#I'm sure it looks almost nothing like Jon...
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Steve has a problem. Not a big problem--not an Upside Down-sized problem--but still. A problem. In the form of Eddie Munson. And not the person Eddie Munson, who is second only to Robin in the hierarchy of Steve's heart, but his feelings in regard to one Eddie Munson. Namely, his enormous, devastating, gay crush on the guy.
And he knows, okay, he knows Eddie is gay, but that doesn't mean he wants Steve. Eddie is probably into other metalheads or dnd nerds. What could Steve, with his sports and his polo shirts, possibly have to offer?
He's coping, though. Or, at least, he thought he was until the
Family Video phone rings and Jonathan invites them to the New Year's Eve party he and Argyle are throwing at their new apartment.
"We have to make a no-date pact." He tells Robin as soon as the phone is back in the cradle.
"Or you could just ask Eddie."
"You could just ask Nancy." He raises an eyebrow.
She lets out a slow breath. "Yeah, okay. No-date pact. I'm down."
It's just as easy to get Nancy and Eddie on board. Nancy just laughs and says "yeah, like I'd bring a date to the party my ex-boyfriend is hosting with his new boyfriend. How you do you even start to explain that dynamic?"
And Eddie snorts right in Steve's face (it's not cute, it's not), says, "Right, cause my dating pool in Hawkins, Indiana is just ripe with guys who want to ring in the New Year with me."
Steve wants to say that he would be that guy, happily, giddily, but he can't risk blowing up his second most important friendship like that, not when Eddie's never given a fraction of a hint that he wants Steve too.
But that's his problem solved, right? The four of them aren't bringing dates. Easy-peasy.
Unfortunately, Steve's life hasn't ever worked out like that, and the party turns out to not be only their little end of the world crew and a handful of people Jon knows from his grocery store job, but an actual motherfucking party.
It takes almost ten minutes for him and Robin to navigate through the sea of strangers to find Jon and Argyle handing out solo cups in the kitchen.
"Who are all these people?" He shouts over the pounding music, nothing like Steve's ever heard.
"Argyle got a job at the record store down the street," Jon yells.
"Co-workers." Argyle nods. "And a few of their friends."
"A few, right."
"The more the merrier. Right, my dude?"
"Sure." Steve takes a cup. "You seen Eddie around?"
"Living room, last time I looked." Jonathan answers.
"See you around?" Robin asks.
"At least meet up for the ball drop," Argyle answers.
They push their way into the cramped living room, and Steve searches for that familiar cloud of hair, the ripped black jeans. It takes a minute just for the sheer amount of bodies pressed into the small space, and when he sees him Eddie's--
He's standing against a wall, next to the stereo (of course), but there's someone with him. Someone who is tall and leanly muscled in a way that Steve isn't. Someone with long hair pushed back from his forehead. Someone with facial piercings in places Steve didn't even know you could pierce and tattoos and a chain hanging from his worn blue jeans and a bandana in his back pocket, just like Eddie.
And Eddie he's--he's gazing up at this dude with clear stars in his brown doe eyes, body angling towards the other man like he can't help but push more into his orbit.
Steve turns hard, Robin colliding with his side. "Steve, what the--oh."
"I hate New Year's Eve," Steve sighs, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It's always been the kind of holiday that is high on expectation and low on follow-through.
"C'mon, I think I spotted Nance over by the bedroom."
He lets Robin guide him across the room, steadfastly not looking back at where Eddie is very obviously finding himself a date. It's okay, Steve reasons. It's okay because that was obviously the kind of guy Eddie would be into it. He knew he had, like, no chance. He shouldn't be disappointed. He shouldn't.
The evening slips away in the shove of people, in the solo cup that manages to always be full in his hand, and he tries as hard as he can to ignore the way Robin and Nancy start sharing the same space.
So much for the no-date pact. He would laugh if a sort of deep loneliness wasn't seeping into his bones.
There's a girl, though, across the room. She's in a short dress and glances at Steve from under hooded eyelids. He could make a move; could have someone to kiss at midnight; have someone just for the night. But then--his heart makes a pathetic patter--Eddie.
Eddie who is practically in that stranger's lap.
He goes out for a cigarette.
When he comes back inside, it's five minutes til midnight and Nancy and Robin are dancing slow and sweet to a song that is neither.
He's happy for them, almost incandescent with it, but the loneliness sinks deeper, reaches marrow, especially after he fails to find Eddie in the crowd.
Steve thinks it might be time to give the whole failed endeavor up for good, but Jonathan and Argyle, both in tiny 1987 novelty top hats, appear at his side.
"Stevie-boy!" Argyle bellows. He lifts Steve at the waist, twirling him, and Steve laughs despite himself.
"Keeping busy?" He asks.
Jonathan pounds him on the back, just a little too hard.
A guest yells from deep in the apartment, "one minute to midnight!" and the music turns off, the TV tuned to Dick Clark and turned up.
Nancy and Robin find their way over, Robin mouthing "sorry," on her way. He pulls her into a side-hug; he'll never begrudge her any happiness, even on his worst day.
From across the room, there's a crash, a short yelp, and then a familiar head of fuzzy brown curls makes its way to them.
"Sorry, sorry." Eddie apologizes as he shoves through the other guests.
"Hi, guys!" He beams at them, cheeks flushed. Steve looks away so he doesn't have to think about how beautiful Eddie is; about how he's not the one who made him blush so pretty.
The countdown on the screen reaches 30 seconds, and the party goers start chanting.
"What happened to--?" Steve can't help but asking.
"Psh, that dude? He's a punk. Plus, I couldn't imagine ringing in 1987 without you guys by my side."
Steve blushes and rolls his eyes. "Sap." He knocks his hip into Eddie's.
"You love it," Eddie wraps him in a loose hold.
The count is down to 10, the ball almost dropped, Jonathan and Argyle and Nancy and Robin making soft eyes at each other.
"What's going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?" Eddie knocks his head gently against Steve's.
"It's nothing."
"You're pouting." Eddie mimics him with a poked out lip.
The count is down to 5.
"Fuck, I just--I wanted to have someone to kiss at midnight, you know?"
The ball drops, the year changes over, the room cheers. His coupled up friends cling to each other in soft, joyous kisses.
Eddie's eyes flick to their friends, to the guests, all kissing and embracing and celebrating, then back to Steve.
With two careful fingers, Eddie lifts Steve's chin, makes it so he can't look away.
"Fuck it," Eddie says. He leans forward, kisses Steve with soft authority.
And Steve just--he just fucking--crumbles into it. He makes a soft noise, curls his fists into Eddie's t-shirt.
Eddie's hands work their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Steve goes eagerly, crushes their bodies together.
They kiss and they kiss, and it's already so far from a friendly New Year's kiss, but then Eddie's tongue swipes into Steve's mouth, and the kiss breaks.
"Um," Eddie says.
Steve can't respond because all his focus is on not giving into the weakness in his knees and collapsing to the floor.
"I've wanted you to do that all night," Steve says.
"Oh." Eddie's face blossoms into a slow smile. "Me too. A lot longer than that, actually."
It's Steve's turn to smile, and he does, so hard it hurts his cheeks. "Me too."
Eddie presses their foreheads together. "Happy New Year, Stevie."
Someone starts singing Auld Lang Syne loudly and off-key, but they're quickly drowned out by a chorus of accompanying voices.
"Happy New Year, Ed."
Steve pulls him in for another kiss. 1987 is already shaping up to be the best year of his life.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#new years eve#spicy six#ficlet#angst#fluff#mutual pining#angst with a happy ending#first kiss#nye party#ronance#jargyle#this is very loosely based on the nye episode of friends where joey kisses chandler#hold on to the memories they will hold on to you
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Child Support Part 2
Tim watched the other young heroes as they tried to look around the watch tower without seeming like they were. He's been here plenty of times, but the rest of the Teen Titans and a few of the Young Justice hasn't.
Much was due to the older heroes leaving the younger ones alone. Some not taking them seriously enough to welcome them at the big HQ as much as that made his blood boil.
They were taking the same risks. They were fighting the same good fights. Why was their age the main reason they weren't treated equally?
Some teenage heroes weren't part of a team per see, but they always answered when a call was sent. For example, Cass and Steph were present, speaking softly to Static Shock. Damian was standing next to Jon and his little friend Colin who was just getting into the swing of the hero business.
Bruce almost bit through his tongue when Damian told him Abuse would be joining Robin on parol, and he could do nothing to stop them. (Tim felt like he was watching Damian tell Bruce a paraphrased version of "But Daddy, I love him!" and it kept him smiling for weeks)
It was wild to see almost every young hero in one place. He doesn't think this happened since the last time Justice Leauge got mind controlled and almost destroyed the whole world.
"Any idea why we're here?" Kon asks to his right, lowering his shade to stare at the Outlaws. Jason's team stood to the side chatting iddly while cleaning over thier weapons.
Kon's always like their punk point of view, and he knows his best friend wants to go over there to talk to them. If it wasn't for the issue of the clone still being mad about what Jason did at the Teen Titans tower. Almost murder was hard to forgive for people outside the Bats.
"None. All I know is that John Constantine sent out a message to every teenage superhero group calling for a meet-up," Tim responds.
Bart whistles with a grimace on his right. "Must be bad if that guy is asking."
"I heard Hawkwoman tell Superman that she was worried and wasn't sure she wanted anyone of us mixed up in Constantine's mistakes." Cassie chimes in from where she leans on the couch. The three turn to her as she lowers her voice, attempting to keep the others from hearing. "Batman told her off for it."
"Batman did?" Tim asks, surprised.
Cassie shrugs, throwing a bit of her blond hair over her shoulder. "As much Batman can emote anyway."
Yeah, that sounded about right. Though it must have been something Bruce found disrespectful. His dad usually never reprimanded strangers unless they were saying something or doing something that sounded far too much like bigotry to him.
But to apply that to Constantine? Someone, Bruce generally disliked communicating with because the man tended to backstab his contacts? Yes, Constantine wasn't evil, but he wasn't pleasant either.
If Bruce had magical issues, he tended to contact Zatanna first.
Just then, the watch tower's zeta beams activate. Everyone who gathered turns to the teleporting pads where Constantine appears looking, for lack of a better word, absolutely exhausted. Even Tim knows that his eye bags aren't that bad, and he's usually going hours without sleep.
"Oh good, you all made it," Constantine says, sipping from a mug and wearing nothing but sweatpants and what looks like a nightgown. His signature trench coat was nowhere in sight. "I'm going to be quick about this. I need a team of young heroes willing to accept my son into their fold."
The room is dead silent. Constantine sighs. "Look, I've tried everything, but it's like Danny is allergic to laying low. He fought with a demon the other day over a child's doll- which you all know happens. People get haunted! But Danny refused to do it the right way, and now I had to beat off the demon's marriage proposal at least ten times. Not to mention his lack of social skills! No matter which one I stick him in, he can't seem to make friends in school. He got shoved into a locker on his first day! I thought that was an American exaggeration of the telly!"
Constantine pauses and takes a large gulp of whatever he's drinking before continuing his rant. A hand runs through his already messy hair, leaving it in bigger disarray as he speaks. "He's behind in terms of trends and technology cause his other father raised him outside of the typical timelines, so sometimes it's like talking to someone from the early two thousand, and other times it's like he's a modern Victorian era lad. His powers are also all over the place because the ectoplasm in our world is thicker, so when he breathes it in, he losses his control. Just the other day he accidentally made himself fly through our ceiling and almost reach the atmosphere before I was able to bring him back down."
A few of the fliers in the room wince. Jon nods and whispers under his breath, though his voice carries in the silence. "Yeah, been there before. Flying can be scary if you don't know how to come down."
Johns glances around at all the young people, eyes showing a tad bit of desperation. "He's sad all the time now, and I don't know how to help. If working with you could help him make friends, I would be grateful. He's a great kid. He just needs to adjust."
Tim had no idea what to do with this information; how do you respond to arguably one of the strongest Justice League Darks' heroes asking for a play date for his son?
"How old is the child?" Damian's voice rings out. Colin's hand is attached to his sleeve, a slightly nervous smile on the boy's face as he attempts to hide from the staring heroes behind his brother. Tim bets that if he wasn't wearing the domino mask, they would be able to see slight tears in Colin's eyes.
Damian's other hand goes across his body to cover Colin's hand, and Tim fights a shit-eating grin. His eyes lock with Jason, and the two send each other knowing grins. Looks like Bruce did have to worry about Damian having a secret boyfriend.
He can't wait to tease Damian later.
"He's fourteen....or well, physically?" Constantine answers eagerly.
"What does that mean?" Kon asks this time.
"Okay, so he's half human, half ecto-being. He sired him with his other father, Clockwork, which was only four years ago in this dimension, but since he was raised in the Infinite Relemas, times move differently there? " The British man says, and Raven goes rigid.
"Clockwork, as in the most powerful Ancient?" She asks, looking horror-struck when Constantine nods.
Before anyone asked what that meant, the zeta tubes activated again without permission. Someone had hacked into their systems which were ten levels bad. Everyone naturally fell into a fighting stance, only to blink when a teenage boy stepped out with a loud excited screech.
"We're in space!" The teenager runs to one of the windows, pressing his hands and face up against the glass. "This is amazing!"
Tim only relaxes his muscles once Constantine clears his throat. "Chum...what are you doing here?"
"Oh. One of your curse rocks things started proposing to me again, so I ran out of the House of Mysteries. Thought I see what you were up to." The teenager says, turning around with a smile and utterly freezing at the sight of the gathered heroes.
He had dark hair, wide blue eyes, and the most adorable face Tim had ever seen. Not as sexy as Bernard, of course, but darn close. Judging by the looks of anyone attractive to males, most heroes thought the same.
"Um...hi?" He says, offering the Godsmack teenagers a helpless little shrug. "I'm Danny Constantine."
"It is a pleasure, Constantine." Damian marches over to him with all his little twelve-year-old authority. He barely reaches Danny's chest. "I shall look forward to working with you. Are you formally trained in combat or strictly magic?"
"Um...oh, I can throw a punch or two? I'm mostly self taught. I rely on my powers a lot?" Danny fumbles to answer throwing a desperate look at his presumed father.
"No matter. I shall have you begin training. My Beloved also needs to work on his form. There is no shame in this" Damian nods, and Constantine lets out a large sigh of relief. He jogs over to place a hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a one-sided hug
"Yes, Danny, you will join Robin, Superboy, and Abuse on missions. They agree to help you settle and get used to your ghost powers." Constantine smiles. "I'll give me time to discourage all those idiots from trying to trick you into marriage."
"Oh...okay. It's nice to meet you all. Please call me Phantom on the field. Um, are you the team leader?" He asks Damian as the three youngest boys lead him further into the watch tower.
Constantine watches them go with the brightest smile he's ever seen on the man's face. He looks back to the group, who were barely starting to pick their jaws off the floor and makes a shooing motion with his hand. "You lot are dismissed."
Then the man vanishes in a green portal.
There is a ringing silence until Barts blurts out. "I'm pretty sure this is where the Phantom Fan Club first formed. A historical moment."
Tim wants to take a nap.
( Part 1 )
#dcxdp crossover#dc x dp crossover#Child Support#Part 2#John is trying his best#He's fighting off suitors from his son#Despite being very pretty Danny has a hard time making friends#He's the oldest in Damian's new team#I found the ship Damian/Colin the other day and I love it
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Batfamily x male reader
Batfamily x male!reader - this is part 1 everyone.
Summary: some talking is done.
Warnings: angst, fluff, (Y/N) is trying and so is the fam, cursing, trying to forgive, a punch was thrown, cutting people out
The fight echoed through the manor. Even days after it, the tension was still palpable. (Y/N) truly wanted nothing more with his so called brothers and father. If they tried to talk to him, they would be ignored or (Y/N) would just snap at them.
Almost biting their head off.
Safe to say, things were going to complete and utter shit.
Bruce didn't even know how to start talking to (Y/N). Was he emotionally reserved? Yes. But will he try everything in his power to make it right?
Yes. Everything he can do, he will do.
Bruce has decided to call a meeting. He made (Y/N) leave his room and (Y/N) has never looked worse. He couldn't sleep for days on end, only getting about 4 hours per night. He wasn't in the mood to eat either. He was only alive because Alfred had to make sure he was still alive.
Everyone noted that he looked like he didn't want to live anymore. More so, he looked dead. (Y/N) just sat down, an angry look on his face, arms crossed and body language closed off. He sat down as far as away as he could from them, clearly not happy to be here in the slightest.
He tucked himself in the chair, ignoring everyone and everything.
" (Y/N)... " Bruce started quietly, clearly not wanting to have a blow out and an explosion. " We have to talk through this problem. " Bruce continued just as softly and (Y/N) scoffed.
" We know we have been... Neglecting you, to say the least. But... We want to fix our mistakes. We want to be better. " Bruce said and (Y/N) chose to roll his eyes instead of listening. No matter what they could say could ever fix this.
" Well... 10 years too late. " (Y/N) said sarcastically, tapping his fingers against his tucked up knee, clearly anxious to leave this room behind. He really was anxious too leave.
" And we realize that. " Tim started softly, looking at (Y/N) with a sad look on his face. (Y/N) wouldn't allow them to see them sweat.
" Bullshit. " (Y/N) said quickly. They don't realize shit. " You are only doing this because Jon came over and pointed it out and now you are worried that the word doesn't spread. " (Y/N) spat out, leaning on his tucked up knee, glaring that the floor.
" That is not true. " Damian said and (Y/N) looked up, glaring at Damian, scoffing at the words, then laughing bitterly.
" Oh please. You never told Jon about me! I'm assuming all of your friends don't know I exist, right? " (Y/N) said as he rubbed his eyes from the exhaustion.
The silence was the only answer that (Y/N) needed.
" Yup and there it is. No one knows I fucking exist! " (Y/N) said loudly, blood pressure raising. He took a deep breath to calm down. " Just as I thought. No one knows I exist. No one even cared about my school achievements either... Let me ask you something Bruce. " (Y/N) asked, turning his attention to Bruce.
" Do you have a college fund for me? Just like you do for other four? " (Y/N) asked, itching for an answer. When Bruce looked away in shame and (Y/N) scoffed yet again.
" Also, don't you fucking dare setting it up. I have got a scholarship anyway. " (Y/N) answered the unasked questions. Bruce was proud of (Y/N). How could he have done this to (Y/N), forget to put a college fund...
" I'm sorry (Y/N). I didn't mean to forget you. " Bruce said, keeping his distance, but wanting nothing more than just hug him and kiss the anger away.
But alas, that's not how it works. (Y/N) has to forgive him first.
" Can you tell us more about the scholarship? " Jason chimed in, wanting to speak about something that (Y/N) could be happy about.
" It's for MIT. " (Y/N) said quietly and everyone was in shock. They didn't know that (Y/N) was into science and mathematics and what not.
Another mistake of theirs.
" That's amazing (Y/N). " Tim praised, smiling at (Y/N). Getting into MIT is hard as hell.
(Y/N) rolled his eyes, but deep down inside, he craved that praise more than life. But some praise won't erase everything that happened.
" You would really have to move then... " Dick said sadly and (Y/N) glanced at all of them. They all seem sad that he would have to move all the way to Massachusetts, but it would be necessary. (Y/N) needed to get out of here. One way or another.
" I think what we all mean to say is that we are sorry. There is no excuse, not a single thing that could justify what we did and what we have caused to you. " Damian said and (Y/N) was shocked to hear the word sorry just tumble out of his mouth like that, so effortlessly. So easily. But he composed himself quickly.
" How do I put his nicely? " (Y/N) said, looking sarcastic. " I don't give a damn about any of you. I don't give a damn about apologies at all. I don't care about any of you. The moment I move out, all of you are going to be dead to me. Period. " (Y/N) said as he quickly stood up, going to his room.
He isn't going to fucking listen anymore.
" No, (Y/N) wait! " Everyone called after him and tried to stop him. Jason managed to grab his arm, but (Y/N) threw a punch and knocked Jason down on his ass, making the others rear back. It was a truly what the fuck moment for all of them.
(Y/N) was never violent.
(Y/N) slammed the doors of his room shut and everyone was silent. Jason was breathing heavily through his mouth as (Y/N) broke his nose.
" He has a hell of a punch. " Jason muttered as he stood up.
" We have a shit ton of gravelling to do. " Tim muttered and everyone nodded in agreement. Saying that they are dead to him, well, will be dead to him, that was sort of a nail in a coffin. Coffin about their relationship...
That was probably on the brink of death, if not dead already.
" Come on, he needs some time alone. " Bruce said and ushered everyone out of the hall, mostly Jason to take a look at his nose, to treat it and heal it.
That same night, (Y/N) quietly managed to get his things into a car, while others were on patrol and blocked them in the process. Then he started driving to MIT, because he didn't have the nerve to put his things onto a plane and go. And besides, he didn't have enough things anyway.
(Y/N) could finally start his new life.
#dc comics#dc x male reader#x male reader#batfamily#bruce wayne x male reader#batman x male reader#jason todd x male reader#red hood x male reader#dick grayson x male reader#nightwing x male reader#tim drake x male reader#red robin x male reader#damian wayne x male reader#robin x male reader
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Jonsa Reunion
Safe and Sound 1k (I just have to highlight that this was posted in 2014)
Sansa escapes Baelish and finds her way to Castle Black.
Kiss of Undeath ficlet by @haraways
Sansa brings Jon back with a kiss.
Without You I Am Nothing 1k by @asbestosmouth
Castle Black is monochrome, but Sansa blazes like the fires of Rh'llor. Jon cannot help but burn.
