Today, 18-19ish of April, where something has happened. Something that is sad, gut wrecthing. Where the 9-1-1 family had lost their captain. A father, a leader, the light at the end of the tunnel, the rainbow after the storm, the mind, the soul, the heart, the very reason of our existence.šššš 9-1-1 saved me in time when no one did and taught me everything I needed to know. I know Bobby from season 1-3 (4-8 hasn't watched because at that time I was busy and the channel I'm watching cancel our subscriptions, so...)š„ŗ. Bobby is 9-1-1. 9-1-1 is him. Without him, 9-1-1 can't function. I know it's the writer's decision to kill him off. But he didn't have too. Peter doesn't want to leave the show, fans need him as humans need air. š„ŗ But I respect their decisions. I'm just hoping that maybe this is just a dream or anything else other than what I just saw during 8x15. Thank you everyone!!! Thank you Bobby!!! Thank you Peter!!! Saluteš«”
It's no secret that Toto Wolff is married, but no one ever saw his wife, for a while people doubted he actually had a wife as very few were invited to the wedding and she doesn't attend any races, but when they finally decide to go to an event together they break the Internet
or
in which they're the IT couple; with money, beauty and brains.
N.B: WARNING: not proof read, so there might be some spelling mistakes, like 2 or 4 swear words, f word. If I missed anything please let me know.
Face claim: Song Hye-kyo
Liked by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, lewishamilton and 967,187 others.
mercedesamgf1: Boss, you are too cruel for keeping your genius of a wife away from the paddock. Please welcome Dr. YN LN, 2 time Nobel Prize winner, to our page and hopefully the paddock soon (boss please let us invite her).
username: Holy fuck, she's serving 2 different looks
username: Mrs. LN , I am nothing but a speck of dust on your heels
username: SHE IS SO UUGGGHHH
username: she looks so dreamy
username: CAN TOTO WOLFF FIGHT
username: oh girlie, you gonna have your ass handed to you
username: you better hide
username: oh man, you prepared for a KO? cause Toto ain't letting no body touch her
username: at first I was all like, why won't he show his wife, but after seeing her and reading about her in the Nobel Prize Winners book, it's understandable
username: not me calculating my chances of winning against Toto Wolff
username: you know damn well you losing
username: I'd start begging before the fight even begins
Liked by Lewishamilton, Pierregasly, Charles_Leclerc and 890,517 others
mercedesamgf1: congratulations to our Mr & Mrs Boss on 15 years of marriage š¤š¤ wishing for a baby boss soon
username: I am loving all the Wolff family content we are getting
username: they have 15 years to make up for
username: tbh I don't care about Toto, I just want to see YN
username: Toto didn't let people know that YN is his wife cause he knew she'd be stealing his fans
username: everyone switching to the YN LN lane
Liked by Lewishamilton, Charles_Leclerc, carlossainz55 and 917,621 others
Mercedesamgf1: The Mercedes team would like to congratulate Dr. YN LN on her hard work throughout the years and her leadership in such an important medical field. Her research has been helpful to many doctors and her website is extremely useful to our future doctors. Thank you Dr. LN for your work and dedication.
username: I love how this turned into her fan page
username: I would like to be adopted by the wolff family
username: the sunglasses are such a look
username: with every photo of her i get more and more obsessed
username: I love my mother
username: ever since they decided to go public about each other I have been feeling more and more single
username: her going to a race, toto going with her to receive her award can you all stop making us feel lonely as hell
username: wishing for her to join toto to the FIA awards ceremony
username: she will serve
username: will eat everyone up with her style and leave no crumbs
username: I am buying some crystals
username: no one will give a f about the drivers if she goes
username: bet toto took the third picture
username: for research purposes, I would like to know where the second picture was taken
Liked by Mickschumacher, formula1, maxverstappen and 918,369 others
mercedesamgf1: we would like to thank Dr. YN LN for joining us this evening, it had been a pleasure to have you with the Mercedes team. The Mercedes admin would like to ask our boss's Boss if you can please convince Mr. Wolff to give us a vacation a few days till he can find his way back from your eyes (can't blame him, I want to get lost in there too)
username: NOT THE ADMIN OUTING WHO'S THE BOSS IN THEIR MARRIAGE
username: BOSS'S BOSS!
username: well, now we know who ears the pants in this marriage
username: THE GLASSES MADE A COMBACK
username: THEY HAVE A DOG!!
username: I would not be surprised if the next photo is of them with a 14 year old kid
username: milf yn and dilf toto
username: don't mess with me rn
username: listen, I thought black is her color, but that pink dress is doing something to me
username: her doing her hair up is so sexy of her
username: fuck the kardashians, she is the only one I want to keep up with
username: you can't just make me die with a photo then to resurrect me with a cute one only to have my heartbeat crazy with the third
username: what cute one? The dog is doing nothing to distract us from her look
username: all I see is mommy
Liked by Lewishamilton, Pierregasly, Georgerussel and 826,179 others
mercedesamgf1: The boss is a bit busy, no better time for some team bonding.... the admin is so happy, thank you universe for giving Mr. Wolff some work
Lewishamilton: where are you guys? I want to join
mercedesamgf1: @.lewishamilton get in line, we have 5 other drivers on the waiting list
danielricciardo: @.mercedesamgf1 does that mean you will send me the location now?
mercedesamgf1: @.danielricciardo you are the third buddy, you have 1 British boy and 1 Spanish man in front of you
Charles_leclerc: @.mercedesamgf1 I thought I was before Carlos!
Carlossainz55: @.Charles_leclerc I told you I'm meeting her first
Georgerussell: @.mercedesamgf1 is that why everyone is coming to out paddock?
Danielricciardo: @.mercedesamgf1 wait, I was forth, who was first on the list
Mickschumacher: @.Danielricciardo hey man āš¼
Landonorris: tell Mrs. LN to check her phone please, I am standing in the cafe and her order isn't available
Mercedesamgf1: it's fine, you can just come to the location I sent you -Boss's boss.
Pierregasly: YOU HAVE HER NUMBER!
Maxversteppen: this is so unfair
Landonorris: go cry about it somewhere else
Mercedesamgf1: @.danielricciardo one British boy had been removed from the list
username: not everyone and their mothers wanting to meet YN
username: they are all down so bad and I understand
username: I would not be surprised if every single driver shows up next week with a swollen face
username: toto really had a point in keeping his wife hidden from these HOOLIGANS!
username: lando having her number is the most unexpected thing
username: how do you think Lewis and George are feeling?
username: they are crying in the club rn
username: not Mick being the first one on the waiting list
username: he's like a duckling following its mother whenever she comes to the paddock
username: the fact that she went twice and in both times Mick was seen just following her around
username: toto having to literally grab Mick by the back of his neck to be able to have a moment with his wife was the best thing to happen in 2023
mercedesamgf1: unfortunately all drivers that aren't with our team are banned from the paddock, Boss's order
username: toto really fighting for his wife's attention
Hiii! I love all your Tywin fics.. Could I request something where they are shopping and a specific piece catches her eyes and she asks the jeweller about it. The jeweller tells her thats itās already been sold and theres only one like it in the world. Sheās a little disappointed but accepts itā How would Tywin act
Golden pearls
Pairing: Tywin Lannister x wife!reader
Note: Of course! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took me so long. I'm really busy at university at the moment, so I haven't had much time :_)
But I hope you enjoy it anyway, hehe, because I enjoyed writing it
cw: age gap, implied arranged marriage
GIF creds to owner
She never asked for anything. In his opinion, she acted with an inappropriate level of modesty for a Lady Lannister. She lived up to her status, but she never asked for anything more. Tywin had got into the habit of showering her with jewellery; otherwise, she would never have thought to ask for more.
This time, he took her with him to Lannisport to inspect the shipyards and approve the construction of new ships. The lady behaved with dignity; she did not interrupt or interfere unless asked, and her comments were always relevant and worth listening to.
"Your question about the condition of the wood was pertinent," the lord remarked dryly, leading his horse steadily down the street. "We have no use for rotten planks. They will move the storage sheds higher up. If possible, I will sign a contract with them to provide one of our sheds."
"The warehouse on the hill would be suitable," the lady answered quietly. "It is closer than all the others. There is wheat in it at the moment, but that can be moved to the barn at the foot of the rocks. It is dry there, too, and well protected from floods, even if they do happen."
Tywin looked at her. She was looking at the streets, smiling at the street boys who ran past and turned to crane their necks in an attempt to look at the beautiful lady in expensive clothes for longer. Her hair, gathered into a thin net with rubies skilfully woven into the knots, shimmered in the sun.
"You are right," he muttered, glancing briefly at the ruby necklace around her neck. He had given it to her on their wedding day and she still wore it more often than her other jewellery, as if she had no choice, like many ladies from minor houses did. "Get started on clearing out the warehouse."
His wife smiled and squinted at him contentedly.
"I will, my dear."
The clatter of hooves, the chatter of passers-by and the ringing of bells filled the air. He noticed that they were about to pass the jeweller's shop that they had visited for years. Tywin had known the current master's elderly father once upon a time.
"Let's stop at the jeweller's," he said. It was neither a suggestion nor a question. It was a statement of fact that his wife had to obey.
"Why? Do we need anything?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. She tilted her head to one side as she always did when looking at her husband, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind.
"Yes."
There was no continuation, and the lady sighed. How many times had she had to put up with her Lion's unwillingness to provide an explanation? It was time for her to learn to read his mind.
Behind a large merchant's house was a dark workshop where jewellers, favoured by House Lannister, worked with dust and gold shavings. The building was carefully looked after, but the walls had turned dark from moisture and the cheap materials used to treat them almost every year.
Tywin stopped his horse, jumped down and tied it to a post. Only then did he reach out to his wife, who was sitting on her horse. He had taught her this rule at the beginning of their marriage: she was not to dismount without his help if he was nearby. It was a demonstration of control and authority, as well as another affirmation of status.
She placed her palm in his hand and swung her leg over the horse's croup. Her husband supported her until her feet touched the ground. He took her horse by the bridle and tied it next to his own, leaving the horses to shake their heads and dig their hooves into the ground. Only then did the Lion allow her to rest her hand on the crook of his elbow, even though the shop was only a few steps away.
The bell above the door rang, filling the room with sound and sending the shadows into retreat.
A large number of open boxes were turned towards the door, glistening in the dim light that remained in the workshop. Tywin began to examine the jewellery and sets lying on the boxes' velvet linings. The jeweller emerged from a small room. Tywin nodded to him in greeting, but waved him away for the moment.
He stopped at a box containing an elegant ruby pendant on a thin chain.
"What about this one?" the lord asked his wife, who was looking at the sets with interest, though not with any particular enthusiasm for any of them.
She turned away from the box at the other end of the room and looked at the pendant. She smiled softly, leaned her head against his shoulder and looked into his eyes.
"Donāt you think I have enough rubies, husband of mine?" she asked softly.
"Hmm."
Tywin did not answer, but simply moved on. She stroked the fabric of his doublet with her fingertips as he walked. Her skirts rustled with each small step she took to follow him. Her gaze wandered off again.
The lord reflected on every piece of jewellery he had given her. Indeed, he had given her rubies and emeralds more often than other stones. His gaze searched for something unusual that he would not normally have bought for her. He came across a piece of jewellery with a deep blue shimmer, as if dark water were rippling beneath the walls of the Rock. It would suit her eyes perfectly. He approached the sapphire set and called the jeweller over.
"Pure silver, with no impurities?"
"Yes, milord," the craftsman answered and then launched into an explanation of how he had created the necklace.
"Where are the sapphires from?"
Her hand slipped from his elbow and she moved to the other end of the counter. Tywin glanced at her, but quickly returned his attention to his future purchase. He turned fully to the jeweller, clarifying the final details, before deciding to lay out the gold.
"And this one?" Her uncertain voice rang out, interrupting his verdict.
The jeweller and Tywin both broke off from their conversation about the sapphire and silver set to look at her. The craftsman glanced at Tywin, who nodded briefly towards his wife, and hurried over to the woman examining the boxes on the table.
She pointed at a pearl necklace lying on a velvet cushion. It shimmered with a golden glow, not quite like gold itself, but certainly unlike the cold, snowy light of the ordinary pearls the court was accustomed to. The pearls lay in several rows, carefully matched, large and clear. A dark dragon glass pendant, shimmering with mirror reflections and glowing blue from within, completed the necklace, gently intersecting, diffusing the pearl chains and hanging slightly lower. It was designed to sit just above the modest neckline of the dress. Next to it, on the velvet, was a pair of earrings.
Tywin looked at her face, her unusually eager eyes fixed on the jewellery, and her slightly bitten lip as she caressed the pearls with her gaze. Well, the sapphires would have to wait.
"A wonderful choice," said the jeweller, rubbing his hands nervously. "A set of pearls and dragon glass. But I am afraid, milady, it has already been sold. I cannot sell it to you."
The lady looked up at him, unable to accept what she had heard immediately. Her eyes slid back to the necklace sadly and greedily. She touched the pendant as if saying goodbye and carefully closed the lid of the box. Once it had been sold, there was no need for anyone else to see the set.
"It is all right. I understand," she replied softly, hiding her disappointment behind Lady Lannister's perfectly even tone.
"Where is the difficulty in making another one?" The Lion frowned, pursing his lips.
"You see, milord, there would be no difficulty if it were not for the pearls. I have been collecting them for many years. The golden hue is very rare. Dragon glass could still be obtained, but not the pearls. Perhaps ordinary pearls would suffice, milady?"
"Do not bother, Master. There is no need. Besides, as you rightly pointed out, this one is unique. Making a copy would be beneath a lord's court. You seem to like the sapphire set, don't you, my husband? I do not like it. Let's leave it for now."
Tywin didn't argue with his upset wife; talking to her was as pointless as talking to a storm. No matter how hard you tried to reason with it, it would still tear the sails in rage and foam the waves in disappointment.
She lingered at the counter for longer than usual. The lady hesitated, taking one last look at the box in which the pearl set lay safely in the darkness, before turning away and walking off. Her hand lingered on the table for a moment longer, as if she did not want to leave the necklace with the jeweller.
The couple left the dark jeweller's shop, and the bright sunlight momentarily blinded their eyes, which were accustomed to the dim light. He could see that his wife was trying to smile and pretend that the refusal had not hurt her.
"Did you like that necklace so much?"
"Yes," the lady shrugged. "I did. But it is fine. There will be others."
"You are upset."
āNonsense, dear. It would be silly to get upset over jewellery. That would be going too far, don't you think?ā
The man chuckled thoughtfully, untied the horses, and turned away to help her into the saddle of her horse before jumping onto his own.
He spent almost the entire journey back in silence. At first, she tried to continue the conversation they had started before entering the jeweller's shop, but she quickly noticed that Tywin was no longer in the mood for talking and fell silent. He respected her ability to remain silent so naturally and easily without any tense silence hanging between them.
"I have been thinking about those sapphires. Why don't you like them?" The Lion finally broke the silence.
She turned to him, frowning, not immediately understanding what he was talking about; she had been lost in her own thoughts.
"Oh, you mean that set," she realised after a few seconds. "It is not bad. But the price is too high, in my opinion."
"I wasnāt asking about the price."
"You are never interested in it unless we are talking about wool, grain, or metal supplies," she snorted, and her horse echoed its mistress as if it understood something of the conversation.
"I do not begrudge the gold," he grumbled.
"I do not doubt that, dear. You have proven it to me many times. Still, sapphires are not worth that much."
Tywin frowned. She couldn't stop counting the gold. This was appropriate in business matters, but her concern about the cost of the gifts he gave her made him feel irritated, as if his ability and desire to give gifts to his wife were being questioned.
He did not bring up the subject again.
***
The next day, he left the Rock again without saying a word to her about his trip.
The bell rang again, announcing the arrival of a visitor. The jeweller's shop was stiflingly hot; the walls were blazing with the fire in the furnace and the smell of metal shavings hung in the air. Tywin stopped at the central table, not bothering to walk around and look at the boxes; he had come with a specific purpose, and everything else was a distraction that needed to be eliminated.
A red, sweaty face appeared from behind the furnace. The Lion looked straight into the man's eyes with a heavy, expectant gaze.
"Milord Lannister?" The jeweller's eyes widened.
He hurriedly got up, tripping over a stool and knocking it over in the process. The master smiled awkwardly, lifted the stool and wiped his hands on a dirty rag from his apron before hurrying to the counter.
"How can I help you?"
"I want to buy out that pearl set," Tywin stated clearly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Who is the buyer?"
"Milord," the jeweller hesitated, squeezing the rag a little tighter. "I cannot disclose such information."
The lord did not wait for the jeweller to finish his excuses, interrupting him.
"Of course," he agreed dryly and curtly. "You do not have to disclose it. But I will find out anyway, and then my wife and I will find a new jeweller."
The jeweller turned pale at the thought of how much profit he could lose because of his principles. Lord Lannister brought him more revenue per year than any other customer; he never skimped on gifts for his wife. The lady sometimes came in to buy a new knickknack for her husband, too. The rag crackled under the master's strong, skilled fingers as he abruptly and jerkily shoved it back into his apron pocket.
"Ser N, milord. He is a wealthy merchant here in Lannisport," the man said, waving his hand in an indefinite direction. "He came in a few minutes before you yesterday and bought a set for his niece. He said he would pick it up closer to noon today."
That suited him just fine. He wouldn't have to search all over Lannisport for the merchant and it would be easier to collect the necklace here, on neutral ground where neither of them would have the advantage. Although Tywin had no doubt that his main advantage was a status that a simple merchant could only dream of: he was a lord.
"Then I will wait."
"I must warn you, milord," the jeweller added cautiously, brushing non-existent dust from the table. Just don't look into those cold, dead eyes. "That he is a very enterprising young man and may demand a higher price than the one at which I sold it to him."
"We will agree on the price. Your task is simply to hand the set over to me - nothing more."
They waited for just under an hour for the merchant to arrive. The jeweller did not dare leave the lord alone, so his apprentice continued working on the new piece of jewellery, torn between fear of the nobleman in their shop and excitement at being entrusted with the task.
A young man dressed in gold brocade entered, cast a bored glance at Tywin and walked over to the desk. He paused nearby and ordered the jeweller to hand over the jewellery.
"Milord Lannister wishes to buy out your set, sir," the master replied uncertainly, shifting his gaze from one man to the other. He did not want conflict in his shop, but having two proud men in the same space fighting over the same piece of jewellery for the women they cherished could lead to a terrible outcome.
"Really?" The merchant raised his eyebrows and turned to Tywin, giving him a slightly contemptuous, appraising look. His face clearly read 'old man' with disdain. "And why should I let you do that?"
There was no "my lord" in his address. The insolent merchant was so self-assured and arrogant that he seemed to consider himself equal to a lord. Tywin closed his eyes at this insolence. He turned his whole body towards the merchant, towering over him like a cold, unyielding rock. He could teach the boy a lesson later. For now, his goal was to obtain the set that had delighted his wife from the shop at all costs.
"My wife took a liking to it," he stated.
The merchant snorted sarcastically and looked at him as if he were insane.
"Is that all? What if my niece took a liking to it?" he asked sternly.
A guard in full battle dress looked into the shop.
"My lord, your council begins in an hour and a half. You asked to be notified in advance," he said, bowing to his patron.
"Very well," said Tywin, not even glancing at his subordinate. He looked only at the merchant. "You may go."
The guard nodded and closed the door behind him.
Tywin saw the fire of greed and apprehension light up in the boy's eyes. He could see that the lord needed the necklace and was clearly trying to calculate the possible profit to be made from the deal if he gave in to the Lion. That was the only reason he had not yet ordered the jeweller to collect his purchase again. However, the guard's arrival made him more cautious: he shrank back and tensed, remembering that he had seen several Lannister soldiers outside the shop entrance.
"Has your niece seen the set?" The lord stared at his interlocutor without blinking, his pale green eyes piercing him.
"Not yet," the merchant shrugged, shaking off the tension in his shoulders. "It was supposed to be a pleasant surprise for her."
"Then she did not like it. That is just your assumption," Tywin cut him off decisively, having found his pressure point. The argument was almost over, and the jewellery would be in his hands in a few minutes. "My wife's wishes are a fact. Your niece's reaction is questionable."
"I do not agree with the deal," the merchant said angrily, feeling that he was losing the argument and that arguing with the old Lannister was dangerous.
The lord frowned. Finishing off the greedy fool to buy the necklace wouldn't be hard, but it would be more expensive. It was a price he hadn't expected when they visited the jeweller yesterday.
"I will buy this necklace from you and purchase another of your choice."
There was a silence during which even the apprentice peeked out from behind the furnace to watch the men fighting over jewellery. The merchant smiled crookedly. The remnants of tension still hung in the hot air. He took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"It is a deal."
Tywin nodded.
"Choose, and don't keep me waiting."
The merchant began walking among the boxes, looking for something worthy of his niece. His gaze fell upon the sapphires. They were the same sapphires that Tywin had chosen for his wife, before her gaze fell on the pearls.
"This one," the merchant said, turning to the jeweller. "Tell the lord the price. He wishes to pay."
"There is no need for that."
