her satanic majesty

For the Cameras | Chapter 13: I'm Sorry If It's Torture Though

a collaboration fic with @muttpeeta

“Now, your turn. Dorne. Spill.”

“Dorne. Aye…” Dany kept her head down, focusing more than she needed to on the pizza cutter as she sliced the pizza into smaller pieces. Irri made a face. “Aye? OK, Miss ‘I spent a weekend with my Northern boyfriend and suddenly I talk like him.’” Dany laughed nervously, dividing up the pizzas so they’d each taste a bit of everything, then took the plates to the couch. “Well, what is there to say, anyway?” Irri was right behind her with their glasses. “Oh, don’t you dare do me like that!” “Ugh, fine. I tried, OK? So when you’re going to inevitably be weird around Jon about this, you’ll have to at least tell him that I didn’t give up the info freely.” “Brother’s honour. Now tell me everything.” Irri sat comfortably on the couch right next to Dany. “I need to know: Was what we saw on the show a prosthetic? Is he really that big? Bigger? What positions, how many times, also where? I’ve always wondered, do the bodyguards stay and keep an eye on the door so you don’t get interrupted or do they—oh, no. No. What’s that face?” Dany took a big sip of her wine. “What face?” “Eek!” Irri screeched. “That face! Don’t tell me it was bad! I swear to all the old gods and new, if you tell me that Jon Snow is a horrible lover I might just end it all here and now.”

If there are infinite worlds, every version of me chooses you in every one of them.

Come home with me.

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY — 3.11 "At Last"