Gifsets: Jonsa Hug by @joanna-lannister, Jonsa Hug by @c-sand, The Girl in Grey, Jonsa Hug 1, 2 by @kitnjon
Art: Jonsa Hug, Jonsa Hug by @vierverdeen, Jonsa Hug by @themarmic
Jon Comes Back Wrong
grave-dirt 3k by @charmtion
The edge of the world. The yawning dark.
In his chest, a strange sluggish beat.
back in the pulse 2k WIP by @chispas-and-broken-bindings
(Who are you?) A dead man. A monster. The mistake of many and one.
(And what have you lost?) Everything.
(And what have you found?) You.
(And what will you do with me?) Protect you. Always.
Made of Echos and Ice 1k by @thewolvescalledmehome
Ever since coming down from the Eyrie, Sansa has had the same dream. A wolf with white paws pacing in the snow. When she learns of the betrayal at the Wall, Sansa decides to do something about her dream.
i fall to pieces (when i'm with you) 70k by usuallysunny
"Go North. Only North. Jon is Lord Commander at the Castle Black. He'll help you."
He'd had good intentions, this broken shadow of a man who used to be Theon, and he couldn't have known.
Sansa finds a Lord Commander at Castle Black. He has steel-grey eyes, her father's eyes, and a dark beard framing a strong jaw, and he looks and sounds and moves like Jon...
But he's not Jon.
Always Her ficlet by @temporal-tempest
Jon Snow came back darker, unreachable until her hand touched his face.
This is what happens when you threaten that which has become the only warmth in a dark heart.
At Castle Black
My eyes were wide open 10k by @eruherdiriel
She hesitates, then reaches for his free hand, his other still tangled in Ghost’s fur. Their palms meet, hers warm against his chilly one, and the relief that rushes through him at her touch almost makes him close his eyes and forget the throbbing pain. “Do you remember what happened?”
All he recalls are knives in the dark and cold, bitter cold.
*
It is in dreams that Jon begins to remember who he is.
Kisses Remembered, Kisses Forgotten 2k by QueenOfSloths
She remembers the kiss that he took. The only thing she doesn’t remember is him taking it.
There are times when she is almost certain that she gave it willingly.
'cause i know that it's delicate 4k by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth
Set during "Book of the Stranger," immediately after Sansa arrives at the Wall.
He goes to build the fire back up, and for a few minutes he stays silent, kneeling at the hearth, not looking at her. Finally he clears his throat. “I know,” he begins, “it’s not exactly what you’re used to — ”
“You’d be surprised what I’m used to.”
make your fingers soft and light 10k by @ladyalice101
Jon goes quiet again, and his hand retracts, but just as quickly he is touching her again, oil on his fingers. He works methodically, moving from one wound to the next, one scar to another, from the base of her back to the top of her spine. It’s so gentle, so caring, and the longer it goes on the more Sansa relaxes, the safer she feels. Her eyes dip close under his rhythmic ministrations, and her mind goes blank, and she starts to feel the familiar lull of sleep edge around her mind.
“This is supposed to make the scars fade?” Jon asks as he finishes up, his warm hands leaving her back, making her feel cold and startling her from her reverie.
“Yes.”
She isn’t sure she imagines the tightness in his voice when he speaks again. “If you are to do this every night, then I will gladly assist you.”
//
Jon rubs a soothing balm into Sansa's scars every night.
But that's it. Nothing more. Definitely not. He's just there to help her do what she can't do herself.
as the night came down in a Nordic sky ficlet by @miazeklos
During her first night in Castle Black, Sansa reunites with the true North, and Jon welcomes her home.
Cold Nights at Castle Black ficlet by @estherruth-jonsatrash
They were grown now, childhood behind them. Yet they had been sharing a bed more like children, with the cold at Castle Black leaving them in need of warmth.
At least at first.
How I wish you would take me for granted ficlet by @trollslanda
Sometimes her hands would shake-
Solely in private, when she broke her quiet surface to gasp for air. Around others she still had a mental block, passively guarding her, bringing out the Stark iron. It made her keep her back straight and eyes steady, put up a solid front.
Sometimes it felt like she was rusting from the inside and her brittle bones would never be whole again.
---
Set shortly after Sansa has arrived at Castle Black, when she's still learning to feel safe. As it turns out, Jon is really good at that kind of thing.
Remedy ficlet by @wildflower-daydreamer
The night Jon and Sansa reunite at Castle Black.
To break and to mend ficlet @dreams-for-spring
In those moments nothing else matters and they forget what they have lost; in those moments they are more than the sum of their broken parts.
In the quiet of the night 4k by dreams-for-spring
It becomes a habit; each night she unlatches her chamber door, and each night Jon enters just as bashfully as before. Some nights he brings terrible sour wine, and others bitter ale for them to share as they sit around the hearth speaking of everything that has happened–everything except what has passed between him and his black brothers. She knows that is a topic he is not ready to share.
Still, she does not find sleep when he leaves, but at least for those brief hours she is not alone, and something small inside of her begins to burn brighter with each night that passes. She tries to ignore the voice that tells her it is hope; hope is a dangerous thing for people like them.
Tous Deux On est Repartis dans le Tourbillon de la Vie 1k by @melimelo-ao3
He couldn’t even begin to picture what she had endured, what she had lived through. Yet, hearing her pleading in the night, he would give anything to know, to be able to understand her, to soothe her.
He had only ever wanted to soothe her.
Gifsets: Where Will We Go by c-sand, Brienne Reacts to Jonsa, New Dress by @jonstarks How Could We Know, Sansa Tries Ale, Where Will We Go, Sansa Making Jon's Cloak, I Made This for You by kitnjon
Traveling the North
Five Times They Touch 1k by @justchunkit
She doesn’t touch him for days. Weeks. They travel from keep to stronghold, living in close quarters as they’d never done even as children. She is so close, but an icy veneer has covered the exhausted girl he’d started to know, and they can hardly exchange a good morning without it evolving into an argument.
Some Love Stories Need a Little Help 2k @graceverse
Or how Tormund effectively makes Jon share a tent with Sansa
Unnatural 2k by @amymel86
Once he is close enough, she leaps at him, arms wrapping him up and his nose buried in her copper hair. The shuddering exhale he expels is the most amount of sound he’s made in days but all he can hear is Sansa’s sniffling and the way their two hearts talk to one another in beats of the same song.
Gifsets: Arguing, Eye Contact, Jon Reacting to Sansa by jonstarks Side by Side by @baelerion
Pre Battle of the Bastards
we may only have this night 2k by wearycities
She summoned an image of Jon in her mind. When he saw her, at Castle Black. His eyes, his face. His hands letting go of the railing, like it had burned him. She could not stop thinking about his hands. She had turned the memory over and over in her mind on countless sleepless nights, wondering what it meant.
After her argument with Jon the night before the Battle of the Bastards, Sansa returned to his tent.
The Madness of Dead and Broken Things 1k by @estherruth-jonsatrash
The first time, Jon tells himself it’s the last time.
Jon gives into his feelings for Sansa the night before the Battle of the Bastards, telling himself he'll die the next day. He isn't prepared for the after of survival.
the night before the fight ficlet by @sailorshadzter
jon & sansa spend a night together before the battle of the bastards.
pre parental reveal hookup, read at your own risk. nsfw.
Before the Storm 1k
Snowflakes fell from the grey sky, covering the ground in white even more than it already was. Grey and white, Sansa thought to herself. The Stark colors.
A gaze across a field 1, 2 ficlets by fedonciadale
Sansa's thoughts as she contemplates the possible outcome of the battle.
Gifsets: Arguing, You Don't Have to Be Here, I'll protect You I Promise by jonstarks, Pre and During BotB by baelerion, Jon Pummeling Ramsay by kitnjon, Jon Pummeling Ramsay by c-sand
Post Battle of the Bastards
Bloodstains and Stitches Chapter 1 and 2 by @trollslanda
Two scenes set after Battle of the Bastards:
1. In the courtyard, Jons pov. Post-battle calmdown and fluff I guess but also there's dead bodies and stuff. I dunno.
2. Sansa cleaning his wounds and stitching him up, her pov. A pretty sweet scene where they get a moment to breathe.
A Little Friction ficlet by @justchunkit
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Because you won’t tell me anything!”
After the Battle of the Bastards, Jon and Sansa try to get to know each other.
Of Justice and Ghosts 1k by @lurikko
He knows his sister is watching him carefully like they are the only two humans left in the world, as they in a way are, and that makes his every remaining piece crumble.
Ghosts that We Knew 7k @the-prophet-lemonade
In the wake of the Battle of the Bastards, and the proclamation of the North's fealty to the Starks once more, Jon and Sansa see the ghosts of their family all-around.
Sometimes, it becomes difficult to separate the past from the present when so many that they love are dead.
A series of vignettes based around "nostalgia", and Jon & Sansa compared to Ned & Catelyn and the rest of their family.
they say that we’re out of control and some say we’re sinners 14k
Doesn’t have enough time to reminisce on the past because she’s turned around, and he’s seen her face, and it’s her.
Can’t be anyone but her even underneath all that smudged dirt on her pale cheeks. Would know the red of her hair anywhere, he thinks.
Doesn’t linger on the why, and instead descends down the steps and towards her. She’s turned her body so she’s facing him now, her eyes tracking his every move, his doing the same.
They’re so in sync it’s terrifying, really.
Five Kisses 1k by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband
The five kisses that Jon and Sansa have shared.
Undisclosed Desires 4k Nina36
“Why did you stop?” She asked.
I was ashamed.
He was yours.
I was terrified that you saw who I am.
He was yours to kill. It was what you needed.
bet you didn't know that i was dangerous 4k by @ladyalice101
“I mean that your brother took a woman to bed, and when he had his way with her, he said your name into her ear over and over again.”
// In which Littlefinger tests for Jon's weaknesses, and discovers a secret.
Soiled 5k by @orangeflavoryawp
"'Talk to me, Sansa,' he pleads, voice wavering, and she shuts her eyes to the sound.
Like a gale. Like a mountain coming down. This is how it empties from her.
'What do you want me to say?"' she bites out, voice quaking." -
Jon and Sansa. The start of their descent.
Dark in Bloom 8k by orangeflavoryawp
"His gravity wavers, the axis of his world tilted to the measure of her lips." - Jon and Sansa. The stain of desire bleeds slowly between them.
Hallowed 5k by orangeflavoryawp
“’Tell me,’ he growls, more demand than he’s ever given her – crown or not – and the feeling is heady in its fervency.
Sansa stares him down, mouth a harsh frown. She doesn’t resist his hold, doesn’t ease into it either. ‘He says your affections for me aren’t… brotherly.’” -
Jon and Sansa. An encounter with Lord Baelish brings the truth of their desires to light.
but still you stumble, feet give way, outside the world seems a violent place 3k by @parkersedith
When she looks at him, she cannot see anyone other than Jon, especially with him wearing a simple breeches and tunic, divested of all ornaments, even Longclaw.
She can only see Jon, not her bastard half-brother, not the King in the North, not the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, not a wildling, but only Jon, the Jon who took Winterfell back with her, the Jon who fought their battle, the Jon who has been there, at her side, ever since she found him again.
or; instead of roaming winterfell when she cannot sleep, sansa goes to jon, and to jon's bed. it's not quite as illicit as it sounds, and gives them a chance to finally, truly, talk
In the quiet of the night 4k by @dreams-for-spring
It becomes a habit; each night she unlatches her chamber door, and each night Jon enters just as bashfully as before. Some nights he brings terrible sour wine, and others bitter ale for them to share as they sit around the hearth speaking of everything that has happened–everything except what has passed between him and his black brothers. She knows that is a topic he is not ready to share.
Still, she does not find sleep when he leaves, but at least for those brief hours she is not alone, and something small inside of her begins to burn brighter with each night that passes. She tries to ignore the voice that tells her it is hope; hope is a dangerous thing for people like them.
love is more than telling me you want it 2k
When he smiles at her, she feels warmth flooding back into her bones. She’d almost forgotten what it feels like, she’s been cold for so long.
Sansa and Jon learn to be something other than ships passing in the night.
Gifsets: Jon Looking at Sansa by jonstarks, Sansa Looking at Jon by baelerion, Forehead Kiss by joanna-lannister, Winter Is Here by kitnjon, Forehead Kiss by c-sand
PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - next week -> ANNE OF GREEN GABLES
#jonsa#jonsa fic#s6 aus#missing scenes#show verse#apologies to all the beautiful gifsets and art I couldn't include this time#i forgot there was a limit on links!#dot fic list
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Jongerry prompt: reunion after one thought the other was dead?
Tim wasn’t sure what to make of the guy.
They met in an awkward almost-collision at the institute’s front door, Tim rearing back in surprise, the other flinching away from the sudden movement. He was lanky, and probably would’ve been tall without the permanent slouch to his spine. His hair was a dull shade of mousy brown, and looked like it had been hacked short with kitchen scissors. His clothes hung loose and ill-fitting on his body. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
Tim took a wild guess. “Here to make a statement?” he asked.
The man grimaced. “Maybe later.”
“I’d make it quick if I were you,” Tim chuckled, holding the door open for him. “Jon was in a good mood before lunch, and those don’t tend to last long.”
Halfway through the door, the man froze. “Who?”
“Jon Sims, the head archivist,” Tim said carefully. “He’s the one who takes statements, so…”
“Oh.” The man’s face was blank. “He’s… that’s… down in the archives, yeah?”
“I can show you how to get there?” Tim offered. Whatever statement this guy had, it must have been rough.
"Sure, thanks," the guy said distractedly.
In spite of the accepted offer, the guy quickly pulled ahead, and Tim found himself trailing behind as the scruffy stranger led the way to the basement stairs. Before long, he was jogging to keep up.
That was why, when the man suddenly stopped at the top of the steps, Tim crashed straight into his back.
"Hey, what did you—"
A hand closed tight around his arm, stopping him from shouldering past. The man had gone still, staring intently down the steps. There was nothing to see except the bottom of the stairs, and the mouth of the hallway that led to the archives.
"Smell that?"
Confused, Tim sniffed. At first all he could smell was dust and old paper, but then, beneath it, as if carried on a draft, came a familiar musty, wet stench.
"Damn worms," He muttered. "We've had a bit of an infestation—dunno if you saw them on your way in—"
"I'm gonna need you to shut up and go back outside," the man interrupted. "Maybe pull the fire alarm on your way out, get everyone out of the building."
"Excuse me?" Tim demanded. The man was already releasing him and moving on, so Tim grabbed him before he could make it two more steps. "Hey, what the hell are you—"
"Listen." The man turned, deftly winching his arm out of Tim’s grip. "I have had a very long day. I was hoping it would end with a long shower, a change of clothes, and a minimum twenty-minute hug from someone who means the world to me. Instead, there's something very nasty down there that I need to deal with. Kindly piss off."
Tim's blood ran cold. "You—you mean Prentiss is—" He stopped. He had a million questions, but maybe just this once they could wait. "My friends are down there."
The man spared a moment to look, if possible, even more exhausted than before. "Great. Fine. Stay close and don't fuck me."
***
Tim's head swam with the gas. His body felt strangely detached as he heaved the fire extinguisher against the wall, again and again until he felt the plasterboard give way. His strange companion drew back as if preparing to do a run-up, and Tim hurled himself into the space and finally broke through.
His first view into the dimly lit storage room was of three familiar faces with varying levels of shock, alarm, and growing relief.
"Hey, guys!" Tim gasped out.
Sasha was already struggling to her feet; Tim was about to go in for a hug when he was roughly shoved out of the way. A gas canister landed on the floor with a heavy thunk as the stranger lurched his way past Tim.
A strangled cry broke the shocked silence, and it took Tim a moment to realize it had come from Jon. His friend was sitting on the floor, propped up against a stack of boxes, one leg wrapped in bloodstained bandages. He stared at the man in blank, silent shock.
The stranger moved as if to lunge, but stopped when Jon held up a shaking hand.
"Wait." Jon's voice broke. He was fumbling something out of his pocket, wincing when the movement jarred his leg. "Wait, just—"
"Mmhm," the man said in a strangled voice, fidgeting but staying where he was.
Jon finally wrestled his wallet out of his pocket, ripped it open, and pulled out a photo—a Polaroid? His eyes flickered between it and the man standing over him.
The wallet fell to the floor. With a sudden burst of energy, Jon heaved himself upright, and managed to stand for all of a second before his leg gave out and sent him pitching forward. The man caught him before he could fall and yanked him into a hug.
"What the fuck, Gerry," Jon choked out.
Sasha was eyeballing Tim frantically, but all Tim could do was shrug back.
"I'm sorry," the man—Gerry—mumbled, face buried in the side of Jon's neck.
"I thought—she told me that you—" Jon stared blankly over Gerry's shoulder, looking at the others without seeing them. "Where have you been?"
"Couple of hunters picked up our trail in the woods in Pennsylvania," Gerry answered. "We split up. They caught me. Didn't kill me, just… didn't let me leave either. Sorry I didn't contact you right when I escaped, I just—I was afraid I'd get your hopes up and get killed on the way home."
In the silence that followed, Martin let out a strangled "Um."
Jon jumped, and his teary eyes focused back on them. "Oh. Right. Er." He tried to pull back, without much success since Gerry was the only thing keeping him upright. "E-everyone, this is Gerry."
"You just finished telling us he was dead," said Sasha.
"Yes, well." Jon managed a watery smile. "I've been wrong before."
"We had a moment about it."
"Right." Without warning, Gerry reached down and swung Jon up into his arms in a bridal carry, ignoring Jon's squawk of protest. "Let's go. We can talk later—and we will be talking later—"
"Gerry!"
"Seriously, I turn around and you're fighting the Corruption with fire extinguishers, and you're the bloody Archivist."
"Put me down, you absolute—"
"No, you've got holes in your leg." Gerry shouldered past Tim and stepped back into the tunnel, carrying a disgruntled Jon with little apparent effort. "You three coming, or what?"
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Daminette December 2023: 3-Manga
"You should take her to that café on Fifth Ave." Jon declared, "She loves sweets and they serve a variety of tea there. It's perfect!"
"Marinette, remember to be courteous of his diet." Kagami spoke, "Don't go anywhere there are few options."
"I think Damian is picking the place this time so that won't be a problem." Marinette replied.
"Is that seriously what you're wearing?" Jon shouted.
"What is wrong with my outfit?" Damian questioned.
"Oh, nothing." Jon snarled, "It's just your usual suit. It's a date, Damian! You're not going to a gala; dress down, like if we were going somewhere."
Damian rolled his eyes and walked back into his closet.
"I have the perfect outfit for you!" Adrien shouted, pulling out the viral strawberry dress, "It's perfect!"
"Adrien, I really don't think-" Mari began to refuse.
"It's spring. You look great in pink and as a designer can you really refuse?" he countered.
Marinette sighed and grabbed the dress.
"Make sure you wear your red bow heels." he shouted.
"What?" Marinette yelled, "No way!"
"Are you going to wear your converse and clash." Adrien smirked.
Mari growled and went back into her room.
"Hurry up!" he called back, "I'm doing your hair and make up, too."
Marinette couldn't help but feel utterly ridiculous right now.
'How did I let Adrien talk me into dressing up like this? I feel so stupid right now!'
Marinette smiled, embarrassed, as she waved to Damian.
'Jon, I'm going to kill you.'
Damian took in Marinette's appearance and felt completely underdressed. She was wearing a short pink dress with flowing sleeves with strawberries and Jon had convinced him to come in jeans! Marinette was wearing heels; she never wear heels! Damian was already thinking which piece of kryptonite he was going to use to kill his best friend with.
Marinette looked around the tiny café. It was definetely something new. They had never eaten there before. She could see stands her family used for cupcakes, but these had.....sandwiches?
Damian gulped as she looked around. She seemed excited.
'Maybe Jon was right; I'll just maim him.'
'I never thought Damian would like these kind of things. This place reminds me of the galas he always complains about. He told me he hated finger food so why are we here? Did I say something to make him think I would like this? Is this because I told him I want jalapenos on the veggie pizza last time?'
"I apologize for being underdressed, Marinette." Damian spoke.
"Are you kidding?" Marinette questioned, "I feel overdressed. Adrien suggested this outfit."
"Jon suggested mine." he admitted.
Marinete giggled, "What else did Jon suggest?"
"Coming here." Damian admitted.
"Seriously?" Marinette asked, "How about we split a veggie pizza? I'm buying."
Damian stood up quickly and rushed to pay. Marinette just giggled at his urgency.
'I knew he didn't like this place.'
"So, did Agreste suggest the hair, too?" he questioned, looking at her hair in space buns.
"Yeah." Mari spoke, " He insisted. He said something about wanting to style my hair like this for awhile and how he needed it to be long enough."
"That I don't mind." Damian stated, "Although, I'm sure you are eager to get out of those heels."
As Damian drove them over to her apartment, Marinette texted Adrien and Kagami. She lied and said the date had been a disaster and she was at home. The moment they arrived, Damian texted Jon saying there had been an accident at the café and he desperately needed a change of clothes. He told him they had gone to her place as it was closer to the café.
Damian quickly hid in her room and Marinette sat on the couch facing the door. She buried her face in her hands as she heard footsteps pounding the hallways like a stampede. Her front door was thrown open.
"What happened?" Adrien shouted.
"I have my blade!" Kagami cried, holding it up in the air.
Almost instantly, Jon barreled into them shouting, "I have clothes!"
"Ow." Adrien winced, "Jon?"
"Who is he?" the fencer demanded.
