#modern jon snow fluff
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Jon Snow*Couldn't Resist
Pairing: Jon x f!reader (could be modern or not)
Kinktober Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end
Word count: 1114
Warnings: over stimulation, multiple orgasm, fingering, f! receiving oral, dry humping, neck kissing, slight begging, needy Jon, p in v sex, unprotected sex, smut 18+
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Soft black hair tickled the skin of your cheek, rousing you from your slumber. As your eyes fluttered open a moan escaped your lips as you felt soft lips against your neck, sucking softly on the skin. “Jon?” You yawned, glancing down at the man who was already all over you before the sun had risen.
He hummed against your skin, lips never leaving your skin as he worked his way down your neck. “What are you doing?” you asked, noticing his hand softly running up your bare thigh. After a long night with your husband under the sheets last night you had fallen asleep bare, something Jon found to be irresistible apparently.
“Kissing you,” he said, his lips trailing along your collar bones, “Feeling you,” he murmured, his hand running up your inner thigh. You shivered when his fingers ran over your wet cunt, “Touching you,” he finally added, his lips edging farther down your chest, “Need you,” he muttered against your skin making you chuckle lightly.
“You had me last night,” you giggled, “over and over, and over again,” you teased, your fingers toying with his hair.
“Not enough,” he said, his lips moving down your stomach. You sighed in content as he made his way further down, moaning lightly as his finger rubbed over your clit in slow circles, his lips edging further down. “Wanna taste you,”
You hummed, figuring you had time for now, “Just once sweetheart. I know what you’re like,” you said, hands still holding his soft locks.
Jon laughed as your skin, “Have no clue what you’re on about love,” he said and before you could chastise and remind him of last night, he had placed a soft kiss to your clit making you whine, your back arching slightly, “Just wanna make you feel good,” he said, warm breath fanning your wet cunt making shivers radiate up your body,
His hands held your thighs, pushing them over his shoulders as he licked a stripe up your cunt making you tense in anticipation. His hands locked around your legs, keeping your hips steady as he began to lick greedy tongues up your cunt, devouring you like a starved dog.
Your hands twisted in his hair, toes curling as his lips moved up to suck your clit, his fingers edging in your hole. You gasped when you felt him ease two fingers in but moaned as he began to move them slowly, curling them with expert position like he’d studied your body for a lifetime.
Jon moaned against your cunt, vibrations running up your body making your skin tingle. Your heels dug into his back, and you could feel the way he was humping the bed, giving himself his own slight release as he worked on yours.
It didn’t take long in your sleep ridden haze for a warm feeling to spread through your stomach. “Fuck,” you whined, as you came to your peak. Jons tongue did not stop even as your body did, your legs twitching around your head, “Just one,” you whined, pushing at his shoulder.
“Cmon baby,” Jon whined, his face wet with your juices, “One more please? I’ll be good after this I swear,”
You whined before nodding, “Fine,” you said, and the words had barley left your lips before he dove back in. this time his tongue darting inside you making your body shudder. These moans were harder to contain especially when his nose moved to nuzzle perfectly into your clit.
Your second peak arrived even quicker than the first but as you reached this one you felt your hips bucking, hand clenching Jons hair tight, as you grinded onto his face. Your movements only spurred Jon on as soon his fingers had return, this time slipping three in with ease as he moved up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves again. His fingers were faster this time, his teeth grazing your clit, and no sooner had your second orgasm finished did your third hit like a fallen castle.
You could barley contain the moans, biting into your arms to try stop yourself as your body twitched under Jon. His movements didn’t stop till your hands began to push his head away, not feeling like you could face another as your legs continued to twitch.
Jon crawled up your body, his lips kissing your cheek and jaw gently as his hips rutted into yours. his hard cock rubbing into your stomach as he searched for friction, “Please,” he murmured against your skin, “Let me fuck you please,” he begged, kissing your skin desperately.
You nodded making him look up from the crook of your neck, his eyes searching your face for approval. You nodded at him, not sure if you were even able to speak yet. Jon knew your signal to stop, a double tap on the shoulder, but with your nod and no tap he waisted no time in lining his cock up with your ready hole.
As he sunk his cock in you gasped, your hole already so sensitive from before. Jon however was still desperate for release so as his lips latched to your nipple, his free hand playing with the other, his hips began to snap against yours setting a relentless pace. “Fuck Jon I-I,” you gasped, interrupted by your own moans as you felt another orgasm approaching.
Jon moved his hand to under your back, pulling it up to arch your back to hit a new spot which caused your eyes to roll into your skull as a fourth orgasm crashed down on you. his thrusts did not stop but the way your cunt squeezed him just made his pace quicken.
He was determined to milk one more out of you as his hand dropped your back letting you sink into the bed but now his hand slipped between your bodies till, he was rubbing fast circles into your clit. His lips left your skin as he lent up, allowing himself to fuck you deeper as his hand came up to cover your mouth as your moans probably echoed through the walls.
You looked up at him through hooded eyes, admiring his body for the few moments you had before your final peak arrived making your legs clench around Jon which only pulled him in deeper. You vaguely heard cursing as you rode out your final orgasm, but you released why as you felt Jon spill inside you.
After a few moments of him catching his breath Jon rolled to lay beside you, glancing at you with a sorry smile, “What happened,” you started to ask, panting as you looked to your husband, “to just one?”
“Couldn’t resist,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics
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Wool to Brave the Seasons - Update
~*~
“Actually, if you know what you’re doing, you’ll find it’s easy to please me. Color! Sparkle! Simple.” She said, breathless after running up the stairs as she tugged her keys out of her pants pocket and let them both inside her frigid apartment.
He cursed at the ice-laced air hitting him, shocking a laugh out of her as she caught him shuddering.
“I know. It’s so cold here; I swear I saw a polar bear putting on a jacket earlier.” She said, delighting in drawing another chuckle from him as they approached her Christmas tree.
“You’ll be lucky if the pipes don’t freeze,” he said, but she obstinately refused to entertain the thought.
“They’ll be lucky if I don’t start beating them with the baseball bat I keep by my bed.”
~*~
After convincing him to let her decorate for Christmas, Dany treats Jon to a friendly interrogation and learns he isn’t so quiet after all. She just needed to stop and listen!
#jonerys fanfiction#Jonerys#fanfic#fanfiction#fluff and humor#fluff and romance#smut and fluff#jonerys modern au#jonerys fanfic#jon snow x daenerys targaryen#jon x dany#jon and daenerys#daenerys targaryen#fanfiction writer#ao3 writer#ao3fic#ao3 link#game of thrones daenerys#jonerys christmas#joneryswinterwonderland2023#new chapter#creative writing#game of thrones fanfiction#romantic comedy#romance fanfiction#forced proximity#only one bed#all the fuzzy feels#snowxstormworld
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How about a Jonsa burn out anything? Pic set, dabble, etc. Basically these two fools are overworked and exhausted and go on a mini solo trip with all the cuddles and etc? Idk?
We just know that Sansa would be a workaholic, right? She gives her all, she wants to be the best.
. . .
Jon cracked a single eye open at the sound of the phone alarm going off, and squeezed Sansa when she jumped sat on the bed.
“I’m late!” she gasped.
Jon pinned her right down again and then raised himself to his elbow, turning off her alarm, and then wrapped his arms around her waist and put a leg over her hips.
“Jon!” Sansa whined.
He held her closer.
This was their holiday.
It would last four days, it was all the time they had together, because Jon’s week off had started three days before Sansa’s week off, because apparently politics and fashion worked on different schedules.
“What if they need me?” she turned around to look at him, her eyebrows joined in a frown, creating a little winkle right there.
"If you keep that expression much longer, you'll get a permanent tan there," Jon cheekily pointed at her, sparking an adorable pout from Sansa.
Her frown deepened.
“Don’t tease me,” she rolled her eyes.
Jon let out a resigned sound.
Securing his week off had been a walk in the park compared to Sansa's struggles. She worked as an assistant at a high-end clothing line. Their lives often felt a little too much like a scene from "The Devil Wears Prada," complete with ungodly hours. Unfortunately, her much-anticipated time off had been rescheduled three times, effectively slicing their cherished holiday in a half.
“My love, this our holiday,” he reminded her. “I left your work phone home. Turned off.”
Sansa gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief as she sat up.
“Jon!”
He shrugged.
“Oh, and I should have turned off your alarms too," he added, realising it.
His girlfriend tried to squirm away from him, but Jon pulled her closer to him again, holding her in place, looking at her face.
“San,” he spoke softly. “You are exhausted. I’m exhausted.
They were. Their bones would turn into dust if they worked another day straight and didn’t sleep for the next twelve hours, he knew that.
She softened.
"But, Jon, it's my job," she argued, her lower lip jutting out in a slight pout. "What if they really do need me?"
Jon exhaled.
Sansa was good. Really good.
Well, she was his girlfriend, Jon would always say she was good in things, but she was wonderful in what she did. Sansa made her own clothes, her whole wardrobe!
“Then they can wait a week,” he held her hand. “If they value you and your work, then they’ll give you time to recharge and come back. Now, you sleep.”
She exhaled, resting back on the bed and looking at him.
"I'm not sleepy anymore," she admitted with a playful grin.
Jon shook his head, and she turned, laying fully on the bed, and he wrapped himself fully around her, cuddling her close as to protect her from the world.
“Give yourself five minutes,” he murmured, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck. “You’ll see. And after brunch, I’m going to cover you in sunscreen, and we’ll go down to the beach and swim, and not think about work, or fashion, or King’s Landing...”
He took a deep, contented breath. Four days of pure serenity on Driftmark awaited them. Jon glanced at Sansa and couldn't help but smile. There she was, already fast asleep, bringing him peace at last.
Thank the gods.
He closed his eyes, letting himself relax with her and just sleep.
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If you're still taking prompts for the jonerys drabble challenge... ❤️
"You have no clue where we are, do you?"
I did it! An actual drabble that didn't turn into something much longer than that! Thank you so much for responding to the call I put out. I just love this fandom and all the friends I have made because of it.
Prompt: “You have no clue where you are, do you?”
Jon took another turn deeper into the winding roads within the Woolfswood. Dany knew he was familiar with the area having grown up in Winterfell nearby, but she couldn’t help the anxiety gnawed at her. To her knowledge, there was nothing out this way; even the map she had googled only had the word Wolfswood written across it, the gravel roads that slowly became dirt ones not even shown.
“Where are we going?” she asked before she could stop herself. She trusted Jon, but she had an innate desire to be informed of all things and not-knowing caused her to panic. Her therapist told her it was due to the trauma of her childhood that she always sought control, and knowledge was the best way to do that.
“Relax, sweetling. We will get there soon,” Jon reached over and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it.
His off-road jeep hit a bump that had Dany bouncing in her seat and Jon laughing as she flailed around and screamed. “I’m glad you find this so amusing,” she bit at him, though his smile was infectious and she did her best to look as annoyed as her words sounded.
“You’re just so cute when your mad. Like an angry kitten,” Jon joked.
Dany snatched her hand away. “You really want to sleep alone on the couch tonight, don’t you?”
“Never, my love. I always want to be with you.”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the flutter within her heart. Jon and Dany had met in college their sophomore year, both already dating someone else. It wasn’t until their junior year they both found themselves single and he asked her to dinner at one of the uptown restaurants.
When Christmas break rolled around, Jon knew she had no family to go home to and would spend it still in her dorm with Missandei and her boyfriend, Torgo, both students whose families lived in another country and it was too expensive for them to fly home at every break. He invited that Dany come home with him to meet his family, that they always insisted the more the merrier. They also asked Torgo and Missy, who gladly accepted.
Dany was a bit stunned by the size of Jon’s house and family. His Uncle and Aunt lived in the main estate on the property, with all of Jon’s cousins, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. His mother lived in a smaller but still impressive house next door, on Stark property, overlooking the godswood. She felt instantly welcomed into his family and it was bittersweet as it had been only her Uncle Aemon who raised her brother and her.
Her mother died in childbirth. Sadly, even with modern medicine, the broken healthcare system of Westeros had an obscenely high mortality rate for expectant mothers in a First world country. Her father went mad with grief and was abusive until his own death a few years later. That was when they went to live with her Great Uncle Aemon.
Aemon was old and passed away when Dany was in High School, Viserys joined him during her freshmen year of college after he had pissed away his part of their inheritance and died of an overdose not long after. She was lucky her parents had been well off, and Aemon didn’t touch the money left to them, not that he would have. He was the best man she ever knew. But as an orphan now, with no family left, the money to survive had been a small comfort under the weight of it all.
After college, Dany and Jon had found jobs in King’s Landing, moving into a small one-bedroom apartment together. That was two years ago, and they still drove north every chance they got to spend time with the Starks. This trip wasn’t for any designated holiday though.
