked together for the first time. When he finally enters you, it is so incredibly slow. You feel so good wrapped around him that he knows if he moves fast at all he’s going to cum in seconds and he wants the moment to last. When the two of you do cum together you pull his head to lay on your chest and stroke his hair until the two of you fall asleep. 

Robb- Robb would want you to feel completely at ease your first time. He would spare no expense to make sure that everything is perfect for you the first time you’re together. He would make sure you have the softest blankets, the most aromatic of perfumes filling the air, and absolute peace. He would make sure everyone knew not to disturb him that night, doing what he could to secure his tent so that no one could walk in on you. When you decide it’s the right time, he would spend all day reassuring you. He would offer encouragements so you knew how much he loved you and wanted to be with you. That first time would be in his tent. He brings you wine to calm your nerves and spends what feels like hours caressing your skin. All the while he’d be telling you that everything will be okay and that he loves you. He would also spend time between your legs, making you cum over and over. When you’re warmed up he would enter you slowly. He would wait for your signal to move and when he does he would move at exactly the pace you want him to. He would praise you the whole time until he cums inside of you. When you’re done you would both fall asleep quickly after being thoroughly exhausted. 

Tywin- Tywin would make things very simple for you your first time. He wouldn’t want you to get overwhelmed with all sorts of complicated positions or other new sensations. He would want you to be able to focus only on his cock and how it feels inside you. He would be very gentle with you if only not to break you on that first time together. He would want you to have a good time and remember it for years to come. He would want it to be a good experience for you. That first time with him would be in his bed chambers in the Red Keep. He would treat you to a nice meal, making sure that you had your fill of wine to calm your nerves. When the time came he would allow you to take his arm and lead you to his chambers. Once there he would light some candles and slowly undress you. He would tell you in earnest how beautiful you looked in the candlelight. Once you’re naked he would take his time showing you the right places to touch to make you feel incredible. He would slip between your legs, introducing you to the feeling of his tongue on your pussy. He would then guide your hand to his cock, allowing you to get acquainted with it. Once you’re properly warmed up he would lay you on your back and slowly enter you, letting you choose a pace that feels good for you. When he pulls out he cums on your chest and then helps you clean up before talking to you for a while until you fell asleep. 

Bronn- Bronn would be completely nonchalant on your first time. To Bronn, sex isn’t a huge ceremonial thing. It’s just a connection between two people and that’s far less frightening. He wants to help you think of it the same way. He makes jokes about taking your virginity but you know he would wait until you’re ready. When you finally tell him that you are he’d be excited. He wouldn’t want to plan anything ahead of time. He wants it to play out naturally. The first time would be in his chambers at the Red Keep. When night comes he would lead you to his bed and begin by letting you take the lead. If you had any questions for him he would answer them but for the most part he would want you to have the chance to explore. You would both undress and then you would begin by touching him all over. He would guide you here and there but for the most part he just lets you have fun. You would ask him to touch you and he would, asking you what feels good and what you like. When you’re finally ready you would ask him to be inside of you to which he would oblige. You would start out in missionary but throughout the act he would offer up new positions, each one feeling better than the last. When he cums he would do so on your back. After that you would both collapse, clinging to each other as you fall asleep quickly. 

Jorah- Jorah would be the most romantic ever on your first time. He would want you to feel like the most special princess in the whole world because to him, you are. He would go to the markets in one of the cities and buy the best wine and flowers and the softest blankets to make things extra special. He would spend the whole day being extra sweet and loving to you. He would have his hands on you all day, not wanting to be away from you for a second. That first time he would lay out the blankets by the fire on your campsite. He would find a nice place that has a good view of the sky so you can look up at the stars as he is pounding into you. He would slowly undress you before wrapping the both of you up in one of the blankets so that you would stay warm. His hands would wander under the blanket, exploring your body and yours would do the same. Whenever you reach for his cock he would stop you, telling you that for your first time he wants to focus only on you. He would pull the blankets down over him and slip between your legs until you cum on his tongue. When he slides up over your body he would push into your tight cunt, his hand intertwined with yours as he takes things at a slow pace. He would do anything you asked of him until you’re both cumming together. He would cum inside of you that first time, unable to pull out. He would help clean you up and get you some water before drawing circles on your back until you fall asleep in his arms. 