They turned to Marinette for answers, only to see her glaring at them. They hadn't even heard her get up from the couch.
"Sit down; now!" she demanded.
Jon had never seen Marinette pissed off, but Adrien had.
'Not good!'
Adrien quickly grabbed Kagami's arm and pulled her to sit down where Mari had been. Jon wasn't sure what was going on, but he rushed to sit next to the others.
"You can come out now." Mari called out and Damian walked out.
"Hey!" Jon whined, "You said-"
Damian grabbed the clothes out of his friends arms and went back to his girlfriend's room.
"All three of you made this date a disaster." Marinette claimed.
"But-"
"We didn't know where we were going so we were dressed horribly." Marinette stated, "As a fashion designer that is a huge no in my books. While I don't mind Damian dressed casual, it would be fine if we were going to the mall, the movies, or a shopping date. I'm wearing a $200 dress that you insisted I wear."
"But you look so cute!" Adrien defended himself.
"I'm in heels, Adrien!" Mari shouted back.
Kagami even looked at him, like he lost his mind.
"You had us go to a tea shop." she spoke, pointing to Jon.
"Damian likes tea and you like sweets." Jon shrugged.
Kagami sighed, "She grew up in a bakery. She bakes all the time. Marinette probably has five different types of bread or sweets in her kitchen, right now."
"While it's great you thought of both of us, they have specials on certain days. They were serving roast beef sandwiches today." Marinette explained.
"Oh." Jon whispered, sinking lower into his seat, praying that Batcow would forgive him.
Damian walked out of the room and took Marinette's spot as she walked into her room.
"Where did you get these ideas?" Damian demanded.
"Manga." they all answered.
Marinette walked out of her room in a new change of clothes. She kept her hair down, but was red crop top and black short. She had even traded in red heels for some white converse high tops.
"So?" Mari questioned.
"Manga." Damian answered.
Marinette facepalmed, "Swap mangas or something, but next time you want to give advice, make sure everyone has read it. Also, make sure you all agree with it."
Kagami pouted, "So, I don't need my blade, right now."
"No, Kagami." Mari responded.
"Fine." the fencer replied, sheathing it away.
"I'm sorry, Mari." Adrien spoke first.
"I'm sorry, Damian." Jon declared, " I was only trying to help."
"As was I." Kagami stated.
Mari smiled and grabbed Damian's hand, " Alright, well, now that that is over with; let's go."
"Where are you going?" Kagami questioned.
"We're gonna go on a pizza date." Marinette answered.
Damian spoke, "We are picking it up and then heading to my place to watch movies."
"It sounds boring." Huffs Adrien.
Mari stuck out her tongue at him and turned back to her boyfriend, "It sounds perfect."
The trio of friends pouted as all their hard work went to waste.
'Weirdos.'
As the couple walked out of Marinette's apartment, the three new friends began to go over what manga they had fixated on for the date and others they had read.
TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @missmadwoman @meira-3919 @princessdaisysolosyourfaves @blep-23 @fangirlingfanatic @darkhinauniverse @ravenr22 @im-a-satanic-ritual @ravennm84 @bianca-hooks123 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @starling218
#daminette december 2023#damientte#damian wayne#marinette dupen chang#marinette x damian#damian x marinette#jon kent#jonathan kent#jon matchmaker#jon helps damian#kagami tsuguri#adrien agreste#friendship#manga#date night#hype squad#change of plans#mochinek0
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Don't Say You Need Me - Jonathan Crane Drabble
Warnings - none except refrenced non consented ghost hands
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
It'd been almost 2 weeks since she'd last heard from the man she loved. Last time she'd seen him he'd been the one to reach out, look for her until he found her, to tell her he missed her and needed her back. Like always she believed him, blurred by the rose lens of love. He'd been there for a while, not long but a little longer than usual until one morning he'd left, with nothing but a few words of how he needed to leave and couldn't explain it to her.
Here she was now, laying in her bed, a comforter covering her from head to toe as she stared out her apartment window into the gloomy streets of Gotham. The tv was playing in the background, the news reporter buzzing about more criminal attacks of people dying from a gas poison. She could care less, a villain could come into her apartment now and strip her of everything but she wouldn't care, her heart had been ripped out again.
The moon was bright in the sky, but clouds would come and cover it again, leaving her in darkness again.
It was late into the night, but she couldn't sleep.
Flipping over, she looked at her small clock, 2:37, it read. It's been days since she'd gotten good rest even if all she did was rot in bed.
She hasn't always been this way, she'd been with many men before, but none of them had made her so sad to lose like Jonathan had. She'd been strong, never shedding a tear for any of them, telling herself they weren't worth it. But then came the doctor, with his charming good looks and stoic personality.
Lost in thought she once again stared into nothing in particular, lost in thoughts that kept coming. Her phone lit up, she zoned into it. She was getting a phone call. Sitting up, she picked it up, the caller ID was unknown.
Furrowing her brows she answered, "Hello?"
"Y/n, hello. It's Jonathan."
Silence filled the room, her heart leaped in her chest, from happiness, excitement, pure bliss. It was like the color had returned into her life once again. She was happy to hear his voice again, like a drug it lured her in and had her addicted everytime.
"My love, where have you been? I've been worried sick." She inhaled shakily, the news of his voice making her happiness overpowering, "Oh, i've missed you so much, Jonathan.." she whispered. She was now sitting up completely, the first movements she'd done in a while.
"I've been busy here at Arkham, you know how my job is. Lunatic after lunatic. You wouldn't believe how many crazies are in this city." His voice sounded the same, yet she could suspect a different hint of tone from his usual annoyed one, it sounded darker, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She decided she was imagining it, from her lack of sleep and time since she last heard him.
She let out a giggle, "Yeah, I'm sure, I've seen the news. There's a new criminal they call the Scarecrow, spraying victims with a fear gas. Another crazy you'll be seeing soon, huh?" There was a noise in the call as if a shift in fabric, "Perhaps if he's caught. I've seen him around the media, his techniques are quite intelligent though, the police haven't caught him, not even the infamous Batman." There was a snarkiness in his voice, his annoyed tone had returned, his tone almost sounded insulted at her comment.
She wondered why, then another question popped up, "Why did you call me until now, Jon?" She was now frowning, looking down at her knees, her heart aching in fear of what he would say.
"Ah yes, I called you because I wanted to see you, my darling." Her frown lifted, a smile replacing it as she bit her lip happily.
"I've been wanting to see you more than anything. When did you want to meet up?"
"I'm outside your apartment complex, if now is fine." Jolting up she looked outside her window, seeing him walk into the doors of the complex, her heart raced as she looked at herself.
She looked a bit messy from laying in bed, "Oh, um, yes now is fine. Let me just clean up a bit. Just knock when you're here please." He gave a quick response, as she hung up. She wasn't sure what he needed but now her nerves were getting to her as she replaced the lounge clothes she wore with actual clothes. Slipping on a small black skirt and sweater, she tidied up her hair as she heard a knock.
Opening the door, she smiled widely, there stood the man she'd yearned for, dressed in his usual suit. "Jonathan…" She embraced him in a tight hug around the neck, holding onto him like he'd disappear into thin air again, "I've missed you so so much." She exhaled into his neck. He placed a hand on her waist, he'd never been much of a physical person. Stepping back, she stared into his face, smile never leaving as she motioned him to come in. He did so, she noticed he was carrying a suitcase with him, she assumed he'd just got out from Arkham.
"Good to see you too, darling. I needed to see you again." He spoke, setting down his suitcase on the kitchen table. Her heart fluttered at his words, he did seem a bit different.
He sat down at one of the tables and she accompanied him in doing so. Staring at him, she noticed he carried himself with a new demeanor, she didn't speak until he spoke up first, "I'm sorry I left so abruptly. I had an emergency to see to. You know I love and need you, my darling."
She nodded, smiling as she grabbed his hand in hers. "I know, my love. Don't worry. I'll always be here for you, I love you more than anything."
Jonathan was pleased to hear this, he gave a smile in return. He knew when he picked her long ago she'd be perfect. No matter how many times he'd left, for months or longer, she accepted him with open arms. He wasn't interested in love or such things but that didn't mean he wasn't good at faking it, he was a master at manipulation and psychological abuse, he was only using what he knew.
"My darling, since you love me so much, would you do anything I told you?" He leaned over, running a hand through her hair lovingly, then moving to her cheek as he caressed it with his thumb. They both equally knew she would, she nodded, placing her hand on top of his as she leaned into his cool touch, bathing in the feel of it.
"Of course, my love."
"Good." He responded, leaning into her and placing a slow kiss onto her lips. She melted into it instantly, closing her eyes and taking in the feeling she missed so much. His lips were warm and he was perfect as always.
A small click was heard, but she ignored it, too infatuated with the man's lips to acknowledge or care. That was until a smell filled her nose, his lips had pulled away by now and she began coughing, opening her eyes she saw smoke and Jonathan had been replaced by a terrifying frowning scarecrow. She let out a scream that was quickly broken by another fit of coughs as she stood up, stepping backwards to get away.
A gruesome voice now filled her head and the room around her was becoming distorted, the lights flickering and dark voids and bugs crawling everywhere. "Oh my darling, having trouble?" The voices seemed to be mocking, she couldn't see him clearly now, only a terrifying dark shadowy figure slowly making its way towards her. She felt hands touching her all over. Falling backwards her body made harsh contact with the floor, she continued to scream, now crying, "Please… please stop, no no no.." she closed her eyes but that only seemed to make it worse as more terrifying images appeared.
"Your pretty little mind can only take so much. Shhh succumb to the fear! Come on my darling, let it all out. Let me see your biggest fears." The voice was tormenting, filling her whole head as she cried harder, the feeling of hands getting more painful on her body. She tried to rub them off frantically, but the feeling only worsened, she felt like she was suffocating. Opening her eyes the scarecrow was face to face with her, distorting and moving into terrifying faces straight from a nightmare.
"Make it stop, make it stop please!" Her words were coming out slurred, whines and whimpers being all that Johnathan heard. She was trying to crawl away, but not to much success. Jonathan could see it was affecting her greatly, he was pleased, a sinister smirk on his face as he ripped the mask off. She was showing to be a great sport, her fear was much more extravagant than he had imagined. He had used a lower dose on her to test it out, but she showed great promise in his future experiments.
Cooing at her, he caressed her face again, her eyes widened in fear as she was paralyzed in place unable to writhe away. Her eyes then closed suddenly as her body went limp, her brain must have exhausted from the high levels of fear. "You're okay now, Dr. Crane will take care of you for being such a good girl."
#cillian x reader#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy#cillian fic#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane#batman#scarecrow#fanfiction#fanfic#x reader#fem reader#lana del rey#inspired vy pretty when you cry by lana bc cillian and his characters are so lana coded#coquette#girlblogging#lizzy grant#dr crane#batman begins#ldr#drabble#pretty when you cry
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Did I just read your Super Sons primer from 2020 at 3 am on a Monday morning because I'm having a real normal one? Maybe?! I'm wondering how you feel about how they and their relationship has developed since then. IMO it's... Pretty bleak. 😩
I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT. (Also here's the primer for anyone who missed it.)
So I will say that 95% of everything Jon has been in since he got aged up has been hot garbage, but I do think the exception is when Damian is around. But let's take it from the top!
First of all, I don't necessarily think they should de-age him again. Generally speaking I think it's better storytelling to focus on fixing things moving forward, rather than undoing things moving back. Sure, if DC came up with some big cosmic event that reset Jon to 11, I certainly wouldn't complain, but I'd rather see them, uh...do literally anything with Teen Jon that doesn't suck.
But yeah, aging Jon up to begin with still makes me livid because:
I want my baby to have had a childhood.
It's fully character assassination for Lois and Clark. They would NEVER let their 11-year-old go to outer space with a supervillain. Lois would NEVER just abandon him out there, and Clark would NEVER respond with "Well, I'm sure he's fine, wanna have marathon sex?" I honestly have no idea what Bendis or his editor were thinking.
They have not done a single interesting with him since!!!
Putting this behind a cut because it got LONG. Also spoilers for Beast World in there.
I've said this before, but I have to assume that Bendis wanted to age Jon up because he wanted to write a Legion book. But he also in his wisdom decided to bring Kon back into continuity at exactly the same time, which means we have two nearly identical Superboys that DC didn't and still doesn't know what to do with. Kon clearly couldn't have joined the LOSH because he already had a team, but you know what Super teen was available, and not 11, and who has a history with the Legion that goes back almost as long as Clark's? KARA. But I will save that rant for another day.
And honestly, Kara dodged a bullet, because that Legion book was unreadable. Bendis at his most Bendis-y wall of text interrupt-y conversations and no plot. If I give Tom Taylor any credit it's that the second he got his hands on Jon, he torpedoed Jon/Imra as a ship. GOOD.
And when the LOSH book finally went out with a whimper (that JLA/LOSH miniseries! what was that!!!), we entered the Taylor Era. Taylor's quirks are less stylistic and more narrative than Bendis's. You can spot Bendisian dialogue at twenty paces, but a Taylor comic tips its hand when it sets up a really interesting premise or a really high stakes threat and then immediately undercuts it with a little wet fart noise of nothing. To wit:
Jon's starting college! This will be an interesting challenge for him to readjust to normal life after six years in a torture-volcano and an indeterminate amount of time in the future, and also considering he never graduated from sixth grade. I wonder what will - oh no he dropped out after three pages. (He has done NOTHING in his civilian identity since, btw. I guess he's too busy hovering just behind Dick at all times to work on his GED or whatever.)
Jon is going to confront Ultraman! Finally the comics will have to engage with all the trauma he must have - oh no Ultraman's dead.
Jon is trapped in the Injustice Universe! This is a really dangerous universe that might make him question everything he knows about - oh he just lectured everyone and flounced off home.
Beast World is a perfect example. Taylor seems to think that having a hero effortlessly solve a problem makes them look badass, but it's actually the effort that makes them look badass. So like, we spent five months keeping the Kryptonians and other A-class heroes away from the spores because the spores are attracted to power and if a Super got spore'd everyone would be in big trouble...but then in the last issue, they just have Jon fly up to everyone with a spore in them, wait for the spore to jump at him, and catch it? That doesn't make the Titans look smart or Jon look tough. It makes all of them look like idiots because it it was that easy, why didn't they do that in the first place?
On top of that, Taylor doesn't ever really earn relationships. Jon and Jay is the obvious one. Jay has no personality. There's no chemistry between the two characters. Jon might as well be dating a cardboard cutout labeled "Proof of Queerness." (Or "Bernard." Ahem.) But we're supposed to be like, yes, give Tom Taylor a GLAAD award for using queer characters as props, when he's going to turn around and kiss Chuck Dixon's ass on social for being homophobic about Jon? UGH.
Honestly worse for me though is the Jon and Dick relationship. Because Taylor is writing both characters, we're supposed to believe that there's this close mentor-mentee bond there? I don't think they EVER interacted before the Taylor era. (And don't even look at me with that retconned-in scene of Dick finding lost baby Jon. You're telling me that Superman, with his X-ray and telescopic vision, needs to call Bruce and Dick for help finding his own son? Fuck off.)
Anyway it all combines to make basically every Jon appearance for the past three years profoundly unsatisfying. Even the stuff that isn't by Taylor never goes anywhere. Remember when he was jealous of the Super Twins for two panels? And then everyone forgot about it forever? SIGH.
HOWEVER.
However.
If there is one thing that Bendis and Taylor and every other writer got right, it's that Jon is crazy bonkers in love with Damian always and forever. Jon has been written like shit since 2019, but he has also not wavered in his devotion for even one single solitary second.
THE EVIDENCE:
This is the first thing Jon does when he gets back to Earth:
He then tells Damian he's contemplating not joining the Legion because he'll have to leave Damian behind. Damian tells him to go and then come get him if it's cool.
Turns out the Legion is cool. Jon comes and gets Damian. The Legion isn't happy about it and Jon threatens to leave if Damian can't stay, while gazing adoringly at Damian's unconscious body cradled in his arms:
Eventually LOSH is canceled and Jon comes home and starts following Damian around by listening for his heartbeat. LIKE PALS DO!
Then Damian gives him a pep talk!
Then there's this ABSOLUTE CUDDLE:
The way Damian nuzzles into Jon's shoulder! Can you even stand it!
And then there's this:
The climax of Son of Kal-El, btw, is one of the several times Jon is saved by Damian and confides in Damian and turns to Damian for comfort or advice...and Jay is just sort of standing there off to the side. I am fully aware I have ship goggles on but the degree of emotional investment Jon has in these relationships is not the same.
Then they had a special issue teamup:
Then we got Dark Crisis, and I actually love this interaction between them, because they are very different people with very different upbringings and this feels extremely in character to me for how they would both handle the loss of their fathers:
But even when they disagree, they still instantly support each other. Jon comes back with information? Damian makes a plan:
Also, we got the 2022 Pride issue where Jon, Jay, and Damian go to Pride together. I know that story is...contentious...but leave me here with Damian sulking while Jon and Jay kiss, okay?
Then we get Adventures of Superman, which is objectively awful, but Jon does spend his whole time in the Injustice universe thinking about Damian like the seagulls in Finding Nemo saying "Mine? Mine? Mine?"
This whole arc is truly hilarious. Jon finds out that Damian accidentally killed Dick and his response is to a) go find Batman and yell at him for not supporting Damian enough for accidentally killing Dick, and then b) go find Damian to be like "Wow, that must have been really hard for you (accidentally killing Dick)." There's being ride or die for your BFF, and then there's whatever the fuck Jon has going on.
(Meanwhile there's an incredibly uncomfortable scene with him and Injustice Jay where Jay "tests" him by trying to get Jon to cheat on regular Jay. So. That happens.)
And then just this past month we got Nightwing #110, where we learn that Jon is still listening to Damian's heart:
He completely freaks out watching Damian in danger, and immediately intervenes when it looks like Damian is about to kill someone because he knows what matters the most to Damian. Also, this happens:
YOU WIN THIS ONE, TAYLOR.
AND THEN THEY BICKER I LOVE IT WHEN THEY BICKER:
AND THEN DAMIAN LETS HIMSELF BE VULNERABLE BY ASKING JON IF HE HURT ANYONE WHILE HE WAS A KITTY, AND JON GIVES YET ANOTHER SPEECH ABOUT HOW DAMIAN HAS NEVER DONE ANYTHING WRONG EVER, IN HIS LIFE, AND DAMIAN STAGGERS OFF, LEANING ON JON.
This isn't even getting into the Trinity backup stories in Wonder Woman, which, like...Tom King is not valid but Jon and Damian are such an old married couple in them? It's truly incredible?
It took me like 45 minutes to parse Jon's line here as the general 'you" and not specifically Jon saying Damian wasn't straight. But like..."That's for straight people, which has nothing to do with us" is a hell of a thing to say, Jonathan.
I ALSO haven't even talked about DCeased because it's a different universe, but! Jon sitting with Damian while he dies??? MY HEART.
IN CONCLUSION:
Yes, they should never have aged up Jon.
Yes, most of his appearances since have been terrible and bland.
But OH BOY, do he and Damian remain in love.
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Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic
Before we get to the story I have a few words to say...
First of all, Hello!
Not sure if this will reach anyone, but I had an itch to write, so I did. I almost never post anything. I have reposted a couple things but I'm mostly a lurker and enjoy others creativity and thoughts, I like to think of myself as a cat with few brain cells.
Anyways, I read a manga YEARS ago and enjoyed it greatly and thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny/interesting if Jon and Damian were stuck in this situation?" Let's see if anyone eventually gets what manga I was reminiscing.
Now, this is the first time I've ever posted anything I've written and I am not confident AT ALL if this is going to be any good, but I really hope someone out there enjoys reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it...Also not sure if I should post it on Ao3???
Well enough of my ramblings on to the story.
Title: Unexpected Cohabitation
Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)
Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)
Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)
Part 1 - Chapter 1
Jon placed his lunch tray next to Kathys’ as he discreetly looked around the lunch room trying to catch a glimpse of his crush. He had only briefly seen him at the mall during summer break and in a panic hid from him behind a rack of clothes. He had regretted not saying hello and had daydreams of himself going up to him, all cool and complementing the brown eyed boy’s pink fluffy hair and then asking him out to watch a movie at the mall theater. Sadly, the daydreams would come crashing down when he remembered his mother placing shirts in front of him and trying to measure him up before heading into the dressing room. It’s not that he was embarrassed of his mom its just, he was wearing sweats and an old hoodie since none of his clothes fit him anymore due to his growth spurt and, well, his mom could be a bit much, sometimes. Throughout the whole shopping trip when she would meet an acquaintance or friend she kept gushing about how quick kids grew and how she wished they would just stop sometimes. Jon would have to bury himself if anyone from school had been exposed to that.
“Looking for Jay?” Kathy asked.
Jon looked at Kathy like a deer caught in the headlights and immediately turned red. He sat down abruptly causing his tray to nearly tip unto him. He scrambled to right his milk carton before it fell. Once settled, he sighed and mumbled, “That obvious?”
Kathy smirked and bit into her carrot stick making a loud snap. Jon squirmed while opening his milk carton, he took a big swing, pointedly ignoring Kathy’s stare.
“Why don’t you just confess?” Kathy asked.
“Confess?” Jon spluttered, “He doesn’t even know I exist!”
“Jon, you two were in the same history class last year. He knows who you are.”
“Yeah. But we never talked.”
“Then, how about you talk to him?”
That would be so awkward…” Jon bit into his chicken strip. Kathy rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. Jon smirked and leaned in conspiratorially, “But I have a plan.”
“And that is?”