Jon had insisted they take a week off from work to visit Winterfell. They had both been swamped at work, eager to prove themselves in their respective fields and climb the ladder to better positions within the companies they worked for. It was a welcome break to be able to just be together, no stresses of life to preoccupy them.
Tonight Jon had insisted they go for a drive, telling her little to no details of their destination. As the dirt road came to an end, Jon threw the jeep in park and looked over to Dany expectantly. Dany looked around in confusion, not understanding what was going on.
Jon chuckled beside her. “You have no clue where we are, do you?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “Should I?”
“Come on, love,” he huffed, opening the door and signaling for her to do the same and get out of the car.
She followed, albeit a little reluctantly. They were in the middle of nowhere, even her cell phone had no service all the way out here. Jon waited for her in front of the vehicle, holding his hand out for her to take.
Dany grabbed his hand and they began to walk through the dark forest, with only a small trail to guide their way. As she took in her surroundings, the tense grip of anxiety began to ease and melt away. It was truly a breathtaking sight, the lush and green forest, sentinels lining each side of her for as far as the eye could see.
Most forests still had inklings of humans etched upon them, a building or inn trying to make money off tourism, in the litter they left while hiking and camping, but this one still looked pristine and untouched. A wolf howled in the distance, Dany shook, as she gripped Jon tighter. She could see a clearing ahead and hoped this was their destination.
She had heard stories of travelers getting lost in these woods or being mauled by a wild animal. When they crossed into the clearing her mouth gaped at the sight before her.
“Do you know where we are now?”
Dany stood there mute for a moment, staring at the waterfall that fell into a flowing creek, the mountain behind them, beautiful and imposing. Recognition hit her then. Jon had spoken of this place to her before, where his Uncle would take them to fish and camp. She nodded her head and jumped into his arms.
“Thank you for showing me this,” she whispered, before pulling him into a slow but hungry kiss.
She poured all her love and gratitude into it, sliding her tongue into his mouth and massaging his own with hers, biting his lip lightly and nipping at him playfully. A moan left Jon’s mouth and she swallowed it down as his hands began to explore her body. When they reached her arse he squeezed her tight there, bringing her body as close to his as he could. She whimpered when he bit her lip in retaliation and rubbed his hard erection against her.
Suddenly Jon pulled away. “Others take you, woman, you are such a wonderful distraction. But I have more to show first.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her along, smiling dopily at her smug grin.
As they neared the waterfall, the spray began to hit her face, the coolness feeling good with her skin still burning from her previous exertions. To her surprise, when they walked behind the waterfall, the mouth of a cave greeted them. She followed Jon, still holding her tightly as they walked onto the slippery rocks.
He begged her to be careful and slipped his free hand onto her lower back as he helped her through the entrance.
“Jon,” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth at the view.
A cot had been set up within the cave, a trail of roses leading around and to it. Fairy lights were hung around the walls of the cave to illuminate the place, twinkling against a steaming pool a few feet away. To her surprise, the chill of the outside air didn’t reach them here. A bottle of champagne sat chilling in a bucket of ice next to the bed, a picnic basket next to it. And tucked underneath the bed was one of their duffel bags.
“How did you do all this?” Dany asked.
“I had some helped,” Jon replied, as she felt him move beside her, pulling on the hand he still held.
When she turned around, she gasped, her heart nearly stopping from the shock. Jon had bent down on one knee and was reaching into his pocket. He flipped open the signature box and a gorgeous diamond ring met her eyes.
“Dany, from the moment we met I knew there was something special about you. You are the brightest star in the sky, shining the way when I feel lost. You are a cool breeze on a hot summer day. You are the sun that brightens my day, and the fire that keeps me warm at night. You are already a part of my family, you are my present and my future, will you marry me and make it official?”
Tears sprung from her eyes despite the smile so wide upon her face, her cheeks obscured the violet orbs from view. She couldn’t find the words, so she nodded enthusiastically and lept into his arms, joining him on the floor of the cave. Once her voice finally worked, she whispered “yes” between each kiss.
She knew from the moment she met Jon, that he was different from any man she had met before. In a crowded room full of other people, they somehow always gravitated toward each other. He was her sun, and she the planet that orbited around him just to feel his warmth.
Before she met Jon, Dany would have laughed at the idea of soulmates and destiny. But by the Old Gods and the New, the Seven, and R’hllor, Jon and her were always meant to be, were written in the stars. Her heart beat for his, and when they made love they truly became one.
She couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life with him, to write their story, the Song of Ice and Fire.
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Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (X): Long Live.
Imagine you are transported to the past… instants before the legendary battle between Aemond and his uncle Daemon Targaryen occurs. What will you do? Part I.
Warnings: drama, angst, smut—fluff; loosely based on “Outlander”.
Warnings 2: alternative universe concerning the end of “GOT”’s season 8 where Daenerys lives and Jon Snow never killed her, with a more modern take.
Warnings 3: long post.
***
• Current days.
With the war coming to an end and the recent coronation of Queen Daenerys, your life has finally returned to what it used to be… before the threat of the Others, when you were forced to flee from Winterfell to go down South and live with your uncle and aunt all the whilst the rest of your family decided to move to Sunspear, in Dorne.
You start a new life at King’s Landing, taking a course at the Westerosi University, making new friends and even finding a few dates for yourself.
“We should definitely head to Aegon’s Hill”, your friend Margaery says. “There’s a very mystical place, abandoned after the Usurper fell”, she adds in reference to Cersei Lannister’s death by treason.
You hesitate, but what’s there to lose? Security has been restored thanks to the joint efforts of Queen Daenerys and her King Consort, Jaehaerys II after years of civil war plus the madness coming from the north.
“We should celebrate there”, another friend named Lyna adds.
And that is how it all begins. But who could tell what was going to happen?
*
In the first hours of the morning next you, already dressed in red, black stripes pants and a white, winter like blouse, get your fundamental things in your backpack with an adventure feeling you cannot get rid off.
“And here we go”, you mumble to yourself after getting some coffee.
You hear the sound of a “beeeee”, and you know it’s Margery on the car. You wave a quick goodbye from your aunt and uncle before dropping into it.
“Don’t get yourself too late at home!”, you hear your aunt yelling over her shoulder.
You laugh quietly before yelling back:
“When have I ever failed you?”
And so you are driven all the way to Aegon’s hill, singing a random song seconded by your girl friends.
“I feel so excited about going there”, you, usually the quiet one, find yourself chatty this morning. Is the coffee the cause of it? Maybe. “I was reading about it and rumour has it there are a few enchantments surrounding the stone blocks that remain still.”
“You can’t honestly believe this shit”, Lyna reclines back the backseat and gives you a look. “It’s all mythical. Stories tell us that that hill received the Conqueror’s name because that was where he flew with the great Balerion.”
“But before his arrival there used to be the spot of ancient religions that turned such spot one very meaningful for their practices and all. Aegon himself kept it, aware of its importance”, you honestly don’t know what’s with you, but part of you likes the mysterious aura that place has.
“There is also a legend dated from the days of the Blackfyre rebellion that if you are not careful enough you can be tossed into the past”, says Margaery.
“How past that is, one wonders”, Lyna muses, eventually taking in the idea.
“That depends. The three eyed crow could tell… but it’s been said the man was killed by the Night King.”
You tilt your head as if pondering what the girls are talking about.
“I still can’t believe he died during the war”, you muse out loud.
“He sacrificed for the realm. Apparently he always knew that.”
No one dares to say anything. The Great War is still a sensitive topic to many and your group isn’t an exception to it. Eventually, however, you manage to get to the hill.
It’s large and surrounded by very ancient stones indeed. The beauty in its mysticism makes all the more alluring to you. Something so captivating calls you and, distracted, as if you have been hypnotized, you attend it.
In baby steps you walk, ignoring the bubbling of your friends. A soft hymn, as if played by a harp, is heard.
“Do you hear this, girls?”, you turn at them, missing the mist that rises from nowhere.
But they seem unable to hear you. You try to reach them, especially when the sound of an earthquake scares the hell out of you. You grip tightly the stone, or try to, but it’s when everything spins and you scream.
When your friends turn at you, you are no longer there.
***
• Days of War
I said remember this moment in the back of my mind. The time we stood with our shaking hands. The crowds in stands went wild…
A thunder scratches through the black clouds, roaring it violently. It only announces bad omens. Men paint the soil with their blood in red all the whilst dragons rip skies in cursed fighting.
As it starts to rain, Aemond Targaryen prepares to fight his bitter enemy, confident that he will bring victory to his side. Rhaenyra has been suffering with many losses, betrayals, no one believes her cause anymore.
Dressed in dark green leather, he doesn’t mind the rain that soaks his long silver hair. A twisted, evil smirk is seen as he rests his hand over his sword sheath.
“And here we go, Vhagar”, he mumbles when climbing Aegon’s hill where his dragon, the legendary beast that followed Balerion and Meraxes in the conquest of Westeros many moons ago, awaits.
But it’s precisely when seeing Vhagar agitated and spitting fire that has Aemond startled. What could be the cause of its state? He is ready to run to it when he sees… you.
A scared woman in what he judges to be in her mid 20’s has just tumbled before him. Dressing in strange clothes, your hair is soaked and you shake. You are bloody scared, he can tell, and in other circumstances he’d shoo you away.
However, you not only possess strange objects he’d never seen, but something else that captures his attention. And when you see who’s the man that stands right before you… you remember your history lessons.
And you scream.
Right before you pass out.
“What the fuck?”, Aemond breathes heavily, wide eyed gazing at you. Part of him tells to leave you there, but another cannot. Curiosity takes the best so he forgets the battle for now and carries you with him. “Vhagar, it appears we are delaying the freaking encounter this day. For now.”
Not in the best of the moods, he is, however, intrigued by you. As he flies with you to his secretive spot—away from Alys, he keeps it in mind—, he wonders about your whereabouts and why you dress such unusual clothing. And what’s this object you carry behind your back? A product of witchcraft perhaps?
He narrows his eyes, suspiciously so. But in the midst of this long term war, one thing is for sure: you have brought him back the inquisitiveness that he’s long lost…
***
When you open your eyes, it takes you a few minutes to realize where you are… and when realizing that your clothes are changed, you are forced to acknowledge that whatever happened the day before was not a dream.
You begin to panic when you see your surroundings. You are in a large, comfortable bed with lamb skin made blankets over your frame. The furniture is not as modern as the one your aunt has in her household.
You swallow hard, scanning still your eyes s modest desk, and a simple window. All of this makes you miss the discreet presence of Lord Aemond, who’d been watching you from the side of the chamber you haven’t noticed yet.
“I wonder the cause behind your astonishment”, his husky voice breaks the silence in such a powerful way that you nearly jump out of the bed, which makes the prince amused.
Never before had you stood a royal before, even if this man is not the kindest of his station. You force yourself to remember your history lessons and behave in the most natural way possible.
Therefore you stand and dip into what you judge a careful curtsy. Aemond’s eyebrows are raised, arms folded. But he is no fool.
“You are not from here”, he continues. “Who are you? A very weird spy sent by my dear sister to distract me?”
In other circumstances you’d have laughed out loud. But you are too frightened to do that. Aemond sees you are shaking, a clear sign of fear.
“Well? Has the cat eaten your tongue, my lady?”, he sighs heavily, not the most patient of men.
“I… No, lord. I am not”, never before you’ve been thankful for learning the ways of nobility, aware few of the etiquette has altered in the course of centuries. “I… I am not your sister’s partisan.”
Aemond can tell you speak the truth, but he approaches you, shortening the distance between you two. Then he shows you your backpack and all the things there are still inside.
“What are these then? Are you a witch, lady? Has my sister bought you so you could use such witchcraft against us, against me?”
Part of you finds ridiculous how this is going. Another is trying not to laugh at the face of danger. The reasonable self there is still in you prevails by masking your sentiments, reminding that you need to conquer this man’s trust if you want to go back home.
“If I tell you, lord, you will not believe me”, you opt for the truth. If the prince has long decided to burn you, then what does it matter?
Aemond is surprised by the moment you lift your eyes. Something about your gaze shakes his heart, as if bringing the tempest within. He ignores the shiver that now runs over his spine.
“Try me”, he commmands you to.
“I must have your word that you shall not burn me.”
The prince side smirks at you.
“Do I have the reputation of slaying ladies or sending them to death? Believe me, my lady, my mistress has been associated with dark magic and here I stand.”
Without thinking twice, though, the following words roll out of your tongue:
“But you are renowned as the kinslayer. That speaks for itself.” It’s only then you know you’ve angered the prince. Shit. “I’m sorry, lord.”
“You are my prisoner”, Aemond snaps back at you. “Bear in mind you need my favour if you have any love for your life.”