Ramsay- Ramsay would want to test your limits your first time. He would want you to be prepared for the kind of roughness he enjoys so he wouldn’t go easy on you. To some extent, he wants you to associate pain with pleasure and when better to start than your very first time. He wouldn’t be completely ruthless, allowing you time to breath. The first time would be in his bed chambers. He would want to take his time with you, making sure you have the ability to take everything he gives you. He would start off slowly, touching your skin, giving you a pinch here or there to begin getting you accustomed to pain. When he can tell you’re doing well with it he gives you more than a pinch, perhaps a bite or a scratch. He would want you to learn how to pleasure him first, showing you how to suck his cock. Once he is pleased with your performance he would push you back on the bed and enter you. It would be slow at first, giving you time to become familiar with the size of him. Once you’re ready though he would pound into you as quickly as he wants, only stopping if he can tell that you truly can’t handle anymore. He would pull out and cum in your mouth before getting between your legs and making you cum to reward you for your performance. He would then pull you close and fall asleep after telling you how well you took him. 

Stannis- Stannis would treat your first time like you’d been together a million times before. It is safe to say that you are the love of his life. He treasures every moment he gets with you. He does have a hard time expressing his love but one of the places he does so the best is when you’re in bed together. He enjoys the intimacy and really wants to show you how much he cares. The first time you spend with him would be on your wedding night, back at Dragonstone. He would announce to everyone at your wedding that there would be no bedding ceremony. He wants to have you all to himself on your first night together. When you’re alone he would take his sweet time undressing you, guiding you to the bed and laying you down so that he can look at all of you. He would climb over your body and spend what feels like hours kissing you all over. His mouth would have you gasping for air as he makes his way down to your pussy. He would dive in like a man starved and you were the only thing that could satisfy his thirst. When he finally enters you it is antagonizing how slowly he moves. You beg him to go faster but he shushes you and tells you that he wants to savor the moment. Eventually he does go faster until you’re both cumming together. He makes sure to cum deep inside of you that first time. After the act you both pass out rather quickly, cuddled in each other’s arms.

Oberyn- Oberyn would make sure you had a really good time your first time. When you tell him that you are a virgin he is honestly so excited. He can’t wait to be the person to take your virginity. There is a good chance he would invite some friends along to help make your first time memorable but he is the one that gets to take you in the most primal way. Your first time would be in his bed chambers back on Dorne. Taking your virginity would turn into a grand ceremony. He would throw a feast and his room would be decorated in gold and jewels. Ellaria and perhaps a few others would be there waiting for the two of you. All of them would take turns removing an article of clothing until you’re undressed for all of them. They would stay dressed, choosing instead to focus on you and your body. There would be so many hands on you but the most prevalent would be Oberyn’s. They would be touching all the right spots to make you feel absolute incredible. Eventually Oberyn would undress as well before climbing on top of you. They would all hold your hands, arms, sides and such to help you feel comforted as he enters you for the first time. He would be so slow yet intensely passionate. They would all be cracking jokes, making you smile as he fucked you for the first time. Once you cum though don’t think they’re done with you. They would spend hours pleasuring you until you are completely exhausted before you all fall asleep in a hot sweaty heap of flesh. 