The Lion nodded to the jeweller as he always did; the craftsman knew that the lord's trusted representative would arrive during the day with the necessary sum, which would be placed on the counter.
"Do you know the master's assortment by heart, my lord?" The merchant smiled arrogantly, trying to regain the dignity and advantage he had lost during the conversation.
Tywin did not stoop to responding, but looked at the man coldly and for a long time, causing him to become completely embarrassed. He took the sapphire set from the jeweller's hands and rushed out of the shop without saying goodbye.
The jeweller silently went over to the pearl set, packed it up and handed it to the Lion.
"Thank you," Tywin nodded dryly, leaving two gold coins on the counter for the jeweller's part of the deal. He would receive the rest in full later.
"May the Seven bless your deeds, milord."
Tywin did not respond to this idiotic wish. He left the shop, handed the box to one of the guards and mounted his horse. The matter was done. All that remained was to please his wife.
***
Tywin entered her chambers with his usual firm step and without knocking. In one hand, he held the box that the jeweller had given him. His wife was sitting at the table, rereading the report on the supplies in their storerooms. She looked up at him as soon as she heard the door open.
"My lady," he said, gesturing for her to rise.
A shadow of concern fell across her face as she put down her quill, rose and walked around the table. Her gaze slid over the box, and a guess flashed in her eyes.
"Tywin, dear? Has something happened? I was told you left for Lannisport before breakfast."
"Nothing that would cause you any concern. I wanted to give you something," he said, gesturing towards the mirror. It had long been their signal that he had bought her a new piece of jewellery and wanted to put it on her.
The lady frowned. She didn't ask if he had bought her the sapphires she thought weren't worth their price, nor did she ask any questions.
She walked over to the mirror and stood with her back to her husband, as was their habit. Tywin placed the box on the table, out of her sight, and opened it. The lock gave way with a quiet click and he lifted the lid. She remained silent the whole time, not uttering a word.
The Lion lifted the necklace and gently placed it on her collarbone. Her eyes widened in disbelief and incomprehension. Her hand flew up into the air and her fingers reverently touched the cold pearls and the dragon-glass pendant. The clasp of the necklace clicked into place, settling like a heavy, beautiful weight.
"But... how?" she whispered in shock, looking at their reflection in the mirror.
"It does not matter," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing them slightly. "It is yours now."
She slowly turned to face him, looking into his eyes, which glistened with tears.
"This is..." For the first time in her memory, she couldn't find the words to describe how she felt, or how grateful she was. "Tywin..."
"Hush. I did what I had to do." He absorbed her appearance, committing it to memory as one of those rare moments when he had managed to pierce her impeccable, restrained, calm facade and reveal her soft, tender soul.
"No," she shook her head. Her hands rose and rested on his chest, sliding over the fabric of his doublet. His palms moved to her waist. "You did what you wanted. And you wanted to give me something that had already been given to another. Oh, Tywin..."
She leaned in and kissed him long and tenderly. The way she only kissed when her love for him overflowed. She pulled away slowly, exhaling onto his lips.
"It seems I simply must let you win at chess tonight, mustn't I?" Her eyes glowed with gratitude and happiness. The happiness of being here with him in that moment.
"I almost always win anyway," he chuckled, running his hand down her side and lifting her up briefly to caress her cheek dryly.
Sunlight refracted in dark blue waves inside the dragon glass of her pendant, sliding across their faces and giving the moment a fairy-tale note. Time stood still in their chambers. The outside world simply ceased to exist for a few minutes, leaving them bathed in the golden light of morning and the frozen flames of dragons lost in time.
"Then I will have to make sure you win this time, too," she murmured softly.
"Make sure, my lady," the lord agreed, not arguing with her or interrupting her game. His eyes slid over her face, noting every glint and wave of light from the necklace that washed over her chin and cheek.
"That would be a nice way to show your gratitude, wouldn't it?" she whispered, seeking his confirmation. Her fingers slid up his doublet, caressing his neck and jawline in a futile attempt to smooth out the blue sheen on his skin.
"I have already received your gratitude," the lord replied calmly, knowing how his wife's ingenious expressions of gratitude sometimes ended, even if she promised only victory at chess. Nothing she did was ever simple or without a catch.
"That is not enough," she smiled slyly, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him towards her for a lingering kiss. "You deserve more."
"And by that, you mean another victory in chess?" The man raised an eyebrow briefly.
"No, my love," she said mischievously, smiling at him and touching his lips briefly with hers one last time. "I mean my voluntary, unconditional capitulation to you."
Tywin nodded. Yes, that definitely sounded like something he deserved. As long as the cunning woman didn't come up with something else. But the part of his soul that he rarely allowed to speak was looking forward to it.
Can I request a reader x wolff one please? where reader and non f1 male were the ultimate couple, so it came as a shock when they broke up. With many people being sad about their split, since they seemed perfect for each other. However recent rumors have surfaced that maybe she might be seeing toto, which causes quite a stir among fans, who are now speculating about the potential new relationship?
NEW ROMANTICS
PARINGS: toto wolff x fem!reader
TYPE: social media au
yourusername
liked by jaredpadalecki, lewishamilton and 567,738 others
ā§ summary. After weeks of pent up frustration, your sister-in-law Dyanna suggests you and your husband, Baelor, have a brief escapade, and what better place to blow some steam off than in Dorne?
ā§ word count. 6.5k
ā§ warnings. MDNI/NSFW established relationship. no use of yn. reader is described as non dornish, but aside from that no other physical description. for the sake of the fic maekar and dyanna live in kingās landing. probably slightly weird timeline and maybe not-canon asoiaf? reader is described as having female genitalia. oral f receiving. piv.
ā§ author note. in a nutshell everyone is trying to get them to fuck except baelor is cockblocking himself for some unknown reason lol š¤ the end is kind of rushed iām so sorry i was just really wanting to wrap it up but breakspear in dorne you will always be special to me.
Truth be told, the entirety of your and Baelor's trip to Dorne had been Dyanna's idea.
The gardens of the Red Keep were in full bloom. The smell of fresh flowers and pastries wafted through the air. The lemon cakes were arranged on a plate in front of you as a servant brought out the scorching hot tea.
Shrieks of children's laughter rang in the air. Daella and Rhae were playing in the open sun, close enough so their mother could keep an eye on them.
Dyanna sat across from you, her youngest son, Aegon, cradled in her lap. She rocked the babe gently, as he cooed up at her. His little finger twisted and clung to the sleeve of her dress.
This had become your little routine. You and Dyanna would sit in the gardens, at least once a week. You discussed your difficulties, household duties, and court gossip while sipping tea. You exchanged advice and listened to each other. In a sense, you had become each other's rock.
In a court full of snakes and vipers, wandering eyes and listening ears, it was a comfort to have someone like her. Someone real. Someone you could speak to without having to measure every single word before it leaves your tongue.
Over the course of time, you and your sister-in-law built a familiar and honest relationship. It was a great comfort to know you could always rely on her.
A servant poured you a cup of herbal tea as you straightened your back. "Thank you." You replied curtly. The servant nodded and quickly scurried off.
Dyanna cleared her throat, adjusting Aegon in her hold. "Would you like to hold him?" She offered. The babe was drooling and shoving his fingers into his mouth.
"No." Your reply came out sharper than you had intended. It was not the child's behavior that repulsed you ā you had gone through your fair share of drool and spit and other bodily fluids while raising Valarr and Matarys. It was something else that unsettled youāa turmoil furrowing deep in the pit of your stomach.
Dyanna seemed taken aback by your response. She knew how much you loved to play with her children, especially Aegon, since he was still a small babe, only a few moons old. Alas, she did not push the matter.
She eyed you carefully, noting the tension in your spine and the rigidness of your posture. Your brows were slightly pinched, and you were mindlessly fiddling with the rings on your fingers.
"What is the matter?" She questioned gently. "It is unlike you to be in such a state."
You sighed, leaning back against the plush pillows. You bit your lip before answering her. "It is Valarr's nameday celebration," you started. "There is so much to organize and prepare, I do not even know where to beginā¦" Your mind ached at the thought.
Dyanna cocked her head to the side; her motherly instincts kicked in, telling her this was not the whole truth. "And?" She pressed on, fairly certain a feast was not the main cause of your agitation.
Your cheeks flushed red, debating if you should tell her.
"Dear, I cannot help or advise you if I do not know what it is that troubles you." She looked at you expectantly.
You let out a breath, and concluded there was no reason to hide such things from her. She had been there when you gave birth to Matarys for the sake of the Seven; she had seen you in much worse states.
"I justā¦" Your words were failing you. "Baelor and I barely have time to see each other anymore. I mean, do not misunderstand, we still pass each other and share a bed, butā¦" Dyanna hummed at your words, a knowing smile spreading on her lips.
"He is so overwhelmed with duties and grain taxes and managing the Realm, which I understandā¦" You felt guilty for saying such things, butā¦
"But sometimes you wish he were your husband and not only the Hand of the king." Dyanna finished for you.
"Yesā¦" You breathed, an invisible weight lifting from your shoulders.
She moved the babe to her chest and swayed him, as he was becoming fussy. "I know. Familiar conditions have befallen me before." She revealed with a curious glint in her eye.
"Have they?" Your voice was more skeptical than it should have been. Maekar was a prince of the Realm, yes ā he had many duties even if he was not the heir apparent and Hand. But then again him and Dyanna had six children. And having lived in Summerhall for almost ten years, before returning to King's Landing, meant they had more freedom and luxury than you and Baelor could likely ever afford.
"Yes." She laughed at your disbelieving expression. "Believe it or not, even my lord husband sometimes forgets he has a wife to tend toā¦" She admitted.
"Hard to believe." The words slipped from you. Nonetheless, there was truth to them ā six babes did not simply come from a husband neglecting his wife.
"Oh, hush." She waved a hand at you, suppressing a smile. "You know what I mean." She reasoned.
You hummed in response, a playful smirk on your lips.
"What I am trying to say is you shouldā¦ speak to him or better yetā¦" she shrugged. "Try to show him." She suggested in a hushed tone.
You huffed a little laugh. "I have triedā¦ believe me, I have." You complained, brows squinting at the thought.
"And?" Dyanna leaned forward expectantly.
You recalled your exchange with Baelor vividly, from a few nights ago. You had purposely put on his favorite night gown, expecting him to falter, expecting him to finally pay some attention to you. But still, he would not drag his eyes away from that stupid report from the Vale.
You had whined like a child and begged him to leave the rest of it for the morrow and return to bed with you. He gave you an infuriatingly apologetic smile and kissed the top of your head, promising he would make it up to you.
It had been days, and still nothing.
At times, you wondered what invisible force willed your husband to be so dutiful and devoted to the Crown. He was certainly above average in that respect. But then again, he was the future King; he carried a duty only a few men ever come to know.
Most of the time, you admired him for it, but on occasions such as these, you despised it more than anything.
"Nothing." You did not try to mask the disappointment in your voice.
"Ohā¦" Dyanna bit her lip, unsure how to respond. "Well, I suppose Baelor has always been moreā¦ strong-willed than Maekar." She reasoned.
"You do not have to introduce me to my own husband ." You countered, bringing a lemon cake up to your lips and biting into it.
"You know what I think?" She suddenly perked up.
"What?" You asked, covering your full mouth with a hand.
"I think you and Baelor ought to take a break." She announced.
Your eyes immediately squinted at the suggestion. "But Valarr's namedayā¦" You began to protest, swallowing the bite of sweet cake.
"After." She cut in, not accepting the excuses.
"I am certain a trip to Summerhall or Dorne would do both of you well." She proclaimed, clearly very pleased with her solution.
"Dorne?" You wondered aloud. You had never been to your husband's motherland. Alas, he had spoken of it fondly to you many times, and you had heard various stories of the beauties and wonders of the South.
Dyanna nodded. "Yes, you have never been, correct?" Dyanna herself was from Starfall, of course. She was Dornish through and through.
You shook your head.
"Well, you ought to go. You will see, it is aā¦ completely different land. Different people and different ways of life." She spoke fondly of her homeland, and you suddenly wondered if she missed it often. The Crownlands must be so very different.
"I am sure you will like it." Her tone was sincere."And let me tell you one more thing, the warmer days are always better for letting loose." She explained.
Aegon stirred in her hold, babbling and kicking his feet. "Oh, hush you." She chided softly.
"Now, not to say that Summerhall is exactly warm, but it is a great place for, when the storms roll inā" A mischievous smile tugged at her lips.
You had a feeling this was going somewhere incredibly personal, which you did not want to know about. Such an explicit matter would only concern Maekar and his lady wife.
"Alright." You cut in. "I take your meaning." You assured her.
She laughed at your flustered reaction. "All I'm saying isā¦ none of our children were conceived in this suffocating red fortressā¦" Her voice lingered.
You gave her a look. "Fine. I will ask him." You relented, and Dyanna gave you a triumphant smirk.
"Mark my words. Upon your return, you will be thanking me." She seemed dangerously sure of herself, and your stomach flipped at the thought.
---
A few weeks later a warm welcome greeted you after your long journey from King's Landing to Sunspear.
The seat of House Martell was decorated with the most beautiful exotic flowers. The court had been carefully prepared to host your royal arrival. The visit, this time strictly one of comfort and not duty, had been anticipated for weeks by the Dornish nobles.
Everything in the South was different, from the very air to the landscape and the people who inhabited it. The breeze carried the smell of unfamiliar spices and vegetation. Trees bloomed with nectarines and fruits you had never seen before, and the wines tasted sweeter than it did in King's Landing.
Sunspear was filled with colorful markets and people who moved through it with a leisure that the smallfolk of King's Landing did not possess. They did not hurry; they did not rush; not to say that they lacked passion ā it was merely that they did everything in their life with a certain rhythm.
Perhaps the most unbearable thing in the entire place was the scorching hot sun, which you still couldn't come to terms with. Alas, you decided not to let it irk you too much.
Your first few days in Sunspear were spent exploring Spear Tower with Baelor and being shown around the vast castle. It felt more like a labyrinth than a holdfast.
The gardens were beautiful in an other-worldly sense, incomparable to the ones in the Red Keep. The ones here in Dorne were much larger, filled with lush greenery and hidden hot springs. At every corner, there was a tray with various fruits. There were oranges, figs, lemons, nectarines, and almost always a bowl of glistening honey carefully placed beside them.
That is how, on the fourth day of your journey, you found yourself sitting in the Water Gardens with your husband's lady aunt and the princess of Dorne, Daenerys Targaryen.
The Gardens were located on a beach next to the Summer Sea; Maron Martell had built them for his bride, and they remained a symbol of the union of Dorne with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.
Pale pink marble paved the gardens and courtyard, and you were seated on one of the terraces overlooking the numerous pools and fountains. Blood orange trees offered a comforting shade as you observed the naked children playing and swimming in the waters. Their laughter and shrieks easily carrying on the afternoon air.
"How fare your days in Dorne, princess?" Daenerys' gentle violet gaze found yours. "I trust the spirit of Sunspear is to your liking." She offered a gentle smile.
Her snow-white locks cascaded down her back, the full embodiment of her Valyrian ancestry. She was clad in a light purple dress, and the silver bangles on her arms jangled as she moved about.
"I know it is very different from King's Landingā¦" Her tone was quieter now. "I must admit, it also took me a while to get used to it."
You eyed her carefully; it must have been very hard for her. To be wed off in such a different land, a different culture, so far away from home. From everything she had ever known.
"But I have learnt to love it." Her voice was sincere. "It has become a part of my soul, and when you have childrenā¦" The corners of her lips turned up in a soft smile at the thought of her babes.
"Yes, I understand, everything is very different then." You nodded, thinking of your own boys back in King's Landing. "I know, it is a great luck to be married to an honorable man."
"Indeed." She hummed.
She was very beautiful you noted. And sitting like this in front of you she did not look one bit out of place in the Dornish scenery. It was hard to imagine she was king Daeron's sister; fore they did not resemble one another much, except for their shared Valyrian features.
"Oh Gods, I almost forgot." Her voice perked up, suddenly remembering something. "I have a gift for you."
Your eyes widened at her words but you quickly masked it with a polite cough. "That is very thoughtful of you princess." You bowed your head slightly, offering her a smile. You had come to sincerely enjoy her company in the last few days.
Daenerys instructed a servant to bring out the present, and the man immedieately obeyed, scurrying off to find the item in question.
Curiosity suddenly bloomed in your chest. What could it be? Perhaps a porcelain tea set or a specially binded Dornish book? Whatever it was, you were certain it would be to your liking.
"Ah, here it is." One of the servants placed the unopened box on the table between you. It was decorated with sun emblems and a silken bow was tied to it.
"Open it." Daenerys urged eagerly.
You leaned forward, taking the offering into your arms, and carefully untied the bow decorating it.
As you removed the lid ā your eyes fell upon a gorgeous piece of, what you could only assume was Myrish silk. It was the color of sunset and it glimmered under your gaze. You moved to touch the material with your fingers and the softness of it took you by surprise.
"It is beautifulā¦" your voice was stunned as you carefully appreciated the cloth.
"Take it out. The entirety of it." Daenerys leaned forward, eyeing your reaction.
You followed her order and removed the piece of garment from the box. Your eyes widened when it fell to its full length; you realized just how sheer and see-through the material truly was.
Looking at it now, in the clear sunlight, it resembled less a dress and more something a whore from the Street of Silk might wear. You felt a heat creep up your cheeks.
Daenerys gauged your reaction. "You don't like it." She stated, observing your startled gaze.
"No! No! It's beautifulā¦ it is a very generous thought." You immediately countered, afraid not to turn out offensive. Alas, you could not hide your flustered expression.
Daenerys coked her head to the side, clearly amused by your reply.
"I understand it is not something one would traditionally wear in the Crownlands." That was to say the least ā you thought. It looked like something straight out of a brothel.
One thing you had particularly taken note of, in the past few days, was the open manner in which people here dressed. Of course the warm climate called for much lighter and breathable clothing. Yet observing how see through and skin showing their garments were, both for men and women, it never ceased to startle you.
Another thing the Dornish were very different in you thought; and much less strict about.
"It is a nightgown." She explained, testing the material between her own fingers. "It is incredibly breathable and good to sleep in."
"Oh..." Well this made much more sense ā to wear such a garment publicly would be utterly scandalous.
She chuckled at your expression. Clearly you were not used to the Dornish being so straighforward.
"Forgive me for saying thisā¦" she began, a glint of mischief in her purple irises. "But I am sure if you do not come to appreciate it, prince Baelor certainly will."
You felt the heat spread from your face to your entire body at her words, the afternoon sun doing nothing to aid you. In the last fifteen minutes you had managed to transform from the composed crown princess into a flustered teenage girl. How wonderful.
You took a deep breath, cleared your throat, and attempted to compose yourself. "Iā¦ sincerely thank you for this sentiment, princess." The grace finally returned to your tone. "I am certain your present will be highly appreciatedā¦"
She grinned at your words. "Oh, certainly. Of that I have absolutely no doubt."
---
The candles cast a dim light in yours and Baelor's temporary quarters. The shadows cascaded down the walls, creating a serene glow in the room. One of the curtains had been left open, letting a fresh sea breeze into the dhqmber. It filled the space with an unfamiliar salty smell.
Your things were strewn about the place. The servants had not yet come to organize them.
The room was as grand as your own bedchamber back in King's Landing, with high ceilings and wide corners. Prince Martell had made sure his guests got only the finest treatment. You were the future rulers of the Seven Kingdoms after all.
You were just returning from supper with the Dornish prince and his wife, feeling content and full. Alas, you looked forward to finally spending alone time with your husband.
Baelor entered the chamber behind you, the guards shutting the doors closed with a soft click. You were left encapsulated in your own little world.
"The princess and his wife are very pleasant company." You stated, walking over to the vanity, which stood on the opposite side of the chamber. You were keen on finally undoing the braids in your hair; as the strands had begun to pull at your scalp.
"Indeed." Baelor hummed, entering the room after you.
He was clad in a gorgeous gold-white robe; intricate twists and coils of gold decorated the pattern of it. There was a tiny sunspear under the column of his neck, holding his undershirt together.
Like this, clad in the colors of his mother's house, he looked nothing like a Targaryen prince. He looked Dornish thoroughly from head to toe. One might have mistaken him for the Prince of Sunspear, were it not for the three-headed dragon emblem stitched into the belt of his garment.
The material flowed naturally and freely behind him, creating a strangely free-spirited feel to his otherwise composed and controlled movement. He, for the first time, you concluded, resembled more a Martell than a Targaryen.
And you found that you liked him very much in this state; you could sense the dread and worry of appearing too Dornish, leave him while inhabiting the South. Here, he did not have to hide the love and pride he harbored for his heritage.Here, he did not have to worry about the whispers behind his back. Those doubting his claim to the iron throne. Here, he could be free from all the prejudices of the Crownlanders.
And you couldn't help but admit, you loved how the silver-gold colors suited him. It was a sharp contrast to his usual crimson and black attire. You loved how the warm shades brought out the little white streaks in his beard. It filled your belly with a familiar warmth.
"They are most gracious hosts." He added, falling into the chair that was set in front of a large wooden desk. The woodtop was scattered with scrolls, papers, and quills. The ink sat in a little bottle beside all of it.
