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r-rizzo · 11 months

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dad jon snow headcanon with a targaryen!reader? i love that we have a new got writer and hotd! ♡

father's love. | jon snow

❝ pairing: jon snow x targaryen!reader.

❝ summary: what would jon snow be like having children with you, his beautiful dragon wife.

❝ warning: mentions of sex and innuendo, worried and scared jon.

❝ note: i really love the orders with targaryen!reader, thank you very much for leaving your request, i hope you leave one again and you like this. first post! ♡

★, when you tell jon that you're pregnant.

at first you had your doubts, you didn't know if it was just a delay or you were with a child.

but when you decided to approach your dragon and this approached, sniffed and caressed your belly, everything became clear to you.

you were with a child.

you had talked to him before about the children, his children. jon was insecure, he didn't want them to do to his child the same thing they did to him.

but you always assured him that his children would also be targaryens, they carried the blood of the dragon and the wolves, son of the king of the north.

jon smiled and took you by the waist, kissing you and affirming that having three children with you would be a blessing from the gods.

so at night, when you were already taking off your clothes to sleep, you feel familiar hands undoing the strings of your dress while leaving kisses on your neck, you know that it is now when you should tell him.

"jon" you called him, and you felt how his inner wolf wanted to come out. you only called him that in two situations, when you were angry or when you wanted to have sex.

"yes, my beautiful wife?" he asked with his thickest voice, knowing what he provoked in you, you laughed at how his breath crashed into your neck and his cold hands went into your bare back.

"we can't do this right now, my love" you tell him as you turn around and place your hands on his neck, massaging it. a small smile appears on your lips when you see his confused face.

"i did something wrong?" he asked and you laugh, shaking your head and watching your husband's eyes widen at his smile, admiring your beautiful purple eyes. "nothing wrong, sweet husband. it's just not appropriate when i'm with a baby" you finally said.

you watch as he opens his mouth to say something but closes it immediately, the information reaching his brain slowly. his hands become lighter on your waist and his eyes become even smaller and watery.

"are you sure?" he asks with a voice that shakes, but his hands travel smoothly to your still flat stomach. "i didn't believe it until rhaegon proved it to me, i trust my dragon's judgment" you answered him and smiled, jon wasted no time in gently cupping your face and kissing you, his hands now caressing your stomach.

"i'm the happiest man in westeros, we're going to have a little pup" he says and smiles at you, showing you his beautiful silver pearls. "he'll be a dragon" you tell him, but jon shakes his head, taking now by the waist and sitting on the bed.

he crouches before you and brings his face close to your stomach, kissing him "you're a wolf, aren't you? you make me the happiest man in the world, my little pup" you smile caressing his curls, letting him call your baby a puppy.

★, when your puppy is growing up.

jon loves to see how his puppy grows inside you every day and considers that seeing you in this condition is his greatest adoration.

shamelessly caress your belly or look at it affectionately when he doesn't have much time for you and his son.

but he's always watching you, he knows you're a fighter, but you carry his son inside, and now you're more vulnerable. he would kill whoever touched a single hair on you.

when he has all his time or puts his duties aside to pamper his wife and son, he can't stop adore you.

"you are beautiful" "our wolf grows healthy and strong thanks to you" "my beautiful wife" "i hope he has your dragon eyes" things like that are whispered in your ear while he caresses your belly and kisses your neck.

jon denies it sometimes, but he would love it if his son had your eyes and his dark hair.

but sometimes it scares him too, the thought of his son being called a bastard makes his blood boil. he can take it, but when it comes to his son, never.

he already has people under his eye who dared to call his son a bastard.

he also thinks about the names, he knows that he wants to name it ned or robb, you suggest combining it with a valyrian name. he likes them but ned and robb are always his first choices.

if it's a girl, he would like you to choose the name, he loves valyrian female names.

you have always loved your mother's name, rhaella, and he would like his daughter to be named after the woman who gave him the love of his life.

he is not very interested if it is a girl or a boy, it is his and he will love it, with his being.

jon tries to always be easy on you when he's stressed, he never blows up on you. he already knows how your emotions are and knows that making you cry is his worst sin.

so, when some assembly goes wrong and some lord insults him for not responding to his request, he just enters his chambers and sits behind you, feeling how his wolf kicks in response to his touch and smiling on your neck. he loves that feeling too much.

it also comforts you when something stresses you out or makes you cry.

like your impossibility of being able to give a dragon egg to your son.

you've always dreamed of being able to see your child grow up with a dragon, but thanks to the disappearance of dragons and the fact that both your dragon and your younger sister's dragon, daenerys, are male, it prevents you from fulfilling that wish.

what makes you cry frequently.

and jon is there to comfort you.

"then he will have a direwolf, my love. don't worry, i'm sure that rhaegon will let our son ride him one day" he says and makes you feel good.

when he sees you standing, looking out the window, he always stands behind you and puts his hands under your belly, lifting it up to give you a rest. you love when he does that, it makes you overflow with love for him.

"i love when you let my poor back rest" you say as you sigh and rest your head on your shoulder, jon chuckles and lets your huge belly droop again. "jon!" you moan angrily and he lifts your belly again.

he only plays, but loves to give you breaks and massages, especially on your feet.

he is always protecting you, especially when it is time to sleep.

he has nightmares about how while he sleeps next to you, someone walks into the room and hurts you. you and his little wolf.

he couldn't take the blame.

that is why, when you sleep, he is always the one closest to the door. his chest against yours while one of your legs is on his hip, or your back against his chest while his hands cup your tummy.

he would rather something happen to him than to you, his loving wife and mother of his child.

★, when the time of birth comes.

the last time you approached the maester, he told you that the arrival of the heir to the north would come soon.

you and jon were looking forward to your son. the heir to the north and the iron throne.

jon was sitting in the weirwood tree one morning, thinking more deeply about the birth.

and if you died? or did they make him choose between you and his son?

he couldn't.

he couldn't allow someone to mercilessly cut you open and murder you. not in front of him.

so he asked, begged to the gods for your life and for his son.

"please give my son an easy birth, no pain for my wife, don't take her away, always leave her with me. i ask you to take care of my beautiful wife and my son. i lost her once and i don't plan to lose her again."

and when he finished asking for you and his son, a wind raised his curls, relaxing him immediately.

he knew that the gods had heard him.

his peace was interrupted by your servant, who ran towards him with sweat on her forehead and blood on her dress and hands.

"the queen is giving birth" he said in a rush, jon getting up quickly from the log. "is she in our room?" he asked and the maid nodded, he didn't even let her answer when he started to run to his wife.

the closer he was to the room, the more his heart beat, he was scared. he was scared for you. he loved you so much that the idea of your death only brings his as a consequence.

when he enter the room, he was already crying.

"jon" you said when you saw him come in, you were pacing around the room, trying to ease the contractions, your water had already broken, it was only a little more to start labor.

he came up to you and kissed you on the forehead, he walked with you by the hand until the time will come.

he knew his child was coming when you had to lean on him in pain. with the help of the midwives, he lifted you onto the bed and sat behind you, leaving your back with his chest while the midwives made you push.

it was the easiest birth he had ever witnessed, it was only three pushes and his baby came out.

his son began to cry and his eyes filled with tears, he watched as the midwives lightly cleaned him. "he's a boy, your grace. healthy and strong, like a wolf" said one of them, putting your son in your arms.

"ned" you whispered, caressing his cheek with your finger, which was almost the size of his face. "he's small" jon said and you laughed "my little wolf" Jon took your hand in his, reaching both hands towards ned.

ned's eyes widened at his parents' touch, jon didn't expect his eyes to be unique to a targaryen. purple eyes and perfectly black hair, small curlers were already visible.

"he's beautiful, just like his mother," he said, kissing the side of your head many times. "thank you" he said "why?" you asked, turning to look at him as jon took your hand and kissed your palm "for giving me a family."

★, what jon would be like with his son.

at first, he was afraid to touch him, that it would break.

but after his son took his finger in his little hand, he couldn't stop carrying it. he loved his little son ned and his wife.

jon walks ned through the gardens every day or takes him on horseback, he wants him to adapt to the environment that is winterfell.

but you always fill him with clothes that jon sometimes thinks his son even sees what's going on around him.

he introduced him to everyone a few days after his birth, naming him "ned, heir of the north"

you and he agreed that he should sleep with you, there are people who would harm their little son at the cost of everything.

so jon usually sleeps shirtless because he knows his son loves physical contact, he lays it on his chest while he strokes his head.

he loves to see how you fill his hungry son, and sometimes finds it funny how he takes so desperately from your breast.