Your eyes are puddled with tears. Once too proud, you slide to your knees and beg him for your life.
“Lord, I’ve been a victim of witchcraft. I’ve been casted here, that is the truth and only truth. I come from the future and there is where I belong. I’ve never meant to stay in your way. I beg you to spare me, we have no cause for otherwise.”
Aemond’s good eye is slightly wide. He can tell, being a good observer, that you are not lying even if his reason cannot conceive it. On the other hand, what surprises him more is the way you are begging him. He’d taken you as a proud woman. The scene now disconcerts him.
“I must depart. I am needed and…”
You know you should not meddle in the past, aware of the consequences. This is a bad reputed prince, the chronicles helped making you dislike him greatly. However, you depend on him in going back to Aegon’s Hill. Therefore…
“Don’t go. You will die.”
Aemond’s eyebrows raise epically.
“What? Listen to me, young lady. Whomever you may be, sent by my sister or not, you shall better hold your tongue.”
Oh this couldn’t go any worse, could it? You sigh heavily.
“And then what? I need you, lord, to find my way back home. If you die today, I’ll be stuck in here for good.”
“Perhaps then I should have left you to Alys.”
“No!”, something about your cry scares the untamed prince. “Lord, please. I…”
A moment of silence. Neither could believe in what is going right before their eyes. You, stuck in the middle of another war; him, in the presence of what he judges to be a product of witchcraft.
“How should I address my lady?” Aemond opts to begin again.
And when you soften, so does he.
“Y/N, lord.”
“Y/N, I am Aemond Targaryen. Looks like there’s so much to catch on…”
To change the fate of Westeros, he stays.
***
The night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same. You held your head like a hero on a history book page. It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age.
Aemond’s good eye studies you as you eat like you haven’t been fed for ages. Your hair is still hanging lose behind your back and you are still wearing a pair of delicate earrings he’d never seen before, but all else makes you look like a woman of his own times.
“So the enchantments of Aegon’s Hill are true”, he muses, breaking the silence as he takes a sip of his wine.
“They are, lord.”
“But never heard of a case where they had… succeeded, in fact.” He tilts his head. “What proof can you give me you are actually from there?”
“My objects aren’t proof enough?”
This silences the prince for now.
“I do not think wise to meddle in these events”, you say in turn. “Lord knows what that’d be like for my own days.”
Aemond is intrigued as he watches you pale. Then curiosity knocks his pride out.
“What’s like? The future?”
You wonder if you should tell him. As if he reads you, Aemond adds:
“Eventually I die. I am not asking you how. But your days, lady, I want to know. How better are they from mine?”
Sadness sparks behind your y/c eyes, a sight that inspires sympathy on him.
“Worse, I dare say. I was first raised in a long civil war. And then… another came, worse still. I really have no words to put it.”
“I cannot conceive a war worst than civil war”, says Aemond. “But another civil war bled Westeros?”
“Yes”, you try not to speak too much.
“Fuck”, Aemond grumbles under his breath. “All of this… for nothing?”
Not knowing what to say, you choose silence. And not knowing how to react, Aemond breathes in frustration. He decides to leave you.
And you end up that evening alone. But early next morning, Aemond, too intrigued with your presence to remember to fight his enemies, paces anxiously around the castle. He must know, he needs to know. And when waiting becomes unbearable, you show up.
Dressed in a blue velvet gown, you look properly like a lady of these times even though you cannot mask well your discomfort. Aemond’s own thoughts disappear before the sight of you, feeling so lost, so… out of place.
“My lady”, he doesn’t admit how taken aback he is by your beauty. “I pray you have slept better this night.”
“Not really, I’m afraid”, and your red eyes are a clear sign of how you actually spent your night. Aemond frowns at that, preoccupied. “I shall make my mission taking you home… after the battle that awaits me.”
You should not care, but you feel disconcerted by his presence. The way he looks at you says all.
“I cannot convince you otherwise”, you sigh. “Can you at least leave me at Aegon’s Hill, though?”
A request that defies your sanity, you know well. One that poses your boldly despair very clear. But you are now a survivor struggling to live in such a strange world.
However, Aemond is not willing to let go easily of you. Inspired by mixed feelings, he says:
“You are my prisoner now, remember? I shall keep your secret”, he approaches you slow, shortening the distance between the two of you. “Just tell me how to beat my uncle, how to win this war.”
“Oh Lords”, you find support in the wall. “What kind of question is that? In one moment you…”
“Just tell me!”, Aemond cuts you, rather impatiently.
“I cannot! Lord, if I do, the world I know my disappear.”
He realizes the dilemma you are. Confused by all of this mess, Aemond hesitates.
“Just stay here until I come back.”
Without waiting for any response, there he leaves you, but not to fight Daemon Targaryen. Not now. And you weep because this is all you can do for now.
***
You try to leave the castle, disguised as a peasant, but your plan comes to fail when Aemond comes back and from above, he spots a strange figure running through the woods.
Now here you are, a prisoner again. This time the prince is in a better mood.
“You are really trying to get away of me. In other circumstances, I’d be mad at you for this bluntness”, he muses, offering you wine as you sit in front of the fireplace.
You shoot him a glare, not saying anything.
“What am I to you but a toy so you can play?” Desperation hits a different tone and before you know you burst into tears, swiping away his mug smirk.
After a while, Aemond comes to his senses. He reluctantly takes your hand and when both of you see fingers intertwining, a different heat seems to rise.
“I lament profoundly to cause you pain, lady Y/N”, says he. “But this is who I am. Shouldn’t you know that?”
“I believed in other men’s judgement where you are concerned, but now…”
“Now what?”, he asks, somewhat anxious.
“Now I know in the hard way we should be better than be led by prejudices.”
Aemond leans back in his chair, thoughtful. You realize he doesn’t let go of your hand.
“Wise words, lady Y/N.” And then he muses. “I died, didn’t I? We lost this war, didn’t we?”
You avoid his gaze, opting for silence. But your silence screams unspoken words that reach the Prince’s heart. And he sighs, in between melancholy and resignation.
***
The following days you are not entitled as the lord Aemond’s prisoner any longer. Showing some colours in the horizon, hope stands as he presents you as the illegitimate daughter of some nobleman loyal to the green house who’d been deceased in the previous battles.
With a more convincing background, you are better instructed by maids of his trust in the manners of the times. Soon, you are offered a place to serve Queen Helaena.
It’s when you remember that droll tragedy.
“Oh no!”
Aemond raises his eye at you.
“What makes you deny this privilege any lady would kill to earn?”
You blush.
“I mean to say…”, you struggle with words, “I am unfit for such a position.”
“Allow me to disagree with you”, Aemond smiles and suddenly the view pleases your heart very much. “There shall be a ball on behalf of my sister’s birthday this weekend.”
“Will we dance?”, you blurt it out before you realize.
Aemond’s cheeks go pink at your spontaneity.
“Dance, you say”, he muses thoughtfully. “I am no dancer, my lady.”
“We are performers in life. Therefore anyone can be a dancer.”
“Quite a wit you possess”, says he in reluctant admittance. “Very well. If it pleases my lady…”
One smile is enough to turn tables.
“It does.”
And a new fate is sealed.
***
“It doesn’t feel like you are an outsider”, so mumbles Aemond to you alone as you two dance amidst courtiers.
It’s a sweet melody, cheerful somewhat in its beat, certainly bringing many presents a smile on their faces. The Dowager Queen looks pleased and delighted, entertained by her twins. One look at them and you are remembered by the upcoming events.
Oh, the burden of knowing too much. You swallow the bitter thought as you dance with the rogue prince. Earlier the Queen, who had welcomed you in the merriest of the moods, had said no one but a traveler could bring a man as her brother to dance. Her remark, not taken seriously by many, did manage to leave you uncomfortable. After all, you forgot that she had the Targaryen ability of possessing dreams.
“How come?”, you inquire, and it doesn’t take long before your gaze meets his.
He doesn’t strike you as the villain.
“You fit here just fine”, Aemond whispers in response.
As you twirl, hands barely touching his, you feel you are about to fall right into the trap.
“Do you think so?” And then you flash him a mischievous smirk. “Who’d ever thought we could get along?”
“Who, indeed?”
And then the dance comes to an end. Aemond takes your hand and bows, as you curtsy. But when he presses his lips against your skin, your heart races.
It appears you found your hero, after all.
***
Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you. I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made” and bring on all the pretenders. One day we will be remembered…
It’s late night. Aemond’s thoughts are only on the strange woman who was tossed out of time and space to go straight to the core of the civil war that will be known in posterity as dance of dragons.
He’s been so captivated that he’s long forsaken Mistress Rivers and his obsession in defeating his sworn enemy, his own uncle Daemon Targaryen. Therefore he decides to go after you. Covered by the shadows of night with only the guidance of faint candlelights, he soon finds your bedchambers.
There is hesitation at first. His own thoughts are confused, his heart hammers in silent agony. There is half hope, half atonement in his heart beat.
Nevertheless, he came too far to stop now. So he knocks at long last.
There is no answer at first. And then…
“My lord Aemond”, you are surprised to find him on the other side of the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Despite the admonishment in your words, he can tell there is amusement in your eyes.
“Aye. But I couldn’t find myself able to sleep. And neither could you.”
A faint blush paints your cheeks, earning him his typical smirk.
“I wonder if the same thought has been the cause of our restless nights”, he begins, eyeing you up and down, much to your discomfort.
Dressed in your long white nightgown with your hair down in your back, you look as ethereal as your background. There is beauty, but there is also something unknown in your aura. There is a connection between you two.
And you, on the other hand, are more than familiar with the rules of those days you are now inserted. However, are you able to resist this man?
You wait, though. Maybe you’ve figured this out in the wrong way?
“Your silence mortifies me, lady”, Aemond sighs impatiently. “Is this not evidence enough of how I came to love you?”
Your eyes go wide and you almost drop the candle you’ve been holding.
“Aemond… I am hardly the most appropriate woman for you.”
“Titles and lands are nothing for me”, he responds anxiously.
It’s when he takes your free hand into his, locking fingers at last. To feel his warm skin against yours, colder by comparison, gives goosebumps and small shocks as a result. You fear that you are about to lose your control.
“Aemond…”
He steps forward, saying nothing until he closes the door behind him and puts the candle somewhere safe. Only then he holds you against him and finally kisses you like you’ve never been kissed.
And indeed you have never experienced the firm grasp of a man, the decisions of one confident who knows what he wants. You could have never imagined that one of the kind exists and could desire you this much.
Worse perhaps is to discover how long you’ve been dreaming about this. As his lips clash into yours, your morals die unheard. You let him reclaim you, shuddering under his intense grip, his burning touch.
Before you could do anything, though, Aemond lies you on your bed, lifting your skirts to your waist and then…
“Oh, Lord!”, you whimper out loud. “Aemond…!”
This is certainly the best experience you’ve had. And so easily your legs get heavy, that heat comes down your belly and you… burn.
You want to pull him over you, but the messy prince flashes you a side smirk, dropping by your side.
“Do you honestly believe I shall deflower my lady in a most ungallant manner?”, he chuckles as he watches you frown in frustration.
You raise your eyebrows. You hesitate in whether telling him about your previous experiences. Unwise it may be to be honest, but worse is to ignore your conscience’s voice.
“My prince, as much as I appreciate your kindness and respect to me…”
He furrows his eyebrows.
“In my days these matters have changed significantly”, and then you are quick to add. “It doesn’t mean I’ve had plenty of others, though.”
You give up justifying yourself when you watch Aemond struggle with comprehending your point. Eventually, however, he cedes the battle and says:
“I am not an example of morality, I suppose. Even so I stand what I said.”
Your face lightens up.
“You cannot honestly mean…”
“…that I intend to espouse you?”, Aemond scoffs. “Of course I do. It’s a better way to protect you, by the way. These are trying times, my lady.”
That being said, you cuddle onto him, forgetting completely there is a bloody civil war outside and that you are not studying the period anymore, but living it at its fullest.
***
It is often remarked how to achieve peace one must be prepared for war. And in war, few are familiar with good sense.
Whatever are your thoughts about it, your first taste of tragedy comes in the form of revenge. You are just going back from a stroll outdoors at the gardens when screams get at you.
As you rush to the indoors, you are prevented by Aemond.
“You should be better left out of this. Let me resolve it.”
“No”, you protest. “Aemond, I…”
But he isn’t listening. He leaves you there, as if you are a ghost haunting the castle. Your eyes start to get teary as you realize what part all of this is about.
You cover your ears as the screams continue endlessly, echoing in a kind of pain that you’ve been familiar once. The sounds awake old traumas, opening wounds long thought to be healed.