Even now, Baelor couldn't bring himself to abandon his duties of being the Hand, as he had insisted on bringing along his workload. He promised you it wouldn't occupy too much of his time, since this was meant to be your shared break. But clearly, he had forgotten his promise.
You pulled at the strands of your hair, undoing the work of the Dornish handmaidens. You carefully eyed your husband through the mirror in front of you.
Baelor took a parchment into his hand and the quill in his other.
You tugged the last piece of hair with a little bit more force than necessary and let your hair fall from its neat, styled look into a more comfortable and free manner.
You returned your gaze to your husband, who still seemed not to be paying you the least bit of attention. An ugly, irritating beast curled its way into your chest, and your nostrils flared in discontent.
What must you do to get this man to pay attention to you?
"Baelor dear," you called for him. "Don't you think it is too late for you to be going over those scrolls now?" You didn't want to call him outright, but your patience was wearing thin.
"Just a few moments, my heart." He did not even bother to move his gaze from the parchment. Which infuriated you even more. "I must finish this, and then I promise I will join you." His voice was so annoyingly calm.
There you were, seething with pent-up frustration, waiting for him, and all he could do was read stupid Realm reports.
"Fine." Your words came out sharper than you had intended. Alas, Baelor was not moved by the anger in your tone.
You decided you were going to play your game. With your rules. If that's what it took for your husband to pay attention to you.
You shuffled through the chamber, moving towards the space divider you used for changing. Baelor remained seated in his place, muttering something under his breath.
Your silhouette disappeared behind the tall screen, and you quickly worked to undo the simple laces of your dress. Thank the Gods, it was an easy garment. Otherwise, you could have never gotten out of it without the help of handmaidens.
Once they came undone, you let it pool at your feet.
In front of you, sitting on a hanger, stood Princess Daenerys' gift. The pale silken material was calling to you, both a promise and a risk. You moved to take it off the hoist and cover yourself with it.
As you took it over your head, the material felt impossibly gentle and soft against your skin. The expensive fabric clung to your curves. It was almost like a lover's caress, stroking your skin, and not a piece of clothing lying against it.
You silently thanked the princess for such a thoughtful gift. It will be highly appreciated. Your own words rang in your ears. Oh certainly. Of that I have absolutely no doubt. Her reply had carried a mix of mischief and intrigue.
You looked down at your frame through the fabric and noted how your entire chest was visible. Gods, this really did not cover anything.
You took a sharp inhale of breath before daring to step out from the changing place.
Baelor was still lost in his texts, and he did not move his gaze to notice you had changed.
You cleared your throat, hoping to gain his attention. You leaned a hand against the column of the bedframe, steadying yourself against the wood.
You felt your heartbeat slowly pick up.
Baelor sighed. "What is it, wife? I told youā" He began, but he was cut short when his eyes landed on your frame standing beside the bed. His mouth parted, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. His eyes drank in your form, which by all accounts was on full display. Not covered one bit by the dress.
You took a nervous gulp, doubting yourself for a fraction of a moment. Had this been a bad idea? Would he be cross with you?
"What is this?" He quickly regained his composure, snapping out of the brief trance. He slowly rose from the chair, finally discarding those stupid papers and scrolls behind him.
You straightened your spine as he approached you, a surge of confidence ccoursed through you.
He tilted his head, standing fully in front of you now. His mismatched gaze shamelessly wandered over your body, and you swore you could see his pupils widen.
"It is a gift," your voice came out breathlessly. "From the princess Daenerys."
Baelor huffed in response. Eyes still raking over the sheer material, how it hugged the curve of your body. How it brought out all your most beautiful features. How it accentuated all those little details he loved about you so much.
He knew your body like the back of his own hand. He could trace it blind, and he would still know all the spots that made you moan and sigh and squirm in his hold.
"A gift," he parroted, moving to touch the nightgown with his fingers. You flinched as his large palm traced the curve of your waist. "You call this piece ofā¦cloth, a nightgown?" There was a hint of amusement in his tone.
You chewed on your bottom lip, pausing before offering a reply. But he cut you off before you could get a word out.
"You look like a whore from the Streets of Silk." His eyes darkened and his words caught you off guard.
You stiffened under his gaze, both ashamed and exhilirated by the remark.
"What would they say, hm?" His large hands encaged your frame and pulled you flush against his body. His metal rings felt cool against your skin.
"If they saw you like this." He tutted, as if berating a child. "The future queen of the Seven Kingdoms dressed like a broodmare."
Something had overcome your Baelor; your sweet, kind, gentle Baelor. Who had always treated you with such care and tenderness, handling you as if you were made of the finest porcelain. Both outside and inside the bedchamber. And now, you could barely register the words leaving his lips.
"All for meā¦" he croaked at last.
You felt your blood race impossibly warm in your veins, and you could not hold yourself back any longer. You crashed your lips against his own, catching him by surprise, and you felt him groan into your mouth as you caged his face between your hands.
You felt your hardened nipples rub against the white material on his chest as he pulled you closer to himself, not leaving an inch of space between the two of you.
His hands explored your body over the lace, twisting and gripping the fabric.
"Baelor," you let out as he maneuvered you and pushed you towards the bed. You fell onto the crisp sheets with a soft thud. He immediately leaned down toward you, caging your body with his own.
His hands were on either side of you. He resumed his ministrations, fingers tracing and kissing your body. Worshipping every inch of you.
He was gripping the front of your gown when all of a sudden ā the sound of cloth ripping broke the air.
You felt it before you saw it.
"Baelor!" You shrieked as you looked down at the ruined front of your dress. It was torn in two, the delicate material ripped at the seams. "What have youā"
He cut your protests off by tugging the entire thing off your body, leaving you in nothing. Completely bare and naked under his hungry gaze.
"I will buy you a thousand more nightgowns, and I will tear every single one of them if I must. If that means I get to have you." He silenced your objections, and you quickly closed your parted mouth.
You let out an impatient huff at his words as your hips buckled to meet the growing bugle under his robes.
"Impatient are we?" He teased. "Have I been neglecting you, sweet girl?"
You shied away from his gaze, feeling the heat creep back to your cheeks.
"Look at me." He commanded. "Hm is that it? Has your husband not been paying enough attention to you?" He clicked his tongue softly, as if scolding you.
"All you had to do was say so. The next time my sweet wife feels unattended, you will come to me. You will open your mouth, and you will use your words."
He was pressing soft kisses to the place just above your chest. "No, instead you dress like a whore and beg for my attention." There was no true malice behind his words, but you still felt the arousal pool in your lower half.
"Baelorā" you attempted to sit back on your elbows, but he pushed you down.
"Hush, let me take care of you." He whispered against the skin of your neck, his fingers finding your breasts and caressing them softly. Pinching and twirling your nipples in his hold.
You sighed at the sensation and felt shivers of pleasure run straight to your core.
He resumed placing kisses and pecks all over your body, his beard scratching the soft skin. He worked all the way from the column of your neck, to the valley of your breast, to your bellybutton and all the way down to your thighs.
When he finally leaned between your legs, he resumed pressing soft kisses to the insides of your thighs. The scratch of his beard a familiar and welcome sensation.
Your hands clutched at the cold sheets beneath you, attempting to brace yourself somehow.
He kept placing teasing pecks dangerously close to where you needed him the most. His teeth softly nipping and biting the skin of your thighs as he smelled the glistening arousal seeping out of your hole.
"Pleaseā¦" you whined, strained and desperate for him to finally press his lips against where you needed it the most. For him to finally do something with you.
He chuckled from his place between your legs, and you felt the vibrations through your own body.
"Alright, sweet wife, I will not keep torturing you any longer." And with that, before you could get a single word out, he dove between your legs like a man starved. You let out a violent moan as his tongue plunged into your core.
Your back curved and arched off the bed as you felt one of his fingers come to rub soothing circles into your clit.
"Gods Baelor!" You moaned, fisting the sheets beneath as your legs trembled.
He placed his other hand over your hips, keeping you locked in place.
His tongue explored your insides, and you felt his nose rub against your clit. You were mewling and melting from that sensation alone.
"Pleaseā¦" Your words came out strained.
You were begging for what? You weren't sure, for something, for anything, for him to do something more.
"Don't stop." You finally turned your gaze to where he was placed beneath you, and a groan almost ripped from you.
He was lapping up every single drop of juice that fell out of your sweet cunt. Swallowing and savouring it as if it were the sweetest nectarine.
You felt the familiar tight coil beginning to strain in your belly.
Baelor could sense it too. The way you started to writhe and how your breaths became shorter, your moans whinier. His tongue found that delicious spongy spot inside of you, fingers still rubbing circles into your clit, and you almost screamed at the overstimulation.
You felt tears of pleasure well in your eyes. "Baelor!" You could not hold your release ā the pleasure took over you entirely, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You swore you could see stars as the white-hot relief flooded you. Your toes curled at the sensation, and a few tears escaped your eyes.
Through all of it, Baelor did not pause for a single moment. He merely adjusted his pace.
He kept his nose pressed against your cunt, lapping up everything and not wasting a single drop of your release. He guided you through the entirety of your climax.
And still he would not stop ā you could not tell how long he spent between your thighs. Pleasing you and making you forget everything apart from his name on your lips and the feel of his mouth against your mound.
By the time he was done with you, your skin was slick with sweat and your brain mushed from pleasure.
He raised his head from between your cunt, his face glistening in the dim light, covered in your arousal. His eyes were gleaming with lust as he panted.
Somewhere along the way, between your second and third climax, he had come up to kiss you. You had torn at his robes, and that was how he was left bare-chested.
His upper body on full display as he dove down once more, to seal your lips with his own. Your legs instinctively locked around his hips, his breath mingling with your own as you tasted yourself on his tongue.
He quickly worked to remove his breeches, discarding them somewhere beside the bed. Presumably, in the pile with your destroyed nightgown and his white robes.
Now; the both of you were fully naked, fully bare as the day you were born.
Baelor gazed down at you sprawled beneath him. The pleasure coursing through his veins fogged all else; the sole thing he could focus on was your breathing, the lines of your face, the halo of messy hair, the sheen of sweat on your brow, the way you trembled from pleasure.
Pleasure which he had bestowed upon you. He suppressed a groan at the thought. He lived to please you, and he would set his own needs aside any day if it meant he got to see you like this.
"Gevie." He rasped, the ancient words seeping like honey from his tongue.
Your cunt clenched around nothing; the term of endearment filling both your heart and insatiable body.
Baelor moved to line himself with your entrance, but you caught his arm.
"No." You firmly replied.
"No?" A flicker of confusion in his eyes, perhaps even fear. But before he could question it, you moved your entire body, flipping the two of you and switching positions.
Truth be told, you had no idea where the strength had come from, but nonetheless, you were positioned above him.
He began to protest, but you placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. You shook your head softly. "No, Baelor. Tonight you are the one who lets loose."
He was clearly not exhilarated by the idea. "Wifeā"
But before he could get you to switch your mind, in one swift motion you began to sink onto his rigid length. You both moaned in unison, his hands found your hips, steadying himself. You clawed at his chest, feeling as if you were on your wedding night once more, being split open on his cock. The stretch was painfully delicious.
Your cunt squeezing him as if you never wanted to let go. When he was finally sheathed inside you, his manhood pressed against your cervix, filling you to the brim, you thought you could feel him in your very throat. Your head dizzied from the pleasure.
Baelor tentatively leaned back against the pillows, digits leaving indents from how hard he was gripping the flesh of your hips. Containing himself; willing himself to not just flip the two of you around and have his way with you.
Before he could entertain such a thought you carefully moved up his length before sinking down once more, mouth parting in a barely contained moan. You quickly found a steady rhythm as his hands helped guide you.
"Gods, how long has it been?" He wondered through a shaky breath.
You both felt it, the familiar stretch you had grown so accustomed to in the many years of marriage. You laced your fingers through his own, guiding them away from your hips and settling them somewhere beside you as you found your balance.
"Too long," you huffed, and he managed a tiny smile at that, silently agreeing with you.
With Baelor, everything was passionate; he did everything with careful intent and precision. So to be the one sprawled beneath you this time, barely doing anything, both irked him and brought him a strange sense of gratification.
And that is how you spent your entire evening: exploring each other's bodies in the way that you had come to love so much.
He rubbed gentle but firm circles into your clit before you came crying on his cock; he could only last two rounds before taking over the situation. He took you in each and every position one could think of, worshipping your body as if it were the holiest shrine. And to him it was; his sole temple; his damnation and his salvation.
By the end of the night, you were utterly spent; his milky release dripping from your ruined cunt. It was too warm to think of draping even the thinnest sheet over your naked, glistening bodies.
Instead, you placed yourself on his chest, laying your head against his ribcage, where his heart beat steadily. You sighed in contentment, mewling like a tired, well-fed cat.
"I hope we didn't disturb the castle too muchā¦" you joked, alas, there was a hint of embarrassment to your words. You pressed a small kiss to the corner of Baelor's lips.
Your limbs were still tangled as he softly caressed your bare back. "Wellā¦ I would be slightly worried if we weren't in Dorne." He let out with a small chuckle.
You giggled at his words. "Am I hearing this correctly? Is Prince Baelor admitting to enjoying the freedom of the South?" You teased him.
He shook his head playfully, leaning up to silence you with a kiss. "If it's with you ā yes. Always yes." He breathed as you pulled apart.
And in that singular moment, you felt the happiest and fullest you had in a long time. You could spend the rest of your life happy and content like this; in his arms. Nothing but the breeze from the outside sea intruding on you and the moonlight witnessing your shared passion.
You sighed quietly. This is what heaven or paradise, or whatever they call it, must feel like. You could not imagine anything greater.
After a brief silence, Baelor thought you had drifted off to sleep, exhausted and spent from your coupling. But all of a sudden your voice sounded up.
"Remind me to thank Dyanna when we get backā¦" You muttered against his skin, a part of your mind already shadowed by sleep.
"Hm?" Baelor paused his touch on your back, for a moment he was certain you were speaking nonsesnse.
"Ohā¦ all I mean isā¦ she said Dornish nights tend to be quiteā¦ shortā¦ or longā¦ or I'm not quite sure which it wasā¦" You murmured, your eyes already droopy and glazed over with tiredness.
"Whatā¦" Baelor huffed a laugh. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothingā¦" Those were the last words that managed to leave your lips, before you drifted off to the land of dreams, utterly content and pliant in the hands of your lover.
Summary: Your nephew, Aerion, invokes a trial of the seven against Ser Duncan. After, you find your husband, Baelor, preparing to join as Duncan's seventh knight. You storm off, as upset as you are angry, and he doesn't see you again until after Aerion yields the next day. (wc. 4.9k)
Warnings: Canon-typical blood/gore and violence. Set in AKOTSK E5, but lacks spoilers. Injuries (reader is hurt, get's face blindness). Reader is female body coded; she/her pronouns, called 'Princess' and 'My Lady'.
Listening to: 'No Good Deed' by Cynthia Erivo - "Let his flesh not be torn, let his blood leave no stain. Though they beat him let him feel noāpain. Letāhisābones never break andāhowever they try toādestroy him let him never die."
Based on this drabble || Masterlist || AO3 link
āNo good deed goes unpunished.ā
āYouāve been staring all evening.ā Baelor said, turning his head from where he stood to where you sat. āWhatās wrong?ā
Staring was a very soft word for what you had been doing. Anyone else wouldāve said you were glaring - willing him dead with your eyes alone - but then again your husband was always soft with you, no matter how harsh you tried to be to him.
āI know what youāre planning.ā you said.
He turned then to cross the room, stopping to take a stand beside the table you sat at. He watched as the skin across your knuckles tightened. Even though your grip was lax on the goblet in your hand, you were trying to hide your reserve of tension.
āValarr told me youāve asked for his armour to be brought here early on the morrow.ā He tilted his head at your confession, face softening.
Baelor brought his hand to your shoulder, brushing your hair away from your neck in a manner that he hoped was soothing. You had no blood of dragons in you, and dragons had not existed in his lifetime, but at times you acted more like a dragon than your deluded nephew, Aerion. Luckily, despite his lack of experience with wild beasts, he was usually very good at calming you. He hoped this was another of those instances where he could snuff out your anger at him with some kind words and soft touches, as he usually could.
āYou know it wonāt fit you, heās shorter. Smaller.ā You mumbled, not meeting his eyes, āYouād get just as hurt during a battle wearing it as you would without it.ā
āWould you rather I wear just a tunic?ā
āNo.ā you said, voice biting, āIād rather you not join at all. The whole thing is stupid. It is a foolish Andal tradition, one you ought to have shot down the moment it was suggested.ā
āIt is not in my right -ā
āIs it in your right to let Aerion bring twelve completely innocent men into a fight they may die in? Is it your right to let it happen?ā you interrupted, standing abruptly and coming nose to nose with him. He said your name softly, reaching for your hand, but you snatched it away. āIs it in your right to join and put your own life in the hands of fate or the gods? Your life matters more than Aerionās pride and ego. The lives of all eleven of those men tomorrow matter more than that boyās pride.ā
Finally you looked at him. You werenāt going to move on this, he decided, stubborn as ever. Unfortunately he was just as stubborn.
āYouāre Prince of the realm, you have every right to refuse.ā you said.
āI canāt do anything about it now. Itās done. What Ser Duncan did was right, and I will fight for that.ā He said. He watched as your jaw flexed, a look passed over your eyes as if you knew he was right but didnāt want to admit it.
Then you said something he wished you hadnāt, for he then wouldnāt see you again until after the trial of the seven ended. Later, the next day, heād wish that you never had this conversation at all.
āThen youāll sleep here alone.ā
Baelor was rather hoping - desperately, but he wouldnāt have told anyone that - that youād have come around by morning. Heād liked you to have wished him luck. But youād vanished. You stormed off with the fury of a Baratheon, and he hadnāt seen even a wisp of you since you left him alone in your chambers the night before.
Heād hoped to carry your token. Hoped it might help the gods favour his side, or his life, by wearing some of your innocence close to his heart. That by having a piece of you, along with fighting for what was right, might save him from pulling his nobility card against the opposing kingsguard.
Baelor stood beside his mount, almost ready to join the lists save for his sonās helm that he still needed to put on. His squire was so close to getting it on when another knight atop a horse breezed right past him.
Wordlessly they took his place.
Baelor watched through the still-open gates. Watched as they rode up to Duncan and nodded pointedly toward him, almost shunning Aerion and the opposing knights at the same time.
A seventh knight.
They had no sigil on their shield, and came with no banner. Their armour was simple but it looked new, with no dents or scratches. Rode like theyād been atop a horse their whole life. Baelor ought to have known who this was - he knew Ser Arlan of Pennytree for the gods sakes - but he didnāt.
Certainly it was no kingsguard. It was no lord from a noble or small house. Was no noble Ser. Another hedge knight was the only logical thought that crossed his mind - it would explain the lack of sigil and banner. But he would find out who this was later. They just stole his place fighting in the trial, Baelor would be asking a few questions, at least, when this ended. If this strange knight was still alive.
Instead of joining the field, he turned to join Lord Ashford and his daughter in the stands. He would not change from his armour. Let all high and low born see what he was prepared to do today. When he joined the lordās and ladyās, he expected to see you sat with them.
You were not. Were you so upset with him that you refused to come at all? He certainly had some grovelling to do. Youād be happy with him though, since heād come back to you completely untouched.
Something about this strange knight had Baelor unable to keep his eyes off them. Something about them was familiar.
Not the way they didnāt tilt their head up before a lance broke across their shield like all knights were taught. Not the way they didnāt ever fall off their horse no matter how hard they were hit. Nothing about their armour jogged his memory at all. But something else did.
Almost like it was something he remembered from a lifetime ago. The question was why.
They made another pass through the lists, this was the third, and the kingsguard they were facing had drawn his sword instead of snatching another lance like they did before. Something made him sit forward in his seat when the kingsguard slashed the stranger's thigh before their lace could hit him. The way they crumpled made something uncomfortably familiar gnaw in his chest - which he didnāt like at all because it was how he felt on those lone occasions you were in trouble or hurt.
That feeling, paired with you being missing, made something sour settle in the back of his throat. Baelor wasnāt a man who felt scared, not often, but suddenly he felt terrified.
He almost started praying that it wasnāt you disguised as that strange knight with no banner. He hoped, desperately, that you werenāt so foolish.
The stranger was not thrown by the injury, so they took a fourth pass. They took a sword this time, playing at the king's guards game, however the guard took a lance. Even from where Baelor sat he saw how the tip glinted sharply in the early morning light.
This pass jolted the stranger off their horse violently. The guard had taken a page out of Aerionās book, and had aimed a deadly blow at the horse rather than the rider. The horse, thankfully, now lay dead on the field, and the stranger had started lifting themselves up from where they fell into the mud.
Their hold on their sword once they stood left little to the imagination. This was not someone who used a weapon so often. Maybe once, but not in a long time. Nevertheless they charged to the closest opponent, effectively laying a blow with the support of surprise. The kingsguard was not expecting such a quick recovery, or such an obvious attack.
The king's guards, Baelor thought, would make a meal out of this stranger now they were dismounted. To him it was clear their advantage was atop a mount, not in the mud.
You wondered what had gotten into you. What possessed you to do the insane.