"he's like his father" he says as he looks over your shoulder as his son desperately eats.

he protects his son with his very life, be it from people or words. he will not let his child be harmed or insulted.

jon is a great warrior with a sword, he knows how to use it with great agility, so he just lets his son ned watch him fight.

thanks to this, when ned was older, you found him several times imitating his father, leading him to be a better sword wielder than him.

he loves his family more than anything in the world, and having children with you is the best thing he has.

so, very soon, you will have a child in your belly again.

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#jon snow x reader #jon snow x targaryen!reader #jon snow #vermithorider #game of thrones x reader #targaryen!reader #jon snow x pregnant!reader #jon snow headcanon #jon snow imagine #jon snow one shots #jon snow stuff

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imaginesinthewind · 4 months

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Blood of my blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x f!reader

Summary: The night before the Battle of Bastards, promises are exchanged between Jon and you. Inspired by an Outlander quote from Jamie Fraser. If you recognize it, you earn a cookie.

A/N: A small fluffy Jon Snow drabble, because I can't sleep. Very tooth-rotting romantic. You are warned.

"Where were you? I looked for you, over there."

You would have recognised that voice anywhere. Raspy, soft, deep. And low.

The cold was biting your cheeks, causing them to turn more pink than usual. As the last men were exiting Jon's tent, where the last war council was held, you realised that you had been standing there for way too long, staring into the nothingness, ghosts dancing across your eyes.

You slowly turned around to face Jon. His black curls were held backwards, making him look more and more like his father; not only in looks, but also in attitude. He looked tired, and worried. But a cold determination was glowing in his gaze.

His arms slowly came to surround you, pulling you towards him and his comforting figure. And suddenly, it seemed that the ghosts you were facing silently faded away.

"You're worried," Jon noticed.

A small sigh escaped your lips, and your hands came to rest on his shoulders, playing with edges of his armour.

"I only just got you back," you whispered, avoiding his eyes. "And... I mean, if anything were to happen--"

"(Y/N)", Jon cut you off.

A callous hand lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"You don't need to worry yourself sick about me. I've been through way, way worse."

The hint of a smile danced across his features.

"I will always come back. You should know that by now. Plus, there is only one thing you need to worry about."

One of his hands softly caressed your baby bump, almost invisible to the naked eye. You had told Jon a few days ago; and now, more than ever, it was like his actions to take back Winterfell from Ramsay had some kind of undergoing urgency.

He held you closer to him, and your head came to rest on his chest. You remained there for a few seconds, content in his embrace, breathing slowly.

"Promise me," you finally whispered. "Promise me that you will come back to me."

There was a moment of silence. But then, Jon pulled you away from him. His face looked serious and soft at the same time as he looked at you; like you were the moon of his life. The one and only thing that made sense.

"I can do better than that, love."

His harsh northern accent contrasted with the softness of his voice.

You frowned, and watched in disbelief as Jon suddenly got on one knee.

"Jon," you began, but he cut you off again.

"No, (Y/N). Let me do this, once and for all."

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. Suddenly, Jon, your childhood love, the one you had lost and found again, looked desperate.

"I don't have anything to offer you, (Y/N). I have no lands, no titles. But I know this. When I'm with you, I am no longer this commander everyone expects me to be. I am just a boy in love, all over again."

Jon stood up again, and grabbed both of your hands.

"You are the blood of my blood, bone of my bone. I gave you my body and you gave me yours, so that we could become one. So, please. If I win this, be mine. Marry me."

Your heart grew bigger in your chest, as if it was about to burst. Burst for this sweet and devoted man in front of you.

Your vision blurried, and you nearly threw yourself in his arms.

"Oh, Jon..."

You closed your eyes and held him tight.

"You are worth all of these things, and more even. I love you. Yes, I will marry you."

Ramsay Bolton would not live to see another night on this earth.

Somewhere in the dead of night, Jon made an oath to himself.

#got imagines #jon snow imagines #jon snow x reader #jon snow drabble #game of thrones #jon snow one shot #jon snow x f!reader

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ladywinterwitch · 2 years

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Game Of Thrones (Headcanon) - Crushing/Jealousy

Y'all I really hope this doesn't suck because the tumblr page literally refreshed as I was almost done writing so it saved NOTHING and I had to re-write every single word so. Ngl I might've shed a tear but we're not gonna talk about that :). I mixed the 'Them having a crush in you' and the 'Jealousy trope' for this one. Also. I don't know how many of these Headcanons I'll write but regardless even if I do switch up the characters or format for the posts every now and then, don't panic lmfao If I stopped I would tell you. Apologizing for any eventual errors! They'll be fixed.

Warnings: mentions of sex but nothing explicitly nsfw (okay maybe be aware for Oberyn idk), cursing, nothing much really

*I will try to keep the gender descriptions vague, just like the time periods and avoid subplots unlike the other two parts simply because I wouldn't want to make it seem like mini series or something that you kinda have to 'catch up on', I hope that makes sense.

Main masterlist and other headcanons

Lmk what you think if you feel like it :'D

ROBB STARK

Robb is painfully smitten with you from the beginning. This in the very first times made him almost quite shy, but once he gained some confidence and some desire made its way along with the platonic feelings, well. He could be very sweet one second, and make you blush on purpose the moment after. With the whole Winterfell heir/oldest Stark kid thing he never lacked much in the confidence department and it was clear in more ways than one. He is the literal defintion of prince charming. Probably the embodiement of those brave and handsome heroes his sister Sansa liked to read so much about.

Depending on the time of his life in which he met you, he would be more or less careful of showing his feelings. If he were still in Winterfell, with his family and friends around, he would allow himself to be a little more carefree, especially if his father was still the lord of the castle. Catelyn would be a mixture of anxiety and excitement, Robb being her first born and having his first actual experience with love. Ned on the other hand would be just heart warmed by seeing his son being such a good and caring young man, like he raised him to be. Arya would probably either be quite uninterested or befriend you, depending on how much she could relate to you. The same thing is worth for Sansa, even though she would still be quite interested in how things played out between you two. Theon would be annoyingly teasing him about his crush, meanwhile Jon would be more of a listener and give his support to his half brother (cousin).

Depending on how things would've gone with the whole Robert thing, you would've been probably left alone without too much talk of a strategic wedding.

If, on the other hand, we were talking about a slighlty older and king in the North Robb, the situation would probably be more difficult. Regardless, you wouldn't have been the right choice for him to marry, not necessarily for your rank, but because your family wouldn't be strategically strong enough to have important advantages in the war of the five kings. Which is what he needed, but not wanted. Catelyn knew it, he knew it and you knew it.

This Robb would've flirted in the same way more or less, just probably more on the intense and desire filled side than the 'sweet boy' one. And definetly more subtle, for war reasons but mainly because he wanted to keep you safe. Speaking of keeping you safe, he wasn't an overly jealous man by nature, especially if he knew that he was in no position to give you something better than endless pining. But if a man, or another person, were to offend you, or make you feel unsafe, he would definetly pay a little visit in a more appropriate time to the fool in question with his werewolf. He knew better than to not take precautions with the people that he cared about. And after a little scare, he would go to see you and make sure you were alright.

JON SNOW

If Jon has one issue, is how stupidly stubborn he is. Especially when he's younger. This man would rather pin over you for the rest of his life than be honest about his feelings. And you kinda hate him for it sometimes. Regardless of him being in Winterfell as the lord's bastard or a memeber of the Night's Watch, his brooding never changes. Obviously the bigger issue in the second case would be that he literally swore to not take wife or father no children, which made the whole 'being hopelessly in love with you' thing a tad more difficult. In any scenario, he would have that one person close to him to whom he just couldn't lie to. Wheter it was Robb or Sam, he knew that every time you came up in the conversation he could either blush and get out of the topic, or just blurt out his feelings.