Sansa- Sansa would be really insecure your first time together. When you tell her you’re a virgin she would be nervous. The thought of being the first woman to take you is exciting to her but more nerve wracking than anything. She would want everything to be perfect. Her first time was less than ideal so she would want yours to be so special. She’d want you to have what she didn’t get to have. That first time would be in your bed at Winterfell. She would spend the whole day worrying, thinking of all the right things to do and say so that you feel extra amazing. It would be so important to her to make you feel good. She would definitely not do anything that might hurt, especially your first time. When the two of you are finally alone you can see that she’s nervous. You reassure her and tell her that if she wants to stop you don’t have to do anything. She assures you that she wants to and kisses you sweetly. She would push you down on the bed gently, laying beside you as she touches you over your dress. Eventually the both of you are naked together and you kiss her body as she does the same to yours. When she asks you what you want you guide her between your legs and she sets about making you cum on her tongue over and over again. Afterwards you spend hours talking to one another, expressing your fears and hopes and dreams and then you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Dany- Daenerys would be so wildly passionate with you your first time. When you tell her that you’re a virgin she would get really excited at the prospect of being your first. She’s never been anyone’s first before and she cares about you so intensely that she would hardly be able to contain herself when she gets you alone. She would want you to feel so good. The first time would be by the fire on your campsite. She would lay out cloaks and blankets so that you’re both comfortable. When the two of you are finally alone together, she would want her hands all over you. She would never stop touching you at any point. She would always want to be physically connected with you. She would kiss you hard and deep, sliding her tongue over yours. She would undress you so fast before undressing herself. She would be all over you the moment you were naked, her mouth trailing all over your skin. She would be down between your legs before you could hardly blink. She would combine her fingers with her tongue on your clit, rocking you into orgasm after orgasm. She wouldn’t stop until she knew that you were well and truly satisfied and could hardly keep your eyes open. When she finally finishes her ministrations she would climb up beside you and pull you close, letting her fingers still feel your skin as you fall asleep beside her.

Brienne- Brienne would be constantly checking in on you your first time. Brienne is the queen of consent. She would not do anything without asking you first. She wants you to feel safe, protected, and like you are in complete control because you are. She cares about you so much and she would never overstep your boundaries. Your first time together would be in her tent while you are both traveling. She would light candles to create a little bit of ambience. It’s not much but a very sweet gesture on her part. She would lead you to the bed, sitting on the edge beside you as the two of you kiss for a while. Eventually she would start to undress and then she would undress you, with your permission. When you’re finally naked in front of her she would want to feel you so badly. She would pull you really close to her so she can get your skin on hers as much as possible. She would continue kissing you as her fingers explore your skin very delicately. She would help you spread your legs, laying you back before letting her fingers slip inside you. You would squirm against her as she fingers you, curling against that delicious spot inside you. When you cum she wraps you in her arms tightly, never letting go as you fall asleep in her arms. She would stay awake for a hours after that just to make sure that you’re safe, comfortable, and protected.

Margaery- Margaery would be very confident during your first time. She would know that you were nervous about being with someone for the first time and she would want you to know that she was going to take care of you. She would exude such proud and confident energy that you would feel you were in expert hands. Your first time would be in her tent while you’re traveling. She would light sweet aromatic candles and make sure that the bed was well made. When you come into the tent she would kiss you immediately, hands finding your waist. It’s then that you realize what she has in store for you. She would lead you to the bed and push you down so that you are spread out before her. She would undress you slowly so that you are completely exposed. You would be so struck by her power that all you could do is lay there and follow her lead. She would show you exactly what to do to her and what she wants to do to you. She would finger you deeply, curling against the perfect spot until you’re cumming. She would put her mouth on your pussy for hours, only stopping when you are thoroughly overstimulated and begging her to stop. She would climb over you with a smile before laying down on your chest and falling asleep in your arms.

Tags:@talesfromtheguild@lannister-slings-and-arrows@gamingaquarius@gryffindorwriter@nopeforyou@evyiione​@sheerfreesia007@roxypeanut@ohpedromypedro@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa@readsalot73@the-mechanical-angel@races-erster @pascalisthepunkest@paintballkid711

Request: I read a theory that Drogon brought her body to Asshai to get revived by one of the priestess. Could you write a short oneshot on after her being revived, some fluff of Daenerys, the reader and drogon living a life without politics? Where Daenerys gets her red door and lemon tree? Thank you

Warnings:None

Pairing: Daenerys x Reader

A/N:This is that request I was talking about, anon! I hope it makes you feel better!