You can’t stay in there. Useless you feel, therefore you motion outdoors. All you do is walk. Perhaps this is the better time to go to Aegon’s Hill. You want to go home, you don’t want to spend any more time there…
However, once you do, you are prevented from doing so by Aemond. The rogue prince, paled with angst, is perplexed at the thought of you gone. Despaired, he comes after you, thankfully not needing to reach Vhagar for that purpose.
“I cannot stay here”, you tell him, body shaking in evident signs of trauma. “Please, take me home.”
“Y/N…”
“Please! I don’t belong here, Aemond!”
“Yes, you do. You belong with me”, he cups your cheeks and then reading your eyes, he denudes your soul, almost if by chance he has a glimpse of the future through you. “Whatever happened there… and whatever happened here are not who you are. Listen to me, Y/N. It’s you and I against the world. I am honestly sorry these are the circumstances we are now in, but we must be brave.”
There are so many words but none leaves your mouth. Aemond embraces you, rocking you in his arms.
“You already knew what was going to happen”, he is not asking a question. “But this is not the reaction one might’ve expected. You are also a survivor… of war. Bloody seven hells, Y/N. I’m very sorry, my lady.”
You melt in his embrace, sobbing as the nightmare of leaving everything behind in the midst of panic and fear strikes you again. You’ve never seen yourself as a survivor, until now.
“Come inside”, he asks you gently. “Don’t go now. Please.”
Never before he was seen vulnerable, but then again so are you. It had been a while since your wounds were so crudely open, left to bleed in such a painful manner. You’d think you overcame it, but not entirely as you’d like to believe.
Here you are, however, comforted by this character whom you were taught to hate all thanks to the chroniclers that registered his bad deeds. Although he may have done such, and you won’t find excuse for his bad reputation, he’s so much more than that, than words written by thirds.
He’s your prince. He’s your hero and you shall not think anymore of it.
***
After these dark days are gone, sun rises in paradise again. Aemond invites you to fly Vhagar with him.
The decision comes after Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon are put off the show for now. The greens hold victory for now, and even you forget the upcoming events.
“I cannot fly her!”, you shake at the thought. “Do you want to see me dead?”
Aemond laughs heartily and the sound of it melts your heart and soothes your mind. He twirls you around him before holding you against his chest.
“Do you trust in me so little that I’d let you slip so easily?”
You giggle.
“I am just not a brave woman you might expect me to be”, so you say, drowning in that good purple eye.
“Oh, dearest. You are a lot braver than you’d judge.”
Saying so, he kisses you on the lips, and you save his taste as you gladly return it.
I said remember this feeling. I passed the pictures around of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines wishing for right now. We are the kings and the queens. You traded your baseball cap for a crown
You cast him a long loving glance as the prince holds your hand, giving you side smirk before leading the way to Vhagar. This ancient beast, a companion to the Westerosi conquest two other Valyrian dragons, seems to read you the moment your gazes meet.
A sight too frightening to behold, one you’ve seen before the moment you were tossed in this time and space. You recollect the fear that shook your bones and froze your reason and this seems to happen again.
“Don’t be afraid. She knows you are with me”, says Aemond in a nonchalant manner.
You nod your head, but Aemond feels your body shaking. He gently pulls you against him and in a matter of seconds you are suddenly mounting that legendary creature.
“Holy cow!”, you scream.
The silver haired prince laughs quietly, before whispering the words in Valyrian to Vhagar start to fly.
“Calm down, love. Don’t be fearful, it’s worse if you do.”
“I am no dragon rider, Aemond”, you snap at him, eyes going wide as Vhagar begins to rise higher, flying in an incredible speed—fast enough according to your judgement and lack of experience where dragons are concerned, not entirely fast when comparing Vhagar to younger dragons like Caraxes, for example.
But all Aemond does is laugh away your fears. He takes your hands, holding them as he shows he’s commanding the situation. Despite your fears, the adrenaline comes at it and so suddenly you are flying higher than getting an airplane to Dorne.
“AEMOND!”
The silver haired finds adorable the way you trust him, holding onto him as if your life depends on him. But he knows you are overcoming a fear of heights and this only grows his admiration of you.
Eventually though, as if Vhagar is sensing your fear, she slows down and only then she settles in a pace that doesn’t fight you. It’s when you risk patting her back, stroking your delicate fingers over the asperity of the creature’s skin.
“Remember this feeling”, he whispers in your ear. “This is what freedom is like. This is what it means to never let anyone hold the reins of your life.”
“I see the lights of Westeros shining for us”, you don’t even know what you are thinking, but these words seem to make sense for you.
“They are”, Aemond spots the fire pits in towers where orange flames wipe away the fog that instaure that evening. “But you shine the brighter, my dear.”
You blush violently at his words. Never before you felt so loved and understood. Slightly turning your head, and locking gazes with him, you tell this silver haired prince open words regarding your heart.
“I love you, Aemond. Truthfully, I do. I only shine brighter because of you.”
His wide gaze shows no emotion, perhaps skeptical about the genuine feeling you put in them. But Aemond knows you are sincere and this moves him more than he admits.
Locking his arms around you, he kisses you before saying:
“I love you.”
And this is enough for you.
***
You are married in secrecy to a man whom history despises being the kinslayed. His vices are listed perpetually in dust parchments, used as propaganda to disperse any honesty there might’ve colored the shades of the green party that ruled Westeros for a short period of time.
But you see his virtues that no chronicler bothered to see and those overcome the former in a colorful prism of human being.
Daeron Targaryen, his younger brother, is the only witness of the ceremony.
“Welcome to the family, my lady Y/N. In other circumstances, this would be a merry and most favorable occasion.”
“My brother, this matters little. I appreciate the warm wishes, though, and I bet better days are about to come.”
Aemond is pleased to see how well you and his family get along. When one lives history, easily it is to forget it. And so it goes.
When you are taken to his privy chambers, who’d think this was when history is about to change?
“You look so beautiful. Astonishingly so.”
“You make sparks fly”, you smile at him, taken by handsomeness, hands stroking his long silver hair before holding his face. “I adore you, my prince.”
It starts slowly. Your tongue pairs perfectly with his, in one same passionate rhythm. Only then impatience rises when the heat begins to burn.
Your hands start to undress him, automatically moving down to his leather pants.
“Let me show you my devotion”, you break the kiss to whisper in his ear.
Aemond hisses under his breath, eyes closed as he already reacts to your caresses. Your lips leave traces of warm kisses from his neck to his shoulders, going down to his belly and then… you kneel to say your prayers.
*
But he is now devouring you like a hungry man, starving for your soul. His lips on your nipples do wonderfulness. You roll your eyes, moaning softly as your hands play with his hair.
When his skillful fingers find way to your core, you know you are lost. Aemond smirks at how loud you can be, this arousing him further.
“Hmm, my darling”, he raises to meet your mouth, clashing it in a fervent kiss, therefore muffling your lustful cries.
And right as you come undone, he doesn’t wait any longer. Sliding right inside you, you open your eyes, somewhat pleasantly surprised by his intensity.
“Aemond!”
He could not tell whether you are moaning or complaining.
“Yes?”, he groans as starts to move inside you.
“You… are… so… fucking good!”
The prince laughs at your cursing.
“My lady, watch your tongue”, says he in such a malicious way that you feel you could come undone right now.
“Aemond, you devil”, you whimper, legs locked as you begin to move as one.
He smiles down at you, holding your hands above your head. As you kiss, you meet a heavenly bliss.
***
War, however, comes back in unsafe and soundly steps. You, merged in domestic happiness, allowed yourself to forget that in great delights await greater sorrows.
Thirty days after your marriage, to your surprise you find yourself conceived. You want to tell him in the ways your prince likes: flying Vhagar. By now you and this ancient beast have somehow gotten used to each other’s presence.
“May we fly together this evening, husband?”, you ask him, trying not to sound too eager.
Aemond somehow senses you are different. But he cannot tell what exactly is.
“For someone who feared Vhagar, you’ve become quite a dragonrider.”
This day you are breaking fast with your husband’s family, now pleasantly aware of your secret matrimony, notwithstanding Ser Otto’s initial disapproval.
You giggle quietly.
“That is what marrying to you means, is it not?”
Aemond laughs quietly.
“Why, my darling, I could never refuse you anything.”
“Just be mindful you two”, muses the Dowager Queen Alicent, distracted. “It’s cloudy today.”
***
May these memories break our fall. Will you take a moment? Promise me this. That you'll stand by me forever. But if, God forbid, fate should step in and force us into a goodbye, if you have children someday when they point to the pictures. Please tell them my name. Tell them how the crowds went wild. Tell them how I hope they shine…
How could you know what was about to happen then? You are excited to share the news, believing this is the best scenario you could’ve pictured.
Dressed in proper robes, you follow Aemond excitedly and when greeting Aemond with your characteristically sweetness, he snorts and says:
“Who could’ve known we’d come to this? You turned my dragon war in domesticated dog, Y/N.”
You roll your eyes at his teasing.
“Don’t be silly, Aemond. She needs love and caring like every animal”, you smile. “As well as respect.”
“I wonder at times if you are real.”
You turn your head slightly at him as you two prepare to ride.
“Why wouldn’t I be, my love? You are my husband, or am I mistaken? Have you been with Mistress Rivers ag…”
He interrupts you by kissing you passionately. And right there Vhagar roars through the air. You feel as if you’ve been electrified. And the look in your face awakes the best of him.
“I love you, woman.”
But every happiness dies when skies grow darker and Vhagar’s roar sounds different. Aemond frowns his eyebrows.
“Shit. There’s something wrong”, he is quickly alert.
You, focused in telling him about your state, begin to grow afflicted when remembering that that battle between him and Daemon Targaryen didn’t happen the way it should.
You interfered.
Fuck.
“Aemond, honey…”
Wind blows colder, it announces storm. He begins to drive Vhagar lower, flying higher as darkness sweeps away the last rays of light. You try not to panic, but by the looks on your prince, you are promptly a victim to it.
“I’ve ruined everything. I shouldn’t be here. I messed all.”
“Don’t say that”, Aemond doesn’t have a clue of what you are trying to say, but he is already familiar with your background to prevent your insecurity to meddle in it. “You have been the best thing to happen to me…”
Before you have the time to answer him, a different roar echoes through the thundering clouds.
You know where it comes from. You know the one behind him.
And you are at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
“Aemond!”
“Nothing will happen to you, this I swear”, but then he adds, without looking at you. “If, however, something happens to me…”
“Don’t!”
He continues as if you hadn’t protested.
“…never forget how you turned me into a better man. I am unworthy of the Seven Heavens, but I tasted a bit of sacred forgiveness when you loved me. You redeemed me of my sins, my lady, even when I was a miserable. Move on as you should. But never forget me. Or us.”
“Aemond!”, you cry because you remember the result of this battle, and worse is now the effect of his words. “I love you!”
There is so much to be said, but you cannot. Time steals you from him. As Aemond and Daemon faces each other, the prince tries to find a way to save you.
However, no dragon flees from battle. But because Caraxes is faster, it soon attacks Vhagar. It’s right here that, above Aegon’s hill, every shadow eclipses the sun.
It’s right here that in midst of it all, you fall. It happens too fast. Aemond is trying to fly away, but Vhagar doesn’t obey him again. It soon responds Daemon’s Caraxes offense with another.
But when Vhagar gets bitten in the neck, the ancient dragon loses balance for a moment and right here a storm wind knocks you out.
Aemond screams, trying to save you, but you refuse to be saved. You are still in tears, judging to see him attacked by Daemon when the spells of time engulf you.
‘These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die like fire and powder…’
To be continue…
#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#house targaryen#prince Aemond Targaryen#lord Aemond Targaryen#lord Aemond#aemond targaryen smut#taylor swift#speak now (taylor’s version)#long live
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Heart of the Great Wolf
Woes of a Modern Day Love
Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader
Length: 21.2k
Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, abusive relationships, pining, male masterbation, domestic violence, unhealthy alcohol consumption, implied sexual abuse, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v
Notes: A modern!au of my main series, no knowledge of that fic is required though. Also if you thought this was going to be a fluff filled funny fic, I'm so sorry you must be new to my blog. Series Masterlist Here
Jon Snow could still recall that day as if it had just occurred. Six months had passed since then, and yet it currently felt like an utter lifetime of endless suffering. The way he knew right away as he picked up the phone that something was very wrong, how much you were trying to be quiet without crying and the swiftness in which you hung up as soon as yelling could be heard on the other end.
He had all but knocked his chair over how fast he got up before running out of the door, yelling back to Sam to tell Commander Mormont he'd apologize for leaving like this later. By his estimation as he had gotten into his car, it would take about five hours to get there if he, perhaps, didn't quite follow the speed limits. Double checking he still had something in his glove box, Jon shifted things around to prepare before leaving.