Younger Jon would definetly be more awkward and less obvious than Robb, especially because he was nowhere near having the same confidence. He would still be very caring and sweet, just in a more subtle way. If Robb was the kind of guy that would ask you to dance with him or bring you flowers openly, Jon would offer you his fur coat if you were cold or help you get up and down a horse.

He also really enjoys people who kind of understand him as he is and don't try to pressure him that much into acting in a way that it's not himself, and this is honestly one of the things that makes him go crazy for you. He loves how interesting and funny and genuinely caring about him you are. He thinks about you all the time. But gods forbid if he was caught actually having feelings that weren't angsty. He didn't like people that much, but he liked you. Very much so.

You could see through him though, so while you didn't want to pressure him to say more than he wanted, you could get irritated about how stubborn he was sometimes. It happened more than once that other people flirted with you or apparently so, and Jon was never thrilled about that, at all. If you looked around hard enough you could probably spot him in a corner of the room, watching you from afar, brooding as usual. That made you quite sad at times, because you didn't fully understand why he just wouldn't let himself go completely with you. You sometimes played a bit into it, just a tiny bit, to get him riled up. But in the end, you were always going back to him, making sure that you would actually never betray him. He knew that, deep down.

But again, he didn't trust people much, and could get quite protective if he sensed that something wasn't quite right with someone. Before doing anything though, he would often keep an eye on them, and after that if his worries actually were proven somehow to be true, it wouldn't take him much to use a few tricks up his sleeve to scare people off.

Older Jon would be more straightforward, both in personal relationships and with the whole confronting thing. Young Jon liked the shadows, older Jon wasn't afraid to put himself on the spot if he had to.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn having actual romantic feelings was news to him. Many times, especially when he was younger he had questioned himself, 'Am I just horny, or do I care?' and no, the answer is no. He thinks that he got really close at times, but mostly he ended up having great fuck-buddies and occasional dinner companions. Most times he wasn't even interested in actual non-married people, so it's not that it could've gone that far anyway unless he was ready to start an affair. But he didn't care enough for it, way too many problems.

With you though, it was new. You weren't much younger and definetly not completely inexperienced, so it's not long after that you met that you actually had sex. You seemed fine with just having this type of 'fun' relationship, so it was really just him finding himself wanting to spend time with you in other ways. Your relationships had blurred lines for a while to be honest. He was the rich spoiled prince with whom you had occasional sex with, and you were one of the lucky people to get into the prince of Dorne's graces.

Knowing his reputation and generally his personality, it took you a while to actually start to believe that he could be in love with you. Riding horses, dining and drinking together, having sex, spending time together and even painting for fun, to you only seemed the behaviour of a rich prince that had a new 'favorite' of the season. Things started to get a different tone when you noticed how possessive he could be. Not in a properly toxic way, but he did like to get you absolutely flustered in the most inappropriate places, to not so secretly show you off while dressing you with the most beautiful and expensive garments in the realm, putting you at his side at important events and even saying that he wanted you to be just his. Not that you were in the position nor desire to actually sleep around, but that statement definetly put a more defined label on your relationship.

Oberyn usually wouldn't get jealous, but he would be even more confident and showy when he wanted to warn someone off. And then usually get you in a dark spot of the palace and fuck you while he told you you were his. And if someone had some snarky things to say about you, he made sure they didn't do it ever again.

JAIME LANNISTER

Confused, insecure, protective, closed off, romantic, intense, quite jealous, vulnerable

Jaime is complicated. He just is. There's also very little chance that he could've managed to look at someone other than Cersei in his younger years, because their separation was very brief, and the immediate failure of her and Robert's marriage gave them the perfect opportunity to keep going with their toxic relationship. As soon as he gets away from her, and loses his hand in the process, he also starts to struggle with his own thoughts about who he is and who he wants to be.

When he meets you, he didn't even thought about your meeting twice. He observed you, as he always does with people, but thought nothing more of you except your beauty probably. The first time you actually talked though, he did think about it a little harder. It was news to him that someone would actually address him in a normal and respectful way, without being fake that is. He had roughed up during the years, especially since people had started to call him Kingslayer, traitor, backstabber. Any kind of degrading name. No one actually even bothered to make their own opinions or listen to his side. Robert and Ned and the whole lot of other people of the court chose a biased version and went with it.

You didn't. Wiredly enough it left him feeling quite wired, and definetly interested in you. If anything, he was curious to see if you were going to ever speak to him again, and you did. You made sure to acknowledge him every time that you saw him, even at the cost of getting the stink eye from whoever was accompanying you. Jaime started to get more interested, and wanting to know you better. Either of you had any malice in this whole thing. You were both genuinely curious to listen to what the other had to say. And slowly, Jaime started to get more and more distanced from his sister. It's like he was blind, or willingly chose not to see, what she really was. The difference was obvious when he interacted with you.

You did create a genuinely nice connections, and you didn't miss to stop and talk or even walk together when you had the chance. The real turning point for him was when he started to actually think about you. He felt confused and quite scared, to be honest. He was afraid of many things; of the fact that he could actually feel something that wasn't so wrong like what he felt for Cersei, of how worthy someone like him could be of you. These thoughts remained quite abstract, even in his own mind, until he actually felt like he was punched in the gut when you started to get courted by another person.

Now, that, was quite the wake up call. Before you actually became a thing, his general reaction to his own jealousy was sadness and self loathing. So when you got together, knowing that he could actually allow himself to be close to you, his love language definetly became touch. He just loved to touch you, whether it was in an innocnt way or not. It's like he needed it. He would also be quite affectionate and funny, definetly the cockly Lannister in him. Fortunately enough there weren't many times in which he became jealous, but when he did, he usually just fucked it right out of you both, to put it lightly. On the other way, if any type of harm should come your way, now in that case his Tywin genes would definetly come through.

TYRION LANNISTER

Insecure, not overly jealous but anxious about your well being, trusting, sweet, funny, has your back

Tyrion has trauma. He really fucking does. Love? Trust? not his forte, either of them. So was he scared when he realized that he could be falling for you? Shitless. Just the mere fact that he met you in King's Landing made him think the craziest possible scenarios of how either his father or sister could've just come to you and say 'Trick that stupid little monster again, he deserves it'. He lowkey knew that it would've been insane, and he was being paranoid but at the same time you never know with those people.

You definetly made fun of people at court together. You also liked to actually argue about some topics, too. You weren't particularly fond of sewing when you were little, so your father made sure that you were at least well spoken, and honestly you didn't mind reading at all. On that you two would relate a lot.

You actually spent so much time together, and he loved how similiar you were. Mentally, that is. He would never even imagine to compare himself with something that he considered as beautiful as you. And even after making sure that you gained his trust, that remained a big issue for him. When he did actually get a grip and you got exclusive, or at least with each other, your relationship didn't change that much, except the sex and the teasing obviously. Tyrion's version of jealousy was more similiar to Jaime's. He wasn't actually jealous, per se, but he doubted himself and what he could give you more than anything.

You never, ever, gave him reason to, though. In that sense, you probably took more care of him than he did, and he really really appreciated you for that. He would've gladly ran away with you, but you both knew better than be reckless in a place full of backstabbers like King's Landing. You kind of had each other's back, and this understanding between you two allowed you to actually live your relationship peacefully.

Now, if Tyrion did feel that someone on his reach could actually try to do any harm to your or your relationship, Bronn would've taken care of it pretty quickly for him.

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miss-celestia13 · 6 months

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You’re the King, baby, I’m your Queen

Jonerys Orgasmic October Day Two

~*~

“I believe the Queen should heed her King when he orders her to do something.”

She straightened, spine turning to shiny steel as she ignored the lust like an iron weight low in her belly to fire back, “I heard no order. And you must be mistaken. This Queen does what she wants.”

His smile was more of a snarl, and she whimpered under the weight of his singular eyes, a spark catching, quick in hot in the black as his hand flexed on her arm.

“Listen closely, Your Grace. Come with me now, or I’ll carry you out. Your choice.”

~*~

Prompt:

Role Play.