When the Dragon Queen sucked in her first breath the flowers in your heart bloomed again. Even though you were in the dark place known as Asshai, you had never felt happier. You had Drogon to thank for it, somehow he knew to come here. He scooped her lifeless body from the place that killed her and brought her across the world, somehow knowing that this place could save her.

You were so thankful he stopped and allowed you to accompany him, which at first you thought was a reckless decision. But when you climbed on his back your worries faded, knowing everything would be alright.

The Priestess took a step back and bowed her head respectfully, leaving you and Daenerys to talk.

Your Silver-Haired Queen looked to you with wide eyes, clutching her chest where the stab wound was. Confusion, pain, and fear were all painted painfully on her face. “I was dead.”

You took her slowly warming hand in yours and smiled, shaking your head. “We’re in Asshai. Drogon took us here, at first I wasn’t sure why but now I know.”

She looked around the dark room. The torched did little to provide any lighting since the black stones swallowed up the flames. “What now?”

“What do you want? We can go back to Meereen if you wish. I already paid the Priestess, so we are free to leave. Just tell me where and we’ll go.” You were drunk with happiness.

“No,” She started, sliding her legs off of the stone slab she had been laid across, “I want to go to Braavos.”

“And what will we find there?” You rubbed your thumb across her hand and steadied her as she stood.

She smiled softly, remembering that little piece of childhood in Braavos. “It’ll be a surprise.”

***

When you got to Braavos Daenerys sent one of her trusted friends from her earlier years to find your old belongings in Westeros, including a chest full of gold you had stored away in Dragonstone. You were going to send word to Greyworm, but Daenerys insisted she wanted no one to know of her return.

After your belongings returned Daenerys bought a large house in the Free City, a gorgeous place hidden away that had windows that overlooked the ocean. One room had large wooden beams with animal faces carved into them, tigers and bears amongst many others.

“How did you find such a beautiful place?” You asked as you stood looking out the windows of that room, watching Drogon land in the distance to feed on deer.

Daenerys still smelt of the jasmine oils she had bathed in earlier. Her hair drying unbraided down her back. She didn’t answer, only staring with soft eyes at a lemon tree that she had been gazing at for a while.

Request:Hi! Can you do a fic where the reader saves Daenerys from Jon, stabbing him in the back right before he stabs Dany, and when she sees the knife in his hand she realizes that she must have been doing something wrong if the man she thought loved her was going to kill her. And she makes some changes? Thanks!

Warning: Death of a major character, angst, cursing.

Pairing: Daenerys x Reader

A/N:I tried to be as realistic as I could with this, hopefully, I got Arya and Sansa’s reactions done well enough. I hope you enjoy this!

Ashes burned your nostrils as you ran up the steps towards the castle, pushing past Dothraki soldiers. You had just finished talking to Tyrion and you knew what Jon was about to do. You couldn’t let it happen.

“You’re too late.” Arya’s voice rung in your ears as you neared the entrance, where Drogon had slowly begun to wake.

“You too?” You panted, looking down at the girl. She wanted your queen dead as well? Had they all been planning this the entire time? Your stomach churned and you felt sick. What if they were planning on killing you as well?

She just turned away and looked to the ashes raining down from the sky, sighing. “It should have been done earlier. And if you’d seen what I’ve seen here, you’d think the same.”

You knew Daenerys had gotten a little lost on the way, it was true. But she was still in there somewhere, you just needed to figure out how to get her back.

You pushed past Arya and ran inside, having to duck under Drogon’s head. Arya would have followed you if she didn’t think Daenerys was already dead. And you thought so too.