As morose of a thing it was to say, Jon had been long since preparing for it. Not a man to rub it in your face how much of a mistake he thought you had been making, but Jon did not sit idly by and wait for it all to implode leaving you stranded and alone. Jon had known this was coming since the day you had told him you were dating Karl Tanner. Not many men were known to be kicked out of the Nights Watch, but he had been one of them and Jon still could not fathom how he had convinced you to date him.
Or what he said to talk you into moving away from your friends and loved ones, to live with him five hours away.
But you were an adult, and Jon couldn't coddle you from the world. He couldn't just lock you in your room and tell you to break up with him. But he did know for a certain that when Jon had been the one originally planned to drive you there, Karl took it upon himself to pick you up instead. He knew why, giving Jon five hours alone with you was giving him five hours of time to talk you out of it.
No music played on his radio, he never bothered connecting his bluetooth, he only drove five hours in a seething silence, hand tense on the steering wheel counting down each mile remained. By the time he could see the house in the distance, you were waiting. Front door closed, you sat on the steps with your arms wrapped around your knees and a bag next to you.
The second you heard the sound of an approaching car you stood. Within the instant Jon got out of the car, he could see every sign you had been trying to hide the fact that you were previously crying but he didn't care for a second. Pulling you to him, his eyes wide and painting over with such a worry as he cupped your cheeks, “Did he hurt you?”
Jon was not convinced by the weak manner in which your tone said no. But you shook your head still barley finding the courage to grasp lightly at his waist, only a cracked whisper coming from you realizing he was still in his Nights Watch attire, that he had left the Wall to get here. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you-”
One hand running over the hair at the side of your head, Jon rasped gently. “No, darling. None of this is your fault.” Trailing off for a moment he glanced down to the small bag you had, no bigger then a gym bag and not even full by the looks of it. “Where's the rest of your stuff?”
Avoiding his eyes, you shook your head again, “It's fine, I just want to leave.” Jon asked far firmer that time, why you didn't have your things with you when your eyes drifted nervously to the side.
Narrowing down, grey eyes tinting down to more of a black, Jons voice grew rougher. “You had a full car worth of things,” gesturing down to the bag in your hand. “This isn't even enough for overnight.” It was the way he could tell you were biting your tongue to keep quiet that made him angry all over again. Either you were too scared to go back in and get the rest of it, or Karl wasn't letting you but either way meant he was still in the house.
Saying he'll go in, you suddenly perked up. Eyes going wide and almost trying to push him, or more, the both of you away from the door. “No, Jon, it's- it doesn't matter let's just go.” Jon persisted, one hand firmly on your upper arm keeping you in place as the other stayed on your cheek, you trying one last time. “I don't care, it isn't a big deal.”
Rasping in a soothing low voice, he assured you. “It won't take long.” But it was then he realized in a manner of speaking, why you hadn't wanted to press the issue. Karl had opened the door, and leaning against the frame his voice rung out with the same condescension he always had towards him.
“Lord Snow, of course you're the one who comes to her rescue.” Jaw clenching instantly, still with the childish nickname. He was the direct assistant to his stations Lord Commander, and so the nickname had passed amongst those who didn't like him as a way to mock his position. “I told her she can get the rest of her stuff, she's the one who didn't want to come back in. Not my fault.”
You looked up at Jon, imploring him to simply listen to you and leave, but his eyes had yet to leave Karl's with a growing rage burning in his blood. “And why would she be too scared to come back in, Tanner? What did you do to her?”
You tried calling Jons name, but he merely guided you to stand behind him as he took a step towards the unmoving man at the door frame. “Who says I did anything? Why don't you ask her.” Raising a smug eyebrow towards you behind him, “Go on sweetheart, tell him what caused our little disagreement.”
Jon hadn't yet realized his voice was already raising. “I heard you screaming at her on the phone, you call that a disagreement?”
Karl only shrugged, still as smug as before. “She likes to play rough, don't you?” Looking back to you once more Jon somewhat shoved you behind him far more down the grass. Muttering for you to wait in the car, and the second you tried to convince him to leave, Karl kept making it all the worse. “See, she doesn't listen to me, doesn't listen to you. Got ourselves a trouble maker, we do.”
Jon spoke over whatever you tried to say. “How about you stop talking, let me get her stuff and leave so you can tell Rast and Locke all about how you scared me into running away, and we can move on with our lives.”
“Of course.” Turning suspiciously to the side as if to give him space to walk in, but Jon didn't move yet when Karl couldn't help himself. “Take your time, I'll stay out here with our girl and make sure she doesn't wind up getting into even more trouble. Or, maybe you'd prefer her more then a little broken in?”
The second Jon moved, you had swiftly put yourself in front of him. Pushing him back, barley making any difference as he looked up, and you desperately tried to get him to look at you. “Jon, please, I just want to go.” Glancing down, his eyes softened almost instantly. “Please.” Swallowing roughly, he nodded.
Without another word, he had grabbed your arm to turn you around and once more push you ahead of him. Ensuring you were in the car first as he watched with a deathly glare at Karl the whole time. But not before one last thing came out of his mouth, now that you were in the car and Karl was sure only Jon would hear him. “If I were you Lord Snow, I'd ask her what it was she said while I was fucking her this morning that started the argument. I'm sure you'd find the answer rather interesting.”
Jon said nothing of it, slamming the car door before leaving without another word. And it took well over five silent minutes after that for you to find your voice to try and apologize. With not a shred of the harshness anymore, Jon dismissed your every attempt. Instead shifting the conversation to ask you what you brought.
“Toothbrush, toothpaste, my phone, journal, and a few clothes.” Jon asked calmly about your laptop and a glance to the side he caught you shaking your head. If he were to guess, Karl had likely already called Rast and Locke. They'd trash most of your things and sell what was left. You had sat outside already knowing you'd never get your stuff back.
Without skipping a beat, Jon simply told you “We'll go out tomorrow and I'll buy you a new one.” Protesting with a call of his name, Jon shut it down. “No arguing. I'll move things around when we get to the apartment. You can stay in my office, so the computer in there's yours but you need things of your own. We'll get whatever else you need too, clothes, furniture,” Still you protested weakly, but there wasn't any shortness in his tone. Only a gentleness mixed in with nothing but deep affection. “I have the money, you don't. You don't have to stay with us if you don't want too, but I'm still going to make sure you're alright.”
Now though, Jon could remember glancing back to you. The brightness in your eyes that he suspected you hadn't had in months as intense as you nodded a single yes to him. He never asked what it was Karl meant, it wasn't his place and you were upset, so he forgot about it.
You stayed in the apartment, no one was rushing to see you go. Jons brother Robb had known you as long as Jon, and in your own words, was just as frustratingly insistent at getting you back on your feet. The other in the apartment, a very old friend of the three of you, Theon had clearly enjoyed having you around again as well. The pair of you found your previous friendship picking up easily, acting closer to a brother and sister, meaning you contrasted well against Jon and Robb making the apartment always amusing to live in.
He knew you had trouble getting used to it, the way Northerners did things. In the South it was very much, move out, live on your own, form a new life away from family. But it was different here, it would be weird for people not to live together as such. It wasn't uncommon for when a couple marries, to move back to the family home when having their first child, so that they and the baby could be surrounded with a sense of family.
The Starks didn't have much in the way of outside family anymore, not since before Jon and Robb were even born, but it meant it only would be even weirder for them all to live apart. No one was pressuring you to find a place of your own. No one really wanted you too. And just as you were finally beginning to settle again, finding life and routine, did he come around.
Jon had blamed himself for you getting involved with Karl Tanner, you only even met him because he was pledged to Jons own station. But this time, he seemed to appear in your life out of nowhere. They all tolerated him, seeing passed his facade and not knowing how to explain it to you without sounding like they were attacking your new boyfriend. But they didn't like him, and he knew that. He knew especially, that Jon hated him. And he loved it. He loved how much Jon utterly despised him. Robb and Theon were civil, but Jon would barley speak two words to him knowing he would talk endlessly at Jon in return just to frustrate him.
He had spotted your vulnerability and used it to his advantage to slide in, and he had spotted thusly in Jon, how much he was desperately in love with you. The day he put that together, was the day Ramsay Bolton had made it his life's goal to torment Jon every single moment he could manage.
Jons office was right next to his room, which now meant you lived right next to him. He knew the layout, you shared a wall where your beds were. Now though, it felt as if when he was home he lived on the other side of his room. Distracting himself with work or really anything which came to mind in order to tune it out. Or worse, but he hadn't really been ready to even admit that to himself yet.
It wasn't right now, it was the middle of the day but that didn't change the fact that if Jon worked in complete silence, he'd be able to hear you talking. Which would inevitably lead to Jon eavesdropping, and he was trying desperately to not do that. Anymore. He couldn't stand it after months, when just talking turned to something else.
At first he tried listening to something. Shove on his headphones and tune it out, but that did not change he still knew what was happening. Jon still knew that Ramsay was doing it on purpose.
Spending the better part of the afternoon transcribing, Jon had gotten into the habit of recording his meetings with the free folk, so he could write them out and give Lord Commander Mormont a direct report of what happened, but he so rarely had time to sit at a computer and just listen and type when stationed in, that he tended to take it home. Doing it in the quiet was easier anyways, and it now gave him an excuse to hide away when Ramsay was over.
He couldn't stand there watching him dangle you in front of him, if Jon was busy working in his room.
By the time he emerged, Ramsay was nowhere to be found. Wandering into the kitchen, noticing that he had hidden away long enough that dinner had been made and cleaned up. Robb looked up to his brother, noting the eternal frown on his face and tense posture, he nodded to the fridge. “She left you a plate. Knew you were working, she didn't want to bother you.”
Opening it up, indeed whatever had been made you set Jon aside his own. Exhaling through his nose, Jons eyes shut not noting his hand gripping the handle of the door tightly, nor the slightly more rough shove he gave to close it. Asking low, Jon was grateful Robb was used to Jon when he was like this. “When'd they leave?”
Neither had to specify who. Robb knew Jon and Ramsay hated each other, and that Jon only endured it for your sake. It was why he and Theon endured it too, if Jon could set aside his short temper and overwhelming protectiveness for you, then the least they could do was match that. None of the guys wanted to upset you.
Robb returned back to whatever he had been writing out, “Hours ago. Said something came up at home, she's just in the other room with Theon for the night.”
A frown coming across his face further, Jon turned to him. “Wasn't he supposed to take her out somewhere tonight?” Robb nodded and looked no more impressed. It was a science exhibit that all three of them had poked fun at you, by calling it nerdy. But Ramsay had offered to take you, and judging by your jacket and boots still sitting by the main hall, had indeed, backed down on it.
Jon glanced up to spot the time, keeping the grumble to himself that it was way too late for him to take you, it'd be nearly over by the time he got you there. Besides, he knew you would be bashful. Saying not to go out of his way and you were perfectly content staying in, despite Jon knowing how much you were looking forward too it.
Robb read his mind. “What's that now? Four times this month he's cancelled on her plans?” Jon corrected him on five, recollecting the time you went out of your way to reschedule a dinner reservation at a nice place in Torrhens Square. Ramsay had called you quite literally at the same instance Jon was braiding your hair for you as you tried to put a little extra effort into your makeup, saying he couldn't make it.
Your shoulders had deflated under Jons touch, clearing your throat as you hung up and very awkwardly apologized for making him help you for nothing. Jon had tried to insist otherwise but you shut down, trying to laugh it off rather unconvincingly before leaving to your room and not coming out the rest of the night.
He hadn't told anyone, nor you, that he spotted the dress you bought specifically for that date buried the next day at the bottom of what you called your donate pile. Jon had been there when you bought it too. You had kept looking at it on the rack, this long sleeved dress in whites and ivory and lace trailing down the forearms as it draped along the floor like a gown. The restaurant was fancy and it would be perfect, but you were busying yourself with a thin strapped red dress. Short to the point it on you would hardly cover even part of your thighs, and a neck which would show plenty cleavage despite you not even owning anything showing off like that.
Jon had asked if you were sure of it, and you tried to play it off. Saying it was the sort of thing Ramsay suggested would look good for you to try, but as you were asking the assistant if it came in your size Jon had gently murmured he would be right back. A hand trailing along your back and hip as he passed you by.
Finding your size easy, Jon had brought it over to you before the woman even came back. Telling you to try it on in the meantime. Not mentioning he knew you had been looking at it the entire time, only prompting you into the dressing room with it. Thanking the clerk when she came back but you had reconsidered something else. The woman, a bit older had smiled a little bit, nodding to the curtain hiding where you were. “She's lucky to have a man like you at her side, most boyfriends already have gold and silvers out waiting to buy numbers like that.”
Jon never even considered to correct her that he wasn't your boyfriend.