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 month

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Jon Snow Masterlist

To join my taglist

Kinktober 2023-2024

Requests: Closed

Jon Snow:

Aesthetic:

One Shots:

Requests:

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buildoblivionthenwewilltalk · 1 year

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first two chapters are up babes! -> (x)

A fun angsty AGOT au where Ned get smuggled out of King’s Landing to Castle Black - I wonder what sort of dramas could go on there 👀👀👀

#also it’s a prequel to dragons cradle - that jonerys-y one shot I posted back in December!#Jon snow #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #r+l=j #r plus l equals j #fan fic #ao3 #canonjonsnow #dragons cradle au

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blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 1 year

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Arrow- Jon Snow

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

Characters: Jon Snow

Warnings: N/A

Request: N/A

Word Count: 451

Author: Aaron

The horse reared on, kicking its strong legs into Jon’s shield, the rider steered the beast away, far enough away that he could start a charge on Jon swung his hefty blade, cleaving the horse’s front leg in two and sending it hurtling towards the floor. The bandit who once proudly sat atop it’s scuffed saddle tumbled across the dusty forest floor with groans of ache trailing behind him. You rolled the bandit onto his back with a heavy boot and pushed the tip of your blade against the soft flesh of his exposed throat.

“Leave him be.” Jon strolled over, wiped the thick horse’s blood on the cloth tunic of the bandit and pushed your blade from his neck. “We gain nothing from killing this man… We let him walk free, maybe we rough him up a little but then when he goes back to his thieving little associates, he can share a kind message to not fuck with people they do not know?” The bandit nodded ferociously.

“I can do that…” he mumbled. “I made a mistake, I’m sorry…” he raised his arms in a shaken cower before scrambling himself from the floor and making off into the dense, snow-capped forest. You drew the short bow from your back, placed an arrow in the centre and drew back, caught the bandit in your eyes and sharply released the string. The arrow flew through the air with a light whistle before embedding itself into the heel of the bandit. “What are you doing y/n? I thought we had agreed to release him.” You walked calmly over to the screaming bandit who was desperately trying to pull the arrow from his leg, but the pain was far too great. You reached over and with a firm grasp yanked the arrow sending a spurt of blood to stain the previously pure snow. The bandit’s cry of pain echoed through the entire forest.

“I don’t let anyone do something like that to me and get away with it. I don’t care about sending a message. Filth like this does not deserve to claim the air around us.” You placed the same arrow between your fingers, drew the string back once more and aimed at the bandit’s scrunched, dread filled face. A weight pushed your arrow to the ground, Jon’s sword sat on your bow and a stern grimace plagued his face.

“If you travel with me, you will follow my rules.” With great mercy he helped the bandit stand, although his left leg rendered practically useless. Jon raised his blade to your chest. “Do not mistake my mercy for weakness, I am not afraid to kill If I deem it worth my time.”

#Arrow #Jon Snow #Jon Snow Imagine #Jon Snow One Shot #Game of Thrones #Game of Thrones Imagine #Game of Thrones One Shot #GOT Imagine #GOT One Shot #GOT #Aaron

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internallydeceased · 2 years

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Reverence

Jonerys/Snowstorm Season 8 Fix-it fic

One of my mutuals on Twitter got me to write this, and I'm honestly pretty proud of it. Season 8 was shit, but I did my best with what we were given.

CW: for grief, miscarriage, grief about miscarriage, aunt/nephew incest (they're Targaryens and it's Game of Thrones, this is pretty self explanatory lol), light smut

If any of these are triggering to you, please don't read! Follow me on Twitter where I post art and snippets of other things I write! X

≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫

She could feel him pulling away from her, ever since he found out what they really were to one another. It hadn’t mattered to her, why should it? She was a Targaryen — he was too, though he hadn’t grown up as one — their ancestors wed brother and sister to one another for centuries, what Jon and Daenerys were to one another was innocent compared to that. Yet it hurt, Gods, did it hurt. Because she could still see how much he wanted her, how much he wanted things to go back to the way they were before he knew they were related, and yet he wouldn’t allow himself to. Couldn’t forget. She could feel herself tearing at the seams because of it. In this foreign place that should have been home, yet never had been. She saw the way people looked at her, the way they looked at her people: disdain in their eyes, curses on their tongues just waiting to be spoken. It didn’t matter that she was here to save them. It didn’t matter that she was putting her own war on hold for them, that she had brought her armies and her dragons — they would never see her as their savior. To them, she was a foreigner who had brought an army of savages to their lands. Someone who would use her dragons and armies to subjugate them, just like Aegon and his sisters did before her.

Yet that was never what she wanted. Wasn’t who she was. But how could they know that? How could she get them to see? She sought to free them from a tyrant who would use their lives against her, to build a new order just like she had done in Slaver’s Bay. She sought to free people from their chains, to give them the freedom to make their own choices. Breaker of chains. Mother of Dragons. Daenerys Stormborn. That was who she had been in Essos. Who she was at her core. Yet here in Westeros, here in the place that her ancestors had made their home but which had never been hers, the people whom she sought to rule only saw her as another tyrant. Someone who would put them in chains and rule over them with an iron fist. Master. Mother of Monsters. The Mad King’s daughter.Yet none of that mattered to her. She would earn their love here, just like she had done in Essos. She would show them that she would be a good queen. They would learn to see her for what she was, just like Jon had told her they would. And yet what did any of that matter if she lost the one person who meant more to her than any of that? The person who had made it all worth it. She couldn’t understand why the two of them being related mattered. When she found out that he was her brother’s son, she’d been overjoyed. Because finally, finally, she wasn’t alone. She was no longer the last Targaryen, she had him. And Gods, for it to be him!

The only other Targaryen she had ever known had been her brother Viserys, but he had been cruel and weak. And then she had heard what people had said of her father, the things that Viserys had said were lies, made up by the supporters of the Usurper. Barristan told her the truth of it though, they weren’t lies. None of them had been, her father had truly been mad. And Daenerys had done her best every day to make sure that she didn’t end up like her father, that the rumors of her being the Mad King’s daughter were unfounded.

Then there were the tales of her elder brother Rhaegar, and her mother as well. All of them Targaryens, and all of them gone. All except her.

And then it turned out that the man she loved was her brother’s son — the brother she had never known but desperately wished that she had — hidden away in the North as Ned Stark’s bastard for all these years. She wasn’t alone any longer, she had him. Sometimes when she looked at him, she wondered if he held any of her brother’s features. Wondered if he took after Rhaegar in some of the things he did, and thought that if her brother were alive today that he would be proud of the child he had made with Lyanna Stark.

So why couldn’t he see that, too? Why couldn’t he have her as she had him? Instead he clung to some foolish Northern belief, or perhaps it was something that had been instilled in him as a child that he never grew out of.

When she left Essos for Westeros, she had thought things would finally fall into place. She thought that after having spent her entire life in Essos, she would finally come home . And then she would be one step closer to taking back her birthright. And it had, at least at first. Only for it to all fall apart.

First, her allies had started to fall one by one. Then she had discovered that there was a greater enemy lingering in the North, an army of dead men that would see every life snuffed out and rule over a night that would never end. And she had brought her dragons Beyond the Wall on the word of a man whom she thought she could build something with, and had lost her dragon for it. Her child.

Viserion who had always been the sweetest of her three, who had always wanted to stay perched on her shoulder even after he had long outgrown it. Who had basked in the sun curled up at her side all throughout Slaver’s Bay, trilling and purring as she absentmindedly stroked his pale, heated scales.

Yet if she hadn’t lost him then she wouldn’t have seen. Wouldn’t have seen the danger the Army of the Dead posed to Westeros — the place she hoped to rule one day.

It was Jon who had shown her that. Jon was the entire reason why she was here in the North at all, because she loved him and because it was right.

And while she had been overjoyed when she found out that he was her brother’s son, she knew that it must stay between them. That if anyone else knew, it would destroy them. No matter how many times he proclaimed her as his queen, no matter how many times he bent the knee.

And then he had told his sisters anyway, and everything she had predicted had come to pass.

And now he stood before her as she sat beside the fire, the room dark aside from the flicker of the flames. At least he had the decency to look guilty.

“What did I say would happen if you told your sister?” Dany said, her voice sharp as though she were scolding a child. If only, if only.

Jon shook his head, his eyes closed. Gods, he looked exhausted . As though the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders, and she could see that it was wearing on him. “I don’t want it, and that’s what I told him.” He looked up at her then, as though afraid of what she might say.