“I’m joining the journalism club.”
“What!” Kathy yelled in surprise and then moderated her voice when some people who she startled glared at her, “ I thought you were going to join the baseball team this year, since, you know, your not in a cast anymore.”
“The doctor has given the all clear and physical therapy is all done. The doctor was very impressed with how quickly I healed.”
“Will they even let you do both clubs?”
“Yep, I asked!”
Their conversation was cut short when a murmur spread through the cafeteria like a wave. The main players of the baseball team stepped through the open double doors, all nine wearing their letterman jackets. In the lead was the most popular guy in school, Damian Wayne. Whose father was nicknamed the Prince of Gotham. Who in turn married an actual princess from some far off land, giving Damian actual royal blood. Girls wanted him and guys wanted to be him, but from what Jon had heard, guys wanted him too.
Damian’s bright green eyes stood out against his brown skin, his gold earring glinted under the florescent light. He scanned the cafeteria with what looked like a sense of boredom. Colin, Jon called him Damian’s second in command, had one arm casually draped around Damian’s shoulders gesticulating wildly with his free hand. The group laughed at whatever the Colin said, but Damian only smiled as he started walking towards their unofficial table. Colin and the rest of the group broke off shoving and cracking jokes at each other while making line to pick up food.
Kathy whistled beside Jon, “Now he’s someone who doesn’t know you exist.”
“He looks and probably is, conceited.” Jon said offhandedly.
“Look at him, he has reason to be.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s cool.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot.”
Jon turned to look at Kathy, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead she was looking in Damian’s direction. Jon looked around and noticed that many were doing the same. He dragged his eyes back to look at Damian. The dude sat straight backed, elegantly eating his homemade meal from some fancy lunch bag that was probably more expensive than anything Jon owned, and scrolling on his phone completely ignoring the many eyes staring at him. Colin returned with the rest of the group nudging Damian and dropping his lunch tray with a loud smack, receiving an unimpressed glare in return. Colin smiled and placed a fruit cup in front of Damian.
Jon personally didn’t get the allure. The couple of times he had seen Damian interact with others it was usually acerbic. Somehow that did not lessen his popularity and it left Jon dumbfounded. I good person should be good to others and being polite was a given, his Grandma said so and she was never wrong.
Jon shrugged and went back to eating his school lunch. The rest could keep Damian he very much preferred Jay.
I hope you enjoyed it! Will post more soon, hopefully.
#damian wayne#jonathan kent#jon kent#damian al ghul#damian and jon#high school au#no capes au#jondami#supersons#fanfic#fanfiction#should I post on ao3#first time writing#i hope someone likes it#be gentle
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Heart of the Great Wolf
27 - The Winter Rose
Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)
Length: 16.5k
Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, descriptions of blood and violence, mentions of character death, imprisonment, minor self harm, discussions of miscarriage and child loss, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, possessiveness
Notes: I'm sure this chapter title and the last chapter title have no deeper meaning whatsoever. Nope just totally, utterly random. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here
You were thankful Maester Pylos was easier going then most, meaning he was quick enough and familiar enough with you to listen when you told him not to ask anything about it. His eyes were drawn right to the scar as he looked over your bruised ribs, but he kept his word and said nothing regarding it. At least for the most part. As he moved on to carefully cleaning the somewhat still bloody wound on your forearm he did however comment in jest, “Should I be concerned if these ones do not heal? That might make acquiring more in battle leave you looking a little worse for wear, your grace.”
You huffed a laugh before wincing. “Don’t, I’m in too much pain to laugh.” Glancing out the open window to the night sky, your eyes narrowed in a weary thought before finding that voice. “Pylos, when did Maester Cressen...”
He pause in his work as he glanced up almost in an apologetic manner. “Not long after the start of the war. He-” Trying to cut himself off before you sat up straighter to look at him did he feel the pressure to continue. “I mean not to speak ill of him, but it was at his own hand. Poison in a goblet of wine, hoping to share a toast with the red woman. It worked on him, but not her.”
Both looking at the other in a dreaded silence, neither were sure what to make of it. Even now, with what you had lived and Pylos had seen. You swallowed heavily before relaxing a bit to let him continue in quiet. “Who else?” His eyebrows raised and your voice found itself lowering in roughness. “Who else is gone? Because of this woman?”
Sighing deeply, Pylos pulled away. Sitting back as he looked sympathetically. “There was your uncles. Lord Renly first, then Ser Axell-” Your head shot up in a confusion for a moment repeating his name as Pylos nodded. “Yes. Your father had allowed the red woman to..burn alive those who did not convert to the Lord of Light, and Ser Axell was amongst them.”
Your heart sunk in your chest, what had you allowed this woman to turn you into father?
“One of your own cousins was to be sacrificed until Ser Davos betrayed his grace’s word and aided the boy in escaping-” You repeated the word cousin with more confusion and he seemed surprised you had not known this information. “A bastard boy of Robert’s. The red woman had need of King’s blood for her witchcraft, and sought out a living bastard of Roberts and brought him here with intent to sacrifice.”
Heart skipping a beat, you heard not the footsteps approaching the door from the winding stairwell up to the top of the Sea Dragon Tower. “Robert had..well he has many bastards in King’s Landing, which one did my father bring here?”
You did not like the pause, the sorrow of something you hadn’t known. “I am so sorry, I did not realize you hadn’t known...” The pairs of feet stood outside the door, one hand holding out in front of the other figure to give a moment for both to listen. “King Joffery..he had ordered..he had ordered his City Watch to find and execute all of Robert’s bastard children. He believed that they posed a threat to his claim should the rumours of his mother and the Ser Jaime Lannister to be true. Only one remains as far as we know..”
You wanted to ask who, but the answer was sickening no matter what, because it was a boy he said. Not the innocent life of a tiny baby girl in the arms of her young, sweet mother who knew none better. What was her name? Barra? That was it, the little girl with already growing dark hair and green eyes that shined up at you when she woke up in her mother’s arms.
Lord Baelish had never specified how many of them were out there, but you could only imagine the truth. You had on more then one occasion come across the outside of his chambers, Ser Jaime Lannister posed morosely outside forced to listen to your uncle with however many women he drew into his bed that time. It was one of the few times in those last few months before Lord Arryn’s death that you and the Lannister had found genuine common ground.
That both of you found it nothing but an insult to force a brother to listen to his King insult his sister, no matter how little love existed in such a marriage. You both had joked how judging by the sounds, you couldn’t tell if it was worse if the number of women he had inside was more or less then the number you had thought of. Watching girl after girl leave and sometimes return or a new one would show, and how many of them had sons or daughters which now lay dead at your repulsive cousins hands?
Before Pylos could speak more of it, the door to his study opened and the tense air was cut short as both Jon and Ser Davos walked in. Pylos making motion to stand only to be stopped by Jon offhandedly waving off the need of a gesture of formality. Yourself however, stood as you and Davos looked to one another, a full volume of regret somewhere behind his eyes. “Your Grace, I came to apologize.”
Were Jon’s head and heart not still racing in something treading close to anger, he may have found the strength in him to laugh at how easily you dismissed that, almost not even having realized there was any slight to apologize for. “Unless you’ve committed a crime in the hours since I last saw you, you haven’t done anything I’ve taken offence with. You've known me my whole life, that allows you to think I'm an idiot sometimes.”
Almost dropping his face a bit more flat as he looked at you, tone a bit heavier but more flat as well thankfully. “What has the world come to, when it’s easier to apologize to Stannis than it is you?” Both of you had a small laugh at such, you stepping forward as Pylos gave more space to those all in the room.
Crossing your arms there was a beat passed between you before your own voice found the right words, “I should be the one to apologize. After what happened to Matthos..being on the other side of it wouldn’t make it any easier, it was the best option we had but that doesn’t change..” Something unsaid between both of you, and it wasn’t your place or anyone's but Davos himself to truly bring it up all on his own volition. “What I’m trying to say is, I am the one whose sorry.”
The room was quiet as was his own voice a little far away with a tinge of amusement. “Don’t imagine it’s good manners to reject a Queen’s apology.”
Only that made you laugh, and laugh hard enough that you had to stop mid way through with a wince at your ribs. “You should hear the way some of my own men speak to me, I’m not what one would call particular with manners anymore.” Your eyes shifted a bit more stern however, a question tinted on your lips to follow. “Dare I ask whats been done with our new prisoners?”
“Most of the Golden Company has been put in the main dungeons, none to happy with how crowded it is but least they’re far enough down we won’t hear them complain.” Nodding, brows narrowing as he read that too. “As for our honoured guests,” a twist of jest in his tone matching his expression to choose his words carefully. “They’ve been put in separate cells for now, Connington requesting one for each of them away from the other.”
All four in the room found something strange in such a thought, but there was little to ponder over it in the moment. Jon had been standing some feet back, arms crossed over his chest with a dark, narrowed anger in his eyes that matched the rough strain held back in his own voice. “If they are willing to cooperate I can work something out with Stannis. Their army in the dungeon, I have no reason to keep them there as well. If they hear us out they might be of some help, if not, I see no reason they can’t at least have freedom to stay here or leave.”
You nodded, having not a clue what such a conversation with your father would look like and yet it seemed most of the reasonable ones anymore were between him and Jon now. Working together in White Harbour was the most you had gotten along with him since he was still in King’s Landing. It was not your place to question that, nor did you feel the need too. As long as whatever he wanted, wasn’t going to push Jon into anything he didn’t want.
All was quiet as the three of you now walked the halls back towards the ground level, you finding specific instructions to Davos. “Gather enough men to check around the curtain cliffs for structural damage. It’s hard enough getting around this place without those paths getting cut off. And tell Amos to start clearing the bay when the rest of it has put itself out. I don’t want our shores turning into a graveyard.”
Making his leave, you found enough drive still flowing through you that you had thought to tun to Jon with something else entirely on your mind only to have him glance down the hall, before his face twisted in a deep irritation. Grabbing you by the arm and all but hauling you into a small alcove just around an empty corner. Crowding you in and instant, hands roughly holding you by your upper arms as he looked you over, the blood and grime he found even more minimal then it was still on himself before letting them fly up to cup your cheeks.
His hold was tender, but the raggedness in his voice certainly was not. “What in Seven Hells did you think you were doing out there?”
If the look in his eyes weren’t such a brightness that yet gleaned with something desperate you may have teased him, but instead your heart only dropped further then it sat within your chest. You noticeably, did not reach out to him in anyway. “We needed Connington to surrender, I did what needed to be done. “
“By putting yourself in danger?” Trying to defend yourself, Jon cut you off with his voice trying to raise but being unwilling to go anything near a yell this close to you. “What happened if you lost?”
You on the other hand, were a bit louder but high pitched in an unsure lack of confidence as he stared you down. “Aegon wasn't about to give up, he wasn't going to go willingly I had to do something.”
This time, something uncomfortable had boiled in Jon’s chest and did in fact, come out as a yell with an anger rushing through. His hands on your face dropped as he tried to turn away, only getting a few feet away before his face still twisted in anger faced you again.
“I never would’ve let you anywhere near this fight if I knew this was what you were going to do.” If he expected you to argue, you didn’t. Deep down he knew you wouldn’t. His voice a little quieter but just as on edge as he ran a hand across his mouth before he turned closer to point at you almost in a lecture. “I shouldn’t even let you within fifty feet of a sword if you think your best chance is to always throw yourself at the enemy first.”
Again, you didn’t fight him in any way. Instead your nails dug into the skin of your other fingertips as your arms sat tensely at your side, jaw clenching as you flickered between his face and the ground beside him.
Your voice far more quiet and unsure then his anger. “I’m the one who actually saw you dead, you know.” His eyes narrowed briefly but you looked away again. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see me at the Twins. You weren’t the one between us who sat there staring at your corpse all beacuse you were a few hours too late to stop it. First time you felt my scar was when I was alive, I felt yours when you were dead long enough down there your skin was turning blue.”
He had barley moved, and your voice hadn’t raised. It wavered in between upset and something darker but you just stood quiet and stiff, Jon trying to gently call your name but your jaw clenched further. A shake of your head before you continued to stare away from him. “You’re so afraid of losing me out there but I know exactly what you look like when you’re dead. You don’t think I hate not being strong enough to be at your side, to have your back if no one else does? Or do you think it’s just easy for me to imagine coming up after a battle and seeing you on the ground exactly like you were that morning?”
You looked up to him finally and found instead all the anger had transferred to your eyes, only a heartbreaking softness left in his, but now as Jon stood there you knew he wasn’t certain if reaching out to you again was a good idea. Not when you were this on edge.
“Do you really think I’m fine with the fact that I’m too weak to protect you?”
He wanted to reach out to you so badly but you’d flinch away from him the second he even twitched in your direction. His grey eyes swimming with that need however and could not hide it from your own eyes distant in a pain. Your name murmured on his lips, “Why do you think I asked you if you wanted to learn how to use a sword?” Your eyebrow raised in confusion, “That night in Winterfell, why do you think I wanted to teach you when I caught you looking at the practice swords?”
It was still one of you fondest memories of that visit. How you had been so caught off guard he swiped at your legs and it sent you knocking to the ground. Looking up in confused anger to see a fourteen year old Jon, that dashing smirk on his lips as he swung his own practice one around in one hand looking down at you. His voice at that point already having developed so close to the deep raspiness it was to this day.
He had teased you about not turning your back on your enemies before helping you up. Accepting the shove you gave him.
Risking taking a step forward, you tensed a little as you looked away but you otherwise did not try and back away from him. Jon’s voice growing softer as he spoke, trying to coax your eyes to his. “I never thought you’d ever need it. Never thought you’d find yourself having a life where you’d need to protect yourself like that. I only asked if you wanted to learn how, beacuse I wanted an excuse to spend time alone with you.”
Your eyes didn’t meet his, but you looked closer, enough that the gaze now trained on Longclaw sat at his side, brows slightly narrowed. “You spent plenty of time with me, in those days.”
Jon risked another step forward, and you tried not to let it choke up inside you how careful he tended to be when he could see whenever you were in a more high strung state. He always knew exactly when and how far to keep his distance until you settled enough. “Not the way I wanted. You spent most of your days working beside my father and when you weren’t there was always something trying to take your time away from me. It was an excuse to spend time with you and no one would be around to interrupt.”
Glancing more up, you found the blood splattered across his chest plate, somewhat covering the direwolves. You more mumbled then anything, not having the ability to argue at the best of times with Jon. “I didn’t learn how to use a bow to set a thousand men on fire, but that came in handy when the time needed it.”
Jon’s hands itched but he kept them to himself. “Never in my life did I think teaching you all those years ago meant you’d be putting your life in danger beacuse of it. I didn’t think you’d ever have any use for it, and I don’t expect you to do it now.”
It was a mistake looking up, his grey eyes were so wide and bright. A shine to them which radiated something so beautiful as it echoed against the rest of his face. How more women didn’t fall madly in love with Jon, you did not understand. Because even now, they were enough to make you melt enough he stepped within a foot of you. You tried to speak multiple times, but ultimately let a sigh out as you looked away from him in your own frustration. “I knew if I could get him alone, I might be able to overwhelm him quicker then he could me.
Looking back up at him, neither of you held any anger anymore. You both hated having to be together in a life full of blood. You hated it with Robb, and you hated it now. None of the lives you ever planned out as a wishful little girl included this much war and death. Jon tilted your head up with a tender touch at your jaw, making you meet his eyes as he leaned close enough you could feel his breathe dancing across your skin.
His other hand reached out, grasping your hand to guide it to his waist before settling his on yours, almost a prompt to tell you to let your other do the same thing. Which you obeyed. His tone was as gentle as he could make it, light and airy as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead before meeting your eyes again. “And if Aegon had killed you, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him myself.” The almost loving tone as he ran his hand on your jaw along the skin to your cheek contrasted quite strangely with the dedicated violence of his words. “You’re duty isn’t to put yourself in danger, and it’s my duty to keep you safe. I’m only asking you to stop making my job so hard.”
Finally, he had managed to pull a breathy laugh from you. Him returning one back, leaning a bit more into you with his own mesmerizing smile as he did so. One of your hands on his waist jumped up, going from there right up to dancing your fingertips along his chest plate, not caring much to avoid the blood as he you traced over the direwolves. “I didn’t do it to scare you.”
“I know.” His hand moved to run across the back of your head, his fingers clearly toying with the idea of pulling your hair loose as he was there. “I’m not trying to make it seem like I want to control you, it..I hate that I can’t always be there to protect you. I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. And I know I have to work on that, on accepting that.”
Nodding, the air between you both felt much less suffocating then before. Hard to overcome the fact that you found it scary, the idea of arguing with Jon. He felt things deeply and intensely, and you hated the thought that you could ever be the one to set him off in a bad way. Especially in moments like this, his grey eyes so soft and full painted towards you and hands gentle like you were the delicate thing to treasure in his touch.
Letting your hands reach up and cup the sides of his cheek and jaw, he moved with you in an instant as if reading every inch of your mind. Leaning down to meet you half way, the second his lips gently brushed against yours, he moved to grab your waist to steady you against him. Nothing more then a gentle dance without pushing the other too far, and yet Jon’s hands kept growing tighter despite the kiss growing no more heated.
The second a tiny sigh slipped from you as you parted, a light dizziness in your head with a satisfied hum along with it however, was a step too far. Jon’s hands suddenly dropping down to your hips, and the innocence of the moment died out as he, somewhat roughly, pushed you against the wall. His lips kissing you harshly, deepening it the second you grabbed at his shoulders with a whine, crowding you against it before letting one hand slip to the back of your head.
This time, he pulled out the ties keeping your hair up without needing a single glance. Running through the loose strands before yanking your head to tilt up so he could press against you entirely. Biting at your lip only once before demanding you let him slip his tongue inside your mouth, running along yours as the hold on your hair was keeping your lips from being able to part from him whatsoever.
It was the exact same thing as before it seemed, you with nothing but innocent intentions and Jon let it consume him like an inhuman force blinding him with a raw lust. Your hands reached up to let his hair loose but were caught in their path as Jon all but shoved your legs apart, moving a knee to invade the space between. As he shoved that same knee up against between your legs, he used his grip on your hip to grind you down against it, powerless against his strength to stop it.
Biting your lips, running his tongue along yours and tasting your mouth with an increasing demand and greed as he started to guide your hips to move in a harsh but slow grind. Too many layers keeping you from feeling it so directly, but Jon was unfair in how strong he was and he kept you pressed against him as he moved you along until he felt your hands shake against your hold on his shoulders.
Your insides burned as his did, screaming in fire at you, but not to be put out. A pleasure that twisted and turned like a coil to snap at any moment begging him to throw you into the flames at his own mercy, and your heart raced so much those across the castle were like to hear it pounding. It was as if something took over, pulling finally from your lips as his eyes now black as the night outside looked into yours.
His lips red and swollen as he hadn’t pulled from you enough to break the small strands of saliva his kiss brought between you. Lips parted he breathed heavily until he looked down, keeping you against his knee as one hand now flew to find just enough room at the edge of your pants to slip down.
Jon’s mind aggressively thinking about how much he wanted to be home. Bring you home to Winterfell so he could go back to you having the freedom to walk around in your beautiful dresses and there would be not a thing in his way but your tiny layer of fabric that he could soak you through in seconds.
Teeth almost gritting as he hissed, finding your clit as the rest of your core was shoved too tightly against his knee, still moving you against him only now his fingers pushed more. Running harsh and tightly over the sensitive spark before almost twisting it as if it were the small buds on your breasts he would roughly yank at, twist so cruelly but on something now that made you cry out.
His mouth covered yours instantly, brows furrowed as he did so as if he was angry someone might have heard you. Running your covered core along his knee and his fingers rubbing, twisting and playing with your clit as he licked his way back into your mouth, keeping you unable to moan out loud or catch your breathe. Tensing hard in his arms, Jon pushed his knee up firmer and forced your hips down as much as he could as he ran his fingers tightly and twisted the core in you so suddenly.
But you tensed up, gasped into his kiss and then nothing. He pulled away. Again. His hand, his knee, even his lips. He stood almost a foot away from you, hands now steadying you by your upper arms again as you felt so stinging you wanted to cry. Three times now, and it was starting to be painful each time he refused you. Husking down at you, accent so thick only you could understand it from being so close, “Please, don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again.”
Almost unable to speak through the thick fog in your head you nodded, but he pulled you by a hand at your chin so as he spoke his lips brushed yours. “I want you to promise me, darling. Promise you’ll never do anything like that again.”
You weren’t in the right mind to guess which, but you wondered far off if he had done this on purpose or not. Put you in such a desperate state to get you to agree to anything he’d ask, or was this just out of his own worried panic over your safety fighting with some darker need he held for you?
Either way, your hands ran along his chest plate again as you nodded,“I won’t. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Looking to his eyes, they were almost seen as water hidden behind their depths as he looked at you almost heartbreakingly. “Jon..” You bit your lip almost nervously to ask, it sounding too innocent in your airy tone for such a request, “Could..we...”
But Jon only kissed you again, one last bite to your bottom lip as his tongue ran gently over the marks his teeth left and pulling back again. His hand cupping the back of your hair once more, the other now gentle on your waist. “No.” Your eyes squeezed closed in frustration as he kissed your forehead again, speaking against the skin there too. “But I want you to start keeping track of how often I don’t let you.”
Your brows furrowing as your heart still beat loud in your ears, “Why?”
He pressed another kiss to your forehead, this time more gentle and loving. Resting his own against it as he curled the hand on your waist around your lower back to pull you more into a gentle embrace. “Because however many times I take it away from you, I’m going to double. Give you twice as many to make up for it whenever I fuck you. You’re looking at how many? Six? Eight?”