You had asked him gently to come in, not wanting to make a scene of such a dress on you out in the open if you weren't sure. Not that you had known, but however turned on men would've been by you and your plush skin and soft curves in that tiny red dress, was nothing compared to how hard Jon felt looking at you in such an innocent, long and modest white dress. He didn't insist on buying it, fearing it would look as if Jon was just trying to manipulate you into getting what he wanted. He did want to see you in it, but because you had clearly wanted it so much.
And then a month later, the day after Ramsay cancelled the reservation the second time, it just sat at the bottom of a box. Nicely folded and clean to be donated because the return date had expired, and you no longer had a use for such a fancy dress.
It looked rather odd sitting in Jons closet, a long, white dress amongst far, far too much black mens clothing, but he didn't want you to give up on it yet. You never owned such fanciful things, it wasn't the way you were raised, to value luxury. But Jon knew if the right opportunity came up, if Ramsay bothered to put even a modicum of effort into doing something nice for you, then Jon would show you he kept it for you, so you could have one night in the dress you were so excited to buy.
Jon was so utterly lost in his thoughts, he missed half of everything Robb had said to him. Not even bothering to sit at the table with him, Jon just stood with his back and shoulders tense as anything as he ate at the counter. Only tuning into what Robb was saying as he called to him louder. “Snow.” Jon turning abruptly to look, Robb just gave him a flat expression. “You hear a word I said?”
At least Jon was blunt about it. “No.”
Robb only smirked, used to it at that point. “Father wants you there too, said he'll bloody pay your Lord Commander to give you the night if he has too.” Jon only asked in confusion what Robb was talking about and he shook his head. “You getting knocked in the head out there by the Wall? Starting to loose brain cells already.” Jon took the jest with a grain of salt when coming from Robb. “The Harvest Gala, all of Winter Town's coming into Winterfell, and all the older families are going to be there. Father told me to tell you, you don't have a choice. You're coming, and he's dragging Uncle Benjen down too.”
Moving to wash his plate, Jon only asked “Why did he ask you and not call me?”
“Fathers known you your whole life, if he asked directly you'd make an excuse.” Asking if anyone else was going, Robb dissected the root of Jons curiosity. “Roose Boltons coming, which means Ramsay will be going if that's what your asking.”
Jon only left the room muttering under his breath, leaving behind the sound of his brother laughing both at his expense and as a cope for how little Robb too, was looking forward to the later. “Great. A whole night with you highborns and watching Ramsay shoving his tongue down her throat.”
Oh Jon hated how much effort he put into willing his cock not to get hard now of all times. Not an usual sight, Theon sitting on a chair in the main room working his way through a game, and you spread out gently on the couch across the television watching. Only, you were utterly ruining Jon. He had been wondering where one of his Nights Watch shirts had gone and there you lay wearing it like it was normal you would wear Jons clothes. Sometimes the guys things would mix with your laundry, but normally you gave them their things back right away. Yet you laid out in his shirt, clearly oversized on you. He dared not think that it was large enough and the material thick enough, you could completely hide were you not wearing a bra.
Before he could embarrass himself further, Jon closed his eyes to let an exhale out and get himself together.
He said nothing of it as he approached, only gesturing to your legs as you looked up at his approaching figure. Pulling them more towards your chest, Jon very casually and without thought, grabbed them once more to return you to your previous position just now with your thighs resting in his lap. Your voice was quiet enough for Jon to pick up on without completely disrupting Theon. “Did you see the plate I left you?” Nodding, you sighed out in a relief. “I tried to message you while I was still cooking, but you didn't answer so I figured you were busy. I would've come and gotten you otherwise.”
Narrowing his brows, Jon pulled his phone out and it had been some hours since he checked it clearly. Sam and Grenn both with messages in the group chat, a few from Tormund separately, emails no doubt from Cotter Pyke down at Eastwatch by the Sea bothering him for some thing or another, and of course a single message from you, sweetly asking if he was going to miss dinner and if not you would keep enough for him to sit aside.
Glancing back down at you with a low rasp, “I'm sorry, I haven't even looked at it in hours.” Jon could feel the restraint not to call you by the term he used for you alone. He had always called you darling, he had since he was ten. But it felt unfair to keep calling you that when you were with Ramsay, and Jon also knew if he kept too comfortable it would one day slip out in front of the man himself, and Jon would not have gotten to live it down.
Shaking your head, you flipped more on your back, head turned to see the screen but more easily face Jon when you needed too. “It's alright. I only didn't want you to think I didn't make anything for you.”
Jon would've said you didn't need to make him anything in general, but you both have had that discussion too many times to count. It was fruitless task. Robb and Theon had more normal schedules so sharing who cooked when between you three was easy, but Jons schedule was never consistent day to day. Jon typically came home having not eaten most of the day and so you liked to cook for him. If he worked into the night, you always would check in when he was coming home and if it was in time, you liked to be the one to make dinner.
Since on those nights, you always tried to make sure things were done by the time Jon walked into the apartment, and almost always, at least one part of the meal would be something you knew he specifically liked more then the others. He had long since given up trying to tell you that you shouldn't feel obligated to do that, but you would then have that narrowed expression as if confused why he thinks you feel obligated.
It was quiet between you both when he breached the topic, feeling you stiffen up right away. “Next time something comes up, you should tell me. I would've taken you to the exhibit.”
But you only shook your head, “It's fine. It isn't your responsibility to drive me around like that. You have more important things to do.” No words were appropriate which came to mind, as Jon felt deep within the confines of his heart, that you were what was most important to him.
So he only muttered back, “Just tell me next time. I don't want you missing out on things.”
Your brows narrowed, something hesitant and not understanding flashed in your eyes as you glanced between Jon and the screen. It was risky going further you knew, but your brain did not understand his meaning. “I'm not missing out on things, Jon. Ramsay and I can go on another date any other time.”
Both of you were too stubborn to let it drop. “Dates are one thing, it's another to cancel everytime you have something you're looking forward too.” Jon could tell something about what he had said bothered you. Your jaw clenching a bit as you no doubt bit down on your tongue. Shifting to look back to the screen and no longer keeping Jon in sight.
Were you more childish, you'd have something clever to retort with, but you didn't. Because Jon was right. You simply did not like to think about how often that statement was turning out to be right. You could go to an exhibit anytime. Well, not that one. Only was there for the night and then the event was leaving the North, and it was the only one you truly wanted to go see, but it was fine. There were other things you and Ramsay did other then stupid events you wanted to go to like a child.
You however did not like that when trying to come up with other things Ramsay liked to do with you, the only conclusion that kept coming to you, was how often Ramsay turned down doing anything or going anywhere with you, in favour of just having sex. Then leaving. Much like what Karl was like, fuck and then fucked off elsewhere for the night.
No, you certainly did not want to think about that, because then you'd have to acknowledge the warmth behind your face in an unpleasant manner, and the sting in your eyes. Or how just laying here with your legs draped over Jons lap, his hand respectful as it was caressing, his thumb trailed along where one hand rested on your thigh, was the most intimate feeling you'd gotten from a man in well over a year. You felt dumb wanting to cry at such thoughts. You were an adult, adults in relationships have sex, what was your problem. Telling yourself, you should be grateful Ramsay was even kind enough to fuck you in the first place.
After all, that's exactly what Ramsay would tell you to your face, wasn't it?
It wasn't as if it were obnoxiously loud. On the other side of the back stretch of the apartment were Robbs room, then Theons. It left yours and Jons just on their own at the left end. It was never loud enough it reached their rooms or even the living room. No, it was something so purposeful. It was just loud enough, that only Jon could hear, and he knew Ramsay did it on purpose.
Prompting you specifically to be louder, trying to prompt you to talk more, boast about what he was doing to you more, and mocking you about being shy. All the while, Jon would sit at his desk, gripping his pen so tightly it threatened to snap, because Ramsay would always ensure your headboard banged against Jons wall. The absolute obscene things Jons heard Ramsay say to you by this point, and he could confirm to the no one who asked, that Ramsay wasn't just mean during sex, he bordered on sadistic and cruel.
Jon hated that he knew you were naturally quieter in bed, because of how often Ramsay would make you go louder and louder, and the more perverted things he'd force you to say that sounded unnatural coming from your beautiful, sweet, high pitched voice. It was an unspoken thing only between Jon and Ramsay that this went on. Jon gave zero indication to you he could hear anything, and he knew Robb and Theon heard nothing.
It was something Ramsay did just to make him miserable.
At first he had a routine. It would start, then Jon no matter the time of night, would quietly prompt his direwolf Ghost to go for a night hike in the woods just outside the Stark properties his family all lived on. Sometimes if he was awake, Jon too would beckon Robb's direwolf Grey Wind to join. Ramsay never stayed until morning, and so Jon would wait until he saw his car leave and only then would he make his way down the path from the cliff side and try to sleep. Only one time did Ramsay stay, and he was smart enough at least not to cause a scene that would wake everyone else up.
Jon had just rolled in, a thirty two hour stretch at the Wall and he only had gotten home. Making something simple to eat before a very quick shower, and finally planning on going into his room and passing out, Jon stood in the kitchen in time to hear quiet creeping footsteps. Coming out to the hall, Jon came face to face with Ramsay and it was the only time he'd seen Ramsay hesitate.
Jon still dressed in the black leathers uniformed along the Nights Watch with eyes so seething and black they matched what he wore, Ramsay had finally found one instance where he knew Jon would have the upper hand. It was easy for men like him, highborns who never worked for anything in his life, to mock the Nights Watch right up until he stood before Jon in his dark, imposing uniform. Remembering that as much as the North called them peacekeepers, almost every brother of the Nights Watch was somewhat trained for combat, and Jon was the primary teacher for his station after all.
Jon remembered feeling that Ramsay was lucky. The more skilled men at his station would carry weapons. Partially a left over from when the Nights Watch was entangled in active conflicts with the free folk, and now partially serving as a reminder that the Nights Watch was not governed within the same confines of law. Jon used to bring it home with him, the sword strapped to his side called Longclaw, but he stopped bringing it home when you moved in. Not wanting you to feel uncomfortable with it. He was also lucky Jon remembered thinking, that the shorter dagger Jon kept for safety purposes, still sat in the glove box of his car.
Or maybe, Jon was unlucky he didn't have those with him. Maybe Ramsay wouldn't have come back.
Ramsay only rose an eyebrow at him in knowing before leaving. Jon hadn't blinked nor spoken a word as he watched him leave. Going into the bathroom you two shared, all Jon planned was to forget about it. Wash the grime from his body and rinse out the sweat in his long curls from keeping it up so many hours, but he couldn't stop thinking of it. Of how Ramsay had only been here to sneak off, because he had fallen asleep after fucking you.
The thought was made far worse when Jon realized in his absence, you had restocked everything for him so he wouldn't have to rush out to the store when finally coming home. He couldn't stand it, how domestic you treated Jon while knowing Ramsay got the rest of what came with that.
People mistakened Jon for your boyfriend nearly everytime you two went out alone somewhere. It always happened, and eventually you stopped correcting people on it, not thinking the truth worth explaining to people you barley knew. Someone called you Jons wife once, and he nearly blacked out at the thought. But for all you two treated each other as, Jon sat in his room that night with his jaw clenched so hard he wondered if it would break.
Headphones on, Jon was trying to find anything to distract himself. Abandoning his report open, and leaned much more relaxed back in his chair, connecting his headphones to his phone now, he tried not to consider why he did it. He was a man, men didn't need a reason so why did he? Why was Jon trying not to listen to what he could hear of you specifically as he opened up his browser. If it was nothing in particular working him up, why did Jon double check looking to his door to ensure it was locked?
It was only a coincidence that the search terms he looked for, were physical traits that just so happened to describe you. It had nothing to do with anything. And it was not at all, anything but lack of interest that had him close his browser after searching through nearly fifty pages. Because if Jon let himself think about the truth, then he'd have to admit that he had spent the past half an hour searching through a porn site looking for a girl who looked like you. And when he found no one who came close, Jon would have to admit that he exited the site, and very intentionally opened a message thread between he and you.
It didn't take long to find, many times you instead of typing longer messages, would send him voice notes. Knowing if Jon was at his desk at his station, he could just plug an earbud in to listen instead of stopping to read. The conversation he had found, was nothing even close to erotic. You were simply talking about something that funny you found even working from home now, did you still find ways to be annoyed each time your co workers reached out to you.
You were just too natural. Light and airy in tone, high pitched as you were much more quick in tone and not so formal for once. You were the most you in your voice notes in contrast to your typed messages, and yet despite there not being a single thing about the words you were saying being seductive, Jon felt his cock stir, unfairly hard he was and just as he was going to talk himself out of this idea, Ramsay had clearly prompted you to go again.