“She betrayed your trust. She killed Varys as much as I did. This was a victory for her.” Dany swallowed, the rigors of the past few weeks catching up with her, tears hot behind her eyes though she wouldn’t let them fall. “And now she knows what happens when people hear the truth about you.”

She was tired, too. What she wouldn’t give to throw it all away and escape, to fly atop Drogon through the skies, with Jon on Rhaegal at her side. To find a place somewhere far away where they could just be.

Yet that wasn’t possible, not for her and not for him. They still had the war against Cersei to win. She wanted to break the wheel, to build a better world for the people who would come after her. It wasn’t about her, it never had been.

And yet, and yet.

It would all be so much easier if he ignored the misguided notion that their relation was wrong. It would be so much easier to just unite in marriage so that their claims to the Iron Throne would be one, and the realm wouldn’t fracture into a dozen pieces over which one of them should sit the Iron Throne and rule over Westeros once Cersei was defeated.

“Far more people in Westeros love you than love me.” She was breaking apart at the seams before the only man she had loved since Drogo. Perhaps even more than that . Her voice was starting to break with grief, with longing. For all that she had lost. “I don’t have love here. I only have fear.”

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

Jon looked up at her then, something burning behind those grey eyes that she wanted to say was longing. Longing for her. “I love you.” And the way he said it, she wanted to believe him.

“And you will always be my queen.”

Daenerys stood then, stepping towards him and closing the distance between them. Looking into his eyes as she spoke, deeply. Reverently.

“Is that all I am to you? Your queen? ” The last words come out in a whisper, her breath fanning against his lips. She leans in to kiss him then, to feel him against her because she needs him now more than anything. And for a blissful, fleeting moment, their lips seal against one another and it almost feels as though things are back to the way they should be. The way they’re meant to be. They get lost in each other again, in the feeling of their mouths moving against the other, their bodies pressing against each other. His hands around her waist and her hands on his face.

And then the moment is gone and he’s pulling away, his breath shaky and body tense. She can see the pain in his eyes as he does — the longing. Yet he pulls away anyway, and she can feel her heart break in her chest. Perhaps that should make it better — the regret on his face — but it doesn’t. If anything, it only makes it worse because he doesn’t even have the decency to say anything. No I’m sorry, no empty words meant to reassure her, nothing. Instead he just stands there, with that look in his eyes that says so much more than any words ever could, and at the same time, not enough. She steps away from him and turns back towards the fire, tears filling her eyes as her hand drops to her belly. For a long moment all that can be heard is the crackling of the fire and the shakiness of their breaths, the both of them standing there in uncomfortable silence, unsure of what to say. It’s Dany who breaks it. “Perhaps you were right.” When she speaks this time her words are stilted and sharp, all emotion having fled her voice though the tears in her eyes betray her tone. It’s a good thing he can’t see them, then. He looks up, confused. “What?” Her hand is still on her stomach, resting over the place where their child should have been. “About the witch. That she wasn’t a reliable source of information.” Her hand drops back to her side, after all there is nothing in her womb anymore. Nothing for her to cradle and protect any longer. Gone, just like Rhaego. Just like Viserion. A single tear rolls down her cheek and falls somewhere on the floor, forgotten. She turns to him then, unshed tears still gathered on her lash line.

She can see it on his face as he tries to piece it together, what it is exactly that she said and the implications of it. Until at last she sees realization dawn in his eyes, several more emotions flitting across his face. Confusion, hope, fear, guilt. He takes a step towards her, a hand reaching out before he stops himself short once again. Dany clenches her jaw and fists her hands at her sides. “Though perhaps not.” This time, there’s a tremble in her voice, even though she tries to keep it even. She’s breaking .

Jon’s brows furrow, his head tilting to the side in confusion. He can guess what she means, but he doesn’t want to believe it. Needs to hear her say it. “I lost it, Jon.” She pauses, swallowing down a sob. “I lost our babe.” The last words come out in a whisper, breathy and choked. It takes everything within her not to fall apart right then, despite how much she wants to — how much she needs to. If only for Jon to hold her again as she sobs, comforts her and whispering words of reassurance in her ear.

She looks down to the floor then, unable to look him in the eye anymore as he comes to the realization that she was pregnant. She was pregnant with his child and she lost it. She can’t bear it anymore, can no longer be the strong Queen she had always portrayed herself as.

Suddenly she feels a girl again, broken and alone in a place she doesn’t know. When Viserys had sold her to the Dothraki, before she had come to love the husband she had been sold to. Before she had lost Rhaego and before her dragons were born. She had been so lost then, and she felt the same now.

If I look back, I am lost.

A broken sob echoes throughout the room, and belatedly Daenerys realizes that it came from her. She’s shaking now, and she sinks down to the floor and wraps her arms around her knees as her body becomes wracked with sobs. For everything she had lost . How much more would she have to endure?

She doesn’t expect Jon to do anything, but he kneels down beside her and places a large hand on her back, and uses his other arm to gather her to him. He presses his face into her hair and shushes her, his hand rubbing circles on her back.

“ Dany, I…” When he speaks his voice breaks, and his words are cut off with a sob of his own. His eyes are shut tightly as he presses his face into her hair, breathing her in. Gods, he missed her. And Gods, how stupid he had been.

He takes her face in his hands and eases her head up gently so they can look one another in the eye, and the sight of her face wet with tears, crumpled in grief , it’s like a knife in the heart all over again.

He leans in and presses his forehead against her, his own brows furrowed in anguish. “ Dany, I am so sorry .” He whispers against her lips, her name a prayer on his tongue.

And he is, he is . He’d been a fool before, and only now can he see it. Now that the woman he loves is crying before him, the proud Dragon Queen on her knees and reduced to tears. All of it was his fault. She had come North for him. Lost her dragon because of him. And conceived and lost a child, because of him.

He closes his eyes to try and stop his own tears from falling, but it’s a futile gesture. Daenerys is still gasping through her sobs, struggling to suck in a breath deep enough to fill her lungs as they continue to wrack her body. Jon brings one hand to cup the back of her head, the other pressing a bit harder on her cheek.

He waits a moment for her breathing to come back down to a somewhat normal pace, and for her to look up at him once more. There are still tears pooled in her beautiful violet eyes, dark lashes still wet with them.

“ I love you. ” He breathes, and his words are full of reverence when he speaks them. And he means them. Gods, does he mean them. He had never felt this way about anyone, not even Ygritte. When he found out that Daenerys was his aunt he had pulled away. Because he thought it was wrong , and he was afraid of what people would think of him. Of them.

But suddenly, with this news that she has just given him, none of that matters anymore. For who is he, without her? What does any of it matter, without her? This beautiful, strong woman with her silver hair and violet eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone told her they had pulled her straight from one of the songs.

And out of all the people in the world, she had chosen him. And he, like a fool, was ready to throw it all away because she was his aunt.

If it was wrong, then the Gods could punish him in one of the Seven Hells after he dies. But first he’ll live. And he’ll do it with Daenerys by his side, if she’ll have him.

Her bottom lip is trembling as she looks up at him, tears still streaming down her face and he can feel his heart break, too.

He isn’t sure what else he can say — what else he should say. He’d never been good with words, but he speaks anyway, letting them pour straight from his heart. Each word that falls from his lips matches every beat of his heart.

“And I swear to you, that I will love you. From this day, until my last day.” He kisses her forehead, his hand coming up to thumb some of the tears away. “I’ll never leave you again, I swear it.” His voice is barely more than a whisper — a breath, an oath, a promise.

They come together then, breaths shaky and mingling. They can taste the salt of their tears as they kiss, and they pour every word and promise that has been left unspoken into it.

I’m sorry. I love you. I am yours, and you are mine. I will spend the rest of my days by your side.

When their bodies come together this time, it’s nothing like the desperate, needy thing it was on the ship. This time, it’s slow and reverent. They take their time undressing one another, stripping each other to their barest selves. They take the time to memorize each new inch of skin that is exposed to them, every dip, curve, and line.

When Dany’s flat stomach becomes exposed to him, Jon caresses it with his hand, his thumb smoothing circles right above her navel. An unspoken apology.

He wonders then, just how long she kept the loss of their child to herself. Wonders how long she knew she was with child before she lost it. How big did their child grow? What would they have been like?

It’s something he’ll never know, and he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

Then he leans in to place a long, lingering kiss to her belly, this time a promise. Another, we’ll make another.