The answer was simple, in more than one way; the first, you couldnāt see someone so important as the Prince of the Realm putting his life at risk for something so trivial. The second was that important person was also your husband, who you knew you could no longer live without.
You could guess easily that you had no such barriers to cross if you joined the trial. You were no heir, and Baelor was already on his second wife. What difference was a third if you died? Your life, compared to his, weighed nothing in comparison.
Besides, āchampionā did not explicitly mean āman onlyā. There was no reason why you couldnāt join before Baelor did - as long as no one knew beforehand. If they did, theyād try and stop you, citing it improper or foolish.
Now though, with your vision blurred behind lines of steel and sweat and mud, your thigh burning in pain, head throbbing, and hearing nothing but shouts, your own laboured breathing, and your heartbeat, you were wondering if you actually had some underlying wish to die. You didnāt ever think yourself a sad person, but this would make anyone doubt. Why else would you lay this burden on your own shoulders?
Then someone landed a blow on you, right on your pauldron that covered your shoulder, and your injured leg buckled under the power. Your body was unused to such beatings - it had been years since your fatherās training. He drove you like he would a son, due to his lack thereof, many who saw you back in those days thought no man would ever want to make a wife of you, and you gave it up for a sense of duty the moment your father turned his attention to a younger, more promising, sister.
You thought your body wouldnāt forget everything it had been taught, but it did. So you were losing, and you were going to die today.
Someone sliced their sword at your head, you ducked in time for it to avoid your visor, but the clang of metal on metal made your ears ring all the same. You thanked the gods that this night-working blacksmith had a set of armour that fitted you properly.
Turning on your heel, you swung at the attacker, going mostly off feel rather than sight. Your sword landed on something that felt soft, so you yanked it back every so slightly before veering further left and lunging. The attacker groaned, and you were able to make out the light-coloured armour of a gauntlet grabbing onto your blade to stop it going further forward.
You doubted you wouldāve found the strength to push it more anyway. While the injury on your leg wasnāt deep, the pounding of your heart made it bleed a lot. Youād been feeling the warmth seep into your trousers and cool stickily. It was making you weak, lightheaded. You werenāt built for endurance, not anymore.
Then, another blow to your head. This one was harder. Stronger. Hurt more too.
Your ears now gave way to all sounds except ringing. Vision blurred, brightening before turning black. You felt yourself stumbling in the mud, before losing all knowledge of up or down. Your sword slipped from your fingers, and you grasped blindly at the air before the side of your face felt cool and wet.
Then nothing.
Maybe youād been out for seconds, or minutes. But you blinked awake around the same time your hearing returned. One eye was dark, the other saw nothing but mud and a foot. You heard someone groan, yourself probably, before you slowly started rising. The first thing you saw, clearly with both eyes now out of the dirt, lying a few feet away was your helm.
Then you panicked.
People would see you. Theyād know it was you. Maekar, and the kingsguard would know. Baelor would know. Everyone would know.
Palm slipping back around your sword, you turned on your knees. You saw behind you was a tall knight, the only one you knew was Duncan, holding someone in Targaryen armour, you guessed Aerion, toward the stands and shouting something you couldnāt hear. Then he pushed your nephew to the ground, and, faintly, you heard a horn blow.
It was over.
Baelor was out of the stands before the horn blew. He moved the second the stranger's helm flew off at the blow from Maekarās mace to reveal you beneath it.
By the time the trial was over he was nearly on the tourney grounds. He didnāt see you get up until he saw you now knelt in the mud with your hand back around the sword you had been using. He thought, terrifyingly, that when youād fallen you wouldnāt get back up.
He practically fell to your side, uncaring of the dirt and blood, and took your face in his hands. He ignored the kingsguard whoād stumbled over to your side. Ignored all his apologies and asks for mercy and āI didnāt know it was her, your grace, I swear itā. Baelor was just focused on you.
You had specks of dirt and mud everywhere, and a whole side of your face was covered in much, which he started wiping away with his thumb. There was blood coming from your mouth, which he desperately hoped didnāt mean anything serious. He titled your head around, searching for anything troubling but found nothing.
Nothing except a gash on the side of your skull, right above your ear. The hit that sent your helm flying no doubt. But then as he turned your head back to face him, it became clear to him, off the look in your eyes, that you didnāt know who he was.
āItās me, itās Baelor.ā
āBaelorā¦ā you said, voice in a daze as if somewhere far away. His heart stopped.
Did you not know who he was?
āMy husband is Baelor. Prince Baelor.ā
āYes, yes my heart, itās me.ā
āYou.ā You said, looking at him as if studying a map. Then your eyes lit up. āBaelor. I know your voice.ā
You knew him, you knew his voice, but you didnāt know his face.
āWe need to get you to a maester, can you walk?ā he asked. You looked down at yourself, his eyes followed yours and locked onto where red glistened and seeped from under your armour.
āMy leg,ā you started, but werenāt able to get more out before he shifted and hooked an arm under your knees and the other under your arms. Your sword slipped from your hand as he lifted you up and started carrying you away, the kingsguard was still following, and if Baelor spent more than a second unfocused on you heād notice Lord Ashford and a few other nobles gathering and following behind him too.
But he wasnāt wasting time on anyone else right now. Just you, and getting you to help. You were heavier, thanks to the layers of armour, but he knew taking you to a maester would be faster than waiting for one to come to you. Heād get you to them as quickly as he could regardless.
āYou have a cut over your left ear, can you put your hand over it for me?ā he asked.
You weakly raised your hand, and held it over your head, but with how you were coming down from the height of the fight you were getting tired. Instead of holding your hand there, you seemed to jam it between your broken head and his shoulder, keeping it in place that way.
Pride swelled in him, for even with your tiredness he had such a smart wife.
He kept on toward the Ashford house, paying no mind to how heād left behind Maekar and Aerion, and Duncan. There was nothing else on his mind except how youād fought, got injured, and no longer knew his face.
Was his face the only face you didnāt know? Could the maester fix it? He desperately hoped so.
Baelor stayed by your side while your wounds were attended to.
The cut on your leg and head both got many stitches after being cleaned up. The bleeding in your mouth came from a vicious self-inflicted bite to the inside of your cheek. Your shoulder had a large purple bruise and you struggled to lift your right arm. But nothing was broken, and with enough rest and good food youād heal in no time, so the Ashford maester said.
As for you not recognizing him, the maester called it face blindness.
You didnāt recognize Maekar either until he started talking in his harsh, unique way, nor Valarr until he turned his head and you saw the white streak in his hair. The maester said it was like seeing a blur, or empty space instead of a face. It could heal on its own, apparently, you might start knowing faces again given time, but he also told Baelor not to hope.
He told Baelor to teach you to recognize people from their voices, their smell, their clothes, and hair instead of their faces. He scoffed at the thought that his eyes alone werenāt enough of an identifier, but then he realised it could be a lot worse.
You could not remember anyone at all. You could be dead.
Days passed and you were recovering well, even if still in pain - the pain had lessened enough for you to start refusing milk of the poppy, so he took it as a good sign. As you recovered, his worry went away, and it gave way to a quiet simmering anger.
He needed to know why you joined the trial.
Youād been recovering well, so everyone said. You struggled to believe it.
Everyone looked like strangers to you now, even the people youād known for years, even the people you loved more than anything else in the world. It felt like it was eating you alive.
But as you recovered, you were finding ways to cope with Baelorās help.
The masters were easy to recognize, as were the kings guards, since they wore the same things every single day. You didnāt put much effort into trying to remember the maesterās voices, the only one you needed to was Baelorās - and youād have time to do that back in Kings Landing.
The guards were harder, they spoke less and all looked the same anyway. You knew their names, and before you could tell them apart even with their visors on - but now that gap was blurred, and you struggled even with force of habit. They were kind about it, understanding. You only had two that frequented, the ones who came with Baelor, ones youād known since you married, so you had little chance of getting their names wrong even if you guessed.
Little Aegon visited, as did the tall Ser Duncan - they were easy to name even without their faces, as a unique duo such as them didnāt exist elsewhere. Duncan had knelt at your beside, pain etched in his voice and settled over his bones, and swore a debt to you for what youād done for him.
Youād done little else except wave him off, saying heād find a better woman to swear himself to given time. You could tell he didnāt quite know what to do with himself at your comment, but Aegon dragged him off somewhere, and you were thankful for the quiet.
Some people took to announcing themselves when they knocked, which you were grateful for. It wasnāt an uncommon practice, especially since you were a Princess of the realm. It also now saved you the embarrassment of explaining yourself over and over again.
Maekar was one, although he almost didnāt need to from how often he visited. You guessed he spent half his time with you, and the other half with Aerion before he was to be shipped off to Lys.
You knew why. It was his blow, his mace that struck your head and blew off your helm. He was the reason you couldnāt see faces anymore, and he blamed himself for it more than you blamed him.
He wasnāt sparing your comfort any expense. Neither he nor Baelor were.
Oh, Baelor. Your precious Prince.
He almost never left your side. All throughout the first visit with the maester, the washing away of blood and dirt and the stitching of wounds - he was there to help, to hold your hand, to distract you from the pain. Drip fed you milk of the poppy until you refused it, along with broth, mulled wine, soft breads, and fruits. Besides that, it had been almost two weeks now and you donāt think youād seen him in anything else than the under armour tunic he wore the day of the trial.
You think it was less grief and worry that made him refuse to change clothes, for he had bathed, and the tunic was always clean. No, you began to believe he was doing it for you. You started to think he thought youād always know it was him if he always wore the same thing.
Although you had half a mind to tell him you think he looked better in his more noble clothes, just so heād seem more presentable.
Besides, no one else spoke to you like he did. You could be blind in a room full of talking people and youād know exactly who he was just from his voice. Spending many days and nights by his side, both filled with chatter, quiet off-hand comments, or murmurs against your ear meant for you alone.
You wondered how youād ever thought to give it all up, give him up, for the sake of a silly trial. Then you remembered how it would be either him or you.
That blow from Maekarās mace couldāve killed him if you didnāt take his place.
āYou do not need to keep hand-feeding me. My strength is almost all returned, and I am not a child.ā you said, although you still took the grape Baelor had pressed to your lips.
Youād been moved while people started packing your room. There had been a lot of items accumulated there over the past few weeks, both your own belongings and gifts of good health left behind by faceless visitors. Now you sat with Baelor in one of the sitting rooms, the walk there was a test of how your leg was healing more than anything else, and while you had a definite limp the pain had subsided.
The rest promised to you once you got there was a good reward for the extra effort needed. Baelor obviously thought you also needed to be fed by his hand as a reward also. It wouldnāt usually be something you refused, but heād been doing it so often that you were beginning to think youād forget how to feed yourself.
āI know. I care for you though, canāt that be a good enough reason.ā
āYou have other things to do. Weāre leaving for Kings Landing tomorrow, you should be spending time with our gracious host and his daughter.ā you said. Looking down toward your lap, the yards of fabric that settled there from your dress, to where ten messy stitches sat under. āPoor girl has just had the worst name day tourney in years.ā
āPerhaps,ā Baelor said, and you didnāt need to look up at him to know a ābutā was coming. āBut I rarely get you alone, and Iād like to use this time to talk to you instead.ā
āAre you going to scold me like a child, as well as feed me like one?ā you said, voice snappy. You caught yourself. Normally you werenāt so ill-tempered without reason. Baelorās finger brushed your jaw, a silent acknowledgment that he understood you didnāt mean it - he wouldnāt take it personally.
Precious prince he may be, but Baelor was also a saint of a husband.
āNo my heart, I donāt think you deserve a scolding.ā he said, āBut I would like an explanation as to why you decided to present yourself as a knight to join the trial. Surely you knew how dangerous it would be, that you could end up like this. Or worse.ā His voice grew soft toward the end.
Baelorās voice didnāt break though, it wasnāt like him to show such raw emotion, especially when talking about something that had obviously been on his mind for a while. But the way his voice lowered let you know he was indeed feeling something. Concern, distress, grief.
You could change that, make him feel how you felt. Concern, distress, and grief but for him and what couldāve been if you hadnāt stepped in.
āDo you know what wouldāve happened to me if I wore armour that was too small?ā you asked.
āIād rather not think about it.ā he said. So you know he knew.
āExactly.ā you said, looking up at him, into the eyes you knew where brown and blue but couldnāt really see anymore. āYou were going to fight, and you were going to wear Valarrās armour. If Maekar hit you like he hit me you wouldāve died. Iād never be able to live without you. The realm wouldnāt either. Everyone would suffer without you.ā you finished softly. Baelorās head reached out and his fingers brushed against yours.
āAnd you think that it wouldnāt be the same for you.ā
āDo you think anything would change if I had died?ā you said, voice still quiet but no longer soft. There was an edge there that you doubted you couldāve hid even if you were trying to. āIād be buried, youād grieve, everyone would move on. It would not be the same for you. Your sons, brother, father and mother, the whole of Kings Landing wouldnāt be the same without Baelor Breakspear.ā
āYouāre wrong.ā Baelor said, voice stern like he was saying a warning. Like he was daring you to try and argue further. āI wouldāve died that day and every day after it if you left me here alone. Iāve lost a wife once, I am never doing it again.ā
You could feel from the warmth of his fingers and the way his thigh pressed against yours against your side that he wasnāt going to back down on this subject.
You were loved. Important. Irreplaceable. Just like he was.
Your death may not rock the realm like his would, but it wouldāve rocked him - it wouldāve affected the realm anyway. He wouldnāt be able to serve it the same if you werenāt at his side.
Nodding, you hummed as you pressed your cheek into his hand, yielding the verbal battle. He quietly pressed a kiss to your temple, the side unaffected by his brotherās mace. You both had come to an understanding.
Then, just as quiet, you added, āI suppose then I too was as guilty as I was innocent. I was granted life, but at a cost.ā
āIf you had any guilt in you for joining the trail,ā Baelor started, āthen mine wouldāve killed me. Your heart was pure in that you fought to protect me. Mine was guilty because I knew the king's guards couldn't lay their hands on me. You were right to join, and you are blessed now with your life.ā
You hummed again, something mild to signal to him you were listening. Then you lent over and brushed your nose against his before giving him a soft kiss.
āNo more of this,ā you said, still close to his lips, āThe trial is over. You are alive, so am I.ā
āAs you wish, my heart. No more of this.ā he said.
The rest of your day was uneventful.
Lord Ashfordās daughter, Gwin, came to visit you. You hadnāt spent much time with her before the trial, normally you wouldnāt spend a whole day with a lord's daughter, but you were of the opinion that it might make up for how bad her name day tourney went.
She was a little odd, but was still very sweet. At the very least her conversation was entertaining, which was a quality a lot of ladies of the court in Kings Landing lacked. Severely.
Baelor came and went, but spent most of the day with you too. When it was nearly time for dinner, one of the attendants came to collect you both. Last night in Ashfort, youād put in the effort to make one last night of normal possible.
Besides, Gwin seemed happy to get your company one more time, and you felt you didnāt want to say no to her.
The man came, told you dinner was being served, and then turned to lead both you and Baelor to the dining hall. The memory of his face turned to a blur, all except forā¦
āBaelor,ā you said, leaning into your husband as the attendant waited outside. He grasped your arm as if worried you were having a spell.
āYes?ā he asked.
You turned and looked up at him. Waiting a few moments, like waiting for the memory to fade only it never did.
The maester said perhaps your perception of faces could return with enough time but you didnāt want to hope. It seemed too good to be true. Even now it still felt too good to be true.
But the memory didnāt fade.
āThat manās eyes are brown.ā
āNo bad one unrewarded.ā
(You've come this far; remember to support the writing you love by giving a reblog <3)
Summary: Jack Abbot gets drunk. This is rare. This is unexpected. This is apparently also how you end up standing at your bedroom window in Pittsburgh, staring down at your husband while he recites Shakespeare on the lawn like a very handsome, very intoxicated theater kid with excellent lung capacity. He is romantic. He is committed. He is loud. You are in pajamas. The neighbors may never recover. Eventually, you get him inside, get him sitting on the edge of the bed, and attempt to help him into sweatpants while he becomes deeply concerned about your honor, your reputation, and the fact that his legs ādonāt match.ā Jack Abbot is steady under pressure. Drunk Jack Abbot is apparently one balcony away from a community noise complaint.
Warnings: married Jack Abbot x Reader, drunk Jack, alcohol use, established relationship, romantic comedy chaos, Shakespeare recitation, public embarrassment, Pittsburgh setting, responsible spouse caretaking, suggestive humor, changing clothes while drunk, prosthetic leg removal handled casually and respectfully, soft domestic intimacy, dramatic husband behavior.
Author's Note:
This one is for everyone who has ever wondered what would happen if Jack Abbot got drunk enough to become both romantic and theatrical. The answer is Shakespeare. Outside your window. At night. You have to retrieve your husband before the neighbors start calling in noise complaints, then get him upstairs, undressed, into sweatpants, prosthetic off, and safely into bed while he behaves like a scandalized Victorian man being compromised by his own legal wife.
He is dramatic.
He is devoted.
He is very lucky he is cute.
Xoxo, Del
You were asleep when the first little tap woke you up.
At least, you were pretty sure you had been asleep. It was the heavy kind of sleep you earned after two back-to-back shifts, a shower hot enough to steam the whole mirror, and half an episode of a show you absolutely could not remember choosing.
The bedroom was dark. The house was quiet. The sheets smelled like laundry detergent and Jackās shampoo because he had a habit of showering, crawling into bed with damp hair, and pretending he was not actively ruining your pillowcases.
Another tap near the glass.
Tiny.
Sharp.
Distinct.
You opened one eye.
For a second, you thought it was weather. Pittsburgh did weird things at night sometimes. Wind. Branches. Rain pattering sideways against the glass.
Then a third sound.
Tap.
A pause.
Tap tap.
You stared at the ceiling.
āWhat the fuck.ā you whispered to no one.
From outside, faint but unmistakable, came a manās voice.
āBut soft.ā
Your eyes widened.
Oh my god.
āBut soft,ā the voice repeated, louder this time. āWhat light through yonderāyonderāfuck.ā
You sat up so fast the comforter slipped to your waist.
There was a muffled shout from outside, followed by laughter. Loud, wheezing, helpless laughter.
Robby.
You threw the covers back, crossed the room, and shoved the curtain aside.
Your husband was standing in the front yard.
Jack Abbot, attending physician, homeowner, allegedly grown man, was in the grass beneath your bedroom window with his jacket half-zipped, his hair a disaster, one shoulder slightly lower than the other, as if balance were a concept he respected but did not currently possess.
One hand was braced against his chest.
The other held what looked like a fistful of gravel from the edge of the driveway.
On the sidewalk behind him stood Robby, bent almost in half, one hand planted on his own knee while he laughed hard enough to shake. He looked drunk in the reckless, sparkly-eyed way that meant he was going to make every bad decision worse on purpose.
Shen leaned against the mailbox with the loose, happy posture of a man who was buzzed enough to be philosophical and rapidly approaching drunk enough to consider himself useful.
Crus stood near the curb beside his car, arms folded, completely sober and spiritually exhausted.
Jack saw your face appear behind the glass.
Everything in him lit up.
āLady,ā he said.
You blinked down at him.
Robby made a noise like a balloon losing air.
āLady?ā you repeated, mostly to yourself.
Jack lifted his chin with tremendous dignity. āLady in the window.ā
Crus looked up at you and mouthed, āI am so sorry.ā
You unlocked the window. āJackāā
Outside, Jack was already winding up again.
You pushed the window open.
A tiny piece of driveway gravel sailed through the gap and hit you softly in the chest.
For one perfect second, no one moved.
You looked down at the pebble where it bounced off your sweatshirt and landed on the floor.
Then you looked back out the window.
Jack stood in the yard with his hand still raised, his face draining of every ounce of drunken triumph. āOh no.ā
Robby slapped both hands over his mouth.
Shen went very still against the mailbox.
Crus closed his eyes like he had expected disaster, but was still disappointed by its form.
Jack took one horrified step backward. āI struck my lady.ā
āYou threw a pebble,ā you said.
āI struck her.ā Jack turned on Robby, devastated. āWhy did you let me throw rocks at her?ā
Robbyās eyes widened. āI did not authorize the courtship rocks.ā
Jack looked at Robby, confused, āThey werenāt your idea?āĀ
āNo!ā Robby exclaimed as if he had been accused of first-degree murder.Ā
Crus pointed at Jack. āThey were your idea.ā
Jack looked back up at you, appalled by himself. āI would never harm you.ā
You press your lips together in an attempt to stop your smile, āI know, Jack.ā
His gaze dropped to your sweatshirt.
Then his expression changed.
Just slightly. Concern stayed there. Guilt stayed there. But something else arrived.
Something drunker. Stupider.
Very much your husband.
Jack squinted. āDid that go down your shirt?ā
You stared at him.
Robby inhaled sharply.
Crus shook his head.
Jack lifted one hand, very serious and very helpful. āI can get it for you.ā
The sidewalk exploded.
āAbsolutely not,ā Crus said.