When you burst through the doors, your dress tattered from catching on the ruins of the city, you saw you hadn’t been too late. Daenerys and Jon were in an embrace, you heard him speaking to her in a hushed tone.

Maybe Tyrion was wrong, maybe Jon wasn’t going to do what you thought he would. But then you saw his hand reaching for his knife.

It was true. The last man Daenerys thought she could trust, the man she loved, reaching for the knife he’d end her life with. She risked her life multiple times for him, one of her dragons dying in the process. She helped defeat his greatest enemy, saving him and Westeros from the White Walkers. And this is how he thanked her for it?

Your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough. You could see as his hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife, slowly pulling it from his belt.

In the distance, you could hear stone rumbling as Drogon shifted in his place beneath the castle. He knew his mother was in danger, but he wouldn’t be quick enough. You had to save her for him.

The sound of steel pushing through skin was sickening. The sound of her gasp was even worse. She looked down between her and Jon, her eyes widening and her lips parting. She fought to say something but no words came out. She took in the sight before her, blood dripping onto the ground between them, Jon’s hand on his knife, and your horrified expression behind him.

His knife fell from his shaking fingers, clattering on the stone floor and he took a few steps back. He bumped into you and you stepped aside, drawing your dagger from his back. Outside, the flap of Drogon’s wings could be heard as he flew up to his mother.

Seeing Jon, a man you once had so much admiration for, fall dying onto the floor in a pool of blood, it was shattering, to say the least. He shouldn’t die like this. He deserved better, he was doing what he thought was right, but you knew it was the only way to protect Daenerys.

Daenerys fell to her knees beside him, tears burning her eyes as she watched him die. You watched as his lips fumbled to make words. What else did he have to say? You clenched your teeth and looked away, wishing it didn’t have to end like this, while wondering what was next.

When Arya and Sansa found out they’d want you and Daenerys dead. When Greyworm found out Jon tried to kill Daenerys he’d want every Stark dead.

He took his last breath and his eyes hazed over, his head gently rolling to the side. Daenerys choked back a sob and sniffled, closing her eyes. Not only did she have to watch him die, but she knew he died trying to end her life.

“Khaleesi, we need to-”

“Have I become a monster?” She glanced up at you with eyes full of pain. You’d never seen her like this. Not when Missandei was murdered, not when Jorah died in her arms. This was much worse. The man she thought she would marry and rule the Seven Kingdoms with had tried to kill her. And in such an awful way.

You knelt down beside her. “You got a little lost, Khaleesi. But anyone would. You’ve seen two of your children die. Your two closest friends killed. You were doing what you thought was right. But now, you need to do what is truly right.”

“And what is that?”

Drogon could be heard climbing into the room, knocking over brick and rubble. Daenerys turned to look at him and she forced a smile before looking back down to Jon’s body.

“You need to let Tyrion have a trial. And you need to prove that you’ll be a good queen. Begin building the city, and let Sansa have the North. Don’t ask her to bend the knee to you.”

Her eyes remained on Jon and she slowly nodded. “How do we tell them about this?”

“I’ll tell them what happened. I’ll be the one put on trial. They can judge me along with Tyrion.”

Daenerys shook her head, shifting on her knees closer to you. “I will not have one of my last friends put on trial. Sansa and Arya will want you killed for what you’ve done.”

Drogon’s nostrils flared as he smelt Jon’s blood. Confused chirps sounded from him and he looked from you to Daenerys, trying to figure out what happened. For a moment you were worried he would turn on you since Jon was a Targaryen and you killed him. But he slid forward towards Daenerys to provide her comfort, nuzzling her with his snout.

“It needs to be done. You need to show them you won’t just pardon your friends, you need to let them see you know true justice.”