You’ll never be alone again. He swears, spells out each letter with his tongue in between her thighs.

This time, the tears that fall from her eyes aren’t from grief, but from pleasure. Her head is thrown back, silver-gold hair pooled around her head in a halo, glimmering in the firelight. Jon would say that she was one of the Gods herself, the way she looked in that moment.

He eats her out like a man starved, there isn’t an inch of her cunt that he doesn’t lavish with his lips and teeth and tongue. He doesn’t stop until she’s come twice and she’s pulling away from over-sensitivity, breathless — his name a mantra on her lips.

He comes up to kiss her, and she can taste herself on his lips and tongue, his beard still slick with her release. He sheathes himself inside her in a single thrust, her cunt opening up and welcoming him eagerly.

Her walls clench and flutter around him, the remnants of her last orgasm drawn out by his cock thrusting lazily inside her.

Both of their mouths are opened in wordless screams, their breaths mingling, every inch of their bodies pressed up against each other— so there is not a single part of them that is not touching the other. They consume one another thoroughly and completely, until they don’t know where one of them ends and the other begins.

They kiss and mark every inch of skin that is exposed to them, everywhere they can reach from the position they are in.

Their eyes meet then, in the darkness of the room illuminated only by the flickering of flames in the hearth. And in their eyes they say everything that their mouths cannot, everything their bodies cannot. And then they’re coming together, Jon spilling himself deep inside her and each of them silently prays that it’ll take root and her womb will quicken once more.

And when Cersei is defeated, Jon and Daenerys take the Iron Throne and rule over the Seven Kingdoms as King and Queen, Ice and Fire united as one. It should be no surprise then, that their silent prayers are answered and they welcome the daughter each of them has always wanted. A little girl with silver hair and grey eyes, the best of both of her parents.

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leesielex · 2 years

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Moodboard for the prompt: "I hate how much I love you"

Click title to read on AO3

#jonerys #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #fanfic #ao3 #jonerys endgame #jonerys modern au #one shot #dialogue prompt

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readingisloving · 2 years

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Queen Cersei will deny involvement later, but Sansa's fate is sealed the first day of her visit, as she stands in front of their court and the foreign King sits forward on his throne at the sight of her and declares – loudly, and for everyone to hear - breathtaking

Any man who looks upon her face shall have the breath stolen from his lungs.

#ganymede_elegy #game of thrones #got fanfiction #asoiaf #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #one shot

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

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Updates

Finally posted my lucerys request. Going to start working on new requests very soon.

Tomorrow a Jon snow smut hc is going up (all ready written just needs formatted) then I kinda wanna do a Robb Stark one. I'm in a bit of a Robb phase rn but give me more characters cause I wanna expand my horizon.

Also the smut hc are getting me more comfortable writing that kinda thing so I want to attempt to write a one shot of it soon

#Game of thrones #House of the dragon #Game of thrones smut #Game of thrones imagine #House of the dragon imagine #lucerys velaryon one shot #Jon snow smut #Robb stark #Requests

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mawofmeraxes · 1 year

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helloo!! how are you?? just wondering but do you take any matchup requests by chance? if not that’s ok ^^

hi friend!! I’m doing good! How are you! I’ve never really purposely written a matchup before but depending on who it is I wouldn’t be opposed! Just let me know the characters and I’ll let you know!

#got #game of thrones #lannister #cersei lannister #stranger things #eddie munson #st4 #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #Aemond targaryen one shot #daemon targaryen #Helaena targaryen #aegon targaryen #Steve harrington #robb stark #Jon snow

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ladywinterwitch · 2 years

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Game Of Thrones (Headcanon) - How they flirt/show appreciation

Another headcanon post for our Westerosi men! The reader is still gender neutral in this one, enjoy!

Warnings: some usual possible mentions of violence, maybe some very mild non descriptive nsfw

*y/h as usual means Your House

Main masterlist

ROBB STARK

Robb is a sweetheart. That's just what he is, always. He might put on a stern face with the other lords, but with his family he's always been affectionate, so it's only normal that he'd be extra sweet to his love. At the very beggining when you were still not officially together he would flirt by complimenting you, making you smile and generally listening intently to you as you talked. As you confessed your feelings and became more intimate he would also be quite touchy in private, but he'd tone it down to more gentleman gestures in public. This would include holding your hand, chaste kisses on your face, making sure to introduce you to everyone as his partner.

JON SNOW

Jon is also a sweetheart, but would definetly be a little more awkward than his half brother-cousin while flirting. Especially since he wasn't as used to be given attention like Robb was. At first he would almost be afraid to touch you, more for insecurity than anything, and also inexperience. So he would settle for small compliments, such as 'You look good today', and generally small gestures like making you go first when you had to enter somewhere, helping you with his hand, and leaving you little presents like flowers. As you got more comfortable with one another he'd be all over you in private, making you laugh and being playful, whilist he'd be more serious in public, secretly annoyed that he had to share you or your happiness with others, being a very private person.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn would simply never take his hands off you. Like, never. He has never had to hide or hold himself back for all he cared. If he felt like it he would just grab you by the waist and kiss you right then and there during a feast or a public event. You probably would've been intimate pretty quickly so the whole awkward first phase didn't really exist with him, but nonetheless he always made sure to respect your bundaries. He'd love to take your arm and walk around together, kiss you on the lips, sometimes even try to rile you up by whispering dirty things in public. He would also be caring though, making sure you had everything you wanted and even some quite expensive extra gifts

JAIME LANNISTER

Jaime is a halfway. Depending on the status of your relationship he would allow himself to be more or less affectionate in public. He would probably be very uncomfortable showing off his happiness if his father or sister were present, or literally any high lord or lady that would give him the stink eye and whisper 'Kingslayer' behind his back. When he did manage to overcome his own demons though, his pround Lannister- self would definetly show and he'd just decided to not care of anyone but you. He'd whisper funny or dirty things to you, complimenting you to make you blush, kissing your hand when he had to leave you, making you dance. At the very beggining though he would be weary of allowing himself to be too vulnerable, and it would probably take him some time to voice his actual feelings.

TYRION LANNISTER

Tyrion would definetly start off by using his humor. He'd love to make you laugh and have interesting conversations, swiftly throwing in a few compliments in the process. He would definetly be careful to not get too attached or charmed quickly, since his past bad experiences with betrayal. But you would soon prove worthy of his trust, and from that moment on, except when around his family (not his brother) would be making sure to let you know he's proud to have you by his side. He would love to give you gifts and just generally making sure you're safe.

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miss-celestia13 · 6 months

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Take me, I need you in my bloodstream

"Melting into him, she nipped at his bottom lip, tugging it so he groaned and crushed her against him, the bold stroke of his tongue in her mouth sending a lick of nerves down her torso as he shoved a knee between her legs. His hands dripped down her spine, taking hold of her hips to tug her against the hard length trapped between them. Her heart resided somewhere in her throat, beating wildly out of time in her neck and ears as he grabbed handfuls of her ass, kneading and squeezing as she made a sound suspiciously like a purr."

~*~ After one too many fumbles in the backseat of his car or a club closet, Daenerys plans a night of decadent indulgence.

Day one.

Prompts: On all fours and spread open.

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princessswon323323663fu · 3 months

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#jon snow #jon snow crackship #jon snow oneshots #crackship #jon snow one shot #hailey steinfeld

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dream-this-nightmare-over · 1 year

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Kit Harington imagine

If you like this, or if you dont, check out my other stories on wattpad (you might find something you like)!!!

Rest of my imagines/one shots you can find in my wattpad book Imagines that is being filled continuously by new stories.

Enjoy!

When we know what to do in new situations, it's time to admit to ourselves how old we have become.

It was all new to her, and old at the same time, worn out as if she had witnessed a moment more than once. Which was not far from the truth with a few modifications. The music roared, people moving in pools of color that formed on the floor under splashes of neon lights from the ceiling. Everything was chaotic, mixed, in motion. Even the drink in the glass echoed with tremors along her fist, tightly wrapped around the crystal. She could see lips talking, trying to get her attention, but she could only make out their movements, not the tone. Her eardrums vibrated from the rhythm of the sound that permeated every creature that found itself in the disco tonight.