You actually laughed, and so did he. Your head falling onto his shoulder as you shook with an exhausted laughter. “Remember that day in the wolfswood when I admitted I didn’t know what having one feels like? I’ve decided I regret ever telling you that now.” He asked why and you could hear the grin, “Because you only let me have one after doing this exact thing three times then.”
Jon didn’t respond right away, but it wasn’t even in lust he retorted. Almost just enough in a dry tone that you would smack him for being a smart ass, were you still children. “If I’m adding those three, then we are up to at least twelve.” You sighed, and he grinned more. Pulling you against his chest with both arms, one more around the back of your head now as yours were at his waist. “Keep talking, darling. I’ll keep adding them. I’ll be between your legs sun down to sun up at this pace.”
Sometimes it was hard to tell if your fathers men gave a hard time just to see how long your resolve would put up with it. You had been going back and forth before the man finally accepted the orders and made his leave.
The deep rumbling of a familiar voice came up to your side as you stood watching the men around the main gates working to clear and clean of the dead. “I’d throw them off the sides of that cliff before I let a lanky shit talk to me like that.”
Glancing up to your right to find Tormund watching the same as you did before glancing to you with an amused raise in an eyebrow. You turned back with little expression, voice as flat and done with this night as before. “I grew up here. Known most of these men my whole life, they talk to me like that because they know I let them. They certainly wouldn’t speak to my father that way.”
You tried not to glance to where he was in the distance. You felt a bit conflicted on how to handle things. On one hand, you were greatly thankful for him in just the blood spilling hours before and yet Pylos’s words rung in your mind and you couldn’t stop thinking of it. You didn’t know about your uncle, he was your mother’s own brother as well how much had been burned to dust and bone on these shores?
“You did well.” Glancing back up at him with curiosity, “On the cliff. You did well, not an easy climb that kind of rock but I was impressed. You and the Greyjoy.”
Smirking you shrugged a shoulder before crossing your arms over your torso. “Should I in return congratulate or apologize that your daughters husband lives to see another day?” He chuckled deeply, and it brought a smirk out of you. Taking a moment to let it simmer before you turned to something more on the side of quiet. “Would you have it in you to do more of that, or was this a one and done sort of deal?”
Turning to face you with an amused interest, he played just as coy. “Depends on the pretty crow’s offer.”
You however jumped right to the point. “The mines we’re here for, there’s tunnels all under the island but the easier ones to access are still mostly untouched. I have a few I know that I’ve worked my way through, but before I bring any of the others down there, I need to make sure I have everything in place so I can at the least have people get down to the main surface floor without scaling untouched walls in the dark. Would be nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing down with me.”
Tormund smirked, “Not even a challenge, between you and me, we could have those tunnels ready in a few hours we leave early enough.” You nodded appreciatively, back to looking at the winding stones some now had worked to wash the blood from. “I’d ask how early we should start tomorrow but I have a feeling it won’t be so easy convincing Snow to let you out of bed, to go spend time in a confined dark space with another man so soon.” Your eyes narrowed in confusion as he laughed. “Your fancy castle is large, but it doesn’t hide as much as you think.”
Your voice cracked as you suddenly hoped the earth would open and drop you into the sea. “I’m not sure I know what you are implying.”
Tormund leaned in, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragged you into his side without care. “All the advice I’ve given him, and he didn’t even let you cum.” Perhaps you could climb to the top of Dragonmont and dive into the molten liquid if you ran fast enough. “Could join you, let me teach him by example, how to treat a woman right if he’s that fucking cruel. Show him what he’s missing out on with you.” The grin in his voice was so thick as you knew your face was flushed and mortified.
Barley finding the confidence to mumble out, “You’re getting closer and closer to me shoving you off the edge of the mine, Tormund. Right at the very top.”
There was no noise except for the echo of footsteps as they walked down the corridor. Much torchlight hung by the walls and there were enough in each heavy iron door that you knew at least he would be sitting in more then darkness. As the guards opened the door, you nodded at them pointedly. “Leave us.”
The door closing behind with a loud clang keeping you in the open space of the dungeon cell, and a thick set of metal bars adorning the second half of the room keeping him apart. Sat on the ground with one knee bend up towards him and the other splayed out on the ground, the heaviest of his armour having been taken off him and he now looked quite like an ordinary man.
His eyes met yours with a curiosity. Your voice was low and even with nothing to give away in tone or even your face. “Do you know who I am?”
His answer at least was simple in response of your name, ending with Baratheon before he paused and corrected himself with little effort in him put forth. “Or, I suppose it’s Snow isn’t it? If we are being proper, that is.”
It made sense you supposed in your mind. Jon Snow was King in the North, and you were Queen at his side and most would presume so due to marriage. But it wasn’t anything worth the effort to correct him on. You didn’t come down here to discuss Jon.
Looking at Jon Connington you could see the shorter dark orange of his hair that gave his face more youth then the lines and exhaustion blessed him otherwise. “You requested to be away from your men, may I inquire as to why?”
Glancing up at you, his own eyes narrowed trying to sense the double agenda in your question but you knew he would find none. You played no games now. He sighed deeply, looking back at the adjacent wall with a morose tone. “I led sell swords here, not an army. They aren’t too forgiving of failure, even less so with being forced to surrender. It was safer to put me and him on our own, and I knew you wouldn’t let us together.”
Giving him one nod before inhaling deeply as you looked at him now with more curiosity. “The Golden Company has never successfully taken anything in Westeros before, they will come back around from this. We out numbered you, more than you suspected we would if I am guessing correctly.”
Laughing with nothing behind it’s meaning, “That you did. Lord Varys’s little birds were wrong. About many things it seems.” You raised an eyebrow and the silence sat between until he realized this was not a back and forth. “Either he didn’t know about Stannis Baratheons army or he didn’t tell me. Also tried to spook me, saying your husband was some dead man. A walking monster stabbed in the heart. Looks perfectly fine to me.”
The walking monsters of undead nature were that of cold and ice, not flesh and blood. But the knife in the heart was all the same. “He isn’t here, Lord Varys. Why?”
Connington barley moved, “I don’t know. Left some days before tonight, had business to attend to elsewhere and said no more on it. He isn’t a man who gives away his secrets,” You agreed and it had him hesitate and turn to look up at you. “How would you know that?”
Stepping closer your posture loosened a little bit, making him relax as well. “My father and I both served on the small council for some years. Spent much time around Lord Varys, so yes my lord, I know exactly the kind of secret’s he is capable of telling. Or not telling.”
Oh the glare Connington gave you almost was enough to have you laugh. “So, how does your father being King work? He claims to be the Protector of the Realm, but his daughter and heir is married to an independent Northern King? Things sure seem to have changed since I’ve been gone.”
“By change you mean there’s more freedom to rule outside of your beloved Targaryeans?” His eyes shot over to you, and while there was no malice on your face there was something unsettling in your eyes deep if he searched hard enough. You stepped closer again. “There was only a Seven Kingdoms because those people flew in with dragons and scorched the earth and it’s people. So you can imagine I am not quite convinced on Aegon’s claim when this country is only just beginning to find footing on it’s own once again.”
Sighing deeply, Connington’s jaw clenched as he stared harshly at he wall but his voice spit out in a hiss, “So this is who rules now? The Targaryeans fought against you Baratheon’s and Starks and now you get to be the ones who are in charge?”
Your voice was non confrontational however, you didn’t come for a fight but you knew you hit a sore spot. “For the Iron Throne? It’s a three way tie currently. The Lannisters sit on the throne, my father fights for it and apparently the remaining Targaryean still alive ,wishes to come back to seek it as well.” You came close to the bars, him still a number of feet away even if you were to press right up against the cold metal. “The Starks want nothing to do with the Iron Throne. We have bigger fights in the North then for an ugly iron chair.”
That you didn’t realize, was just almost enough to get a smirk out of the man. He turned his head lazily to look up at you, “Thought you were a Snow not a Stark.”
If he was trying to be clever, you saw through it. “You and I both know that Lord Varys has told you exactly who Jon is. Who his father is.” That made him clench his jaw harder, turn away with a rigid uncomfortable look in his eyes in an instant. Crouching down to see him more at his eye level you narrowed your eyes at him. “Let's not play word games. We both are aware of who exactly you were fighting against out there.”
Connington sighed, an arm coming to rest against his knee and hold his face in his palm before flying it back down to whip his neck around to you. “Is that why you are here? To discuss Eddard Stark’s bastard son?”
If he was on edge before, he paled now as you whispered into the silent air. “I’m here to discuss his aunt. Lyanna Stark. I’m sure your familiar with the name.” He said not a word, and you felt it seep heavy into the very air you both breathed. “I am going to be perfectly honest with you, my lord. Neither me nor Jon care about Aegon’s fight for the Iron Throne. He asked one thing of you in peace and you and him all but declared war for something on this island you didn’t even know was there. I don’t care if Aegon is fighting for the Iron Throne, what I want to know is how he’s even here in the first place.” Leaning forward you lowered your voice to something a little more annoyed with him. “Do we both know what I’m referring to or do we need to refresh our memories about the end of the rebellion? And how every single person in the Seven Kingdoms assumed Aegon died as a baby when Gregor Clegane smashed his face into a wall so hard it was unrecognizable.”
That did not sit nicely on his face. At all. He swallowed had with as much horror swimming in his eyes as you always felt imagining such a monstrous act. You let him sit in the quiet for a good few minutes, and you sat patiently waiting. “He was already two when they brought him to me.” Your eyes narrowed but otherwise remained entirely impassive. “Lord Varys and this associate of his, they approached me with this whole thing. I- I didn’t even know Aegon had survived...I had no idea...but then there he was..the only thing left of him right in front of me and them pleading me to help.”
“What did they want you to do?”
“Raise him. Take care of him, help make him ready. Train him to take the Iron Throne when he’s ready and hide with him until then. As father and son. Out of everyone in the world I had thought, me, Rhaegar trusted me with his son.” Your eyes grew dark and sharp but said nothing. There was a distant affection and lightness in his voice that was so far away you knew it tinged in a present pain. “I had lost him, but I had his son. Rhaegar’s own blood trusted in my hands to raise..I don’t know why he was smuggled out..or why she wasn’t..”
Rhaenys he meant. Why what sounded like nothing more than an innocent, sweet girl was left behind to be slaughtered.
He swallowed heavily, and his voice shattered to a waver. Not once did he look at you. “I spent his whole life waiting for him to become Rhaegar. The day I would wake up and see him, in his face, his eyes, anything. But..I’m still looking. I spent Ageon’s whole life waiting to see when he would turn into his father that sometimes...I feel like I missed his life..the life he had when he was just..my son. I failed his father, and now I’m failing the son too.”
Whatever was choking him on the inside, wrapped its tendrils around your throat and squeezed until something rough was forced out. “You didn’t fail. Rhaegar was the one who failed.” Connington’s eyes met yours, and it was a sorrow you rarely saw on people. “I don’t know Aegon, I didn’t know Rhaegar, but I knew the damage he left behind. I spent half my life growing up with a family that his actions led to their deaths before the war was over, and that pain has never gone away. I saw that pain live and fester in Robert’s eyes until it was so strong it almost killed what good in him was left. Good men don’t leave pain like that behind.”
Deep blue eyes and dark curls in your mind were clear as if he were right in front of you. Robb being gone was agony, but he left no pain behind. Only the agony of loss, and the desperate love of so many who knew the truth that he was the best of so many of you. Good men are like Robb, not Rhaegar.
Connington was quiet for a long time, but never asked you to leave. A quiet solace as you both thought to men you loved and lost in your own ways, but one was tinged in more guilt then the other until it spilled over as his head fell back with a thud against the dungeon wall. “For a long time I saw him everywhere. In my head, my dreams, would pass someone with just the right shade of hair that I’d trick myself into thinking there he was. I wanted to see him in Aegon so badly, but I never could. I thought I never would again, and..it wasn’t until..I suppose now I realize that maybe I don’t actually want to see him.”
“Until what?”
He looked to you with a doubt, and then he huffed a laugh. Shrugging a shoulder in a genuine amusement as he sat there behind the metal bars. “For a good minute out there, fighting your husband felt like I was back in my prime. Sparring with Rhaegar in the training arenas, getting overwhelmed by his intensity too.”
Tilting his head to you, “Damn near spooked me. Was like looking at Rhaegar how intense he was, but..he was also far better then him. I’ll give him that, your King is a skilled swordsman like I’ve ever seen. Had all of Rhaegar’s intensity and more, and I realize now that maybe I’m relieved I’ve never seen that in Aegon. I don’t know this Jon Snow, but for your sake, I hope there’s more to him then what I saw out there beacuse otherwise?” He whistled out and your face fell flat.
Your voice however had an edge to it that cut him like steel. “And you think Rhaegar was a better man?” Rhaegar thought he was better then everyone else, and that it made him untouchable. But Jon is a better man then anyone you know anymore in your current life, but he would never think that of himself. He’s a good man because that’s who he is, not beacuse he’s trying to make everyone else think so too. Leaning forward there was a real vitriol there, “Jon’s never abandoned his wife and two young children to kidnap an innocent teenage girl at the least.”
Connington’s face paled almost sickly. “Is that why you’re down here? Mock me about what he did?”
You were honest but no less hostile even in whispers. “She was Jons aunt, his fathers own sister and everything he’s heard about what your beloved prince did to her only got worse the more he was told. But he won’t ask you about it. So I will.” You leaned in as much as you could. “Why kidnap her? She died because of him, her father and brother died trying to save her. Why take her, why keep her from her family. What did he do to her that killed her so far away from where he, himself died?”
Connington’s voice was rough and you had no sympathy. “You’ve heard the story.” Asking why he did it, he said nothing. So you asked again to more nothing. Only the third did he raise his voice. “I don’t know. I don’t know why he did it. He never said what about the girl he wanted with, just that he needed her. But he had his Kingsguard keep her locked up and no one saw her until after she was already dead. He never said what he wanted with her, never told me why. And I was exiled by Aerys before I had a chance to find out.”
Leaning back, your nails dug into your palms at the guilt on his face. “Tell me one thing. The rumours of what he did to her, were those true? Or was that just the angry ramblings from Robert without any merit?”
His silence was deafening and you felt ill. Lyanna deserved better then to have men thirty years after her death, mourn the man who kidnapped and raped her until she died alone in the Dornish sands.
You backed off from him, and your tone lightened up a bit for his sake. Already struggling to look you in the eye. “Sometime soon, Jon will offer you and Aegon a peace. But I’d think long and hard, Lord Connington. Think if the man you really want Aegon to be is Rhaegar, beacuse there is none here who is on his side. But they might be on yours. You have time still. He doesn’t have to become his father, you can let him be ready at his own pace.”
“No I can’t.” You head tilted in question. “I don’t have time. Aegon needs to be ready to take the Iron Throne now or I- he can decide who he wants to be when he’s crowned but I need to sit him on the Throne as soon as possible. I...I have to do this one thing for him. I can’t fail the father and the son both.”
Your whisper was far away, “Why? Why rush into this after spending almost thirty years leading to it?”
But he shook his head. Clearing his throat before pulling his knees both up to his chest to rest his arms over them. For a while he said no more, and it wasn’t until the tense quiet of you walking towards the heavy door did he speak up. “He looks like her.”
Your head whipped around to look at him, Connington’s face more pale once again. “Jon Snow. You said he’s Lyanna Stark’s nephew? He looks like her. Suppose he looks like Eddard Stark too, but it was like looking at a gods forsaken ghost seeing him for the first time.” He laughed to himself. “Spent thirty years trying to see Rhaegar and avoid thinking about all the horrible shit he did, and in one night I feel like he, Lyanna and Robert have all come back to haunt me between the two of you.”
In only a small voice, you knew he heard you even if he didn’t acknowledge it. “You’re the one who raised him. And you surrendered for his sake beacuse you love him, not beacuse he’s Rhaegar’s. Don’t allow Rhaegar’s shadow to get in the way of that. Aegon’s not him, and he needs you for you. Not beacuse you are waiting for him to become someone else.”
As you walked out of the dungeons, all you could see was deep blue eyes against grey eyes.
For only a moment, you let yourself sit on the steps leading back to to the main floors of the castle as the night sky loomed over. Your hand traced the scar along you, and you realized maybe you weren’t the only one making that very mistake. You had been adamant to ensure your love with Robb was about him and not the guilt of Jon, and it led to a love between you both that was more then you could’ve ever imagined for the tearfully short time you were allowed to share it.
So you couldn’t do the same in return to Jon. You would always love Robb, always love the child you almost had together, but you couldn’t only see them when you looked at Jon anymore. You always said he deserved better then what the world gave him, and that included what you had been doing up until now.
The path was less treacherous then you recalled. Recently having passed your eleventh name day, you had still been small when you did this last. Your room too, it felt smaller then you remembered, cramped and uninspired with little personality. Much of you had been taken to King’s Landing where none of it existed anymore, but hidden behind a cabinet under the rug was still your spot to have searched on Dragonstone.
The path along there felt long as a girl. Long and the loud tides were frightening as if the gods telling you to stay away but each time including the fifth now, you had to pass the fear by. There was something you had to do, one last act and this time you felt horrid it was done so late.
Hopefully not only will The Mother see your beg of reason, but Robb would understand you hated not being able to do anything sooner. Whatever gods answered you now, you needed to send his son to Robb once and for all. Robb deserved that, he deserved more then that but this was all you could do.
As you came upon the clearing however, you felt a weightless sink in your stomach that almost had you drop. What more had he let her do? Your steps were suddenly slow, a painful realization that not only could the old gods of Robb not hear you from here, but perhaps the Seven of your past could not either anymore.
The statues had always sat tall and proud on the shores, close to the sept but a worship all on their own that felt closer to the earth. Four times you had come here like this, lighting a candle in the middle of each and finally to The Mother you would light all seven before beginning.
But now, only shadows remained. Burned statues of the Seven that you could hardly recognize what even had stood as what before. Burn the false idols, that was what he had let her do. You prayed in a peace to the old gods now, but not even the sliver of your life following the Seven was allowed here now. Only her fire god, as she burned any and all for him.
Now, as you stood with the torch in your hand and wind blowing your hair around with it, you only felt the pull North more intensely. Dragonstone was slowly taking away everything that was once a home with a family. Death and destruction was left.
Your hands brushed along each statues remains, and tried to recall prayers long unspoken in your mind and hoped they would accept your only offer. You knew where The Mother stood, and for once you felt a sting behind your eyes as you approached. This time it was not brothers you lost, and not your own mother by blood that you prayed for. It was you who was the almost mother praying to let the gods forgive your unborn son and pass him to his father and find peace together.
Carefully, you stuck the torch deep into the sand in front of her, and let your hands trail over the melted insides that were left. Wind blowing your hair and cloak far and wide as you begged for any hope that someone not shrouded in fire could hear you and protect him. He was your son, and you failed him and so you needed to pass him on.
You had made your way to your old bedroom earlier, shutting the door behind you sealing you alone as you pulled out the deep blue box with ornate foxes etched into it. Four hand carved toys sat inside it, four toys for your four brothers to remember by.
You had done what you did for them, written out the blessings septon would anoint a child with as they were named under the Light of the Seven. Only this time, the house sigil was that of a direwolf, and the name you called to them at the bottom had almost been enough to make you cry. The memory of horrified blue eyes looking at you with blood soaking his hands as your final memories together.
Eddard Stark
Now the burned remains sat in a small pouch along with the dagger. Pulling it out you held both ends with a choke so high in your throat were you to let it out it would sob. But the tears fell the same. You had nothing of them, nothing of either of them. Only this.
You had nothing of Robb but a scar and a dagger. His body was desecrated. He was given no funeral rites, he would not rest beside his father in the crypts of Winterfell with a faithful direwolf to guard him.
Robbs bones were lost somewhere in the Riverlands.
You could only give him this, and the tears fell as you cared not to hide them. You had a life to find now without him, with a man you truly loved but you would never find it in you to move past this kind of pain. You would always be scarred in heart with his loss, and the son you failed to give him. But you did have to accept it.
No shatters or thunder or noises to fear came about. The Mother had seen you cry and heard you in agony for the love of your life and the son you both lost, and she was allowing you to do one final thing for them.
You like four times before, stepped out into the middle of the shores, and with no wince this time, carved the dagger deep into your palm. The blood of you, Robb and your son all dried on it and now you let it twist as much as you could needing some of all three to soak your hand as you and your sons had soaked Robbs.
Letting it sit back in it’s sheath, you gently pulled out the pouch and poured it into your bleeding hand and letting the material fly elsewhere. Hand tightening around it you let your blood together soak as this was all you had of your son. Robb and you could only give him this to send him and you needed him to find his father, that was all they had of each other.
Stepping into the watering tides, you knelt down into the ground, the water surrounding you a few inches all around. Your hand sat deep into the sand as your eyes closed, kneeling down on your calves, with both hands braced beside you. The winds and tides blew around you as you saw not the blood.
Just the memory of a moment to find any joy. The memory of how scared you had been to tell him, only for Robb to haul you up into his lap and arms, the happiest you had ever seen him and the loving press of his lips against you like you gave him the world.
Eventually, your hand opened and the remains and blood all washed into the sea. You stayed there for a good long while. Eyes open looking to the stars in the night refusing to remember the pain. Only the deep love you found with him and the dreams of a family you couldn’t give him.
You hoped this far away, Robb Stark could hear you tell him you love him. Now and always.