***

You followed the unsullied through the halls, Greyworm at your side and Tyrion behind you. The silence was thick in the air, ringing so hard in your ears you thought you’d go deaf. Ahead of you, Daenerys, Sansa, Arya, Yara, Ser Davos, Sam and a group of other people you didn’t recognize. The Stark girls looked furious, Arya ready to jump out of her seat and kill you herself. If it wasn’t for Greyworm beside you and Drogon crouched behind the tent you were sure you’d be dead.

When you came to a stop in front of the group you swallowed hard. What were you going to say? What were they going to say?

“Why is she here?” Yara was the first to speak, referring to you.

“She killed Jon Snow.” Sansa snapped while Arya glared daggers into you.

“She saved our Queen from a man who was about to kill her.” She responded, keeping steady eye contact with Sansa. “She was doing her duty. She shouldn’t be on trial, she should be given a damn castle.”

“Tyrion, please step forward,” Daenerys spoke, her calm voice a pleasant change from the two. You kept your eyes on the ground as Tyrion walked forward. His judgment would be much kinder than yours.

“You will be pardoned for your acts of treason against me.” The words surprised everyone, especially the man on trial. He looked up and furrowed his brows, not knowing what to say.

From your spot you chewed on your bottom lip, barely listening to the rest of the trial. You only looked up when Daenerys called your name.

“As my hand, Tyrion, what do you suggest I do with her?” You missed a lot. Tyrion must have been made hand to the queen again.

“You need to execute her.” Arya’s voice was full of venom. “Do it. With your dragon. She killed your lover.”

“Arya, please,” Tyrion spoke the voice of reason, “No more killing.”

“I want her dead. It’s the only way justice can be served.”

Sam watched from the sidelines, torn between wanting you punished for killing his best friend and knowing you were only doing your duty. You had committed no crimes. Everyone knew it, even the Stark girls.

“If we kill her for saving the Queen then we should kill Samwell for reading books. She should not be punished for this.” Tyrion hated saying it but he knew there was nothing you could be charged with.

“Then, you will be pardoned.” Daenerys stood up and the Unsullied guards that stood beside her stepped forward. “Is there anything else?”

Arya hadn’t taken her eyes off you the entire time. You could feel her eyes on you, and you knew in her mind she was killing you in a thousand different ways.

“The North won’t bend the knee to you. You’ll be Queen of the Six Kingdoms, and if you oppose to this, it will come to war.” Sansa had already made her mind up, there would be no talking her out of it.

Daenerys looked to you and you gave a small nod that went unnoticed to anyone who didn’t know you had talked her into this. She sighed and turned to Sansa, nodding.

You smiled at her and soon the meeting was over. The following weeks were much better than the months before. You rebuilt Kings Landing with more gardens, feeding what remained of the population. For once they went to bed with full stomachs.

The ports were rebuilt and there were more houses made so no one would need to sleep outside. Along with that, you donated every piece of gold in your name to your people, ensuring any problems they had under Cersei were no more. They were clothed in proper garments, could buy their own horses, they all had a place to sleep and as much food as they needed. For once, all felt right in the city.

You took comfort knowing that if Jon Snow could see Daenerys now, he would be proud of her.

Request: Can I have a Daenerys x Fem! Reader please? Reader is very artistic and interested in Danny’s dragons so she tries to get close to them and they’re chill about her climbing all over them? And Danny notices she’s missing only to see she’s just with her dragons?

Warnings:None

Pairing:Daenerys x Reader

A/N: I loved writing this because I love drawing her dragons. Made it a bit personal for me, which I thank you for!

The dragons eyed you warily as you tried to sneak up to them, holding your leather-bound drawing book in one hand. You’d never been this close to them before. It was one thing to sketch them flying above the ocean, but to get up close and personal was a whole different thing entirely.

You peeked around the rock you hid behind and took in a deep breath. Drogon’s snout was inches away from your face. He seemed amused at your reaction, blowing hot air from his nostrils before he moved to the side so Viserion could come to investigate you as well.