Robby bent fully at the waist, laughing so hard he nearly folded himself in half. āChaperone! They need a chaperone! This is improper!ā
Shen lifted one finger, swaying with grave importance. āA matter of decorum has presented itself.ā
Jackās face snapped from hopeful to offended. āI was being medically helpful.ā
āYou were offering to put your hand up her shirt,ā Crus said.
Jack looked deeply wounded. āI am a doctor.ā
āYou are drunk,ā Crus replied, rolling his eyes.Ā
Jack frowned, as if this were technically accurate but spiritually irrelevant.
You picked the tiny pebble up from the floor and held it between two fingers. āItās the size of a Tic Tac.ā
Jackās eyes locked onto it. His shoulders dropped in relief. Then he winced all over again.Ā
āNo more rocks!ā he announced.
Robby straightened just enough to salute. āEnd of an era.ā
Jack looked back up at you, still guilty, still giddy, still completely obsessed. āAre you sure it didnāt go down your shirt?ā
āJack.ā You're warned, fighting a smile.Ā
Jackās brow furrowed, āRespectfully.ā
āNo.ā You told him.Ā
He nodded immediately, solemn as a vow. āRight. Boundaries.ā
Crus pointed at him. āHands where I can see them, Romeo.ā
Jack lifted both hands. One was still full of gravel.
You raised your eyebrows.
He looked at the gravel, horrified all over again, and opened his hand. The tiny rocks were scattered into the grass.Ā
āThe rocks are retired,ā Jack announces.Ā
Shen nodded. āA noble sacrifice.ā
You should have closed the window then. You should have told him to come inside. You should have reminded him that neighbors existed and that Crus looked one stern glance away from calling time of death on the evening.
Instead, your eyes drifted toward the porch.
The tiny blue light above the doorbell camera blinked steadily in the dark.
Recording.Ā
Oh.
Oh, this was a gift.
You glanced toward the corner of the garage, where the driveway camera sat angled toward the front yard. Also recording. You folded your arms on the windowsill and tried very hard to make your face neutral.
āGo on, Romeo,ā you called down.
Crusās head snapped toward you. āDo not encourage him.ā
Too late.
Jackās face opened like you had handed him a sword and a reason.
Robby pointed up at you, delighted. āSheās making him worse.ā
āShe appreciates theater,ā Jack said.
āYou donāt know theater,ā Crus said.
Jack gave him a wounded look. āI know my lady.ā
Robby made a strangled sound. āYour lady?ā
Jack turned on him. āYes.ā
Crus stared at him. āYour wife.ā
Jack froze.
Then, very slowly, he looked back up at your window. āWeāre married?ā
Your smile started before you could stop it. āWe are.ā
His whole face lit. Not soft, exactly. Not sad. Not even sentimental.
Just pure, stunned delight.
Like someone had woken him in the middle of the night and told him he had won the best thing in the world, then pointed to you as proof.
āFuck yeah,ā Jack murmured.Ā
Robby doubled over. āOh, heās happy about it.ā
Shen nodded, solemn and wobbly. āAs he should be.ā
Crus rubbed a hand over his face. āHe has been happy about it for years.ā
Jack ignored all of them.
He was looking up at you again, bright-eyed and entirely too pleased with himself.
āMy wife,ā he said, testing it out.
You nodded, āYes.ā
His grin widened. āFuck yeah.ā
āJack,ā Crus said, āyou cannot just keep rediscovering your marriage.ā
Jack did not look away from you. āWatch me.ā
Then he lifted one hand toward your window again, suddenly possessed by the urgent need to continue.
āBut soft.ā
Robby wheezed. āHeās going back in.ā
Jack cleared his throat with the unearned confidence of a man about to ruin literature.
āBut soft,ā he repeated. āWhat light through yonderā¦ā
He frowned.
The line had apparently vanished.
āWhat light through yonderā¦ā Jack tried again, squinting at your window like the answer might be written on the glass. āThrough yonderā¦ house hole.ā
Robby howled.
Crus leaned towards Jack, āWindow.ā
āI know,ā Jack snapped, then looked back up at you and immediately softened. āWindow.ā
You leaned your chin into your hand, trying so hard not to smile too wide because every tiny bit of encouragement made him more powerful.
Jack saw anyway. Of course he did.
Ā His grin went crooked and giddy. āShe likes this.ā
āNo, she doesnāt,ā Crus said.
āI do,ā you called down.
Crus looked up at you. āYou are creating a monster.ā
You shrugged, āHeās already my monster.ā
Jackās mouth fell open.
Robby slapped Shenās arm. āOh, that got him.ā
Jack stared up at you, dazzled. āIām yours?ā
āYouāre mine.ā You confirmed.Ā
He turned toward the guys, almost vibrating with joy. āIām hers.ā
āWe know, youāre married to her. ā Crus said.
Jack looked back up at you, needing it from the only source that mattered. āI am?ā
You were laughing now. āYou are.ā
Jack grinned, āFuck yeah.ā
Then he remembered his mission.
His expression shifted back into concentration, but it was different now. Less performance for performanceās sake and more desperate translation. Like his drunk brain had decided regular words were not enough for what you looked like in that window, wearing his sweatshirt, smiling down at him with sleep-warm eyes and messy hair.
He did not know Shakespeare.
You were sure of that.
Jack had once referred to a sonnet as āone of those fancy rectangles.ā He had complained about mandatory high school English with the same tone he used for hospital printer jams. He did not casually quote old plays.
But apparently, somewhere inside him, beneath the whiskey and whatever terrible thing Robby had talked him into ordering, a few broken pieces of Romeo and Juliet had survived.
And tonight, because he was drunk and in love and staring up at you, his brain had decided those pieces were the only tools worthy of the job.
āWhat light through yonder windowā¦ā Jack paused, fought for the word, and then looked offended by his own mouth. āFucks.ā
Crus sighed. āBreaks.ā
Jackās brow furrowed deeply, āThatās what I said.āĀ
āYou said fucks.ā Crus corrected.Ā
Jack glared at him with a frown, āEmotionally, I said breaks.ā
Shen nodded. āI understood him.ā
āYou are not helping,ā Crus said.
Jack ignored them, his gaze locked on you.
āWhat light through yonder window breaks,ā he said again, mangled but determined. āIt is the east, and Juliet is the sun.ā
He stopped. His brow furrowed. āNo.ā
You tilted your head. āNo?ā
Jack shook his head with deep seriousness. āNot Juliet.ā
Robby made a tiny dying sound.
Jack pointed up at you, eyes bright and unfocused and absolutely full of you. āMy lady is the sun.ā
Your breath caught around your laugh.
Jack looked frustrated now. Not with you. Never with you. With the words. With the fact that he had this whole impossible feeling in his chest and only scraps of half-remembered Shakespeare, curse words, and driveway gravel to work with.
āYou are,ā he insisted. āYouāre the sun. And the moon isāā
He looked up, squinting into the dark sky. āThe moon is fucked.ā
Crus exhaled through his nose. āThat is not Shakespeare.ā
āIt is now,ā Shen said.
Jack kept looking at you.
āYouāre more beautiful than the fucking moon,ā he said, rough and certain. āAnd I donāt know if the stupid moon knows that, but I do.ā
You pressed your lips together.
There he was.
Your ridiculous husband. Your drunk, swaying, gravel-holding husband, publicly destroying Shakespeare on your lawn because he loved you so much he needed bigger words than his own and kept breaking the bigger words in half.
Robby cupped both hands around his mouth. āSay more about the moon!ā
Jack whipped around. āDo not tell me how to court my lady.ā
Robby gasped. āYour lady?ā
Jack narrowed his eyes. āYes.ā
Crus sighed. āYour wife.ā
Jack immediately turned back toward the window. āWeāre married?ā
You nodded. āWe are.ā
That joy hit him all over again. āFuck yeah.ā
Shen sighed dreamily. āEvery time, it lands.ā
āIt has happened four times,ā Crus muttered.
Jack was not listening. He had apparently reloaded the romance. He took one dramatic step closer to the house and nearly tripped over the landscaping.
Crus moved automatically, one hand half-raised.
Jack caught himself and pointed down, āSabotage.ā
āThat is a shrub,ā Crus said.
āA treacherous shrub.ā Jack glared down at the shrub.Ā
Robby staggered a step and caught himself on Shenās shoulder. āThis is the best night of my life.ā
āYou threw up behind the bar,ā Shen reminded him.
āSecond-best night of my life.ā Robby amended.
Jack cleared his throat.
The yard went quiet.
He looked up at you, full of giddy purpose.
āTell them to leave,ā Jack said, without looking away from you. āIām courting you.ā
You leaned against the window frame. āYou live here.ā
Jack visibly brightened. āThen let me in.ā
āUse your key.ā You replied.Ā
Jack patted one pocket. Then the other. Then his jacket. Then his jeans again, with increasing distress.
His face fell. āI left it in the carriage.ā
Shen lifted one hand. āHe means the car.ā
āThe Honda,ā Robby added.
Crus pointed toward the curb. āThe car he escaped from at a red light.ā
āIt was stopped,ā Robby said.
Crus turned to him, āAt a red light.ā
āThatās stopped,ā Robby argued.Ā
Jack ignored them. He was still staring up at you, wounded. āI donāt have my key.ā
You looked down at him, āI can see that.ā
āI would like to come inside.ā He said, lower lip pressing out.Ā
You gestured down at the lawn. āYou were courting me.ā
āI can court you indoors,ā Jack replied instantly.Ā
Robbyās head snapped up. āOh,ā he said.
Crus immediately said, āNo.ā
Robby pointed at Jack, drunk and thrilled with his own incoming damage. āWait. If youāre courting a lady, you need a chaperone.ā
Jack froze.
You covered your mouth.
Robby nodded, warming to the bit. āHistorically. Otherwise, itās improper.ā
Shen pushed off the mailbox, eyes bright with buzzed seriousness. āThere would be whispers. Her honor would be ruined amongst high society.ā
Jack went completely still. Then his face changed.
Jack lifted his chin. āI will duel Shen for inferring an insult to her honor.ā
Crusās mouth tightened. āImplying.ā He stepped forward. āNo one is dueling anyone.ā
Jack whipped around and pointed to him, āDonāt correct my vows of violence.ā
āI was defending her honor,ā Shen said, pressing a hand to his chest.
āYou said it could be ruined,ā Jack argued.Ā
Shen looked over to Robby, āBy Robbyās fake chaperone rules.ā
Robby held up both hands. āI stand by the rules.ā
Crus pointed at him. āYou are not helping.ā
Jack looked back up at you, devastation written all over his drunk, beloved face. āHe spoke of your honor.ā
You were laughing so hard that you had to grip the window frame. āHe was being dramatic.ā
āIām being dramatic.ā Jack gestured to himself. āHe was being defamatory.ā
Shen turned to Crus. āIs he using legal words correctly?ā
āNo,ā Crus answered.Ā
Robby nodded. āI think heās doing great.ā
Jack took one unsteady step toward Shen.
Crus moved fast, catching the back of Jackās jacket in one fist. āAbsolutely not.ā
Jack kept pointing. āPistols. At dawn.ā
Shen straightened, solemn and swaying. āI accept.ā
Crus rounded on him. āYou do not.ā
āFor the ladyās honor,ā Shen said.
Jack gasped. āDo not speak of the lady.ā
Shen looked up at you, then back to Jack. āYou challenged me on behalf of the lady.āĀ
āShe is myāā
Jack stopped.
His eyes widened like he had almost said something important and lost it.
Robby saw the opening.
āWife,ā he supplied.
Jack turned immediately toward your window. āShe is?ā
You nodded, grinning helplessly. āI am.ā
The joy detonated across his face. āFuck yeah.ā
Then, without missing a beat, he pointed at Shen again. āBut Iāll still duel him.ā
āNo, you wonāt,ā Crus said.
Jack turns back to the window, āFor her.ā
āJack,ā you said, fighting laughter, ābaby, I donāt need you to duel Shen.ā
Jack looked up at you with enormous sincerity. āYou deserve to be defended.ā
āI am very defended.ā You assure him.Ā
Jack beamed, āBy me?ā
āYes.ā You answer.Ā
That settled him.
Some of the outrage eased from his shoulders. He looked pleased, softened by the idea that he had done something right. Then he turned back to Shen with one final warning finger. āYouāre lucky she is merciful.ā
Shen bowed toward your window. āHer mercy is noted.ā
Robby tried to bow too, immediately lost his balance, and grabbed Crusās shoulder. āLong live the lady of the window.ā
Crus shoved him upright. āEverybody shut up before the neighbors call the police.ā
Jack looked back up at you.
āMy lady,ā he said softly, then brightened again. āMy wife?ā
You nodded. āYour wife.ā
Jack smiled, āFuck yeah.ā
You were going to save the security footage forever.
Jackās face shifted suddenly. He had a new thought. That was never good.
He looked back up at you, deeply serious. āWait.ā
āOh no,ā Crus said.
Jack ignored him.
Ā āIf Iām courting you,ā he said carefully, ādoes that mean we canāt have sex?ā
The entire sidewalk exploded.
Robby made a sound like he had been shot.
Shen turned away, shoulders shaking.
Crus stared up at the sky like he was asking God why he had been assigned this shift.
You pressed your lips together. āJack.ā
āWhat?ā Jack demanded, offended by everyoneās reaction. āIām asking respectfully.ā
You stared at him, āYou are yelling in the yard.ā
āI need to know the rules.ā Jack frowned.Ā
You shook your head, āWeāre married.ā
Jackās head snapped up. āWe are?ā
You stared at him for one beat.
Then you softened, because God help you, it was still so funny. Every single time.
āWe are.ā
His grin came back, immediate and brilliant. āFuck yeah.ā
Robby crouched on the sidewalk, laughing so hard he had one hand braced against the concrete.
Shen nodded with great emotion. āThe sacrament remains intact.ā
āDo not help,ā Crus said.
Jack looked back up at you, still concerned. āSo?ā
āSo what?ā You asked, tilting your head.Ā
Jack frowned deeply, āSo what about the chaperone rules?āĀ
You leaned farther out the window. āNo chaperone rules.ā
Jack looked relieved. Then pleased.Ā
Then a little too pleased.
āBut no sex tonight,ā you added. āYouāre drunk.ā
Jackās expression sobered instantly. Well. As much as it could.
āRight,ā he said, nodding hard. āBoundaries.ā
āExactly.ā You agreed.Ā
āI respect my lady,ā Jack added.Ā
You nodded, āI know.ā
āMy wife?ā He asks, so hopeful.Ā
You smiled. āYour wife.ā
āFuck yeah.ā He grinned.Ā
Robby booed from the sidewalk.
Jack spun so fast he almost lost his balance. Crus tightened his grip on the back of Jackās jacket.
āDo not boo my wifeās boundaries.ā
Robby pointed at him. āYou just checked if she was your wife!ā
Jack pointed right back. āAnd she said yes.ā
Shen lifted one finger. āA valid argument.ā
Crus muttered, āI hate all of you.ā
Jack tilted his head suddenly, studying the side of the house.
Your smile faded a little. You knew that look. It was the look he got when he decided a patient was lying about taking all their antibiotics. The look he got when a vending machine stole his money. The look he got when Robby said something so stupid that Jack had to pause before answering because violence had become a real possibility.
Determination.
āOh no,ā Crus said again.
Jack pointed up at you. āIām coming up.ā
You straightened immediately. āNo, you are not.ā
Jack nodded enthusiastically, āI am.ā
āJack.ā You warned.Ā
He pointed at you, āRomeo climbed.ā
Robby, delighted, whispered, āDid he?ā
Shen squinted at the house. āI donāt think thatās structurally sound.ā
Jack ignored them. āI will climb to you.ā
āNo,ā you said, louder this time.
He looked wounded. āYou donāt believe in me?ā
āI believe you are drunk.ā You replied.Ā
He raised a fist in the air, āFor love.ā
āFor whiskey.ā You corrected.Ā
Robby lifted one finger. āAnd tequila.ā
āAnd tequila,ā you add.
Jack nodded solemnly, accepting the record. Then he took a step toward the house.
Crus tightened his grip on the back of Jackās jacket. āAbsolutely not.ā
Jack tried to keep walking and got nowhere.
For one ridiculous second, your husband simply leaned forward, legs moving slightly, while Crus held him in place like a misbehaving golden retriever.
Robby lost what little remained of his composure.
Shen put both hands over his mouth.
You slapped a palm against the window frame. āJack Abbot, stop trying to climb the house.ā
Jack looked up at you, betrayed. āIām courting you.ā
You pointed at the lawn, āYou can court me from the ground.ā
āIām too far away,ā Jack said with a frown.
You sighed, āYou are twelve feet away.ā
āExactly,ā he said, with heartbreaking seriousness, āit is unbearable.ā
And there it was.
The stupid, sweet thing under all the chaos.
You looked down at him.
At your husband, drunk and swaying and ridiculous, held in place by the back of his jacket, still staring up at you like the whole world had narrowed to your face in the window.
You sighed, mostly for show. āStay there. I am coming down to open the door.ā
Jack went very still. Then his whole face lit up. āYouāre coming down?ā
āYes.ā You confirmed.Ā
His eyes widened, āTo me?āĀ
You nodded, āYes, Jack.āĀ
He turned toward the guys, triumphant. āSheās coming down.ā
Robby wiped tears from his eyes. āYeah, Romeo. Because you tried to scale the house.ā
Jack shrugged, āLove requires risk.ā
Crus tightened his grip. āLove requires you not making me go into the ER on my night off.ā
Shen nodded. āA noble point.ā
Jack looked back up at you. āDonāt rush. Iāll wait forever.ā
Crus said, āYou could not wait through a red light.ā
Jack did not miss a beat. āThat was different. My lady was in the house.ā
Robby opened his mouth.
Jack immediately looked up at you. āWife?ā
You laughed. āWife.ā
Jack nodded, āFuck yeah.ā
You closed the window before he could see what that did to your face. By the time you got downstairs, the front yard had only gotten louder.Ā
You opened the front door just as Robby said, āI still think chaperone rules apply.ā
Jack, standing at the bottom of the steps with Crusās hand still fisted in the back of his jacket, gasped like he had been stabbed. āMy wife said no chaperone.ā
āI did say that,ā you confirmed.
Jack turned.
The second he saw you in the doorway, everything else disappeared from his face.
He looked at you like he had forgotten the house, the street, the guys, the gravel, the moon, the duel, and every failed line of Shakespeare.
āThere she is,ā he said.
It was quiet.
Too quiet for the amount of chaos that had come before it.
Your smile softened. āHi, Romeo.ā
Jack took one careful step toward you. Crus released his jacket but stayed close, ready.
Jack made it up the first porch step. Then the second.
He stopped in front of you, swaying slightly, eyes warm and unfocused and giddy all over again.
āI was wooing you.ā
āI noticed.ā You replied.Ā
He leaned in, āDid it work?ā
You looked past him at the yard.
Robby was giggling now. Shen was leaning against the mailbox again, smiling like he had witnessed something sacred. Crus stood on the walkway with the dead-eyed patience of a man who had kept three drunk medical professionals alive and received no thanks for it.
Then you looked back at your husband.
At his messy hair. His flushed cheeks. The tiny piece of gravel was still stuck to his palm. The stupid, pleased hope in his face.
āYes,ā you said. āIt worked.ā
Jackās smile went bright. āFuck yeah.ā
Robby groaned. āGod, marriage is disgusting.ā
Jack turned just enough to glare at him. Then he paused.
Slowly, he looked back at you. āWeāre married?ā
You laughed, unable to help it. āYes.ā
His delight was immediate. āFuck yeah.ā
Robby pointed at him. āSee? Disgusting.ā
Jack turned back. āYouāre alone.ā
Robby clutched his chest. āLow blow, Romeo.ā
āGo home,ā Jack said. āI have been received.ā
Crus looked at you. āPlease take him.ā
You smiled, āIāve got him. Thank you, Crus.āĀ
Jack immediately leaned toward you, pleased by the words.
You caught him with both hands against his chest. āShoes off inside. Water. Bed. No climbing anything.ā
He nodded seriously. āBoundaries.ā
āExactly.ā You agreed.Ā
Robby booed from the sidewalk again.
Jack spun so fast he had to grab the doorframe. āDo not boo my wifeās boundaries.ā
Then he glanced down at you. āMy wife?ā
You patted his chest. āStill me.ā
āFuck yeah.ā
Shen lifted both hands. āI would never boo boundaries.ā
āI still might duel you,ā Jack said.
āFor defending her honor?ā Shen asked.Ā
Jack glared, āFor bringing it up.ā
Crus hooked a hand around Robbyās arm and started dragging him toward the car. āWeāre done.ā
Robby waved at you. āSend the security footage!ā
Jack froze. Slowly, he turned toward the doorbell camera.
The little blue light blinked back at him.
Then he looked at you. You smiled.
Jack narrowed his eyes. āHow long has that been recording?ā
āThe whole time.ā You answered.Ā
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Robby screamed from the curb, āDirectorās cut!ā
Crus shoved him toward the car. āGet in.ā
Shen bowed one more time toward you. āGoodnight, lady of the window.ā
āGoodnight, Shen.ā You called back.Ā
Jack pointed at him. āRespectfully.ā
āRespectfully,ā Shen agreed.
You slipped your hand around Jackās wrist and tugged gently. āInside.ā
Jack followed immediately.