The second Jon heard your unsure voice on the other side of his wall, his free hand was already undoing his belt.
He loved your voice so much, the way you sounded so sweet when it was only the two of you. How from sure of yourself, how put together and stern you were all melted away into a gentle but kind shyness when with Jon. So few people ever heard you laugh, but Jon had so many voice notes of you laughing or giggling to yourself with whatever you were saying.
Jon could tune out what was on the other side of the wall, as long as he had your voice in his ear in whatever pathetic capacity he was allowed to have. He was also not in a rush, his hand slow as he moved his fist up and down his length, enjoying the building pleasure running through him at the sound of your voice. His hold a bit tighter when you would say his name. One hand kept scrolling, as soon as one series of voice notes as done, he searched for more.
Each new one, Jon stroked his cock a little faster, hand holding a little tighter. Breathing heavy, jaw clenched, Jon contained a grunt in his chest at the way you would say his name. Seven hells did Jon love the way his name sounded on your lips. Tighter more he gripped himself, running his hand up and down faster again.
It was why he kept headphones always charged. He couldn't dare have this interrupted now, and he couldn't listen to it out loud. Jon needed to cum to your voice, but he needed it to be for him and not for Ramsay. The desire ran through him, overwhelming Jons head. It was like an addiction, some men took shade of the evening to get themselves through life out of their minds. But Jons addiction was you, it always had been.
Truth be told, he hadn't even noticed a groan left him. Head falling back, his cock throbbed in his hand at the sound of your giggle. He was a doomed man, he replayed the sound again and again. Then another voice note, then the next and the next. Until he came along one you were not just giggling, but affectionately saying his name as well.
His insides burned, his hand running up and down his cock rough, fast, needing and desperate to cum with each stroke, which each sound of his name from your voice. How long had he been going, he wasn't even sure. All Jon knew was that his mind was consumed with thoughts of you so much his cock begged for you.
Hissing through gritted teeth, “Oh fuck-” Jon prayed to the old gods he had not said your name. He was lucky they answered, but he had come so dangerously close to groaning your name as he came, that he felt himself almost forming the first letters it. Cumming into his hand, Jon kept stroking until he had nothing left. And it seemed, Ramsay didn't either. It was dead silent next door.
Not sparing time, Jon tucked himself back in, tossing his phone and headphones onto his desk, before opening the door to his hall. Ramsay always left your door partially open, and as he peeked in, you were under your covers still bare, turned away from the door looking rather alone. Likely your sleeping self was wondering why your lover was not next to you to comfort you in your sleep. Jon closing it silently, and noting properly Ramsay was nowhere to be found.
His phone told him that it was two am. Jon knew he wouldn't get any sleep before needing to leave for the Wall. Ensuring the apartment was empty and sleeping, Jon didn't go to bed. No, sitting back at his desk, that time Jon spared no time in once more pulling his already throbbing cock out. Jon spared not a second in pretending he wasn't getting off thinking about you, wishing he would ever know what being inside you would be like.
What made things more complicated, was a message informing Jon he needn't come in that day, and thus he sat at the table that morning with Robb and Theon plagued with two thoughts. He had always tried to deny it, but this was the first time Jon had been so brazen with himself that he would stroke his cock thinking explicitly of you. Hoping that it wasn't about to change the way he acted with you, only he didn't get the chance to know right away.
You had been very late getting out of bed. Which was unusual, you were very disciplined about not sleeping so late. Your alarm goes off and your feet were out of bed within seconds. But it had reached the point you would have been up and getting settled into whatever project you had going on for the day, when you only had just emerged the first time.
They only heard it from the sounds of your door opening and closing, but it was Theons quick muttering in an angry confusion of, “What the fuck?” Did it have Jon and Robb look up.
You had been awake the whole time, you were however, hiding. For a good reason. As quick as both Robb and Theon were to stand up and call your name, Jon was already down the hall with a bit of a short tempered shout of your name as you ignored him. Grabbing your coat you didn't even wait to put it on before walking out the door.
Stepping out to the porch, Jon watched you swiftly rush to a car waiting for you. Recognizing inside the driver as Loras Tyrell, and in the backseat where you joined was his sister Margaery. You had shut the door without ever acknowledging him and clearly had told Loras to just go, taking off before Jon had a single answer from you.
You had left the house in a hurry, avoiding the guys all, because when they last saw you, it was with Ramsay who was clearly taking you to bed to fuck. But the next time they saw you as you rushed out the door, the guys had recognized the very distinct look of a bloody cut across your lip and a bruised eye.
It had been a longstanding joke within the Stark household that whomever built the family home, must have purposely Stark proofed everything in advance, protecting the house from the wolves tempers. Ned Stark was currently trying to quell his sons anger, Theon was sitting more firmly at the table trying to convince you to answer your phone. Robb was perched with his palms against the table on the other side seething with anger, while Jon leaned against the wall arms crossing his chest and truly looking nowhere but with his eyes so grey they appeared as black as they were angry and intense.
They had only just stopped slamming things about as Catelyn sent them into the dining room before they broke a plate with all their ruckus. Ned still was trying to be the calm voice of reason for the three of them despite his own feelings on the matter. He did not know the boy, Ramsay, but he knew his father Roose Bolton all too well. And that told him enough.
Emerging from where she had headed upstairs, Sansa returned looking at her phone confirming what their father had asked her to find out. “Margaery says she is with her and Loras, but she doesn't want to talk about what happened.”
Robb shook his head with a clench of his jaw, “We let him stay in our home, and he expects us to stand by as he beats-”
Ned cut him off, “Now we don't know he did that to her.”
Robb interrupting as soon as his father stopped talking, “She goes to bed with him fine, and she comes out the next morning alone with a black eye and cut lip? So, she what? Busted her face up all on her own by accident?”
Running his hand over his mouth, Ned sat down before both elbows propped up on the table to clasp together in thought. “I'm not saying that. I am saying that we should think before you three all go back out there and hunt the boy down.”
Nothing but a low rasp was Jons voice coming out in a restrained anger. “We don't need to hunt him down, we know where the Dreadfort is.” Ned gave a slight tilt of his head towards Jon, but he only clenched his jaw and turned to look back out the front window as if you'd appear in the driveway.
Trying to speculate why you would want to hide it, and Sansa looked up from her phone to say with a passing casualness. “It's obvious.” Raising an eyebrow at Jon with a look almost stern like a lecture, “She didn't want to deal with your reaction, if she's upset and you come lashing out of course she'd want time away.”
Jon pushed off the wall, face twisting into an anger as he raised his voice slightly. “Ramsay beat her and you're blaming me?”
Sansa only shrugged, a look almost smug like she had her point proven. “Maybe if you could control your temper.”
Once more Ned had to speak up interrupting what would inevitably turn into an argument should he let the two of them keep going. “Sansa, try and get Margaery to find out when she plans on coming home without making her feel pressured to come back now.” Robb tried arguing why shouldn't you come home now, and Ned once more shut it down. “She's upset, and so are all of you. It will not help anyone, give her space and she'll come back. In the meantime, don't do anything rash about Ramsay. Only until the gala is over, I'd rather not have the Boltons pull their support before we direct their funding.”
He knew it was a bit of a bias, not being anywhere close to the traditional Stark family business, Jon piped up with a dismissive mutter under his breath. “Of course, wouldn't want to scare them away after they've scared her all the way to Highgarden.”
“Jon.” Looking away in a bit of shame at the sternness in his fathers voice, Jon knew it was far more complicated then that but the agitation of not being allowed to do anything was getting to him. He just wanted to know what the hell happened.
You could tell she was surprised that you hadn't flinched once. The small swab of alcohol running along your lip and only your hands clenched slightly before relaxing again as she cleaned it. Voice soft but something attempting to be convincing against a difficult target, “Are you sure you don't want to tell us what he did?”
Inhaling slightly, you straightened your posture slightly as Margaery took that as her answer. Sighing of her own as her shoulders deflated, she glanced somewhat behind her, looking at Loras to implore him to help. But he only gestured towards you with an outstretched hand. “If she won't tell you what happened, what could I do differently?”
You had long gotten used to the manner in which the two siblings could joke about you as if you weren't in the room. “She's too used to my feminine wiles, maybe she needs a mans touch.”
Though, it slipped out before you had the sense to stop it. “If he closes his eyes and pretends I have grown a few more inches, maybe.” The glare was not meaning what so ever, not towards you. Despite the family you came from, it was still your Uncle Renly which Loras was seeing. He had long stopped wondering if such comments from you were serious. Attempting to change the subject, you tried dismissal as the first tactic with it. “It was only an accident.”
Tilting her head, she looked at you as if you were stupid. “If it were an accident, you wouldn't have messaged me first thing in the morning to come get you. Not caring about something is not the same as avoiding it all together.”
Truly, you did not wish to come here for a lecture. If you wanted that, you'd have stayed in the apartment. Margaerys eyes peeling away from you for a moment, taking little time to tap out a response to something as part of you wondered how she could possibly use the screen with nails that long. Turning back, you glanced at it with a knowing question.
“It's nothing.” Your expression fell flat as Loras's behind her grew into a smirk. Changing her tone to much more casual explaining, “Sansa was asking me if you're alright. Don't worry I told her you don't want to talk about what happened, just that you're staying with us for a little while.”
If anything had you close your eyes in defeat. That meant it had already spread as far as the main Stark house, by nightfall all of them would know. Loras at least had done the smart thing early, leaning his hand to the back seat telling you to give your phone over. Saying, “You can't be tempted to look at it if you don't have it on you.”
Had he not promptly turned it off, you'd no doubt be seeing it light up every few minutes with one of them either messaging you or calling you. By the time Arya finds out, no doubt eighty percent of such notifications would be from her. They could last without you for a few days. The Winterfell Harvest Gala was only three days away, by then hopefully things would have cooled down.
If not, then Margaery had at the least, assured you that your eye would be healed enough by then she could cover most of the bruise with makeup. For now though, you knew over the hours from when it happened, your eye had begun looking far worse as the bruising colours finally set in. You hadn't even known it was hard enough of an impact to leave a bruise until you woke up. Instantly, you had messaged Margaery asking if she and Loras could come get you.
Correctly assuming the second the guys saw it, they would get angry and that was exactly what happened. You thought you had a better chance of not being seen, thinking if it were only Robb and Theon, then maybe you could sneak from the door when they were near their rooms getting ready to leave, but then you realized Jon was still home for whatever reason.
That was when you added an additional message saying to just reply here when they arrived, and you'd come out to them, not wanting more of a scene to be made. The second you realized Theon saw you, you snatched your coat and walked out the front door. Of course Jon was the most angry, he and Ramsay hated each other. But you didn't want to deal with that after what happened.
You had been in their kitchen, assisting their ever immaculate and tart tongued grandmother Olenna with the baking. Whomever the highest of family names attending the Harvest Gala were, it was a tradition that the Starks provided the main feast and the subsequent families would provide a dessert unique to their region.
The whole kitchen smelled of a mixture of baking apples and fresh lemons, it was peaceful. For as quick on the draw as Olenna Tyrell was, she knew when to get down to business and your quietness only meant that you were a diligent worker to make up for the lack of conversation. Which she was fine, with, as long as she could pull a small smile from you now and again she could affirm you hadn't been knocked around that badly.
Oh she took it seriously, but she also did not coddle you. Which was what you wanted. “It won't make you feel better, but it will distract you long enough you may finally rid yourself of that sulking expression.”
You almost went to protest you made such a look, but her eyes shined in an amusement for you to prove her point. Huffing out what may have been a hint of a smile, you returned to the tasks she had delegated you towards. “So why is it your grandchildren get out of doing any of this?”
Olenna never failed to be as blunt as she was quick. “Those two out there are talented at many things, but baking certainly is not one of them. At least you know how to make something look attractive more then just the reflection in the mirror.” All said with a love you knew she held, the Tyrells never ones to withhold a jest at the others expense.
Decorating the very top of the small surface you had to work with, you heard the front door open as you did her voice accompanied by Maragery. You knew she was coming, and if you had any stroke of luck it was that there was one person in that family who wasn't going to hound you about it, it was Sansa.
You could tell her eyes sought you out the moment she walked into the kitchen, trying to keep whatever reaction to your not yet healed eye to herself. Though, it was easy as you without much thought on any other matters, grabbed one of the smaller pieces and turned towards her. “Perfect, I need you to tell me if it's missing something.”
Grabbing the small lemon cake from you, her face twisted from a purposeful look of thought to an easy enjoyment and a hum of satisfaction. Barley managing to her herself swallow the pastry, boasting with genuity. “That's delicious, do you make these often?”
Shaking your head, you turned back to carefully pipe the tops of the full sized ones into each matching design. “Not really. Usually my family brings something seafood in origin, so sweet isn't my normal handling.”