It was more time you had planned on being away, by the time you had made your way to the room that was to be yours for a time, Jon was already stripped down from his armour and everything. Both of you having taken the time to clean the blood and grime from you before finding the other at that point as Jon now sat perched against the ledge near the open window, slight breeze flowing through his loose curls as he was cleaning the remaining blood from Longclaw back to it’s shining state.
Grey eyes soft as they looked up, you gently pushing the door closed behind you before letting your back rest against the heavy surface. A fire softly crackled in against the wall along the rooms clearing with a soft rug covering the cold stone of the floor. It was hard to tell if it was something unsure or worried in his eyes as they looked gentle but with a furrow in his brows at the fragility you stood against the door in, as if struggling more then normal to find the words.
Calling your name, but when you didn’t respond he set Longclaw aside. Standing to make his way over to you and only on the second attempt did your eyes snap back to the present as your name sounding in your ears. He stood close, but not invading your privacy and yet that sorrow in your heart melted to something that left a bright love to bleed in your gaze. “Talk to me.”
As Jon’s hand reached up to run his fingers through the hair at the side of your face, you grabbed it instead. Pulling it, and by proxy him, closer to you as you held it more over your heart as the other free hand of yours traced over his jaw, facial hair scratching at the skin. His other came to rest at your waist, both quiet as he waited for what was behind your eyes to make their presence spoken.
When you found that, it wasn’t what he expected. “I used to think it was my fault my mother lost my brothers.” His eyes narrowed at you but you had not the strained hurt in your voice, but something more gentle and easy. “She stopped speaking to me after the first, and then the night after she lost her second my father told me I was being sent North. I thought it was a punishment.” Your hand begun to trace back and run through his curls as he watched you closely. Your own eyes not meeting his as they trailed innocently over what you could see of him from such an angle. “Used to think boys were meant to come first, and by me being the firstborn I had screwed it all up, and my mother kept losing them beacuse of me.”
The hand holding his over your heart slowly slid downwards, his eyes following intently until he led your hands and reached where the scar sat under your clothes. Letting his palm almost slide across the whole thing and his eyes never looked away from it as if he wanted to see it through the material. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Nodding, you moved both of your hands to rest along his chest close to his collarbones. “I thought I was cursed. Eventually, I stopped thinking about it. It had been so long I forgot what it ever was like to be afraid I was the reason she couldn’t have them.” Your voice lowered however, and you felt him tense drastically in your touch. “At least, I forgot until I lost my own. And then I felt like a failure. I didn’t even have one before he too was gone.”
Jon tried to move, wanting to pull you closer but your hands on his chest pushed back a little to keep him at bay. His voice low and rough trying to contain something in him. “Robb would never blame you for that. Never.”
You echoed those words, not realizing as he had said them about himself that you understood exactly what that felt like. “I thought I failed Robb, and I was terrified he would hate me for failing his son too.” Jon never moved his hand from your scar, his shoulders holding a visible weight on top of them as he stood close to you. “But I realized something tonight. That if I keep holding onto that thought, all I am doing is pushing you away with it. I’m doing exactly what you had told me not to do when I married Robb. I’m letting my pain of losing them get in the way of what I should be having with you.”
His other hand not on your scar moved to run over the back of your hair as his grey eyes were bright and conflicted as he looked into your willing ones. “I’m not asking you to choose me over Robb, I’d never ask you that. I know you two loved each other and I’ve never wanted to get in the way of that-”
It didn’t matter how quiet your voice was, it to Jon sounded as if it were a yell from above. “He said I was fine.” His eyes shot up to yours sharply. “Wolkan. He said I was fine. That..he doesn’t think I should have any reason to suspect I can’t..or that we wouldn’t be able to..”
His touch was still and his eyes were wide in almost shock. Lips parted slightly as he looked you over gently before meeting your eyes again. “He said that you can..” His hand on your scar increased the pressure and he almost could lose it at how you seemed so gentle looking up at him.
You leaned back against the door more, a relax in your posture. “I thought that if I failed to give the last King in the North an heir, I didn’t deserve to fail with the second. Thought you should’ve just moved on, made me leave and find yourself a better wife that could give you all that and more. That letting you be with me was a mistake, and you’d end up hating me for wasting your time.”
Something deep in Jon’s eyes hurt, something painful cut at him hearing such a statement that there was a redness tinting behind the grey that threatened to pool out were he to let it. In an instant he moved to cup your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours as he crowded you against the door, your hands coming to his waist. “I don’t care about if you can give me a heir, I care about you. I care about how much it would hurt you not to be able to have children, and if I was pushing you for something that was impossible..but..”
The ease in how lovingly you looked into his eyes made him choke up. And the tenderness in your voice made that all the worse. “I’m not trying to influence you one way or the other, I just..thought you ought know the option is there..should you decide you want that..”
You suspected there was a lot he wanted to say but little ability to speak them into the world. His voice still a whisper as he looked at you, but a playful small smile on his lips. “I did always think your name would sound better with Snow than Stark.” You both just laughed, for a moment before he tried inhaling shakily before speaking again. “We don’t have to plan anything right now, but,” One hand started to trace down your arm, as his eyes followed, “We could always practice.”
His eyes flickered up to you, and a weight held your voice and breathe down. Maybe keeping the tears at bay too, but you swallowed heavily. Hands on his waist tightening as you slowly nodded. Jon leaned in, hovering close to your lips before glancing up to your eyes, you nodded once more before nervously shutting them as he closed the gap himself.
Jon tried to be gentle, he truly did.
His kiss was soft at first, a gentle brushing of his lips to coax more from yours. Hands on the other were both light and firm enough just to keep the other in front of them, but it was the shaking in yours as they rose up the length of his chest that made him weak. His touch back up to cupping both of your cheeks as he gently let you find a slow, sweetness in the harmony, your hands continuing their journey up to dance along his neck and wrap around the back of it, almost too gently for him to handle.
Your touch when that soft and innocent, made his blood race.
He tried pulling away a few times, wanting to at least take the heavy layers off of you, but each time he was pulled right back to your lips on his own desire, kissing a little harder each instance and getting worse at pulling back every return. The hands on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly when Jon gently nibbled at your bottom lip and you tried to gasp. He would return to a soft kiss, bite your lip harder and then kiss it soothingly before biting and repeating.
Each bite you got closer to a whine at the pleasure from the stinging he gave you, and your nails unintentionally dug into the skin of his neck as you felt yourself getting lightheaded. One of his slipped behind your own neck, keeping a firm hold cupping the back of it as if to force you not to move as the other hand left your cheek as well. Blindly working away at the laces and straps keeping your light armour still attached to your upper body as if he needed no sight to know how to take it all off of you.
As soon as it was loose enough to pull off you, he let it toss down anywhere he could throw it, biting your lip harsh as he jumped to your bottom half. His tongue now soothing over the bite mark before slipping into your mouth. His invading kiss and calloused hand running along the skin by your hips undoing your pants almost impatiently had you arching a bit into the touch and a gentle whine he caught in your mouth with his greed.
Instead of shoving them down though, his rough hand slipped in between the fabric and your skin, and suddenly it was just as it was in the castle halls earlier that night. His fingertips dancing down to where you burned for him, and his own knee suddenly shoved your legs apart to once more rut in between you. The hand slid just inside only coming back up to grab what he could of your pants and roughly yanked you down onto his knee as much as he could manage, you much more freely moaning into his kiss.
The entire time, Jon refused to let your lips part from him. Refused to loosen his grip on the back of your neck and you felt more and more like it was a wolf really in front of you. A rough hold on the scruff of another wolves neck to keep them subjugated and you let him without a single thought on the matter. There were no thoughts of anything in you that wasn’t letting him do what he wanted.
Jon’s own head screamed at him over it. This was exactly the kind of thing that led to the way he took you that night in Castle Black. In your early days together, slowly exploring one another at the same pace it was never this bad. He never felt this barley in control. Yet as soon as his eyes opened once more in the body belonging to him, as soon as his mind settled and he understood the truth of what he had experienced, it started and never stopped.
Something dark and clawing in his chest begged him to keep you all for himself, and the way you melted to his touch so willingly and so naturally made that stronger. It partially scared him, having something so intense and addicted find it’s way about you. Worried that he was too much now, he would frighten you with his need for you in his life but you weren’t. You were the one in fact, scared of over staying your welcome.
That darkness was stronger then it had been in his entire previous life, and it was that same darkness that had him take you that night. Hoisted against the cold wall in his arms, Jon had slid his cock deep inside you for the first time and he knew there was no going back. Shoving you onto the ground and fucking you deep as soon as he already came once. Waking up with you bare in his arms and you had only even just tumbled out of sleep as Jon yanked you up onto his lap.
Barley opened your eyes before he roughly bounced you on his cock and him sitting up to mark your breasts up with this teeth because you gasped so beautifully in the air whenever he did. He filled you twice that morning without ever stopping how hard he fucked you onto his cock and he didn’t understand why he wanted more and more. Couldn’t understand why he suddenly was so desperate to fill you in a way that once terrified him when he was nothing more then just a bastard boy in love with a royal highborn girl.
But now? Jon was King in the North, the King his brother, his brothers people and his home all wanted and not a thing would stand in his way from keeping you with him. He was still honest about not wanting to pressure you into thinking you had to marry him, but he wanted it. Wanted you in a beautiful ivory dress, even more elaborate then the last. Pray with you in front of the Weirwood, drape his own fur over you in that beautiful ivory dress and kiss you before finding one last string of tradition in him, and hoisting you in his arms to the celebration to follow.
You could be each others and there would be nothing anyone could do to change that. Jon would never force it, or even press for it, but nothing would be in his way. And now? He thought too, nothing was standing in his way of getting you pregnant and suddenly his blood almost boiled him alive.
Hands finally having enough, you started to push up the soft material of Jon’s shirt until he got the message, pulling from you to let you take it off him, and letting it drop much more gently then he was treating your things. Looking down at you with wide eyes and lips parted as he breathed heavily, he stopped. Running his hand back down your cheek before just as gently taking everything from your top half off of you.
A shiver running over your chest as you were left with nothing covering you but Jon’s dark, greeding gaze. But he didn’t overwhelm, not now. Keeping a hand steady on your hip as you kept perched right over his knee, but his other explored your skin. Running flat along your jaw and neck thumb firm as it trailed down the middle of your neck to your collarbones before circling around to grasp at your breast.
His eyes were narrowed and his breathing heavy through his nose as he stared in silence, hand suddenly rough as he groped the plush skin he found. Thumb running over your nipple already perfect for him to grasp and twist. Grey eyes so dark they were near black as they flickered between his touch and your arching back and high pitched gasp you tried to keep low.
It only made Jon tug and twist at the small bud more roughly, and your gasp turned to a small cry before he finally moved to the other hand from your hip. Both hands rough and calloused and leaving bruises of his fingertips as sparks shot through your chest, pumping from your heart down between the legs trapped on either side of one of his. Jon leaning forward, pressing only gentle kisses down your neck. Nothing like his selfishly rough touch, only feather light presses of his lips making his way up to your ear before leaving another gentle one just below.
His lips only giving a peck before his hands came to slid everything left on you, off. Keeping everything in a tender touch until he rose back up to your level, you now bare before him.
Three fingers danced between your legs and grazed the growing wetness before trailing up to your clit with a touch that never really got committed. “Will you lay out for me? Let me taste you?” You bit your lip, still the act somehow making you nervous. It wasn’t something you even knew about until he was already doing it, and still it made you self conscious, but the need was deep in his eyes. “You’re safe with me, remember?”
That made you nod, and you let him gently move you to the soft carpet close to the fire. Still something nerve wracking in you, realizing you had no idea how to make yourself look alluring like this. Gently kneeling down on your calves with your hands in weak fists sat in your lap as if anything else would look like you were trying too hard. Jon however, just exhaled deeply as he looked back at you.
Grabbing your hands with both of his larger ones before leaning close, placing them along his shoulders around the back of his neck until you continued the path yourself, fingertips running what you could reach of his curls. Moving next to guide you to lay out for him, your knees somewhat bent with feet flat on the soft carpet as Jon settled partially above you.
Instead of moving you more, Jon leaned down and kissed you again. A soft brush of lips that this time never picked up, one of his hands running along your hair splayed out under you as he pulled away, after giving one final small kiss. Nothing else was spoken in the air as he moved down your neck, kissing a path just as soft and just as gentle the whole way.
Your hands slipping to his shoulders the lower he kissed, your chest already with a slight heave as your breathing picked up, but he never let up. Never let his lips press anywhere but gently along your skin. A muttering against you when he had to reach up, and direct a hand into his hair, mumbling into his path, “Keep that there.” You nodded even though he couldn’t see it.
The lower he got the more your nerves and heart raced, unsure as to why it made you so nervous but it also was something you simply never knew existed before him. Much of what you had always discovered with Jon made you nervous. He paused as he got to your scar, and just as you had his, kissed a path all the way down it and further.
Shifting to lay between your legs, Jon confidently draped your thighs over his shoulders, once more grasping your hips as he kissed along your upper thighs. Moving your hips slightly up closer to him, you felt the gentle brush of his tongue along your clit, enough to have you gasp. Would have jumped too were his hold not keeping you so strongly tethered right where he wanted.
Small, gentle licks along your clit that had your core awaken suddenly. Just a tender touch, working you up at the sensitive spot with only his tongue until he felt your thighs around him begin to shake, only then did Jon finally run his tongue flat over it much more soaking. Sucking your clit before just barely grazing his teeth over it as you tried again to jump at the spark of pleasure but he kept you in place.
Jon refused to let his mouth trail his mouth anywhere else, licking and sucking your clit with hands holding your hips tight until you felt that build up inside of you. Almost bracing yourself, knowing he was going to take it away again, you tried holding it off. Tried keeping it at bay as your free hand curled into a fist and biting your lip, but the pressure inside refused to stop.
But just as you felt the weakness, just as you felt inside tightening, Jon instead moved to grab at your upper thighs, and pushed them far. The instant you were sure he was going to pull away though, Jon moved to lick right down your folds with a deep hunger. A loud cry left your mouth as the second that feeling snapped, Jon used that hold to yank you into his mouth more. Tongue tasting every bit of wetness you were gracing him with before trailing back to your clit and down again.
Legs shaking and your breathing airy as your orgasm ripped through you but he didn’t pull back, only held you close. His tongue making his way deep inside of you, and your cries were loud and free by then. Unable to stop, as your hand curled into his hair with a beg of his name which meant no other words.
Jon grunted into your cunt, licking and tasting you with greed at the feeling and sounds you made above him. Hands pushing your thighs wide and off his shoulders, and instead as he run his tongue against something sharp and sensitive inside of you, his hands slid down your thighs to pull you again closer. Not realizing you had arched away from him the more your head fogged with pleasure rolling around your veins. Hands almost grasping now tightly at your ass, fingertips leaving deep bruises already as his mouth drank from you with his own need.
His own sounds vibrating through you and up leaving as cries from your mouth. Soaking his tongue and yet Jon didn’t back away for a second, his own need refusing to let go of you as suddenly that wave of pleasure shocked. Back arching for him, as your hand tightened in his hair. The sensation causing Jon to growl into you and his hands on your ass holding tighter as your orgasm rippled through you, babbling need saying words you heard not in the snapping pleasure burning your insides.
Perhaps it was so close to your second that it made it simple, but Jon so quickly drew a third. Not letting himself simmer down to a gentle coaxing as he started, instead keeping the desperation in how deep he tasted inside of you and how much he drank everything you soaked him with. You almost rolled right into a third as you begged this time, “Please- I can’t, don’t..” Nothing was close to a sentence and Jon didn't stop until he could will himself to leave by force.
Your eyes stung as it almost was too much between you did Jon kiss a path to your clit, and instead of marking his way back up, he all but leaped to your eye level. Pulling you in by the back of your hair as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Making you taste what he was addicted too as his covered cock rutted into your soaking bare cunt. His hands held your waist as he rolled more into you with intention, breathing growing heavy and the second he pulled away from your lips a snarl almost formed on his face before he bit your lips into another rough, deep kiss.
Your hands attempted to reach down, but a soon as you got to his pants, Jon leaned up again. Saliva still pulled from both your panting, swollen mouths and now yours was as shined with wetness as he was giving you the mess you let him drink from. Eyes black as he watched you, taking over for your hands and pulling the last of his own clothes off. Trailing down to look at you, yours shyly looked down to him.
Hard and thick, slightly red with need and his own seed already leaking as he looked at you. Pulling your legs wide as he moved back to you. His cock brushing against your soaked folds had him shudder and you whine, hands at his shoulders. Eyes still on you, his voice was strained, accent strong as he rasped down at you, “No matter what happens,” One hand drifting to your scar as your eyes stung, “We’re family now, we’re together.”
You swallowed, nodding yes before Jon kissed you gently. But the kiss was a distraction.
The pressure as his cock slid inside of you, your nails dug deep into his shoulders and Jon kissed you harsher. One slow, gentle glide inside of you and he slid as deep as your cunt could let him go. Stretched thick around him you burned and cried, tears coming from your closed eyes. Hands running through his hair, Jon kept your lips on his too.
He was slow about it, savouring every inch of you around him so warm and tight, your own walls being pressed against as you wanted to cry at the pleasure it stabbed you with each inch. His cock slid in and out smoothly, you utterly soaking around him as Jon would pull out almost just to the tip before just as slowly, sliding right back. Making you feel every moment of his cock filling every inch of you, his tongue brushing into your mouth as he did so, and the gentleness matched.
Your lungs were no more as he fucked you slow. Every gasp you tried to have, Jon would steal it with his kiss and refuse you any air that he didn’t give you. He wanted everything you were to be at his mercy, trust him to keep you right where you were and you did. Legs falling wide around his hips, the coil inside of you twisted and cracked as you held his kiss even closer with your hands raked deep in his curls.
His hands on your hips kept you in place, making every thrust of his cock had you shake, but the pace so you were to feel every second as you clenched so tightly around him. By the time he drew another orgasm out of you, you had tears genuinely at how overwhelmed you felt with his slow pace inside of you.
But then he pulled from your lips, looking down to watch his length disappear into your soaking cunt, Jon didn’t notice his hands on your hips grew tight the longer he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Teeth gritting, he started only to realize how much you were scratching at his insides when you cried his name out. “Jon- fuck, please, gods, please, you feel so good,”
Then, Jon picked up. Not the speed, still mostly just as slow but his hips suddenly skipping past a gentle increase and moving right to a hard, rough thrust inside of you. Looking up to your closed eyes as your back arched, hands now splayed in the carpet around your sweating hair. Jon fucked you rougher, stuck hovering over watching you. Each slam of his hips making the sounds between you slap, a rough smacking of skin that had him growling and holding your hips in place. As if he needed to control just how rough he fucked you at all times.
He had once dreamed of being kind and gentle with you in such a manner, but now he could see your overwhelmed pleasure, watching how well your soaking cunt let him pound deep inside like he was destined to fit with you, and the obscene sounds of his skin against yours and how wet you were every thrust. Part of him still wanted to be gentle, but something else that had only awakened when he came back, made him feel like he was a wolf destined to take his mate.
“I hate every second I’m not with you.” His accent so strong you could barley hear its low rasp through the rough slap of each time he pounded inside you. A hand coming to press right beside your head as he looked down at you, almost speaking in tandem with every pound of his cock. “Hate every second I’m not inside you, not filling you fuck after fuck. That’s all I can think about, should lock you in our bedroom in Winterfell, keep you tied to my bed and never leave. Do nothing the rest of our lives but fill you deep with my seed,”
His head dropped as he hissed, trying to control himself but the roughness was going to leave you good and sore and it made you beg for more in yielding. “I- anything, fuck Jon I’ll do whatever you want, you’re so good..” Pulling you up by the back of your head to meet his lips in a rough kiss, Jon thrusted only a few more rough times into your cunt before he shook above you with a groan into your lips.
Cum unusually warm as he spilled inside of you, and thick as he spread your legs as wide as they could go on the ground beside you as he kept going. It was a lot of thick, very warm cum and he bit your lips with every heaving breathe or snarl inside him at the feeling of you so deeply taking him, and keeping all he spilled inside of you.
He wasn’t done, almost as if it made him harder. Grinding deep inside you did you cum before he was even done though, coating his cock in your wetness and forced to take his cum deep as you cried his name. But Jon, only got rougher. Fucking into you with pounding slaps that would have echoed through the castle halls by that point, any passing close by would be able to hear the slap of skin from the ground, or even the sea.
Burying your face in his neck as your hands wrapped around and into his curls, Jon almost pulled you closer, pressing your bodies as close as he could as he pounded into you. You didn’t know if keeping each one slow was meant as torture or not. Because you couldn’t tell if you needed him to go faster, or you might cry and beg for him to slow down if he changed his pace at all. Your voice was breathless and muffled in his neck, “I love you, fuck, Jon I love you so much,”
As possessed as Jon felt, the almost tearful genuity in your voice made him bury his face in your hair, hands tight holding you to him.
“You, gods- fuck, you deserve better, better then this, better then me.” Jon tried to protest, begging you not to say that but you clenched tightly around him and made him groan just as loudly into you as he fucked you. “Tell me what to do, please, fuck tell me what to do for you. I want to give you anything-everything, tell me what to give you to let me stay.”