The second the door closed behind him, the night noise muffled. The laughter outside faded toward the street. Crusās car doors opened and shut. Robby shouted something unintelligible. Shen answered with something that sounded like philosophy but was probably nonsense.
Inside, the house was warm and dim.
Jack stood in the entryway, blinking like he had crossed into another realm.
You took the last piece of gravel from his palm.
He looked down at it. āMy rock.ā
āYouāre done with that.ā You replied.Ā
His eyes found yours, āIt worked.ā
āIt hit me.ā You said.Ā
His face fell all over again. āI know.ā
āVery gently.ā You added with a smile.
Jack frowned, shaking his head. āI wounded my lady.ā
āYou booped my sweatshirt with gravel.ā You corrected him.
His frown deepened. āStill bad.ā
You softened despite yourself and held up the pebble between you. āIām keeping it.ā
Jack stared at it. Then at you. āYou are?ā
āYes.ā You answered.Ā
His entire expression brightened. āThe courtship rock.ā
āThe courtship rock,ā you agreed.
He looked very pleased with himself for about half a second.
Then he looked toward your chest again. āAre we sure it didnātāā
āJack.ā
He nodded, āRight. Boundaries.ā
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself, and dropped the pebble into the small ceramic bowl where you usually kept keys.
Jack watched you do it. Then he looked at the bowl. Then at you.
āDo I live here?ā
You stepped closer, unzipping his jacket. āYes, Jack.ā
āWith you?ā He asked.Ā
You pulled the zipper free. āYes.ā
His face lit again, tired and pleased and still so delighted by the answer. āFuck yeah.ā
You laughed under your breath and pushed the jacket off his shoulders. āArms.ā
He obeyed, but only barely. His balance was not great, and he kept watching you like he was afraid you might vanish if he looked away.
You hung his jacket over the railing.
āShoes,ā you said.
Jack looked down at his feet. Then back up at you. āI have shoes on.ā
āYou do.ā You confirmed.Ā
Jack nodded gravely, āGood.ā
You guided him to sit on the bottom step.
He dropped heavily, then immediately reached for your hand. His fingers wrapped around yours, warm and clumsy. āAreĀ you mad?ā
āYou threw rocks at our window.ā You replied.Ā
Jack tilted his head, āCourtship rocks.ā
āYou hit me with one.ā You countered.Ā
His face crumpled. āMy greatest shame.ā
āYou tried to climb the house.ā You added.Ā
Jack looked at you, āFor romance.ā
āYou threatened to duel Shen.ā You replied.Ā
Jack sighed deeply, āFor your honor.ā
You huffed a laugh, āYou forgot we were married at least six times.āĀ
His thumb moved over your knuckles. āBut I asked you,ā he said.
You looked down at him.
He was smiling up at you, drunk and tired and so pleased with himself for that one piece of logic.
āYou did,ā you said quietly.
āYou know the true things.ā He murrmed.Ā
āI do?ā You asked.Ā
He nodded gravely. āWife things.ā
You smiled and bent to untie his shoes. āWife things.ā
He brightened. āMy wife?ā
You looked up at him. āYes.ā
His grin came back, softer now but still giddy. āFuck yeah.ā
And that was the problem with Jack.
Even when he was a public menace with gravel.
Even when he mangled Shakespeare in the front yard.
Even when he almost started an honor duel with Shen, he tried to scale the siding like the house was a castle wall.
He always managed to say one thing that slipped under your ribs and stayed there.
You bent and kissed his forehead.
His eyes closed immediately. āThere,ā he murmured.
You pulled back just enough to look at him. āThere?ā
He nodded, eyes still closed. āMy lady.ā
You softened.
Then he opened one eye. āWife?ā
You nodded, āYes, Romeo. Wife.ā
āFuck yeah.ā He grinned.Ā
You got him up the stairs with significant effort. Mostly because Jack was determined to be helpful in ways that were not helpful. He tried to remove his shoes while standing, even though you had already removed them. You stopped him. He tried to take off his shirt halfway up the stairs. You stopped that, too. He paused on the landing to tell you, very sincerely, that the moon had deserved what he said.
By the time you got him into the bedroom, Jack was mostly upright through sheer stubbornness and your hand at his waist.
āSit,ā you said, guiding him toward the edge of the bed.
Jack dropped onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, then looked up at you with enormous sincerity. āWife voice.ā
You paused. āWhat?ā
He pointed at you, swaying slightly even while seated. āYou used the voice.ā
āI used wife voice.ā You confirmed.Ā
His face softened immediately. āWife?ā
You smiled. āWife.ā
His whole expression lit. āFuck yeah.ā
You knelt in front of him and reached for his belt buckle.
Jack looked down, scandalized. āMy lady.ā
āIām taking your belt off.ā You replied, pulling the leather through the loops.Ā
āMy love,ā he said, lowering his voice like the room might be bugged by high society, āwe are alone.ā
āWe live together.ā You told him.Ā
He gasped softly. āScandal.ā
āMarriage,ā you corrected, loosening one shoe.
Jack blinked. Then he looked at you, hopeful. āWeāre married?ā
You nodded, āYes, baby.ā
āFuck yeah.ā He murmured.Ā
You slipped the belt free, then set it beside the bed. Jack watched the whole process with the solemn focus of a man witnessing a ceremony.
Then his gaze dropped to his legs.
He stared for a second. His brow furrowed. āMy legs donāt match.ā
You pressed your lips together so you would not laugh directly in his face.
āNo,ā you said gently. āThey donāt.ā
Jack looked up at you, eyes wide with drunk discovery. āDid you know?ā
āI had noticed.ā You answered.Ā
He absorbed that with grave importance. Then nodded once. āGood.ā
āGood?ā
āYouāre observant.ā His hand landed clumsily over his heart. āGood wife.ā
You pointed at him. āDonāt make good wife sound cute right now.ā
Jack smiled, pleased and unrepentant. āMy wife.ā
āYes.ā You touched his prosthetic side lightly. āLeg?ā
He nodded at once, all trust. āLeg.ā
That was the thing that always got you.
Not the jokes. Not the ridiculous courtship act. Not even the way he kept rediscovering your marriage like it was the best news anyone had ever given him.
It was the trust.
The way he let you close without bracing for it. The way he let your hands move through a routine that had become as ordinary as turning down the sheets or setting water on the nightstand.
You knew what to do.
You had done it a hundred times.
You eased the fabric out of the way, found the release with practiced fingers, and carefully helped him out of the prosthetic, setting it where he could reach it in the morning.
Jack watched you, quieter now.
For one second, the drunk performance softened at the edges.
āThere,ā you said.
He looked from the prosthetic to you. āYou take good care.ā
Your chest warmed. āSo do you.ā
Jack considered that. Then frowned. āI threw rocks at you.ā
āTiny rocks.ā You corrected him.
Jack nodded, āCourtship rocks.ā
āOne courtship rock.ā You replied.Ā
He winced. āMy shame.ā
You smiled, āYou survived it.ā
āYou were merciful.ā He said.Ā
You nodded once, āI was.ā
He reached for your hand, warm and clumsy, and squeezed your fingers. āMy lady is merciful.ā
You smiled. āYour wife is tired.ā
His eyes lit again. āWife?ā
You lifted your left hand.
He stared at your rings, then lifted his own hand so you could see his wedding band.
āWeāre married,ā you said.
Jackās grin came back, bright and helpless. āFuck yeah.ā
You stood and reached for the button of his jeans.
Jackās hand flew to his waistband. āMy lady!ā
You looked up at him.
His eyes were wide and deeply, drunkenly solemn. āMy love, you must restrain yourself.ā
You inhaled, āJack.ā
āWe must consider your honor.ā He glanced toward the closed bedroom door, as if Robby might burst in with a chaperone contract. āYour reputation.ā
āJack, baby, we are married.ā You reminded him.Ā
He froze. Then slowly turned back to you. āWe are?ā
You lifted your left hand again and wiggled your fingers.
His eyes locked on your rings. Then you took his left hand and held up his. His wedding band gleamed in the bedside lamplight.
Jack stared at it. Then at yours. Then at you.
His grin spread, slow and delighted. āFuck yeah.ā
āExactly.ā You patted his knee. āSo let me help you change before you fall asleep in jeans.ā
He considered this. Then nodded gravely. āFor comfort.ā
āFor comfort.ā You agreed.
āAnd marriage.ā He added.Ā
You nodded, āAnd marriage.ā
āAnd not dishonor.ā Jack continued.Ā
āNo dishonor.ā You agreed.
Jack relaxed his hand from his waistband with great dignity. āProceed.ā
Once you had gotten Jack successfully into his sweatpants, you got him water from the bathroom. He drank half of it, made a face like water had personally wronged him, then drank the other half because you raised your eyebrows.Ā
Then you helped him under the covers.
He rolled onto his side and reached for you before you were even in bed.
āNo sex,ā you said, climbing in beside him. āYouāre drunk.ā
Jackās eyes opened with sudden seriousness. āRight. Boundaries.ā
āRight.ā
Jack nodded gravely, āI respect my lady.ā
You nodded, āI know.ā
āMy wife?ā He asked, bright and hopeful.Ā
You smiled into the dark. āYour wife.ā
āFuck yeah.ā His arm settled around your waist, heavy and warm. He tucked himself closer, his face pressing into your shoulder, all that theatrical devotion quieting into simple contact.
Outside, Crusās car finally pulled away.
The house settled again.
You stared into the dark, one hand resting over Jackās forearm.
His breathing slowed.
Just when you thought he had fallen asleep, he mumbled, barely audible, āStill the sun.ā
Your throat tightened. You covered his hand with yours. āGo to sleep, Romeo.ā
A pause.
Then, soft and satisfied against your shoulder: āFuck yeah.ā
The Next Day...
Jack woke up to consequences.
Ā The first consequence was pain. His head was splitting. His mouth tasted like old tequila and poor judgment. One of his eyes did not want to open all the way. The room was too bright despite the curtains being mostly closed, and someone had apparently replaced his bones with sandbags.
The second consequence was you.
You were sitting beside him in bed, already showered, wearing leggings and one of his old sweatshirts, sipping coffee with the kind of suspicious cheerfulness that made every instinct in his body go cold.
Jack stared at you through one open eye. āWhy are you smiling like that?ā
You took a slow sip of coffee. āNo reason.ā
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Then buzzed again. Then again.
Jack closed his eye. āNo.ā
Your smile widened. āJack.ā
āNo.ā He said instantly.Ā
You raised a brow, āYou should check the group chat.ā
āIām resigning from the group chat,ā Jack said.Ā
You shook your head, āYou canāt resign from a group chat.ā
āI can resign from medicine,ā Jack replied.Ā
The phone buzzed again.
Jack groaned and reached for it with the despair of a man approaching his own autopsy report.
The first message was from Robby.
ROMEO ABBOT: THE DIRECTORāS CUT
Below it was a video.
The thumbnail showed Jack in the front yard, one hand raised toward the bedroom window, mouth open mid-sentence, body angled with what appeared to be tragic nobility.
Jack stared. His stomach dropped. āWhat,ā he said slowly, āis that?ā
You leaned closer, bright-eyed. āArt.ā
He pressed play.
On the screen, his own drunk voice rang out. āBut softāwhat light through yonder house holeāā
Crusās voice corrected, āWindow.ā
Jack stopped the video. Silence.
You sipped your coffee.
Jack set the phone very carefully on the blanket. āIām deleting Robby from my life.ā
You smiled into your mug, āYou also tried to duel Shen.ā
His eyes closed. āI need to be buried.ā
āYou called them courtship rocks.ā You added,Ā
He opened one eye. āWhat?ā
You pointed toward the dresser. Sitting atop it, in a tiny ceramic dish, were three pieces of driveway gravel.
Jack stared at them. āYou kept them?ā
You smiled, āOf course I kept them.ā
His face changed, just slightly.
Even hungover, even mortified, he softened.
Then he noticed one pebble sitting separately in the center.
His brow furrowed. āWhy is that one in the middle?ā
āThatās the one that hit me.ā You answered.Ā
Jack stared at you. Then at the pebble. Then back at you. āIt hit you?ā
āGently.ā
His face went pale. āWhere?ā
You smiled over the rim of your coffee. āMy sweatshirt.ā
A memory seemed to crawl through the hangover.
Jackās eyes narrowed. Then closed. āOh god.ā
āYou asked if it went down my shirt.ā You said, enjoying the memory.Ā
He did not move.
You pressed your lips together. āYou offered to get it.ā
He pulled the blanket over his face.
From underneath it, muffled and ruined, came, āI was trying to be helpful.ā
āYou were very respectful when I said no.ā You told him.Ā
The blanket lowered just enough for one eye to appear. āI was?ā
āYou were.ā You assured him.Ā
That seemed to make him feel marginally better.
Then his phone buzzed again.
You picked it up before he could stop you. āOh, good. Robby sent another angle.ā
Jack went still. āAnother angle?ā
āWe have the doorbell camera too.ā You explained.Ā
His head turned very slowly toward you. āNo.ā
You nodded, āOh, yes.ā
āYou have security footage?ā He asks.
āFrom two angles.ā You replied happily.Ā
āTwo?ā
You nodded again, āDoorbell and driveway. I sent them to Robby.ā
Jack lowered himself back onto the pillow and covered his face with both hands.
A long silence. Then, muffled, āIām leaving.ā
āYou live here.ā You told him.
He peeked at you through his fingers. āWith you?ā
āYes.ā
He watched you for a beat, hungover and miserable and somehow still hopeful. āWeāre married?ā
You smiled. āWeāre married.ā
A slow grin pulled at his mouth. āFuck yeah.ā
You laughed and leaned down to kiss his temple.
He accepted it with a little hum.
Then he muttered, āDid I at least do okay?ā
You looked at your husband.
At the man who had jumped out of a car at a red light because he could not stand being two blocks away from you. The man who had thrown rocks at your window, accidentally hit your sweatshirt, threatened an honor duel, tried to climb the house, and rediscovered your marriage with fresh joy every single time.
You brushed your fingers through his hair. āYou wooed me.ā
Could you do Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader? She was pregnant and Bridgerton went to a ball. There's a man who makes a move on her and Ben is jealous. Then he saw that the man started to get all touched with his wife and she was clearly uncomfortable. Ben was her knight in shining armor and warned that man š Do it how you want. Thanks !! :))
Handsome Hero
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader
Summary: Benedict's protective instincts flared when an unwanted admirer made his pregnant wife uncomfortable.
Word count: 847
Warnings: Fluff, asshole lord who does not know about boundaries
A/N:
Hi nonnie, I want to thank you for your request and for trusting me with writing your idea! I hope you'll like it xx
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
The grand ballroom of Bridgerton House was abuzz with laughter and lively conversation. The annual summer ball was in full swing, and the air was thick with the sweet fragrance of blooming roses intertwined with the rich aroma of fine wines and exquisite dishes. The grand chandelier sparkled above, casting a warm golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Women in vibrant gowns and men in crisp suits twirled around the dance floor, their movements synchronized to the lively music of the orchestra.
Benedict stood near the refreshment table, a glass of champagne in his hand. His eyes frequently drifted towards his beloved wife, who was standing across the room. You were the epitome of grace, your hand resting gently on your slightly rounded belly, a soft smile gracing your lips as you chatted with Lady Danbury. Your gown, a soft pastel color, accentuated your natural glow, and the delicate lace trim fluttered with each subtle movement.
His heart swelled with love and pride. How radiant you looked tonight, he thought, the very picture of maternal beauty. Your laughter was a melodic counterpoint to the music, a sound that never failed to bring a smile to his face. But even as he basked in his admiration, a shadow of concern crossed his mind. He had noticed a certain gentleman, Lord Prescott, paying you undue attention throughout the evening. Prescott was notorious for his flirtatious behavior, and Benedictās protective instincts were on high alert.
You were in the middle of a conversation with Lady Danbury, her witty remarks keeping you entertained, when you felt Prescottās presence. His voice interrupted your chat, smooth yet unsettling.
āGood evening, Lady Bridgerton,ā he drawled, his eyes glinting with an all-too-familiar mischief. āYouāre looking particularly radiant tonight.ā
You offered a polite but distant smile. āThank you, Lord Prescott. I trust you are enjoying the ball?ā
āOh, immensely,ā he replied, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. He inched closer, his presence imposing. āBut I must say, the evening has just improved considerably.ā
Lady Danburyās sharp eyes flicked between you and Prescott, her brow furrowing slightly. She gave you a subtle nod, recognizing your discomfort and excusing herself with a promise to catch up later.
You tried to steer the conversation towards safer topics, but Prescott was relentless. He leaned in, his hand brushing against your arm. The touch sent a shiver of unease down your spine. You stepped back, but he closed the distance, his fingers trailing down your arm lingering a moment too long.
āSo, tell me,ā he continued, ignoring your clear discomfort. āHow are you finding the evening in your...delicate condition?ā His eyes darted to your belly, a lecherous smile playing on his lips.
You stiffened, trying to maintain your composure. āQuite enjoyable, thank you,ā you replied curtly. āNow, if youāll excuse me, I should rejoin my husband.ā
But Prescott was undeterred. āSurely he wonāt mind if I steal a moment of your time,ā he said, his hand drifting dangerously close to your waist. āItās not often one gets to converse with such a captivating lady.ā
Benedictās heart lurched as he saw the discomfort flash across your face. His protective instincts roared to the surface. Setting his glass down with a decisive clink, he strode across the ballroom, weaving through the throng of guests with purposeful steps.
He arrived just as Prescott leaned in, his hand now resting on your waist. āPrescott,ā Benedictās voice cut through the air, sharp and cold as steel. The man turned, surprise and a hint of fear flickering in his eyes. āI believe my wife has had enough of your company.ā
Prescott straightened, a smirk playing on his lips. āBridgerton, always the gallant knight. We were merely conversing.ā
Benedictās eyes narrowed, his protective instincts roaring to the surface. "From where I stand, it appears you were overstepping the bounds of decency. My wife is clearly uncomfortable."
Prescottās smirk faltered under Benedictās intense gaze. āI suggest you find your entertainment elsewhere,ā Benedict continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. āBefore I forget my manners.ā
Prescott paled slightly, mumbling an apology before slinking away into the crowd.
Benedict turned to you, his expression softening instantly. He gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. āAre you alright, my love?ā he asked, his voice a tender whisper.
You nodded, leaning into his touch. āI am now. Thank you, Benedict.ā
He pulled you into a gentle embrace, careful of your growing belly. āI will always protect you,ā he murmured into your hair. āYou and our child.ā
You smiled, wrapping your arms around him. āI know. Youāre my knight in shining armor. My very handsome hero.ā
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his heart full. āAnd you are my everything.ā
As the music swelled and the dance floor filled once more, Benedict led you to the edge of the room, finding a quiet corner where you could rest and enjoy the rest of the evening in peace. His hand never left yours, a constant reminder of his unwavering love and protection.
A/N: Benedict and Anthony are jealous of the time their wives, you and Kate, spend together. They come up with a (not so) glorious plan to get your attention. Based on a prompt I received.
When Anthony entered the living space, heād certainly not expected to stumble upon Benedict peeking out one of the large windows with the curtain hiding most of his face. He furrowed his brows, waiting to be noticed, but realized after about ten seconds that it was in vain.Ā
He held on to his arm behind his back and shifted slightly on his feet, amusement slowly trickling down his face as he decided to speak. āBrother?ā
Benedict almost ripped down the tender fabric, turning around like a rabbit who heard a dog bark, the curtain swishing almost weightlessly over his head.Ā
āErmā¦ brother!ā He answered in greeting, imitating Anthonyās pose, hands behind back and chest jutted out, while nervously weighing up and down on his feet. His mind seemed to be galloping at high speed to come up with something to say. āWhat nice weather we have today, do we not? Nice indeed!ā
Anthony hummed shortly in agreement, his amused eyes searching his brotherās face to assess the situation. He walked over to the table with the afternoon biscuits to hide his smile and pour himself a cup of tea. Benedict had always been an open book. Whenever one of the brothers had played a prank in their youth, one look at Benedictās face had sufficed to give everything away: who had done it, when they had done it and sometimes even what they had done.Ā
Now was no different.Ā
āTell me,ā Anthony slurred, turning around with a lazy smile, āis whatever you have been spying on, something I should rather not be telling your wife?ā
Benedict stiffened with indignation. āOf course not!!ā His angry glance was burning into Anthonyās until it changed into a pensive one, his eyes looking up towards the ceiling.