She drank the liquid to the last drop, then left glass on empty table, moving through the pile of bodies. A few weeks ago on the amount she had ingested, she would already be intoxicated and would not know where she was going. But, she learned, it's easy to learn the bad. Like an ugly gift wrapped in a ribbon with a bow on top. It is hard to resist it, and it is not polite to show displeasure to the one who gives the gift. But is there such a thing as ugly gift?

The girl with the painful expression on her face hung over her shoulder to rest as she walked past her. She starts to wince, but instead of a sudden movement, takes a hard breath. There was no air, the heat began to choke her, but she still wrapped her arm around the girl's arm, other around the girl's hip. The last thing she would want is for the poor thing to fall at her feet. Everyone would talk about it for days. Although outwardly friendly smiling, stiffness caused by the proximity of the stranger did not leave her.

"I got you." She whispered, knowing the girl wouldn't hear her.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Just to take off these shoes. They are killing me. "

They say that drunk people feel more strongly about other people's mood swings, and that this is one of the reasons that leads to an outburst of sincerity with which they scatter around while in that state. Her usual sinking into that delirium was shrouded in oblivion that made her never know if the rumor had anything to do with the truth. The girl was showing symptoms of a rumor, which made her even more uncomfortable. She tries to relax but the heat makes it impossible for her well-drunk body and mind. There were times when she would fight but tonight she has no strength and neither sees the need to look for energy she will not find.

For a moment the girl disappeared from view in the dark, and she already thought she could breathe, but she felt someone's mane on the leaf, dragging itself along the denim of her trousers. "There it is. I'm free. "

An unknown girl stood up, waving her high-heeled shoes hanging from her fingers.

"Can you go on your own?" She asked. She probably hadn't even heard her, and even if she had, alcohol had ruined her entire memory. She received a kiss on the cheek with the greetings "see you! enjoy!" and leaning to the side under the weight of the girl when she pulled her in hug. She disappeared into the electrified crowd without saying her name. She wipes both the lipstick and the kiss from her skin, doubting whether she should have said goodbye or not.

She was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of panic. She pushed her body through shoulders, looking for a way out, but from the torsos rising above her tiny figure, she didn't get a chance to see anything. The air is too thick, unknown faces surrounded her, she squeezed. She is surrounded, there is no way out, she can't find him. She can't call anyone, call on her cell phone because it's too loud and no one would hear her calls for help. She felt a rush of blood in her face, hair sticking to neck. Y/N clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and began to count.

1 ...... inhale.

2... ..exhale.

3... ..repeat.

4 ...... inhale

5 ..................The swirl is interrupted by a crack of glass that shattered somewhere, causing a deep giggle to break.

Through the shadows of helplessness that paralyzed her, a familiar face emerged, and she grabbed onto the last straw of salvation. She's saved! She better hurry while he's still there!

She sneaks under someone's arm, not having time to get around boulder, always much bigger than her. The lights made it even harder to move, but she felt she was close. At the other end of the room, two people blocked her way, their backs turned. She tries to get around them several times, climbing on her toes to catch the source of the murmur from which the fracture originated."I'm sorry."

She finally pushed her way to the desired destination, leaving emotionless faces behind. Had she acted a little more violently she would probably have caused an argument and a fight. And she didn't want that. Intoxicated minds are unpredictable. They are like a match that will ignite at any moment at any stimulus.Reach for the counter in the crack created by moving the man to the side. She took it before the character decided to return, not wasting a moment to catch her breath, she began to speak, which in the noise was more reminiscent of howling.

"Hey you! There you are! "She approached him to draw his attention to herself, but he had already turned his head, he had already noticed her. For a few moments he just stares at her in wonder.

"Oh, look who showed up." He growled furiously, visibly drunk. His eyes flashed in the dim light, his pupils absent and empty. She wasn't sure he recognized her at all.

"I'm going home. Do you want me to take you? "She didn't prepare for the possibility that he was in such a deprived state, but she knew what she had to do. She won't leave him. Although they know each other, they weren't exactly friends. More a kind of wanderers who often find themselves in the same place at the same time.

"You look really good tonight." Now her attention is drawn to the drunken flirtation of the character in front of her who leaned over and whispered the words in her ear. He was still watching her as he took a sip from glass, not counting any more, but the waiter was counting, who was already pouring him the next one, grinning at the amount the man would have to pay. The only luck in the accident was in the fact that this was an organized party to which they were both invited so that each of their drinks was or will be paid for from the pocket of the organizers.

Y/N covered the rim of the glass with palm. "He's had enough." She didn't have the strength to give in, much less to argue. With the sharpness that remained, the waiter nodded in understanding. Tonight everyone lacked energy. The real ones, not artificially acquired by alcohol. But sometimes that is the only other thing left for those who do not get drunk out of leisure but out of sheer necessity.

"Let's go home Kit. Come on. That's enough." She won't give up. She has to get him out of here. She can't go on the road alone.

After much persuasion, they managed to find a way out and stagger out onto the recently defrosted asphalt, which glistened under the parking lights. It looked like a floor, black, thick, scattered with bits of shiny pebbles, and the smallest of them fell into cracks in the concrete from which no one would be able to pull them out because they would melt with the first rays of dawn.

The coldness of the steering wheel on which she leaned her head was a welcome refreshment. It cooled her forehead veins and penetrated its tongue through the thin skin to her skull. It was always her favorite part of going out late at night. The coldness of the seats, the foggy, cold windows, the coldness of the car we all experienced when we left them in the outdoor parking lot in the middle of the night. Relief from the boiling blood still fueled by the deafening atmosphere they had left. It was as if her blood flow eased, diluted, and everything else stopped. If only she could stay and live in a world where everything is still. Not for long. Just for a few days, weeks. Until the thoughts are cleared and the body and soul and brain agree on how to proceed.

"You shouldn't drive."

She almost forgot about her companion. His voice on the passenger seat was the only warmth in the car. She watched him as he began rummaging through the cabinets in search of candy. They are both like children. She with her head on the steering wheel, and he crooked in the seat, relentlessly looking for a box he won't find, but which he won't stop looking for until his eyes fall on something that will distract him from the candy to some other little thing.

She threw them away or ate them. Thomas didn't dare ride with her, but the candies of the candied fruit were quite safe for him. Open the window and spit. One taste less.

She watched him as pencils fell out of one of the drawers. He watched them in amazement with no intention of stopping them. They went too far to catch them.

What are you running away from? She wondered as she handed them to him, picking them up from the gearbox they'd rolled onto. Maybe he's not running from anything. Maybe he just drinks because he has money. Maybe she just didn't want to be the only sad person tonight.

"I'm less drunk than you, anyway."

Someone spoke, saying the words to her lips, when she remembered that he had said something to her but that she had never answered him.

He studied those damn pens as a scientist holding a new discovery. With childish curiosity and steely attention, he didn't even catch her words."You have to buckle up." She reached for his belt and began pulling it over the her absent acquaintance. "Even if they catch us, they can't charge us two fines. Although even one would be enough for a normal person. "

His gaze did not leave her movements, pencils long forgotten. He tries to help her with his fingers by wrapping them around the belt slot, but pulls them back when he sees that she has already fastened it.

Her chest heaved. She was upset, and he didn't know what made her angry.

"We're not normal, there's nothing that's too much for us." Against tears can only go those other tears. Tears of laughter. Although the smile has been hard to find lately. Light tears ran down her cheeks.

"Let's go." And off they went.

The machine didn't seem to be controlled by her hands. The engine rumbled gently under the chassis, the road unwinding like a ribbon under tires. They slid through the traffic lights whose shadows played on their faces. They did not exchange a word. The car lights were distant spots, blurred by insomnia and fatigue. Everything was moving slowly within the windshield, somewhere far away from the two of them, as if it was not on the same road with them. No one stopped them, two drunks in the car, driving with impunity. Probably those who should have punished them are also locals somewhere, trying to forget that no one loves them. Why do we all care so much about being loved? And when we are, we look for flaws in the love that is given to us, pretending that it means nothing to us.

"He left, and he ate all my candies." She said suddenly, not addressing anyone in particular. Swallowing would be a better expression, she thought. Why did you have to go and make the world sadder than it already was?