If he wanted to cry before, Jon certainly did now. His cock screaming to cum deep in you again, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours were music if he’d ever heard it but you had begged him. Hand running along the back of your hair, Jon mumbled into your ear, voice wavered and shuddering with his own breathless desire. “Marry me, let me take you home and marry me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,”
He knew he felt tears hiding in his neck, but he also felt you orgasm around his cock and he yanked your watering eyes to kiss you. Keeping you pressed to his lips, only pulling back to brush against them as you were jostled hard under him, asking as if he hadn't already. “Can I fill you? Will you let me spill inside you?” Nodding yes, he kissed you with a biting sloppiness to it before pulling back as his muscles strained the closer he got and the more your orgasm shocked around him like a sparking fire. He was barley comprehensible, so close to his own orgasm he slurred against your lips. “Fuck, fill you with my seed, fill you with a son. Give you my son..”
His hips left their rough, slower pace, as Jon lost all control. Fucking fast into you, the slapping pounds turned to obscene speed and smacking as he roughly kissed you, your hands tight in his hair. Jon sped towards filling you once more, and you managed to pull away enough, voice high pitched and crying in loving need, “Anything, Jon, anything you want, I promise.”
That time, your final, sudden and flooding orgasm snapped in your veins with an almost painful wave of pleasure, as Jon shook against you, and thrusted deep inside you, and you felt his thick cum spill inside of you. Cum almost as warm as the fire burning hot next to you, sweat covering both of you.
Jon cupped the sides of your face, and you did his. Both knew there was something not normal about how blindly desperate you both felt for the other when he was inside you, but neither were sure anymore if either of you wanted it any other way.
You hadn’t been in this room in a very long time, many years. The painted table was a long wooden table that was constructed to map out all the known lands of Westeros from Dorne to the Wall, and raised and lowered depending on the structure of the lands, all painted in accordance to how such an area around it looked.
Just by walking in you could tell what the pieces came from, your father’s own collection as opposed to whatever Aegon and Connington brought. Planned out acts still set partially to what you now knew were your fathers own organizing.
While it had been years since you had stepped foot in the room, it wasn’t unusual when you were on Dragonstone to appear in here. In only a few hours the sun would begin to rise from across the Narrow Sea, and yet you found your mind too worked up to sleep any longer.
You had woken up with a panic, a gasp for air as you came close to jostling Jon from his peaceful sleep, from the force it awoke you with. The dreams had gotten out of control. Dreams of fire, and wolves and roars that you couldn’t identify had finally bled into something that you didn’t understand but found to be compelled to.
This time, the green fire exploding from the torches in the Winterfell crypts were not followed by a burning flame roaring across the ceiling. Instead this time the direwolf which jumped from the statue of Ned Stark had ran behind you, and when you turned around you were standing deep within the sandy lands of Dorne. Sun blazing above and a tower standing tall in the distance with the red mountains looming in the background of it.
A direwolf stood with many at his back. A small lizard short to the ground, what looked like ten small wolves at their backs, a black horse with a bright red main and scattered across the lands like rubble were two crossed long axe’s with dark black handles, a silver gauntlet curled to a fist, and three buckets scattered and all but the wolf and lizard were coated in blood.
Standing across from them was a cluster of nine black bats all flying to hide the sight of a white tower crowned with grey smoke and burning flames as a lilac falling star crossed it, the tail almost in the shape of a white sword but just as the star fell across the morning so did everything but the Dornish tower behind it all, and a bloody direwolf and lizard.
The tower however, begun to bleed as well. The wolf on the bed in the crypt had melted into the sheets and painted it with the red and blues of it’s fur and the tower begun to bleed such colours as well and suddenly as you looked around to any, the animals were gone.
The closer you stepped to the tower, the more you heard a high pitch of crying. Something that was not an animal but also sounded too young to even be an adult, it sounded that of a baby until the crying morphed into the tiny growls of a young sounding wolf. Little growls and howls came from the tower as it continued to bleed.
You took only a step forward more, and the tower had enough of your watchful eyes. From the ground it was ripped from the sands, and in it’s place roared that which followed fire. From the place which the tower had stood, came out a great dragon in it’s place flying high in the air swirling the lands with it’s fire. It’s scales burned your eyes with a pure white colour as it’s own eyes and flames from it’s mouth shined that like blood. But the roar it gave out was not one you imagined of a dragon.
The white scaled dragon had flown to the top of the red mountains, perched high and what was supposed to be a roar, was a mighty growl of a wolf. A powerful growl that sounded like one’s you’ve heard on many direwolves now before.
And just in the seconds before you had been startled awake, a gentle, dainty hand grasped at your shoulder covered in blood. When you turned, the figure was nothing more then a mist as if covered in vines of blue roses wrapping around your limbs. Just as the cold, blue roses came to wrap around your throat, the dragon behind roared like a wolf’s growl and a gentle, desperate voice of a young woman came to you from above.
“Promise me, Ned.”
You had startled awake, at that point and now found yourself here. In the room your sleepless nights on the island commonly found their way too. Walking to the side of it, your eyes narrowed as you spotted something tossed on it’s side carelessly.
Reaching forward you grasped the wooden figurine and found it that of a dragon. Walking to the main seat you had many years watched your father sit at, you sat down gently. Leaning your forearms on the painted table, your hands held the wooden dragon with sharp eyes watching as you turned it in your hands.
The dream was that of many you had before it, and your mind swirled without your permission to put it together of what you were being shown. Only, it wasn’t just the dream it connected too. It was the words of an intensity seen, it was the sight of a ghost. Your mind raced and flew words and images around in your head all staring at that dragon figure.
When it connected, you didn’t know why. But it all screamed and cycled together into a blend coming into a painted image that was clear as day and suddenly your entire body felt as if it had fallen fifty feet in place. A shocking jolt in your mind and a twisting in your heart.
Your face morphed from that of a squinting thought, to a wide shock. Mouth slowly opening agape as your eyes widened in a sight only you were seeing in your clues. Many secrets scattered across the lands of Westeros, but your dreams had led you right to the heart of a secret none knew even existed.
None perhaps, but one. One who went to the grave without telling a soul and you felt something faint inside you, realizing, now the other person who knew this secret, just might be you, and it shocked your heart into a stunned quiet until the sun rose in the outside behind you. Your hands had dropped the wooden figurine.
The only dragon on the painted table, and you had dropped it right at the Prince’s Pass, as the wooden figurine fell, it cracked right down the middle.
Splitting the dragon into two even halves, in the sands of Dorne.
#jon snow x reader#robb stark x reader#jon snow#robb stark#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#jon snow x you#robb stark x you#jon snow imagine#robb stark imagine#game of thrones imagine
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could you talk more about the daynes post robert's rebellion?
SURE
first of, this is mostly my hcs, speculations and a mix of things i must have read back when there was the height of asoiaf meta in 2013 because there is almost nothing about the daynes post robert's rebellion. so bear with me.
just to set the scene, the members of house dayne left after the mess of the rebellion were the unnamed older brother of ashara and arthur, the lord and father of edric; allyria the youngest sister that i headcanon to be much younger than her older siblings seeing as she is betrothed to beric dondarrion who is was in his twenties per agot so i don't think the marriage would've occurred if allyria was in her middle thirties or forties if she was closer to ashara and arthur; edric, twelve years old, beric's loyal squire; and gerold aka darkstar head of high hermitage, also in his twenties? around arianne's age.
(c) Eddie Mendoza for the cover of A Song of Ice and Fire 2025 Calendar
under the cut because i'm crazy
i don't know if the books are ever going to make clear what happened at the toj-starfall zone but we can be sure only that ned went from one to the other with lyanna's bones and supposedly baby jon to return dawn to the daynes. ashara had a baby of father unknown and shortly after ned was there she took her own life, body never found. i go back and forward in thinking if ashara's brother lord dayne was there with her when ned went or if he was one of the dornish commanders defending the targs. in any case, his presence was completely zero during this time so i think he was too injured for a time or too sickly in general to do something to reestablish the dayne name in dorne after arthur being an important part in elia's disgrace and indirectly, her murder.
because yeah after arthur and ashara's death and going by the books there is zero mention of them, even in the chapters set in dorne or others about dornish characters make no mention of them. and it's strange considering that when you read awoiaf and f&b, the daynes are The knights of dorne. queen nymeria marries a dayne, sends a starfall king to the wall, meria martell commands a dayne to burn oldtown, arguably one of the most powerful cities of the time, out of all the sons of daeron ii and myriah martell, maekar marries a dayne, the only dornish lady. it could be nothing OR something but i think it does mean something. we see there's no daynes in oberyn's party in kl or speculation in general about the new sword of the morning beyond remembering dear old arthur. they've fallen completely into obscurity. the house was reduced to a young girl and its child lord.
edric's dad dies before agot (he doesn't seem to afflicted by his death when he meets arya if he were less than a year dead, inheriting the lordship at such a young age would've been dramatic to him), i would say just after becoming a page to beric dondarrion at 7 yo and i headcanon the marriage between beric and allyria was brokered at this time too. this was part of a fic i was writing like 500 years ago but i think lord dayne must have known he would not live too long, not to see edric grow so he must have looked for someone to prepare and take care of allyria and edric after he died. betrothing allyria to a marcher lord is......strange. if a dornish person would have to be married to someone it would go like this 1) not from the reach 2) not from the marches in that order, there is too much bad blood. the daynes have a longstanding tradition of killing oakhearts so marrying allyria to the heir of blackhaven and giving him his only heir, lord dayne entrusted a complete stranger with the future of his house.
beric would've been in charge of teaching young edric just about everything. he would be living in the stormlands for almost half his live, learning from a his maester and how to govern a stormlands' castle. meanwhile, allyria in a few years probably around agot time would be ready to marry beric when she reached her majority. she would've been the defacto ruler of starfall in edric's name when lord dayne dies, i think the idea was to swap when edric gained his spurs: he would return to starfall after a successful run as a tourney knight, probably gaining some recognition from whatever beric was tasked with at the capital (rip king) and then accompany allyria to be married to his knight master. andddd fin.
the thing is. allyria being so young during the rebellion, lord dayne absence for whatever reason and then dying, let the younger members with no connections in the wider dorne political context. it is said young children go to the water gardens and it's fun yeah but it's def a starting point for politics for many lords. it's close to the martells and it's an opportunity to make friends with future rulers, /everyone/ is going. the daynes didn't have this. allyria was probably very young when the rebellion happened (i think no older than 5) and for obvious reasons she was not sent to the water gardens; as for ned, i think lord dayne could not secure an invitation, this or he died too early to even try. if allyria had gone, she would've been for sure one of arianne's companions, she has both the breeding and the standing, but NOT and it's crucial, the reputation. see what arianne has to say in affc about gerold's standing:
"He is highborn enough to make a worthy consort, she thought. Father would question my good sense, but our children would be as beautiful as dragonlords."
it's must be passé to associate with the daynes at this point. think of the conningtons losing all standing when joncon lost the battle and was exiled.
in any case, allyria, more than edric, grew in obscurity. as of the books she's betrothed to a marcher lord nobody knows if he's alive or dead, has a missing nephew and it's in charge of one of the most ancient first men houses of westeros. sad! at least ned is having more fun. which leads me to darkstar. i see his thirst to prove himself, his notoriety as a cruel knight as another way to separate himself from what the main branch has fallen into. he is in his twenties so he was probably affected by the same dark cloud as the others.
"If I led a quarter of a million men to death, would they call me Gerold the Great? I shall remain Darkstar, I think. At least it is mine own."
he wants to have what arthur had, but not be the sword of the morning, he wants something that it's his own, as he says. he may want the sword and the fame like arthur, but not to be associated with another's bad luck so to speak. it's very telling that he's called one of "the most dangerous man in dorne" and what is the sword of the morning if not this? he's a dark mirror of the daynes pre rebellion, just like allyria would've been a renown beauty just like ashara is she wasn't cloistered. something something gerold and allyria as mirrors of what could've happened to ashara and arthur if they hadn't the protection of the monarchy.
i once read gerold is meant to have young ned's plot after germ scrapped the five year time skip and i think this is half true. i do think there is something to be done about dawn the sword and i think gerold is going to steal it and do something with it, something ned can't do because he's /still/ in the riverlands. i don't know what but i think it ties nicely with the theme of deconstructing the noble knight archetype. arthur is only great because he knew how to kill.
writing this i had a breakdown about the parallels between arthur and gerold
to finish this rambling i want to say my hopes for house dayne in what is left of asoiaf is 1) ned alive 2) gerold steals dawn 3) and like. something. honestly i will take anything at this point about allyria. DOES SHE EVEN KNOW? my poor girl and 4) if germ wants to clear the toj situation then it's fine.
thanks for asking and to anyone reaching this point lol. this is mostly general but if you want to talk about anything specific just message me! k thx muah!
#ask#Anonymous#allyria dayne#gerold dayne#edric dayne#ashara dayne#arthur dayne#house dayne#fallen and reborn#valyrianscrolls#let's give darkstar dawn i want to see something funny#all this to say 'which could mean nothing'#[keeps opening more gdox about gerold and allyria meeting]#just had to post this it's been HOURS
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IMO, If there is one person Jon Snow is going to be most affected by after learning about R+L=J, it's going to be his mother Lyanna and not the men - Ned or Rhaegar. He's going to be shaken to his core knowing the truth of his mother.
The mother he keeps hoping to remember. The mother he thinks of when he sees his siblings get a mother's love. The mother he wants Ned to tell him about. The mother he dreams about - who she was, where she was, did she love him?
"Am I?" the dwarf replied, sardonic. "Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure."
"I don't even know who my mother was," Jon said. - - Jon, AGoT
"The Watch has need of every man it can get," Donal Noye said when they were alone. "Even men like Toad. You won't win any honors killing him." Jon's anger flared. "He said my mother was—"
"—a whore. I heard him. What of it? Words won't make your mother a whore. She was what she was, and nothing Toad says can change that. You know, we have men on the Wall whose mothers were whores."
Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. - Jon, AGoT
Your half brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King's Landing either. Even his own mother had not had a place for him. The thought of her made him sad. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her. Because she was a whore or an adulteress, fool. Something dark and dishonorable, or else why was Lord Eddard too ashamed to speak of her? - Jon , AGoT
"They were as close as brothers, once." Jon wondered if Joffrey would keep his father as the King's Hand. It did not seem likely. That might mean Lord Eddard would return to Winterfell, and his sisters as well. He might even be allowed to visit them, with Lord Mormont's permission. It would be good to see Arya's grin again and to talk with his father. I will ask him about my mother, he resolved. I am a man now, it is past time he told me. Even if she was a whore, I don't care, I want to know. - Jon, AGoT
"But it's a lie," Jon insisted. How could they think his father was a traitor, had they all gone mad? Lord Eddard Stark would never dishonor himself … would he?
He fathered a bastard, a small voice whispered inside him. Where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of her? He will not even speak her name. - Jon, AGoT
The Old Bear shrugged. "A boy king … I imagine he'll listen to his mother. A pity the dwarf isn't with them. He's the lad's uncle, and he saw our need when he visited us. It was a bad thing, your lady mother taking him captive—"
"Lady Stark is not my mother," Jon reminded him sharply. Tyrion Lannister had been a friend to him. If Lord Eddard was killed, she would be as much to blame as the queen. - Jon, AGoT
The old man seemed to sense his doubts. "Tell me, Jon, if the day should ever come when your lord father must needs choose between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other, what would he do?"
Jon hesitated. He wanted to say that Lord Eddard would never dishonor himself, not even for love, yet inside a small sly voice whispered, He fathered a bastard, where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of his duty to her, he will not even say her name. "He would do whatever was right," he said … ringingly, to make up for his hesitation. "No matter what." - Jon, AGoT
Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. - Jon, AGoT
I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I'm a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. "I don't know." - Jon, AGoT
Soon they were high enough so that looking down was best not considered. There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. "The mountain is your mother," Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. "Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won't drop you." Jon had made a joke of it, saying how he'd always wondered who his mother was, but never thought to find her in the Frostfangs. It did not seem nearly so amusing now. One step and then another, he thought, clinging tight. - Jon, ACoK
"I am."
"Who was your mother?"
"Some woman. Most of them are." Someone had said that to him once. He did not remember who. - Jon, ACoK
She smiled again, a flash of white teeth. "And she never sung you the song o' the winter rose?"
"I never knew my mother. Or any such song." - Jon, ACoK
"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? He had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard's motherless bastard, with no more place at Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy. - Jon, ASoS
Was this how it was for my father? he wondered. Was he as weak as I am, when he dishonored himself in my mother's bed? - Jon, ASoS
They shared the same sleeping skins every night, and he went to sleep with her head against his chest and her red hair tickling his chin. The smell of her had become a part of him. Her crooked teeth, the feel of her breast when he cupped it in his hand, the taste of her mouth . . . they were his joy and his despair. Many a night he lay with Ygritte warm beside him, wondering if his lord father had felt this confused about his mother, whoever she had been. - Jon, ASoS
Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body . . . and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. - Jon, ASoS
Jon has a mother. Wylla, her name is Wylla. She would need to remember so she could tell him, the next time she saw him.- Arya, ASoS
And knowing that, yes, he had a mother who loved him dearly and made Ned promise to take care of him on her deathbed is going to profoundly affect him and he is going to be bag of emotions!!
That he could visit her in the crypts of Winterfell, that she is buried there - his mother!! Hope we are still getting a Jon Snow POV after death/resurrection/becoming a king because GRRM writing this stuff?
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So I was wondering 👉👈 with Wendy adjusting to Vince being Gone maybe she gets really sick and just misses him but doesn’t want to call but like maybe Jonah comes to check on her and she’s very emotional and he finally calls Vince to talk to her while she is sick or something ? sorry I’m a sucker for their love 🏳️
Hiiii, I LOVED this ask and it was overdue Leo as a caretaker to Wendy, so I did a little switcharoo, I hope you don't mind!
Also this was 🦦's request and someone else's as well!!
This is part 3 of the strep throat fic. Read part 1 here and part 2 here.
----------------------
"Are you sure you don't wanna tag along?" Jonah asked with a pout, for the 5th time.
Leo rolled his eyes, stealing another peck and shoving Jon towards the front door of their apartment, "no, it's your sister. She wants to hang out with you-"
"You were invited-"
"Jonah, it's fine. I'm not gonna die one night alone at home," Leo grinned, kissing him again, "I have a lot of reading to catch up on. And don't even worry about dinner, I'm goin to order something in."
Jonah let out a huff, looking conflicted, "Okay... We're going to be back around ten," he grimaced and Leo chuckled, stealing another kiss and shoving him out.
"Get out of here. Have fun with Angie," he rested on the threshold, "love you."
"Love you too," Jonah sighed, fixing his trench coat and walking to the elevator, while Leo crouched down to stop JD from darting out of the front door.
Leo let out a happy sigh as soon as he shut the door, looking forward to his lazy night in. He loved Jonah, but it was good to have some time apart from each other and Leo had many plans to do ten different shades of nothing.
He sprawled on the couch and JD jumped on top of him, butting her head against his chin, "you're so cute," he cooed, scratching the kitten and smooching the top of her head, "the cutest cat ever."
She let out an indignant meow at being squeezed, but didn't pull back at all and Leo happily continued to pester the animal, kissing her all over.
He hadn't been lying, there was a lot of reading to be done and at least two different actions movies he wanted to watch. By the time he finished going through his copy of Copyright Wars, JD was purring like a little engine against his belly, curled up in a way that her fluffy tail was nearly tickling her nose.
Leo lowered the book, opening a smile at the kitten and smoothing a hand down her spine. JD didn't even stir.
He gave up on the double movie idea, since it was already almost 9 o'clock, and instead ordered food, yawning already. Leo sighed, he was getting old, sleepy at 9 PM.
It was 10 already when Leo finished scrapping the bottom of his food container and he stretched on the couch, glancing at his phone briefly. Not a text from Jon, which was good, meant he was actually enjoying himself with Angie.
Deciding he should watch the movie in bed, since he was going to most likely fall asleep through it, Leo got up to go fix the guest room for Angie's stay.
He fully expected it to be Jonah when he heard a phone ringing, so Leo took a second to realize that his own phone was in the pocket of his sweatpants, not ringing.
JD was already inspecting the source of the noise, Jon's phone fallen under the couch, and Leo picked it up without thinking, just wanting to make the noise stop.
"Hi?"
"Jon, can you- Leo?" Wendy interrupted herself and Leo let out a small chuckle, squishing the phone between his shoulder and cheek and getting back to the task of fixing the guest room.
"Jonah forgot his phone home," he entered the guest bathroom to make sure they had extra towels and then jumped at a loud noise, taking a second to realize the rattling cough was coming from the phone, not inside his apartment, "are you alright? That didn't sound good..." He paused against the bathroom door and heard as Wendy wheezed and gasped for air.
"I'm fine," she scoffed, her voice completely shot, "I'm fine, I just-" Wendy didn't sound fine, not even remotely. Not only she sounded terribly sick, and it was probably his fault by being all germy in her apartment, but she sounded sad.
"Is anyone with you?" Leo asked, biting his bottom lip and nervously looking around.
"I don't need a babysitter, I'm fine," Wendy groaned, causing him to sigh.
"Taking that as a no," he ran his fingers nervously through his hair, "alright, you need anything from the pharmacy?"
A small hesitation and he realized this had probably been the reason she called in the first place.
"Wendy?"
"Uhm- More tissues and cough syrup? I'm out," because she had fed him half the bottle.
"On it," Leo turned around and left the bathroom, heading to the kitchen where they kept a notepad to list down groceries and scribbling a note for Jon, "I'm gonna be there in twenty, don't die."
He hung up before she could complain.
-----
"You look great," Leo said sarcastically, the minute Wendy opened the door of her apartment. She had a blanket wrapped around her as if it was a cape and her face was waxy white, nose all red and raw.