They were gorgeous. Even more so up close. At the same time though, you couldn’t help but feel intimidated. Not only were they beautiful, but they were massive. Your entire body could fit in the smallest one’s mouth with wiggle room.

“I hope you don’t mind,” You struggled to sound confident, “If I sit here for a while.” Reaching behind you for the rock you found nothing, instead falling on your bottom in the grass.

Drogon and Viserion both made chirping noises, shifting around to make themselves comfortable on the grassy field. If dragons could laugh, that’s what it’d sound like.

Soon after you settled and opened your book Rhaegal came over to see what the fuss was about, appearing much less interested than his other siblings.

After a while of rough sketches, you decided in order to make something you’d be satisfied with you’d have to get closer. Surprisingly enough the dragons had no problem with that, nor with you climbing onto them. At first, you were a bit nervous, but when you were on them they didn’t move around much since they knew you’d never been on a dragon before so one wrong move would have you tumbling to the ground.

You were just finishing up a rather large portrait of the three dragons when their mother approached. She had been looking for you for quite a while now and was checking the last place she thought you’d be.

Seeing you up there on her dragons made her smile. Not a lot of people adored her children the way she did, and almost no one would ever dare to climb on them without her around.

“(Y/N)?’ She called out with her voice like honey, smiling up at you. “How long have you been here? I’ve been looking for you.”

You looked over Viserion’s head to her and grinned. “I have no idea, the time goes by quickly with them. What did you need me for?”

She walked closer to her dragons and stopped at Drogon, reaching a hand up to stroke his chin. “A boat arrived with loads of fruit, some I’ve never even seen before. I thought you might be interested.”

“You know me very well, Khaleesi!” You laughed as you struggled to climb down from the dragon, using his scales and horns to help you. When your feet touched the ground she caught a glimpse of your art, gasping playfully and reaching out to it.

“You’ve been drawing my children? Well, let me see them.” She grabbed for the book and for a second you pulled away, you couldn’t help but put up a pathetic fight. You knew though that if anyone were to see your drawings it would be her.

“Alright. They’re not very good, I’m afraid.” You handed her the book and she flipped through a few pages, her lips turning into a smile at some and frowning at others.

“This one is so sad,” She moved closer to you and pointed at a portrait of a woman you had done a long time ago. She was an older woman you had seen in Westeros, a poor commoner in Flea-Bottom. She was skinny, starved to the bone, cradling a small child. Her daughter had been killed and she was left to take care of her grandson on her own.

You nodded and sighed, remembering the awful sight. “It was awful. There was nothing I could do but give her the gold I had on me. It wasn’t enough… I wished I could have bought her a house of her own and food for the rest of her life. It was only enough to secure her a stay at the local in for a while and feed the two of them, but… It still didn’t feel right.”

Daenerys looked at you with a soft smile. “That’s more than most people would do. You probably saved her life, and the child’s.” When you nodded back she continued flipping through the pages, stopping on one of the more recent pictures.

Her lips parted and she looked at you, a brow raised. “You’ve drawn me? And you never showed me this?”

“Like I said, Khaleesi.” You chuckled and scratched the back of your neck nervously. “They’re not very good.”

“You artists are all the same. You think your beautiful drawings are awful, but to everyone else they’re amazing. I can’t even think of the right words to describe this.” After she spoke she looked back down to the pages and smiled. “I demand you draw more.” She thrust the book back into your hands with a grin.

“Oh, do you?” You laughed at her playful mannerism and tucked your book and pencils back into your satchel, closing its button.

“I do. An official order from your Queen. Tonight, in my chambers, you’ll draw me again.” Her words made your heart leap and your stomach flutter.

In an attempt to hide your blush you dipped your head and scratched your cheeks, humming in response. “I’ll see you then, Khaleesi.”

Daenerys smiled widely and shook her head, you were so adorable to her it hurt her heart. “Yes, you will.”

When she walked away you turned around and gasped, coming face to face with three nosey dragons.