āThough it is true that you should rather not tell herā¦ but not for any such reason you might be suggesting!āĀ
Anthony hummed again, the little silver spoon clinking in his tea cup. He took a long sip and made an extra loud smacking noise after he finished. Benedictās eyes grew narrower and narrower. The tension in the air would have been visible to anyone, like a floating purple cloud. Anthony put his tea cup back down and smiled at his brother. And then he was already dashing to the window.Ā
āNo, Anthony!!!āĀ
Benedict cursed, when his brother took a turn about the sofa to confuse him and it actually worked, the younger Bridgerton losing the chase to his former spying position at the window.Ā
āWell, look at that,ā the elder brother exclaimed teasingly, āour two wives conversing in the shade of the trees.āĀ
Then his smirk fell and his brows grew closer together. āOur two wives conversing in the shade of the treesā¦ā he repeated, now with no remaining trace of amusement.Ā
Benedict lifted his brows and nodded. He certainly had not expected his brother to look just as disgruntled as he felt. āAgain!ā He added to Anthonyās phrase, extending his hand and stepping to the window as well, ending up shoulder to shoulder with his brother. āWhat is it they keep talking about? Donāt they ever grow tired of their conversation?ā
Anthony hummed, now in a much more serious manner, his hand moving to his chin to touch it cluelessly. āThey spend an awful lot of time together. I wonder if they are talking about usā¦ā
Benedictās eyes grew in terror. āWhat would they be saying?ā
āHow am I supposed to know?ā Anthony hissed in distress, one hand wandering to his neck tie to loosen it a little. āIs there something you did?ā
āSomethingĀ IĀ did??ā Benedict fired back, his voice uncharacteristically high from a strong feeling of disbelief. āWhat do you suppose I should have done?? Is there something thatĀ youĀ did??āĀ
āOf course not!ā Anthonyās eyes were burning coals, when he turned his head around. They were staring at each other with their uncomfortable, helpless fear of having disgruntled their wives, covering it up with a good portion of self-defending anger. Until Benedict moved up his eyebrows and allowed a small huff of laughter to escape his lips. He dropped his forehead on Anthonyās shoulder and groaned.
āWhat are we doing? Why are we fighting? I donāt even know whatās going on.āĀ
Anthonyās face relaxed at Benedictās words and he as well was shaken by a small sound of amusement considering their behaviour. He patted Benedictās head on his shoulder and looked back down at their wives who were currently laughing at something.Ā
āWe are acting like children,ā he concluded, giving Benedict a self-deprecating glance when he moved his head up again. āDid we really get this dependant on our wives since we married? Can we seriously not bear it to see them be content without us?āĀ
Benedict winced at his brotherās words. āItās come to this. I am jealous of your wife. Now that is a phrase, I never thought Iād utter.āĀ
Anthony chuckled quietly and bumped his shoulder against his brotherās affectionately. āIf itās any consolation, I believe I am subject to the same affliction.āĀ
Benedict grinned at him and Anthony realized that he hadnāt been spending an awful lot of time with his younger brother recently. He looked at him with fondness and placed a hand on his shoulder.Ā
āYou know, I donāt think Iāve ever truly said this to you. But youāve grown into quite the man.āĀ
Benedictās eyes grew large for a second, his surprise moving his features like a curtain, revealing an unexpected fragility. Then it rushed close again, avoiding the showcase of little boy emotions and replacing them with a teasing smirk - it was the Bridgerton way to deal with emotions and Anthony could not blame him for it. āSorry,ā Benedict snickered, holding up his left hand with the wedding ring, āI am already taken.āĀ
Anthony groaned in a good-natured manner, before grabbing his brother and putting him in a headlock, making him break out into boyish giggles that he certainly hadnāt heard in a while.Ā
They stumbled around the room for a while, before Benedict managed to break free, bringing the sofa between them. The jealousy of their respective wives was quite healed as they looked at each other with big grins, both gasping slightly from the effort of their rough-housing.Ā
āLook at that,ā Anthony laughed, putting his hands on the backrest of the silky piece of furniture between them. āWe can still have fun on our own, when itās just the two of us.āĀ
āYou mean,ā Benedict clarified with a grin, āthatĀ youĀ can still have fun by means of torturing me!āĀ
Anthony clicked his tongue and shook his head at him. āCome now! I didnāt even tickle you!āĀ
Narrowing his eyes to slim slits, Benedict took on a more defensive posture. āDonāt even think about it. I am not the least bit ticklish anymore.ā
Anthony barked out a taunting laugh. āOh, sure. Care to put that to the test?ā
Benedict stood up tall and held up an index finger. āI have a way better idea.āĀ
Anthony was curious enough to lend him his ear.Ā
āāāāāāĀ
You liked Kate. You liked her very much. And you were over the moon that the two of you had married a Bridgerton and were now practically family.Ā
She was well-read and funny and liked to make fun of her husband as much as you did of your own. Sometimes, all it took to settle an argument youāve been having with your respective other (not forcibly better) halves was a chat with a good friend. And Kate was one of the best.
Youād been enjoying the afternoon together, chatting about this and that and taking a few breaks within the house to drink a cup of tea and fetch some of the books you wanted to talk about. When, quite rudely, your peaceful conversation was interrupted.Ā
Wailing sounds were the first youād heard of them, before the pair of your husbands came into sight. Benedict was practically hanging from Anthonyās shoulder, the older brother carrying him around the rose bushes in your direction. Red stains on both of their white shirts added up to the fright their sight installed in you.Ā
Kate jumped to her feet, when you were still too stunned from the horrible sounds of pain Benedict was producing to move an inch.
āWhat happened?ā Kate shouted, running closer to them to meet them halfway. Your wobbly legs barely allowed you to get into a standing position. In your mind you were moving through water, as you approached them.
Anthony was sweating slightly from the effort of hoisting your groaning husband through the garden.Ā
āWe were attacked.ā He rasped out, trying to position Benedict in a slightly more comfortable position with his free arm.Ā
āAttacked?ā Kate asked in disbelief. āBy what??ā
āA dog.ā āA bear.ā The brothers responded at the same time. Anthony shot his head around to glare at Benedict who was biting his lip through his rather dramatic groaning. Quickly, the elder Bridgerton recovered from the moment of surprise.Ā
āHeās hallucinating!ā He quickly shot out in an attempt to explain their differing answers.Ā
Kate took a step back and eyed them both suspiciously, but the concern was still visible on both your faces. āWhere did this happen?ā She asked, as you tried to lift Benedictās head with your hands to be able to look at him directly.Ā
His cheeks were surprisingly cold to the touch and you did not manage to find the wound that had caused the red stains on their clothes.Ā
āDoes it matter?ā Anthony hissed at her. āI am glad I was there to save him. The animal was big enough to resemble a small bear indeed!āĀ
āYou didnāt save me,ā Benedict hissed, his stance changing slightly as did his voice. āI chased it away all by myself, you merely found me.ā
With narrowed eyes you watched as Benedict sent a quick glance in your direction. Too quick for your taste. Raising a brow in Kateās direction you suddenly found it hard not to smirk. Kate who had already crossed her arms in front of her chest and was looking at Anthony with a rather unimpressed expression.Ā
āWhatever you say, Benedict,ā Anthony huffed, looking at both of you as if to say that his brother had lost a marble or two. āIād think it best we bring you to your room to allow you to recover.āĀ
āNot before you get the story straight!ā Benedict insisted, the hand that had been holding on to Anthonyās shoulder grabbing him by his nape now. Anthony hissed in pain and loosened his grip on his brother sufficiently to make him slide down Anthonyās side. Benedict cursed and wrapped both arms around his brotherās neck to keep from slipping.Ā
You and Kate were watching the spectacle with growing interest and lessening worry. Whatever was going on, you could not say. But you did know that your beloved husbands were acting out an embarrassing scene in front of you, one, they had apparently memorized so badly that they forgot to act altogether.Ā
āYou are clearly not in your right mind right now,ā Anthony grumbled, wrapping his arms around his brotherās waist to hoist him up again. āYouāre bleeding andā¦ and the blood loss is making you foolish.ā
āFoolish??ā Benedict gasped, his feet searching for solid ground in his outrage. āWho is foolish?ā
āBoth of you quite clearly are.ā You testified lazily, bumping your shoulder against Kateās. āI did not expect to ever see them ridicule themselves to such extents.ā
āNeither did I, to be honest,ā she mumbled, looking on with a growing interest. āIt is rather entertaining.ā
āI agree,ā you responded, when Benedictās stained arm flung in Anthonyās face and left a big red mark on his nose. āWhat do you think they used for the blood? Marmalade?ā
āOh yes, it appears so.ā
āYou ruined it all,ā Anthony rasped furiously, trying to free himself from Benedictās grip and simultaneously wiping at his face.Ā
āI did??ā Benedict growled, keeping Anthony in half a headlock himself by this point. āYou had to go off about being the hero of the day! You made me look weak!ā
āOhh, you want to look weak??ā
You raised your brows in amusement, when Anthonyās fingers started digging into your husbandās ribs, making the younger Bridgerton gasp, before he practically started howling with laughter.Ā
āNO DONāT!!āĀ
Retrieving his arms from around Anthonyās neck, he tried to brush the otherās hands off his middle, but was twitching and cackling too hard to manage any coordinated movement.Ā
āANTHONY NO!!ā He wheezed with laughter, as his brother managed to force him to the ground, the unfortunate position leaving him exposed to Anthonyās mercy.Ā
āI thought you said you werenāt ticklish anymore!ā The elder Bridgerton teased with a mischievous smirk, dwelling in the raucous laughter of his younger brother.Ā
āThat is clearly not the case.ā You chuckled, raising your shoulders cluelessly when Kate sent you a look that basically asked what on earth was happening.Ā
āI suppose these two needed some time alone.ā You concluded, warmth filling your chest at the thought of the brothers spending some quality time together - without their wives.Ā
ā(Y/N)!!!ā Benedict got out between breathless giggles, āHELP ME!!! PLEASE!!āĀ
You chuckled, all anger at the shock the brothers had installed within you wiped away in a single blow.Ā
āAm I to save you from the bear now?ā
Kate laughed at your words and waggled her brows. āI think I can be of bigger support in this situation.ā
Anthony shot his head around at his wifeās words and suddenly jumped off his brother like a cat that got in contact with water, when Kate stalked towards them.
āNO!ā He simply yelled, before taking off, practically running away from his wife, who - never one to shy away from a challenge - chased right after him.Ā
Benedict remained gasping on the ground, his cheeks reddened from laughter and his eyes reflecting the glow that came with the tears mirth could bring about.
You bit down on your lip to keep from smiling and quickly walked over to drop down on top of him, chuckling when he held up his arms defensively. āNo more, please!! No more!ā
Grinning from ear to ear, you took his hands to interlock your fingers. āI think youāve suffered quite enough revenge for your little prank.āĀ
Sheepishly your husband groaned at your words, closing his eyes and tilting back his head. āIt sounded like the perfect plan to get your attention, back when we came up with it.ā
āThatās because you turn into a ninnyhead, when you and your brother are together.ā
With a grin you took in your husbandās indignation.
āDid you just call me a ninnyhead?ā
āThe loveliest ninnyhead of all!ā
Benedict squinted his eyes at you and tried to come up with a retort. Quickly he realized that he had none and instead broke out into soft chuckles. He removed his hands from your grasp and brought them to your hips to pull you even closer to him, your fingers moving to his face to caress his cheeks. āIs it a crime that I was dying to get your attention?ā
āNot at all. It was simply ridiculous. Especially the part with the marmalade!āĀ
Benedict shook his head at himself and even blushed a little. āI suppose love makes you do silly things.ā
You smiled at him, bending down to join your lips together. āLove does. Your love for me surely. But apparently brotherly love is not to be excluded.ā
Benedict snorted, but his eyes revealed the truth of your words. He would always be Anthonyās little brother. And that bond was no less important than the one you two shared.Ā
Hiii! I love all your Tywin fics.. Could I request something where they are shopping and a specific piece catches her eyes and she asks the jeweller about it. The jeweller tells her thats itās already been sold and theres only one like it in the world. Sheās a little disappointed but accepts itā How would Tywin act
Golden pearls
Pairing: Tywin Lannister x wife!reader
Note: Of course! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took me so long. I'm really busy at university at the moment, so I haven't had much time :_)
But I hope you enjoy it anyway, hehe, because I enjoyed writing it
cw: age gap, implied arranged marriage
GIF creds to owner
She never asked for anything. In his opinion, she acted with an inappropriate level of modesty for a Lady Lannister. She lived up to her status, but she never asked for anything more. Tywin had got into the habit of showering her with jewellery; otherwise, she would never have thought to ask for more.
This time, he took her with him to Lannisport to inspect the shipyards and approve the construction of new ships. The lady behaved with dignity; she did not interrupt or interfere unless asked, and her comments were always relevant and worth listening to.
"Your question about the condition of the wood was pertinent," the lord remarked dryly, leading his horse steadily down the street. "We have no use for rotten planks. They will move the storage sheds higher up. If possible, I will sign a contract with them to provide one of our sheds."
"The warehouse on the hill would be suitable," the lady answered quietly. "It is closer than all the others. There is wheat in it at the moment, but that can be moved to the barn at the foot of the rocks. It is dry there, too, and well protected from floods, even if they do happen."
Tywin looked at her. She was looking at the streets, smiling at the street boys who ran past and turned to crane their necks in an attempt to look at the beautiful lady in expensive clothes for longer. Her hair, gathered into a thin net with rubies skilfully woven into the knots, shimmered in the sun.
"You are right," he muttered, glancing briefly at the ruby necklace around her neck. He had given it to her on their wedding day and she still wore it more often than her other jewellery, as if she had no choice, like many ladies from minor houses did. "Get started on clearing out the warehouse."
His wife smiled and squinted at him contentedly.
"I will, my dear."
The clatter of hooves, the chatter of passers-by and the ringing of bells filled the air. He noticed that they were about to pass the jeweller's shop that they had visited for years. Tywin had known the current master's elderly father once upon a time.
"Let's stop at the jeweller's," he said. It was neither a suggestion nor a question. It was a statement of fact that his wife had to obey.
"Why? Do we need anything?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. She tilted her head to one side as she always did when looking at her husband, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind.
"Yes."
There was no continuation, and the lady sighed. How many times had she had to put up with her Lion's unwillingness to provide an explanation? It was time for her to learn to read his mind.
Behind a large merchant's house was a dark workshop where jewellers, favoured by House Lannister, worked with dust and gold shavings. The building was carefully looked after, but the walls had turned dark from moisture and the cheap materials used to treat them almost every year.
Tywin stopped his horse, jumped down and tied it to a post. Only then did he reach out to his wife, who was sitting on her horse. He had taught her this rule at the beginning of their marriage: she was not to dismount without his help if he was nearby. It was a demonstration of control and authority, as well as another affirmation of status.
She placed her palm in his hand and swung her leg over the horse's croup. Her husband supported her until her feet touched the ground. He took her horse by the bridle and tied it next to his own, leaving the horses to shake their heads and dig their hooves into the ground. Only then did the Lion allow her to rest her hand on the crook of his elbow, even though the shop was only a few steps away.
The bell above the door rang, filling the room with sound and sending the shadows into retreat.
A large number of open boxes were turned towards the door, glistening in the dim light that remained in the workshop. Tywin began to examine the jewellery and sets lying on the boxes' velvet linings. The jeweller emerged from a small room. Tywin nodded to him in greeting, but waved him away for the moment.
He stopped at a box containing an elegant ruby pendant on a thin chain.
"What about this one?" the lord asked his wife, who was looking at the sets with interest, though not with any particular enthusiasm for any of them.
She turned away from the box at the other end of the room and looked at the pendant. She smiled softly, leaned her head against his shoulder and looked into his eyes.
"Donāt you think I have enough rubies, husband of mine?" she asked softly.
"Hmm."
Tywin did not answer, but simply moved on. She stroked the fabric of his doublet with her fingertips as he walked. Her skirts rustled with each small step she took to follow him. Her gaze wandered off again.
The lord reflected on every piece of jewellery he had given her. Indeed, he had given her rubies and emeralds more often than other stones. His gaze searched for something unusual that he would not normally have bought for her. He came across a piece of jewellery with a deep blue shimmer, as if dark water were rippling beneath the walls of the Rock. It would suit her eyes perfectly. He approached the sapphire set and called the jeweller over.
"Pure silver, with no impurities?"
"Yes, milord," the craftsman answered and then launched into an explanation of how he had created the necklace.
"Where are the sapphires from?"
Her hand slipped from his elbow and she moved to the other end of the counter. Tywin glanced at her, but quickly returned his attention to his future purchase. He turned fully to the jeweller, clarifying the final details, before deciding to lay out the gold.
"And this one?" Her uncertain voice rang out, interrupting his verdict.
The jeweller and Tywin both broke off from their conversation about the sapphire and silver set to look at her. The craftsman glanced at Tywin, who nodded briefly towards his wife, and hurried over to the woman examining the boxes on the table.
She pointed at a pearl necklace lying on a velvet cushion. It shimmered with a golden glow, not quite like gold itself, but certainly unlike the cold, snowy light of the ordinary pearls the court was accustomed to. The pearls lay in several rows, carefully matched, large and clear. A dark dragon glass pendant, shimmering with mirror reflections and glowing blue from within, completed the necklace, gently intersecting, diffusing the pearl chains and hanging slightly lower. It was designed to sit just above the modest neckline of the dress. Next to it, on the velvet, was a pair of earrings.
Tywin looked at her face, her unusually eager eyes fixed on the jewellery, and her slightly bitten lip as she caressed the pearls with her gaze. Well, the sapphires would have to wait.
"A wonderful choice," said the jeweller, rubbing his hands nervously. "A set of pearls and dragon glass. But I am afraid, milady, it has already been sold. I cannot sell it to you."
The lady looked up at him, unable to accept what she had heard immediately. Her eyes slid back to the necklace sadly and greedily. She touched the pendant as if saying goodbye and carefully closed the lid of the box. Once it had been sold, there was no need for anyone else to see the set.
"It is all right. I understand," she replied softly, hiding her disappointment behind Lady Lannister's perfectly even tone.
"Where is the difficulty in making another one?" The Lion frowned, pursing his lips.
"You see, milord, there would be no difficulty if it were not for the pearls. I have been collecting them for many years. The golden hue is very rare. Dragon glass could still be obtained, but not the pearls. Perhaps ordinary pearls would suffice, milady?"
"Do not bother, Master. There is no need. Besides, as you rightly pointed out, this one is unique. Making a copy would be beneath a lord's court. You seem to like the sapphire set, don't you, my husband? I do not like it. Let's leave it for now."
Tywin didn't argue with his upset wife; talking to her was as pointless as talking to a storm. No matter how hard you tried to reason with it, it would still tear the sails in rage and foam the waves in disappointment.
She lingered at the counter for longer than usual. The lady hesitated, taking one last look at the box in which the pearl set lay safely in the darkness, before turning away and walking off. Her hand lingered on the table for a moment longer, as if she did not want to leave the necklace with the jeweller.
The couple left the dark jeweller's shop, and the bright sunlight momentarily blinded their eyes, which were accustomed to the dim light. He could see that his wife was trying to smile and pretend that the refusal had not hurt her.
"Did you like that necklace so much?"
"Yes," the lady shrugged. "I did. But it is fine. There will be others."
"You are upset."
āNonsense, dear. It would be silly to get upset over jewellery. That would be going too far, don't you think?ā
The man chuckled thoughtfully, untied the horses, and turned away to help her into the saddle of her horse before jumping onto his own.
He spent almost the entire journey back in silence. At first, she tried to continue the conversation they had started before entering the jeweller's shop, but she quickly noticed that Tywin was no longer in the mood for talking and fell silent. He respected her ability to remain silent so naturally and easily without any tense silence hanging between them.
"I have been thinking about those sapphires. Why don't you like them?" The Lion finally broke the silence.
She turned to him, frowning, not immediately understanding what he was talking about; she had been lost in her own thoughts.
"Oh, you mean that set," she realised after a few seconds. "It is not bad. But the price is too high, in my opinion."
"I wasnāt asking about the price."
"You are never interested in it unless we are talking about wool, grain, or metal supplies," she snorted, and her horse echoed its mistress as if it understood something of the conversation.
"I do not begrudge the gold," he grumbled.
"I do not doubt that, dear. You have proven it to me many times. Still, sapphires are not worth that much."
Tywin frowned. She couldn't stop counting the gold. This was appropriate in business matters, but her concern about the cost of the gifts he gave her made him feel irritated, as if his ability and desire to give gifts to his wife were being questioned.
He did not bring up the subject again.
***
The next day, he left the Rock again without saying a word to her about his trip.
The bell rang again, announcing the arrival of a visitor. The jeweller's shop was stiflingly hot; the walls were blazing with the fire in the furnace and the smell of metal shavings hung in the air. Tywin stopped at the central table, not bothering to walk around and look at the boxes; he had come with a specific purpose, and everything else was a distraction that needed to be eliminated.
A red, sweaty face appeared from behind the furnace. The Lion looked straight into the man's eyes with a heavy, expectant gaze.
"Milord Lannister?" The jeweller's eyes widened.
He hurriedly got up, tripping over a stool and knocking it over in the process. The master smiled awkwardly, lifted the stool and wiped his hands on a dirty rag from his apron before hurrying to the counter.
"How can I help you?"
"I want to buy out that pearl set," Tywin stated clearly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Who is the buyer?"
"Milord," the jeweller hesitated, squeezing the rag a little tighter. "I cannot disclose such information."
The lord did not wait for the jeweller to finish his excuses, interrupting him.
"Of course," he agreed dryly and curtly. "You do not have to disclose it. But I will find out anyway, and then my wife and I will find a new jeweller."