He expected a response, their usual back and forth, but all Leo got was Wendy staring at him drowsily, swaying on the spot. There was a feverish haze to her eyes and she seemed really unsteady on her feet.
"Oookay," Leo cringed, planting his hands on her shoulder, "let's sit down before you collapse."
"Uhm..." Wendy allowed him to guide her back inside and Leo steered her to the living room couch, where she clearly had already set camp. There was a waste basket next to the couch, filled almost to the top with little tissue balls, an empty box of tissues, one of those tacky inspirational water bottles that showed someone's liquid intake for the day, currently stuck on "halfway there!"
Wendy collapsed on the couch and promptly fell back against the cushions, pressing her eyes closed, "what are you doing here...?"
Her voice wasn't above a whisper.
"Can't let you die, I'll never hear the end of it," Leo shrugged, dumping the contents of his paper bag on her coffee table, "when was the last time you took medicine?"
"How'd you get in?" Wendy frowned, confused, and the man paused, raising his eyebrows.
"You just let me in..." he trailed off and planted his hand to Wen's forehead, hissing at the heat, "isn't that just great. Give me your blanket."
"Uhm?" Wendy shivered violently, "no."
"Yes," Leo sighed, "c'mon, you're boiling up," he manhandled the blanket away from her and Wendy let out a pitiful whine, sounding and looking dangerously close to tears.
"I'm cold..." She groaned, frustrated and trying to grab her blanket back, "Leoo..."
"Sorry," he threw the blanket on the armchair, "when did you last take medicine, Wen?"
"I don't know," she sniffled, rubbing at her eyes angrily, "my head is killing me."
"Because you have a raging fever," Leo crouched in front of her, grabbing the brand new thermomether he had purchased and removing it from the plastic case, "under your tongue, c'mon."
Wendy opened her mouth to complain, only to immediately be hit by a terrible, painful coughing fit and Leo jumped to hold her by the shoulders as she folded in half with the coughing.
He could hear her lungs rattling and Leo cringed in sympathy and guilt, sitting next to her and rubbing her back in firm circles. Wendy let out a whimper and reached for the waste basket, as her coughs turned into gags, tears streaming down her face. She gagged fruitlessly over the basket, before finally stopping, panting as if she had ran a marathon. Leo could feel her heart hammering just by touching her.
Deciding he really didn't care if she had taken medicine already or not, Leo reached for the antibiotics that Jonah had fed him when sick. It was in syrup, which he had appreciated immensely because his throat hurt too much to swallow, and Wendy clearly shared this opinion, because she obediently took the dosage off the measuring cup.
"Alright, now-" Leo pushed her to the side, until she was lying against the pillows, and folded her legs as if Wendy was a doll, "lie down and get some rest."
Wendy let out a sigh and curled up, shivering, "Leo, I'm freezing."
"I'm sorry," he pouted, "but you're really, really warm, I don't think you should have a blanket..."
She didn't answer him, only let out a little teary whine and hugged herself, continuing to shiver. It broke his heart, so Leo started rubbing her arm up and down as if to generate warmth.
He assumed the worst was over, as nearly one hour passed without Wendy so much as stirring, so Leo got up to fix up her place. He picked up the tissues that had missed the waste basket, as well as her water bottle and went to dispose of the trash and make her some tea.
Leo was lying against the fridge, waiting for the kettle to whistle, when his phone started to buzz. He glanced at the picture of Jonah, him watching the sunset in Italy, and picked it up, "hey..."
"Hi, I'm going over," Jon sounded worried, "switch places with me."
"No, you're not," Leo sighed, rolling his eyes, "Angie is here, you're gonna stay with your sister and preferably not infect her with this bug. I can handle Wendy..."
There was a second of silence as Jonah clearly tried to argue, but found no fault in his logic. Instead he let out a groan, "how is she?"
"She's got a really high fever, but I fed her some medicine and now she's asleep," Leo shrugged, before he remembered his boyfriend couldn't see him, "it's just strep, she'll live, babe."
"Uhm," Jon didn't sound convinced, "that's a bummer, we were supposed to have lunch with her tomorrow. Angie and I."
Leo felt a flash of jealousy that he wasn't included in those plans, but he quickly pushed it away. It was good that they weren't tied by the hip, he reminded himself.
"Yeah, you'll have to reschedule, there's no way she's going anywhere tomorrow," Leo removed the kettle from the stove, "do you know what her favorite tea is?"
"Lemon and ginger," Jonah answered and Leo could vaguely hear Angelina's voice in the background, cooing over JD.
"How's Angie?"
"She's fine, planning to steal our cat," Jon teased and Leo heard Angie let out an offended gasp at his words, causing him to smile fondly at the interaction.
His smile promptly slipped away as he heard Wendy cough and choke in the living room.
"Gotta go, bye. Love you," Leo said quickly, not waiting for an answer and rushing out of the kitchen. He was a second too late, because just as he was about to circle the couch he heard Wendy's cough turn into gags and then pink liquid covered the front of her hoodie.
She groaned, hiccupping and sobbing, "I'm sorry, I- I don't feel good, I'msorry-"
"Hey," Leo frowned, crouching in front of her and pushing Wendy's short hair away from her mouth. She was still really warm, like the medicine had done nothing at all, "hey, Wen, it's fine. Nothing laundry can't fix, it's okay..."
"Itsssgross," she groaned, her pale face all red, scrunched up as she cried. Big fat tears running down her cheeks, "I'm sorry-"
"It's fine," Leo rolled his eyes, tucking her hair behind the ear, "look at me," he forced their eyes to meet, "you're alright."
She sniffled, "I feel disgusting."
"Shut up," Leo scoffed, grabbing a tissue and wiping her lips and her chin. Wendy didn't say or do anything, looking every bit a kid as he fussed over her, "arms up."
It was more than a little unnerving to not have her sass him. Leo fully expected at least one comment about him removing her hoodie and leaving her just in her bra, but instead Wendy only shivered violently, curling up and coughing again.
"I'm gonna get you a new hoodie," he grabbed the ditched blanket from the armchair and wrapped it around her shoulders, "be right back."
Once she was changed into a new outfit, Wendy curled back up on the couch, sniffling and continuing to cough every five minutes or so. Leo was tired, but he couldn't imagine just how exhausted she was.
"I made you tea, do you wanna try it? Might help your throat," he walked back to the cough with the mug and Wendy shook her head.
"Gonna come back up," she rasped, breaking into a new coughing fit and whimpering, touching her throat, "I want Vin..."
Leo's heart all but broke in a million little pieces. He couldn't help but put himself in her shoes, "how about we facetime him, what do you think?" he suggested despite his better judgment and the fact it was nearly midnight on a school night.
Wendy immediately perked up, before she frowned and shook her head, "gonna bother him," she curled up more, "then he'll break up with me."
He frowned at that, "...What? No, he won't, what the fuck?" Leo rolled his eyes, pushing Wendy's feet on the couch so he could sit next to her and then grabbing his phone, "you're not a bother, you're his girlfriend."
Wendy let out a little scoff at that, sniffling once more and Leo glared at his phone, suddenly feeling a lot more protective than he would've liked.
The phone rang and rang and then suddenly Vince's face appeared. Tired and alarmed, with a glittery star glued to one side of his face and red marks that indicated he had fallen asleep on top of a notebook.
"Leo? Kid, is really late, is everything okay?"
"No," Leo shook his head, "Wen's sick, can you just chat-"
Vince's frown deepened, as he interrupted, "sick? How sick? I can go over-"
"No!" Wendy exclaimed at that, before whimpering when that caused her throat to hurt and starting to cough all over again. Leo rolled his eyes, thumping her back.
"She's got my strep bug," he explained, "you don't have to come over, just talk with her a little, will ya?"
"Yeah, of course," Vince eagerly nodded, rubbing a hand over his face in order to look more awake. Leo passed Wendy the phone and then heard Vin's voice twice as soft as he said, "hey honey, not feeling well?"
"I'm fine," Wendy lied, causing Vince to laugh given her tone wasn't above a raspy whisper, and Leo to snort. He patted Wendy's calf, getting up from the couch.
"I'm gonna get you some more medicine," he whispered, messing Wendy's sweaty bangs and moving away when she tried to slap his hand.
He put away another dosage of the syrup, before heading to Wendy's bedroom and fixing up her pillows, pulling on the blankets as well. Once he returned to the living room, Wen was half asleep lying on her side, giggling as Vince explained why he was covered in glitter.
Leo saw as the man panned the camera, revealing his baby sister passed out on his bad, surrounded by crayons and glitter glue, "I didn't have the heart to wake her up. She was helping me grade the kid's papers."
"Cute," Wendy sniffled, "get a picture for me."
"Of course," Vince yawned, "here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna check with Daniels if he can get my seniors last period tomorrow and I'll go over to be with you, alright?"
"You don't have to do that," Wendy mumbled, rubbing at her forehead, "I'm an adult and Leo is here and-"
"She'd love it," Leo interrupted, "sounds like a great idea."
Because he knew she was lying through her teeth. Wendy's shoulders dropped with visible relief as Vince shrugged in agreement.
"It's not a big deal, honey, Daniels already keeps my seniors half my class anyway, he might as well keep them for the remaining forty minutes too."
"Who's Daniels?" Wendy yawned, smiling and Vince let out a loud huff.
"Some asshole," then his voice softened up, "get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I love you."
"I love you too..." Wendy's eyes were already closed and it came out more like a wheeze. Leo took the phone from her, wordlessly waving to Vince and hanging up.
"Hey," he touched Wendy's arm, "let's move you to bed, c'mon."
"Uhmm?"
"C'mon," Leo pulled her up on her feet and Wendy slumped against him, pressing her feverish forehead to his chest. Once they entered the bedroom, he handed her the medicine, "big gulp."
"It's gonna make me sick," Wendy groaned, barely seeming to be conscious.
"It won't," Leo pushed it in her hand, "and the waste basket is right here and I'll be in the couch, okay? It's gonna be fine."
"You're staying?" Wendy asked, before gulping the medicine down and shuddering at the taste. She curled up under the thin blanket Leo had left on the bed and hugged her pillow.
"Duh," Leo smoothed her hair, "of course."
"Uhm," Wendy hummed, smiling and didn't say anything else until he walked to the door and hit the lights, keeping the hallway light on, "hey Leo?"
"Yeah?"
"You're an ass," she whispered and even in the half dark he could clearly see the smile on her face. Leo smiled back.
"Yeah, well, game recognizes game, Wen. Get some rest," he grinned, leaving her door open and walking to the living room.
#mywriting#sickfic#fever#strep throat#emetophilia#wendy marshall#loooong needed leo helping wendy#🏳️ anon#🦦 anon
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hi i'm still here :) those things about fandom denying theorizing about jonsa just bothered me heavily since fans accepted almost every theory under the sun but hypothetical j0nsa is where they draw the line they accepted curtain of light theory and 3 heads of the dragons saving the world for years before a hypothetical cousin marriage/bethrodal that ties a lot of plot threads and themes together and resolves so much of the missing plot pieces from the show, i might not personally like it cause of the incest implications but im also consistent with hating all jon's incest ships and still keeping an open mind about j0nerys and j0nsa on a storytelling basis but j0nsa is a theory that intrigued me so much because it did make sense from the drafts,the fact that sansa will end up at winterfell with the vale army by the time jon wakes up and changes into who knows what (again fans straight up ignoring which stark is actually the closest to winterfell will never not make me laugh) to the many gothic literature and historical references george takes to especially the ashford theory thats so unavoidable i call fans extremely blind for being this in denial that it might happen as a plot point and since aegon is most likely going to be busy with dorne/cersei/dany or euron and most likely die in the south (rip son) i highly doubt sansa will tie into his plot unless thats the last targ suitor she's supposed to be betrothed with and again its kinda a big nothing theory to me cause sansa going south would be repetitive and its already been debunked with the AFFC draft leaks unless aegon wants a claim to the north which again im pretty sure he'll be engaged to arianne for martell points and allyship (also her being engaged to a secret fake bastard heir was already done with joffrey and it being completely reversed with j0n feels more complete as an end point to that theory/arc there's no way george would pass that up).
i also don't think this is all jon and sansa have to offer as characters,its what bothers me with other ship fans as well i like them as separate characters and i also feel like looking at the story, if it were to happen i don't believe it would be a fairytale romance or ending or be anytype of normal relationship, i might even be completely wrong and j0nsa might never come up (also feel like george would be wary of doing this now when media literacy is at an all time low but fandom toxicity is high as the heavens), both sansa and jon fandom theories have been through a rollercoster over the years im just happy that fans finally have theories that actually makes sense storytelling wise and not something for wish fulfillment but bias still runs amok in the fandom unfortunately and it still clouds a lot of convo about the characters and plot theories
sorry for rambling in your inbox again
Hello :3 nice to see you again
anon can I call you soulmate anon because every sentiment you’ve portrayed here is exactly what I believe too! I like jonsa too because it’s v compelling and it has good evidence to back it up, but I’m really iffed up because of the incest too. Well not because I’m a pearl-clutching puritan but because it’s not fair to Sansa tbh, as a teenaged girl in a deeply patriarchal society. If she’s the girl in grey who runs away to Jon for protection, it’ll not be as a friend who’s seeing another friend after a long time, it’ll be because she wants protection from her brother. Then comes in the question of her claim to Winterfell. If she marries Jon to smooth out the inheritance crisis, the North would still belong to Jon & not Sansa. They will not be equal in that marriage or as the lord and lady of Winterfell. However, there are far, far too many indications of a jonsa match, textually and subtextually, which I am right there with you anon, are so compelling! It would only be a blind man to not see them. And the fandom collectively vehemently denying jonsa is v funny to me because it sounds so much like
“Do you believe women are humans?”
“Yes”
“Do you believe women should have the same rights as men?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
“So you are a feminist.”
“Eww, no.”
Like, the text is glaringly pointing at something with air raid sirens and neon red lights, but what could it mean, hmm 🤔 Like c’mon guys my cat could figure out what’s going on at this point.
Though, I do believe that the Ashford Targaryen suitor could be Aegon VI for Sansa. While a lot of people believe that Aegon will marry/betrothe Arianne for that Dorne support but that doesn’t make sense to me because
1. It’s like Sansa would marry into the Tully family for support to take back the North
2. The Dornish are already burning to avenge Elia
3. Arianne is the heir to Dorne in her own right (and has had major plot around that), marrying the next King of the 7 kingdoms hardly makes sense for her.
BUT Aegon & Arianne’s plots are barreling towards each other and they very well might just get married to secure another plot point that I cannot think of right now. And I know that Aegon is doomed and Arianne survives (George, pls or else 🔪🔪) so that’s another reason why Aegon & Sansa can’t happen. And Jon being the Targeryen suitor holds so much more literary weight than a rando who has never had an impact on her or her emotions or her plot (apart from your brilliant points). Also, no I am not debating the “Dunk disturbed the Ashford Tourney so Sxn/dxr is the one for Sansa” because we’ve debated to death that even being granted the title of Maid does not mean anything like a betrothal in Westerosi society or has negative consequences (r + l & that whole war it started). Also, just because Dunk got in the middle of the Tourney does not mean that he got the girl in the end. Hope that helps. Moreover, Dunk’s asoiaf corollary is Brienne not sxn/dxr, so by their logic, briensa ftw!!!!!!!!!!
Anon, the way everyone ignored the affc outline just because it showed something the Sansa fandom had been (rightly) theorising for years now has me rolling on the floor 😂 the denial, the denial is so strong with these people, even the “neutrals”. Don’t even get me started on the BNFs. If something like this were leaked about xrya or dxny, it would have been front page news that breaks the asoiaf fandom containment lol.
Stark closest to Winterfell and takes north! C’mon now anon, don’t give these people a heart attack.
Yes well, there have been one too many people in this fandom (as is common in any other fandom *cough* jxnxryas *cough*) to reduce the characters to the ship but the block button is my lord and saviour. Shipping is so that we can bring out the best (or the worst) character traits in the people we’re shipping, not to water down the said character traits.
There’s a chance that jonsa doesn’t happen in the books or happens just in the subtext or whatever, and I’ll be fine with that as long as the stories for both Jon and Sansa have satisfying and empathetic progression. Though I would terribly like for it to happen just to dunk on the haters and the BNFs and the “skeptics” lol. I am trying to be a better person these days, but pettiness is my second daughter 🤪 and to add to this point, if jonsa doesn’t happen, that still won’t erase the heavy foreshadowing we’ve been seeing in the text till now. If some other ship had the Ashford theory, the Byronic connection, JONnel Stark marrying a girl named xrya or an ancestor Sansa Stark marrying a -whoever- in their lineage, the plot satisfaction, the narrative parallels, the textual connection, it would be considered canon by now. But no, since it’s Jon x Sansa and that is still somehow a pretty strong contender for breaking all your ships, they will close their eyes and call it a crack ship. Baby a crack ship is me and Oscar Isaac or Sasuke and Taylor Swift. But if Sasuke and Taylor had all of this evidence, it would, once again, be considered canon. Sigh, just take your Sansa hatred elsewhere man, we’re not in 2006 anymore.
Dude, I found older forums/metas a while back and there is nowhere that Sansa was mentioned w/o sxn/dxr. Sxn/sxn was just a given. It was canon, it was always going to happen and that’s just so reductive tbh. I’m v v grateful that the meta and fandom spaces (maybe just a small corner but that is enough for me) have evolved so much through the years otherwise I would get beaten here every day. It’s still toxic as hell though, with the level of trash metas that will give early asoiaf fandom a run for its money and at one point you just want to scream- you all realise that these are books, right? and we’re the readers! you’re not dxny or jon or tyrion or even fleabottom ragpickers! none of this is real 😭 i should not be coming here, armoured and with a sword, to defend my fav characters, i should be having fun here and exchanging stupid ideas 😭 but asoiaf fandom remains asoiaf fandom however well the ways of hating may have changed.
But please, always ramble in my ask box anon. I love reading your thoughts and it gives me a chance to ramble as well :)
#soulmate anon#anon asks t#jonsa#anti sansan#the rambling option is open to everyone btw#long post#don’t look
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request: I'd like a fluff oneshot with Jonathon Ohnn. Perhaps it could be him coming home from work tired and the reader helping him wind down as they get ready for bed.
I can just imagine Jon laying down in bed with only the moonlight illuminating the room and looking at his s/o with a half-lidded gaze and smile, admiring everything that they do for him. That would be nice if you can write about it.
“Goodnight, my love.”
Jonathan Ohnn x gn!Reader
600+ words.
A/N: this is a little bit different from the request but i got a bit carried away 😭 i hope you still enjoy this though! ♡
It was midnight. Jonathan had just gotten home from work. though he never rang the bell or knocked, you knew. You could feel the cool breeze in the air, before a warm one, and a portal rippling through the air. Soon after, you would hear a few thuds of him slipping through and trying to regain his balance.
This time, you heard nothing. no thuds. No typical "Hi honey, I'm home!" or “Hey, are you still awake?”
Only a small exhale.
“He must be really tired,” you thought to yourself.
You adjusted in your bed, slightly untucking yourself from the sheets to get a better idea of what was going on. The door to your bedroom was shut, which usually signaled to him that you were asleep. Even still, you made sure to keep your eyes closed and pretend to sleep.
You heard some shuffling in the room next door, as he was probably taking off his coat and setting down his work bag. You had seen it a million nights before, and you could practically picture it in your head without having to actually see it. Soon after, he would wander into your room, stare at you for a moment, and then get ready for bed.
You always made sure he was taken care of. Every night, you made sure to leave him a fresh, warm pair of pajamas, and boil the water in case he wanted something to drink. Seeing all of the little things you would do for him melted his heart, and he appreciated your small acts of love more than you would ever know.
Sure enough, he slowly turned the knob, and opened the door to the bedroom. He felt a cool breeze come in, and turned towards it to find the window open. The moon was almost completely visible, only partially shadowed on its edge. He breathed out, unwinding from the day. A little bored of looking outside, he turned to you.
His love. Oh, how he loved you greatly.
You looked beautiful in this state — the moonlight from the window added a soft glow to your features, illuminating you in the otherwise dark room. He doesn't think you realize how pretty you are. But this was just a gentle, quiet reminder of your beauty.
He laid back on his hands, continuing to admire you with a half-lidded gaze in his sleepy state.
—
A few minutes after he got comfortable in the bed, you cuddled up to his side and wrapped one of your arms around his waist, with the other in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. You felt him tense up at your touch, initially surprised that you were awake, before relaxing into your hands.
“My dear- You’re awake? I’m sorry if I woke you up…” He says a little sheepishly, turning his body in your arms to face you.
“Do you watch me sleep everytime you come home late?” You ask, nonchalantly. This spreads a bright pink blush over his face, embarrassed that he got caught.
“I- uhm- yes. You’re very pretty my dear… Does it make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry I just-”
“Oh no no, it doesn’t,” You reassure him, with a soft peck on the lips.
His blush deepens, and he pulls your face closer to his with a hand on your cheek. He kisses you lovingly, running his fingers through the back of your hair. You embrace him, lazily slipping your tongue into his mouth and meeting his. He lets out a soft moan when you do, plastering a sly grin on your face. After a few moments, you pull away from the kiss, and tuck your head into his shoulder. His soft, dark brown hair fell gently onto your face, warming you up like a soft blanket.
He let out a small laugh at your position in his neck and kissed your shoulder. He pulled you closer, resting half of your body on his and his arms settling on your lower back.
“Goodnight, my love.”
#jonathan ohnn x reader#jonathan ohnn#atsv#across the spider verse#the spot#the spot x reader#atsv x reader
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