He knew from the beginning that it would end that way. Dickhead was the moon, Y/N a star, and those two never meet in the same sky, he would tell her. His words were useless. If he had said it, she wouldn't have listened. No one ever has.

"I'll buy you new ones as soon as I'm sober." He said, looking at her. She stared ahead, squeezing the steering wheel. It was dark but in the glow of the piece plate above the steering wheel he saw the bones of her wrists and the whitened skin stretched over them. The words came out of her insides. She felt a little better. Another taste less. She didn't get carried away by the thought that she wouldn't remember him until morning. Poison is hard to get rid of because it enters every pore, she knew. Knowledge sometimes kills even the last hope.

"Make sure they're extra sugary, I prefer them now."

The road emptied except for a few cars that were moving, it seemed to him, even slower than them. He wanted to get somewhere, to go somewhere, without a clear goal. Where she was leading him was a riddle he didn't want to figure out. The seat sank under his figure, the rattling of the freshener against the rearview mirror the hum in his ears until he could hear only the soft sound of the rope tightening from one side to the other. The nights are beautiful, he concluded. The only time of day when the whole world leaves you alone and you leave it. When it is dark and when all obstacles are less visible, so it seems as if everything is possible. If he were the ruler of the world, the sun would not rise, nor the nor the problems it brings with itself. He amused himself with the thought of being alone, of disconnecting himself from the crowd that surrounded him as soon as he felt the tentacles with which they were trying to devour him.

"One day they like my hair, the next day they are disgusted. One day they say I'm right, others are already writing that I must not have brain when I can say such nonsense. After a while, it becomes tiring. " The words begin to fall out on their own before they can be stopped.

His curls were caught in a halo of light, though disheveled and uncombed, beautiful.

"Nothing's missing your hair," she tried to reassure him, looking back at the road after a brief glance. Not noticing, he looked through the window, biting his lower lip, stretched between his teeth. He shook his head as if something bothered him. "It's not a matter of hair. Nothing ever works. It seems to me that the more I try, the lower my success rate. "

"Then cut them." She added absently, not at all startled. Now comes that outpouring of sincerity associated with feelings. Every doubt as to the truth of the rumor had dried up, gone before the anticipation of the words to be uttered. Vomiting, if there's any luck. She decided that even if nothing embarrassing happened, she would never reveal to him what he was like tonight. His secret with her to the grave. How many secrets the underworld knows. Allow yourself to pull the corners of your lips up. One day one might decide to exchange with the living, above-ground world. She was sure who would do better.

"It will grow again," he replied quickly, too quickly, directing all his attention to the driver.

"You think too much." It was the only answer she could think of.It was getting harder to keep my eyes open and the yawn muffled. She yawns, filling her lungs with oxygen that never reaches them fast enough.

"I think so." His fingers played with the torn thread of his jacket. "Have you seen them?" Those children? "It takes her a moment to remember what he's talking about, which he generously, not very patiently, gives her. Who was she supposed to see? The only person she saw, though only when she closed her eyes, which she had been doing more often lately than keeping them open, was a boy with brown eyes and blond hair. And only because he never showed himself to her in plain real sight. not anymore. She didn't even want to look at anyone else. And when someone stepped in front of her gaze, she would look for him and his glow and his eyes and his smile on an unknown occasion incomparable to him. It was a sobriety bordering on eccentricity."Children from the Humanitarian?" She finally remembered his humanitarian work, which she had heard about on the radio some time ago.

"Those children are hungry, and I can't help them. I look at them and just smile at them and promise to do something and I don't believe in that possibility either. Man. it's so fucked." He went back to looking out the window. The curls danced against his face, untamed and free, just as she had always imagined. Like something too beautiful to ever be hers. Like a drink too strong for her tired body, like the last minute of a night fading with daylight."It's not your fault for the injustice."

"No, no one is to blame. But there is still more and more of it every day. "He answered her more desperately than angrily. At one point, the sadness turns to anger, and when we realize that it is also useless, despair comes and liquid that blurs his real face, so we don't recognize him for a few hours. The rest of the ride passed in the silence and rattling of the air freshener when they turned into a bend or changed lanes.

The house was dark and huge. And glass. Lots of glass, on all sides.She escorted him to the living room, after he had not gotten out of the car for a few minutes even though they had already arrived in front of the entrance. She didn't rush him. It was dark, quiet, interrupted by breathing that returned to both a somewhat normal routine.

They were sitting. She leaned her head against the window. It was no longer cold on the inside."You're home."

They were sitting. He didn't answer her. The freshener stopped swaying as if signaling the end of the night. He didn't want it to end like that, so miserable, so mundane.

She had to open the door for him in person and help him up the stairs. "You're leaving the house unlocked?"

"I'd sleep more nights outside than in my bed if I didn't leave."

He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, still holding her hand. Tonight she became a support for the drunk and tired, without any support for herself. "Yeah, you seem to have more luck than wit, in some things."

She stood in the middle of the room not knowing what to do with herself now that he let her go and staggered down the hall. She didn't know where to place her eyes. Everything was so clean and tidy and new. She didn't know what she expected from the inside. She didn't expect anything. She never imagined herself in a space like this. He's fine here, he thought. But he probably doesn't even know what he has, the sick part of her mind tunes in very quickly. He had never been sober enough to realize, she replied to herself. Sometimes it's easier to have imaginary conversations. No awkward questions, ambiguous phrases. We can follow word-for-word scenarios, which in the real world no one has ever learned.

Should I leave without saying goodbye or not? Maybe she should wait to make sure Kit's okay.

She didn't move from where he had left her.

He stopped in the hallway. Something deep in his head bothered him. "You listened." Turning to the girl, he said. "And you weren't laughing." He continued as he leaned against the doorframe. "I hope to remember that tomorrow."

She didn't laugh. She remained frozen in her emotionless expression. "I'll make sure to remind you."

Thoughtfully, with a wrinkle between his eyebrows that hadn't been there before, he stared at the floor when he remembered. "If only you weren't right."

"About what?"

He remembered her every word when she told them to him that winter twilight. It was difficult for him to reconstruct them now because he saw them in his memory only partially in the haze of numbness.

"That we don't remember things we did while we're drunk, but that forgetting doesn't apply to those.. em... to those... .. because of which we drink. The ones we did before we got drunk. Which means that even that one- "he began to approach her awkwardly as he pointed with his index finger as the number one" -one, the only thing, drunkenness, is meaningless. "

He stood opposite her, so close she could feel the breath in her hair. When she finds the words she's sure are ones she's been looking for, she raises her head so that their gazes are on the same level."We can't run away from ourselves Kit. That is impossible. With or without alcohol. "

She didn't even finish, his lips were already on hers. Gently, gently, as only the desperate know. Slowly, slowly, as only those who are no longer in a hurry do. He parted her lips with his own. They were warm and suddenly full of blood. Where there is blood, there is life. He wanted to remember, to draw a mental map of her lips and all the emotions that filled him. When he leaves, that he can still feel it all, all of her on his lips. When he sobers up that he still remembers her. Her lips are full of life, which must come to an end someday. They run out of air and separate, her cheeks still embraced by his smooth palms.

"If you were little bit older, I would make passionate, crazy love to you." he said, caressing her cheeks. He spoke to her briskly, at the same time softly and bluntly. He spoke the way he would speak sober if he didn't care who was listening, who was watching. If he was relaxed and naive, childishly distracted, with no worries on his mind.

She didn't know where to put her hands, so she put them in her coat pockets. She didn't want to leave a trace that might remind him of tonight's events. The nights are dark, so are the deeds. So that they can merge and disappear in the shadows of darkness.

"I'm leaving now. Take care."

She left him behind, in the creaking of the door and the sounds that signaled it has closed. She didn't want to leave him. She didn't even want to stay. She wasn't sure what she wanted. If only he wasn't right. Everything was really messed up.

He's fine, safe, and the steering wheel and windows are cold again like the rest of the car's interior. This time she rested her head on the seat. Tongues of cold crept through her exposed scalp, cooling the boiling blood again. Everything repeats itself. We are constantly looking for reruns of pieces that comfort us. But we forget that even those for whom we don't want to buy a ticket must also show up for the theater to survive.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the pencils in the passenger seat were neatly stacked next to each other. She didn't touch them, let them rest where they were.

We are just children, she finally concludes, who want to be happy again.

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