The jeweller turned pale at the thought of how much profit he could lose because of his principles. Lord Lannister brought him more revenue per year than any other customer; he never skimped on gifts for his wife. The lady sometimes came in to buy a new knickknack for her husband, too. The rag crackled under the master's strong, skilled fingers as he abruptly and jerkily shoved it back into his apron pocket.
"Ser N, milord. He is a wealthy merchant here in Lannisport," the man said, waving his hand in an indefinite direction. "He came in a few minutes before you yesterday and bought a set for his niece. He said he would pick it up closer to noon today."
That suited him just fine. He wouldn't have to search all over Lannisport for the merchant and it would be easier to collect the necklace here, on neutral ground where neither of them would have the advantage. Although Tywin had no doubt that his main advantage was a status that a simple merchant could only dream of: he was a lord.
"Then I will wait."
"I must warn you, milord," the jeweller added cautiously, brushing non-existent dust from the table. Just don't look into those cold, dead eyes. "That he is a very enterprising young man and may demand a higher price than the one at which I sold it to him."
"We will agree on the price. Your task is simply to hand the set over to me - nothing more."
They waited for just under an hour for the merchant to arrive. The jeweller did not dare leave the lord alone, so his apprentice continued working on the new piece of jewellery, torn between fear of the nobleman in their shop and excitement at being entrusted with the task.
A young man dressed in gold brocade entered, cast a bored glance at Tywin and walked over to the desk. He paused nearby and ordered the jeweller to hand over the jewellery.
"Milord Lannister wishes to buy out your set, sir," the master replied uncertainly, shifting his gaze from one man to the other. He did not want conflict in his shop, but having two proud men in the same space fighting over the same piece of jewellery for the women they cherished could lead to a terrible outcome.
"Really?" The merchant raised his eyebrows and turned to Tywin, giving him a slightly contemptuous, appraising look. His face clearly read 'old man' with disdain. "And why should I let you do that?"
There was no "my lord" in his address. The insolent merchant was so self-assured and arrogant that he seemed to consider himself equal to a lord. Tywin closed his eyes at this insolence. He turned his whole body towards the merchant, towering over him like a cold, unyielding rock. He could teach the boy a lesson later. For now, his goal was to obtain the set that had delighted his wife from the shop at all costs.
"My wife took a liking to it," he stated.
The merchant snorted sarcastically and looked at him as if he were insane.
"Is that all? What if my niece took a liking to it?" he asked sternly.
A guard in full battle dress looked into the shop.
"My lord, your council begins in an hour and a half. You asked to be notified in advance," he said, bowing to his patron.
"Very well," said Tywin, not even glancing at his subordinate. He looked only at the merchant. "You may go."
The guard nodded and closed the door behind him.
Tywin saw the fire of greed and apprehension light up in the boy's eyes. He could see that the lord needed the necklace and was clearly trying to calculate the possible profit to be made from the deal if he gave in to the Lion. That was the only reason he had not yet ordered the jeweller to collect his purchase again. However, the guard's arrival made him more cautious: he shrank back and tensed, remembering that he had seen several Lannister soldiers outside the shop entrance.
"Has your niece seen the set?" The lord stared at his interlocutor without blinking, his pale green eyes piercing him.
"Not yet," the merchant shrugged, shaking off the tension in his shoulders. "It was supposed to be a pleasant surprise for her."
"Then she did not like it. That is just your assumption," Tywin cut him off decisively, having found his pressure point. The argument was almost over, and the jewellery would be in his hands in a few minutes. "My wife's wishes are a fact. Your niece's reaction is questionable."
"I do not agree with the deal," the merchant said angrily, feeling that he was losing the argument and that arguing with the old Lannister was dangerous.
The lord frowned. Finishing off the greedy fool to buy the necklace wouldn't be hard, but it would be more expensive. It was a price he hadn't expected when they visited the jeweller yesterday.
"I will buy this necklace from you and purchase another of your choice."
There was a silence during which even the apprentice peeked out from behind the furnace to watch the men fighting over jewellery. The merchant smiled crookedly. The remnants of tension still hung in the hot air. He took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"It is a deal."
Tywin nodded.
"Choose, and don't keep me waiting."
The merchant began walking among the boxes, looking for something worthy of his niece. His gaze fell upon the sapphires. They were the same sapphires that Tywin had chosen for his wife, before her gaze fell on the pearls.
"This one," the merchant said, turning to the jeweller. "Tell the lord the price. He wishes to pay."
"There is no need for that."
The Lion nodded to the jeweller as he always did; the craftsman knew that the lord's trusted representative would arrive during the day with the necessary sum, which would be placed on the counter.
"Do you know the master's assortment by heart, my lord?" The merchant smiled arrogantly, trying to regain the dignity and advantage he had lost during the conversation.
Tywin did not stoop to responding, but looked at the man coldly and for a long time, causing him to become completely embarrassed. He took the sapphire set from the jeweller's hands and rushed out of the shop without saying goodbye.
The jeweller silently went over to the pearl set, packed it up and handed it to the Lion.
"Thank you," Tywin nodded dryly, leaving two gold coins on the counter for the jeweller's part of the deal. He would receive the rest in full later.
"May the Seven bless your deeds, milord."
Tywin did not respond to this idiotic wish. He left the shop, handed the box to one of the guards and mounted his horse. The matter was done. All that remained was to please his wife.
***
Tywin entered her chambers with his usual firm step and without knocking. In one hand, he held the box that the jeweller had given him. His wife was sitting at the table, rereading the report on the supplies in their storerooms. She looked up at him as soon as she heard the door open.
"My lady," he said, gesturing for her to rise.
A shadow of concern fell across her face as she put down her quill, rose and walked around the table. Her gaze slid over the box, and a guess flashed in her eyes.
"Tywin, dear? Has something happened? I was told you left for Lannisport before breakfast."
"Nothing that would cause you any concern. I wanted to give you something," he said, gesturing towards the mirror. It had long been their signal that he had bought her a new piece of jewellery and wanted to put it on her.
The lady frowned. She didn't ask if he had bought her the sapphires she thought weren't worth their price, nor did she ask any questions.
She walked over to the mirror and stood with her back to her husband, as was their habit. Tywin placed the box on the table, out of her sight, and opened it. The lock gave way with a quiet click and he lifted the lid. She remained silent the whole time, not uttering a word.
The Lion lifted the necklace and gently placed it on her collarbone. Her eyes widened in disbelief and incomprehension. Her hand flew up into the air and her fingers reverently touched the cold pearls and the dragon-glass pendant. The clasp of the necklace clicked into place, settling like a heavy, beautiful weight.
"But... how?" she whispered in shock, looking at their reflection in the mirror.
"It does not matter," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing them slightly. "It is yours now."
She slowly turned to face him, looking into his eyes, which glistened with tears.
"This is..." For the first time in her memory, she couldn't find the words to describe how she felt, or how grateful she was. "Tywin..."
"Hush. I did what I had to do." He absorbed her appearance, committing it to memory as one of those rare moments when he had managed to pierce her impeccable, restrained, calm facade and reveal her soft, tender soul.
"No," she shook her head. Her hands rose and rested on his chest, sliding over the fabric of his doublet. His palms moved to her waist. "You did what you wanted. And you wanted to give me something that had already been given to another. Oh, Tywin..."
She leaned in and kissed him long and tenderly. The way she only kissed when her love for him overflowed. She pulled away slowly, exhaling onto his lips.
"It seems I simply must let you win at chess tonight, mustn't I?" Her eyes glowed with gratitude and happiness. The happiness of being here with him in that moment.
"I almost always win anyway," he chuckled, running his hand down her side and lifting her up briefly to caress her cheek dryly.
Sunlight refracted in dark blue waves inside the dragon glass of her pendant, sliding across their faces and giving the moment a fairy-tale note. Time stood still in their chambers. The outside world simply ceased to exist for a few minutes, leaving them bathed in the golden light of morning and the frozen flames of dragons lost in time.
"Then I will have to make sure you win this time, too," she murmured softly.
"Make sure, my lady," the lord agreed, not arguing with her or interrupting her game. His eyes slid over her face, noting every glint and wave of light from the necklace that washed over her chin and cheek.
"That would be a nice way to show your gratitude, wouldn't it?" she whispered, seeking his confirmation. Her fingers slid up his doublet, caressing his neck and jawline in a futile attempt to smooth out the blue sheen on his skin.
"I have already received your gratitude," the lord replied calmly, knowing how his wife's ingenious expressions of gratitude sometimes ended, even if she promised only victory at chess. Nothing she did was ever simple or without a catch.
"That is not enough," she smiled slyly, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him towards her for a lingering kiss. "You deserve more."
"And by that, you mean another victory in chess?" The man raised an eyebrow briefly.
"No, my love," she said mischievously, smiling at him and touching his lips briefly with hers one last time. "I mean my voluntary, unconditional capitulation to you."
Tywin nodded. Yes, that definitely sounded like something he deserved. As long as the cunning woman didn't come up with something else. But the part of his soul that he rarely allowed to speak was looking forward to it.
Requested by: anon āCould write something with tywin lannister. Where his younger wife is frustrated about something and she storms into his study with their baby on her hip and he just ignores her in the beginning and then is like sit down an I don't know what else... I just love daddy tywin being domineeringā
Notes: yeah I named your son after tywins bro Kevan :)
Warnings: swearing i guess, Joffrey, mentions of sex, reference to arranged marriage
Gif creds to owner
āMy lady, lord Tywin has requested that he be left alone-ā the guard to the tower of the hand hurried after you up the winding stairs.
āI donāt care,ā you said simply, hitching your young son up on your hip. He was two moons off his first name day, and had only just mastered balancing on his feet, so he wasnāt quite up to the challenge of the many stairs.
āBut my lady-ā
āSer Olas, I couldnāt care less what work my husband has chosen to occupy himself with tonight. Now go back down to guard the entrance to the tower,ā
āI- yes My Lady,ā
It was days like this you were particularly pleased with they way your marriage turned out. Although you werenāt a Lannister by blood, you held the title of Lady YN Lannister of Casterly Rock, and on your hip sat a healthy child with the beginning waves of golden hair, making you the second most powerful woman in Kings Landing, second only to your daughter in law.
Arriving at the top of the tower, you rapped on the door to the Handās chambers. Tywin set his pen down and was about to snap at the interrupter to leave before he heard the unmistakable burble of his son. āEnter,ā he said, his voice low and rumbling, with an edge of fatigue. You slid into the room, closing and bolting the door behind you. Tywin arched his brows up at you. Usually when you bolted the door, it ended up with you splayed out on his desk. But you held your son on your hip, so that was clearly not on your mind. āI sincerely hope you arenāt planning on leaving Kevan here. Iām-ā
āFar too busy? Yes, I know. Ser Olas was very keen to tell me,ā you quipped, perching on the small couch by the wall, your son sat on his lap, facing his father.
āAnd you neglected to listen to Ser Olas? He is rather skilled with a sword?ā Tywin said, not looking up from his writing.
āIs that why you have him stationed here and not outside the bloody kingās chambers?ā You snarked.
āAh. Have you come to blows with Joffrey again? Donāt roll your eyes, itās unbecoming,ā
āI didnāt roll-ā
āYes, you did,ā finally, he looked up from his work and fixed you with a hard stare. āNow, tell me what is wrong,ā
You pursed your lips stubbornly, before sighing. āHe took Kevan away from me. In front of everyone in the throne room,ā already Tywinās face hardened. You had been married for little over a year, and while he was not in love with you, he certainly did have some affection for you, and when it came to his heir... the Old Lion really came out of his den. āA-And he held him to his side and held that stupid sword up to h-him and said that... that... that if he couldnāt get Sansa Stark to open her legs that Kevan would have to do...ā tears were now pouring down your cheeks as you held your son closer to your chest. āAnd he was... he was crying for me... for his mother... and when I begged for the king to give me my son so I could comfort him, he s-said that heirs donāt cry and he ought to cut his throat out to silence h-him...ā you weeped openly now, kissing the top of your childās golden head.
Tywin pushed away from the desk, striding over to you, his face hardened. āI will station my brother at the nursery door. I will speak with his nursemaids... Jaime and Tyrion will be sent daily to ensure he is safe,ā you nodded, leaning into his touch as he swiped away your tears. āI will bring my sister, Genna to court... she took such good care of my children when...ā he cleared his throat, and you knew he was thinking of his late wife. Standing, you reached to cup his cheek. āShe will show the same affection to Kevan. And youāll get on well with her- sheāll be a pleasant change from my daughter,ā he said the last part grimly, knowing how spiteful Cersei could be when his back was turned. āYou, my little lion,ā he said, a little softly to his son, taking him into his own arms. āShall be safe,ā Kevan babbled happily, grasping onto Tywinās ear. āWe neednāt let your poor mother worry any more than she already does, Hmm?ā He turned to you. āGo and rest. Take him with you,ā he pressed a hand to the small of your back, guiding you into his chamber. He watched you undress to your chemise and clamber into his bed, shuffling his well ordered pillows and blankets the way you liked as he settled Kevan next to you. āI will be back in an hour or two,ā
āWhere are you going?ā You whispered as Kevan nuzzled into your breast.
Pairing: Toto Wolff x baker!reader
Faceclaim: None
Requested: yes no
ā·ā·ā·ā·ā·
mercedesamgf1
Silverstone
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mercedesamgf1 Always a pleasant day when the real boss comes to visit! Thank you for the sweet treats, @/yourusername and @/brackleybakery!
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yourusername My favorite clients! Thank you for letting me be the good luck charm!
lewishamilton I have never, nor will ever, have a better vegan cake than yours
yourusername It's only that good because you were my taste tester
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yourusername You're lucky you're good at driving
carmenmundt And pretty
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carmenmundt š¤·āāļø
wolffie YN is the true queen of Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team
forzaformula YN is the queen of the grid, let's be real without ourselves here
l.h.eight She makes them accommodating for Lewis I can't do this that's adorable
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yourusername
Silverstone
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yourusername It's rare that I get out of the kitchen but when I do it's to celebrate with my favorite people. And annoy my husband while he's trying to work
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mercedesamgf1 If we could hire you as our onsite baker we would
yourusername I do not doubt it for a single second
georgerussell63 What, I don't get a spot in the post?
yourusername You hid every time I had my phone out
carmenmundt It's true I watched you dive behind a pile of tyres
yourusername See? I have witnesses
georgerussell63 Fine
lewishamilton I didn't even see you take that
yourusername I'm sneaky
l.h.eight He looks so happy š
totos92 Queen YN strikes again this weekend
wolffie YN and Toto are actually goals I cannot be convinced otherwise
brackleybakery
Brackley, England
Liked by yourusername, carmenmundt, georgerussell63 and 2,792 others
brackleybakery We are pleased to announce that Brackley Bakery will be opening a second location in London!
Doors will open on 15th October 2024. We look forward to seeing everyone on opening day!
yourusername
Brackley Bakery
Liked by carmenmundt, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1 and 30,927 others
yourusername Trying out some new recipes for the second location! Featuring Toto's reaction when ten boxes of cookies showed up at his office captured by @/georgerussell63 thank you for my new blackmail picture
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georgerussell63 Anything for the Queen š«”
yourusername š«”
carmenmundt As if you didn't benefit greatly from it
mercedesamgf1 We will be your taste testers any time you need us
lewishamilton Thank you for the vegan box
yourusername I hope you got those ones to yourself
lewishamilton @/georgerussell63 tried to steal a few
georgerussell63 I did not! I realized they were vegan and promptly put them back down
l.h.eight What I wouldn't give to have ten boxes of cookies made by YN
wolffie Party at Brackley Bakery to get some of these cookies who's in
mercedesamgf1
London, England
Liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, yourusername and 687,055 others
mercedesamgf1 The boys are on the way to support YN Wolff and the opening of the new @/brackleybakery location! So proud of our Queen on this special day!
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yourusername So beyond grateful for the support today! Thank you boys, thank you team!
lewishamilton Particularly excited for the vegan section
georgerussell63 Tell our physios not to look
carmenmundt You better be bringing me back some treats I swear to God
georgerussell63 I will bring you back one of everything
l.h.eight I cannot believe we only have like two months left of this content
wolffie No literally it causes me physical pain that we'll be seeing Lewis in red next year. It doesn't feel right
totos92 Crying for the YN and Toto content we're going to get today
yourusername
Brackley Bakery
Liked by carmenmundt, georgerussell63, lewishamilton and 44,873 others
yourusername This has truly been one of the best days of my life. Thank you to everyone who has helped me in opening this second location of @/brackleybakery. Including @/mercedesamgf1 and both @/lewishamilton and @/georgerussell63. And last but not least, my wonderful loving husband. I give him a lot of shit on here, but he truly is my favorite person on the planet and I could not have done any of this without him. I love you, Schat.
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mercedesamgf1 Mercedes family has expanded! So so proud of you!
lewishamilton You deserve all the success that has come to you!
georgerussell63 Best croissants in the city tbh
yourusername High praise, high praise. Only higher if it were coming from Pierre
pierregasly No no, he's right. They are
carmenmundt You are the best! So so many good things coming your way!
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All photos from Pinterest, Instagram, or Google Images
an: because iām seeing oasis this year, i thought it would be nice to make this pls donāt hate me, i love the spice girls!! (i only know one of their songs) fun fact: the original idea for this was that the reader was a grunge singer from the 90s but ever since the oasis reunion was announced thatās literally all i can think about
oasis member!reader
INSTAGRAM
liked by yourusername, britpopcults and others
f1updatingdaily f1 twitter recently brought up the feud that y/n l/n (oasis bassist and toto wolffās wife) and geri halliwell (spice girls member and christian hornerās wife) had in the late 90s until 2019. y/n recently told rolling stone magazine that her and geri have love for each other now and attend races together when they can. while at least one horner and wolff settled their differences, christian horner and toto wolff continue the horner/wolff rivalry that was started by their wives.
hereswonderwall Iām not a big fan of the spice girls but when geri gave y/n the future trophy wife mug . . . it was iconic
Could you do fic for jealous!Toto Wolff with wife reader? The Merc garage has invited someone to the paddock and it's someone who the reader idolizes (male). Her whole attention goes to him and Toto's feel jealous because he's always away and can't spend time with her eyes when he's home. But she assured him that everything is fine. Add something else to it if you want to. Just something fluff and cute. Thanks!! :)(
divorce babe divorce | toto wolff
toto gonna be stressing through this whole fic
Before the 2023 F1 season ended, it had been announced that Keanu Reeves would take part in a documentary about Brawn GP formula one team. It was no secret that the actor had a big passion for motorsports so as a way to promote the upcoming documentary, Keanu was invited to COTA. Toto kept this information from you since he knew that younger you had a massive crush on Keanu, you told him many times when you watched one of Keanuās movies. Teasing Toto that you would leave him for Keanu started off as a joke, but he was always overthinking.
Austin was hot. It was Texas after all, they had unpredictable weather every day, but race day just so happened to be sunny. You were seated in Totoās chair in the Mercedes garage, scrolling on your phone when you heard Lewis call your name. You turned your head and saw him walking towards you with the man you had been crushing on when you were a teenager.
āThis is Mrs. Wolff, y/n meet Keanu.ā Lewis introduced you. He smiled wide, he also knew you were a Keanu fan.
āH-Hi, oh god. Welcome! I heard Mercedes was going to have a guest i just wasnāt expecting. . . you.ā You said nervously. āItās definitely not a bad thing! Donāt take it like that!ā
Keanu laughed. āNice to meet you. Thank you for having me. This whole experience is incredible.ā
Lewis excused himself when he noticed how relaxed you had gotten. He felt confident you could be on your own with Keanu so he left to get ready for the race.
When Toto entered the garage, he really wasnāt expecting to see another man make his wife laugh and smile.
How could she laugh at another manās jokes? Was I not funny enough? Maybe Iām trying too hard or not enough? And sheās smiling! How could she sit there and laugh? thought Toto.
Before Toto could continue overthinking, you called for him.
āKeanu, this is my husband, Toto.ā
Toto forced a smile. āIām her husband.ā
Keanu continued to be his genuine self and talked to Toto about Formula 1. The team principal only nodded and smiled, occasionally mumbling a yes or a no. You knew something was going on with Toto. Why was he being like that?
Keanu excused himself to go to the restroom before the race started. This was your opportunity to talk to your husband. While you sat in his chair, he stood beside you looking over paperwork.
āWhat was that about?ā You nudged him.
āWhat?ā He questioned, not looking up from his papers.
āYou know what. I saw that forced smile. I know you, Torger. Have you forgotten that?ā You asked.
Finally Toto put his attention on you. āAm I a good husband?ā
āToto, why are you asking me this?ā
āI heard you laughing with him. You havenāt laughed like that in a while. And the way you were smiling, you looked so beautiful,ā Toto admitted. āI havenāt been the best husband, I know. Iām always away and youāre always alone in our house.ā
You took his hand in yours. āToto, you are the greatest husband ever. Donāt ever think youāre not. I love you so so much. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, I will love you tomorrow and everyday.ā
To Toto, It sounded like a sweet song hearing you say those words.
āI love you too.ā He kissed your lips. āBut, donāt get mad, but in another universe, would you ever date Keanu if you had the chance?ā He curiously asked.
You looked at him with pure love in your eyes. āIn every universe, Iād find my way to you.ā