Normally she would have been over here for Margaery, but as she sat down at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, you suspected she came with not so hidden intentions. “Everyone was worried about you yesterday morning.”
Saving grace, Olenna spoke up from her own work on the mixture going around the apple fillings. “Yes, yes, one muddied up face and the Starks send themselves into a pack formation.” Trying to protest, Sansa was as used to the woman as you were by now. “We needn't beat around the bush, my dear. Her brute of a boyfriend knocks her around, and every wolf within a thousand mile radius gets sent on a hunting spree. If they had reason to be worried, she wouldn't be here suggesting to bake lemon cakes simply because she knew you loved them and were coming over.”
Head raising just the slightest, you'd have rather wished that she didn't rat you out so quickly, but you only tilted your head in no denial when Sansa looked at you brightly. “Don't tell the others, I have a badly tarnished image to maintain.”
Margaery walked into the room, her light voice floating about as did she move with her usual, yet annoying level of grace. “Only your hypothetical image. I'll have that face prettied up for the Gala like none could guess.” Her own hands toying with the bright orange hair loose down Sansas back, did she also lean in to mock whisper. “Aren't I so good at hiding when someone marks up a girls pretty skin?”
A fluster came about Sansa pulling away as you and Margaery both laughed at her reaction. Sharing a look with the later, before raising your eyebrows to the former. “You're lucky I'm good at keeping secrets.”
Looking between all of those in the room she tried to deny it once more, “It isn't like that-”
“So you didn't change your foundation to a new brand, because it was easier at hiding when this one,” Pointing the now empty piping nozzle towards Margaery, “Gets a little bit too carried away in her spare time?” Both girls pretend to be annoyed with one another, but there was little weight behind it.
Margaery was likely the only person who Sansa couldn't stay mad or annoyed at. Almost drifting your mind away, considering the simple fact that you however, were the one who got everyone angry with you. A talent of yours.
You didn't want to think about it, it was a completely different situation then that.
Nothing in common, you felt so much more at your wits end here, the opposite of relaxed as Margaery and Sansa fussed about you. Their touch felt yanking at trying to decide how to this time dress up their new doll, when all you could recall was the last time anyone did something like this for you was before you threw that beautiful dress into the box to donate when Ramsay cancelled your reservation a second time.
You were focused on trying to paint up your eyes, while Jon stood behind you. You had asked if he would help put your hair in a braid, just a simple one until you could decide what you wanted to do, when he took over. Warm against your back, Jon begun carefully and expertly moving the strands around into a braid far more fancy then you could have ever accomplished yourself. Rasping low that braids suited you, whereas here both girls were arguing you should keep it down.
“Make him feel guilty. Show off a little.” You wanted to toss away the dress they handed you, but Margaery grabbed you and walked you to step behind her privacy screen to try it on. “You want Ramsay to realize what he may be missing out on if he keeps acting like this.”
Not being able to see her, you picked up the doubt in Sansas tone as she perched herself on the edge of Margaerys bed. “Are you sure that's the right approach? It may look like she's trying to impress other men.”
The dress itself was fine, but it showed off so much in terms of your back, arms, waist, too much. “That's exactly what we want. He needs to chase her a little, show why he's better then other men, give her a reason to stay other then familiarity.” Suddenly turning with a small shout, “Are you done yet?”
Sighing out, you shook your head without caring they could not see. “Do you have something a little less..revealing?” Sansa laughed, reminding you whose closet you were borrowing from. A deep sigh came out, “Try.”
The next two were also a no. “The Gala is tomorrow, you can't say no to everything.”
Cutting back quickly, “I can if I don't go.”
Sansa spoke before Margaery could once again. “If you don't go, you know my brothers will come and drag you home themselves.” Clearly the two shared a look as she explained quieter, “Shocked they haven't already.”
Oh you were even less sure about this one. The both of them dragging you out to stand before the full mirror in the room, one at each side somewhat behind you the doubt was radiating from your face. “You don't think it's too-” Shutting you down, Margaery only grasped at your hair once more, fiddling with it as she thought through what she wanted to do to match.
Still, her feeling and touch was nowhere near as comforting as Jons.
It was the same every year, but this year it bothered him more. The fact that you would sit up with those of the Baratheon family, occupied around by those who lived around Kings Landing. You had arrived with the Tyrells, but dutifully took your place by your family when Jon wished you would at least look over to him once. Wounds like that do not heal so easily, but it appeared as if there was no bruise around your eye at all.
You should've been allowed to walk in without covering it up, force everyone to see what a man like Ramsay does to his partner. Luckily, Jons morose attitude was easily hidden as well, but by the simple make up of that his Uncle Benjen beside him was equally as unhappy. But they suffered there together, both arriving in a variation of their attire with the Nights Watch, as if to separate themselves from those around.
Some laughs were found between the two of them. Jon knew Ghost was not supposed to be in the banquet hall, but as his name, no one noticed the direwolf laying by Jons feet unseen under the table. Without much thought even, in one moment sat by him a whole roast chicken, the next Jon had flipped a knife up, stabbing it in the meat and depositing it under the table to the very happy Ghost, as Jon continued like he hadn't done anything. Benjen tried not to laugh into the beer in his mug, and he too could see Jon failing to hide his own smirk as he brought his own up to his lips.
Every family who mattered was in attendance in the banquet hall, and outside the muffles of music and laughter where the thousands of other attendees shared the boasts of their own harvest. Thousands of years ago it was a tradition between those only of noble birth, to celebrate the Northern harvest together but the longer the years passed and more of community being formed within the lands less separated by monarchy, it had turned into something much more.
There were always two which switched, the Harvest Gala always took place in the North, hosted in the vast lands of Winterfell always by the Starks. The other was a much more specific celebration taking place in the capitol of Kings Landing.
Jon had never attended it, most Northerners didn't as most never even would go south of Moat Cailin. Close by his fathers seat, Jon could see the ever elusive Howland Reed. An old friend from worse days and the man only ever came out of his home in Greywater Watch for Ned's sake. His two children, Meera and Jojen sat next to each other as they would gesture across the way to Bran.
Even from where Jon was sitting further away, he amusingly could see Sansa desperately trying not to look over to the Tyrells, and then down to her lap only to recall father had forced them all to leave their phones in the main house. It had taken some years for her to settle, her attitude high strung and dismissively childish for many years all coming into a clarity the day she had sat down with their father and her mother. Robb and Jon being the eldest naturally being there too, as she had apologized for her behaviour.
It was much more easy to forgive her when her apology was followed with the admission that she and the Tyrell girl were seeing one another. Now that she had it out in the open, it was easier for the rest of them to move passed the rough years. But it also meant, that he knew for a fact Sansa had spent some time with you in the days previous.
Wanting to ask her about how you were, how your eye looked, if the cut across your bottom lip was indeed healed or if it was simply the red shade painting your mouth hiding it. He knew both his sister and Margaery must have had a hand in choosing how to dress you for the event.
Trying not to consider that the dress you were wearing clearly was borrowed and not your size, as certain places where your curves stood out so beautifully to him looked that much more alluring then it would on the rather small Tyrell. He knew for a fact you must have been embarrassed beyond anything walking in the main doors wearing something showing that much. It draped along your shoulders like a fine silk and down your back scooping low enough a few less inches of fabric and your hips would have been showing next. You kept a darker shall wrapped around you though, still not at all comfortable with how much the dress emphasized your breasts.
The amount of make up was their choice too, he knew that. The bold shade of red staining your lips as if meant to tempt men to ruin, it was not a choice you'd do on your own. It was as if you had been dressed to catch one's eye and as Jons flew across the hall a pair of pale blue ones had certainly been trapped in that net.
Ramsay had no right to look at you that way after what he did, Jon thought. He never gave you respect as it was, and this was something else. But Jons own watchful eye also caught what no one else was seeing as well. How every now and again, Ramsay would turn to the small dark haired girl next to him and the two would blatantly flirt and touch.
Were it a glass Jon was holding and not a much more sturdy made mug, it would've shattered from the force Jons hand was tightening around the grip. How often did Ramsay leave you after fucking you, to sneak off to whomever this girls bed was? How long had he been using you as a public shield to then sleep around behind your back?
Once more his eyes caught yours not looking at anyone. Sometimes sharing half baked smiles or a fake huff of laughter with your cousin Myrcella, but little else. You hardly touched your food, and the only other person in your families sitting who was out beating you in the amount of wine you were drinking, was your uncle Robert.
You had showed up trying to look as if everything was fine, but Jon knew the amount you were drinking was telling him you were anything but. Whatever dessert was sat in front of you as the night progressed too was passed by. Already forming a plan in his head, the moment the meal would end, Jon needed to make his way over to you. He needed to apologize before you were too drunk to be able to fairly understand it.
He was so angry when he had seen what Ramsay did, but he knew it was wrong to let that anger out around you. You deserved better then that, but he was beginning to sense you wouldn't be anywhere near sober enough to understand any apology at this rate. And the more you drank, the less he noticed Ramsay did.
Jon had too, but he stopped because he hadn't wanted to let any intoxicated emotions get the better of him about you. He suspected however, Ramsay had stopped, in order to gain back any sobriety he lost, so that he held all the power when he'd inevitably approach you. He would take advantage of your drunk state to weasel his way back into having you forgive him. Men like Ramsay, like Karl Tanner, they took advantage of girls like you.
Quiet and not confrontational, insecure and quiet so manipulating you into staying with them, and relying on them was easier. It was why Jon said he'd make sure you owned your own things once leaving Tanners house. He wanted to help you, but he didn't want you to rely on him. That was what Tanner did, moved you away from everyone who cared and made you rely on him for everything.
How long, Jon thought, would it take for Ramsay to convince you to leave the apartment and move in with him? Keep you away from the rest of them, and no doubt whisper things in your uncertain ear about Jon to drive a wedge between you. Tanner tried doing it to you about Jon as well, but it wasn't so personal. He spoke lies as such about anyone who wasn't himself. Not even Rast nor Locke, cravens that they were, were immune to that.
But Ramsay knew. Jon knew that Ramsay was fully aware of what Jon felt for you. It was why he loved dangling you in front of him, why he fucked you just loud enough to make Jon lose his mind at what he wasn't the one getting. Cancelled plans you were looking forward too, only ever did just enough with you to convince you to let him fuck you, and Ramsay had the audacity to touch and flirt with other women in the same bloody room as you, knowing you were too nervous to look at him.
Jon would rather you never date, then watch you continue to date men who saw your worth as nothing but something to shove their cocks in. You were so much more then that, but they had convinced you otherwise. Why else would you stay with a man who made you that upset so often normally, because you had figured it was all you deserved.
He didn't want to sit there and pretend he was a selfless man, Jon had the shame of knowing three times in one night he had gotten off to you before all this happened. You were his best friend and in more ways then romantic did he love you, but Jon still knew he couldn't lie to himself about the way he looked and thought about you. All you'd see is your best friend trying to take advantage of your weaknesses to get you into his bed.
The crowd was immense as you all stood. People everywhere you turned and your quiet self had gotten lost and forgotten in the sea of social waves passing you by. You hated this dress, you hated how much makeup was painted on your face, you hated having to play nice when all you wanted to do was find a bed to cry in for how much you let your life turn into this.
The air was warm, too warm as so many bodies took up the space in the room and spoke with their warm breath increasing. How did no one else notice the heat? How hard it was becoming to breath in such a heavy fog. Heart racing more as you felt your lungs tighten, you needed to walk away. Find a corridor mostly empty and walk until there was an alcove isolated to collapse against.
Nothing of what you drank told you if you were sober, you couldn't sense it underneath the racing in your head which flooded your nerves. You hadn't wanted to come, you hadn't wished to face how you were ruining your second chance at having a partner all for the same repeating reason. Whatever rationale you could lie to yourself with this time, did not exist when it was Karl Tanner in the role of Ramsay.
You had said it, and couldn't take it back. Karl didn't say what had happened, he didn't care about any of you involved once Jon drove you away, but Ramsay would. If you couldn't fix things with Ramsay he would use it against you, and who knows how many people would abandon you after that comes out?
You were pathetic, you always were. He's never wanted you, he still doesn't and yet you were broaching two separate relationships you've ruined over someone who does not want you. As your head leaned against whatever surface you found yourself at, you felt the world spin even as you stood still against a stone support.
“Now tell me, love, who did you dress like such a whore for?” Opening your eyes, the world still spun while still as a statue as you looked at Ramsay. Standing before you with a narrowed expression you had seen in the seconds between what happened that night, and how hard he had slapped you with the rough back of his hand. “Speak up now. Did you let the Tyrells slut you up to try and beg for me back, or did you just want to tempt any man in here that you were walking around with a sign hanging against you, that you'd spread your legs for the first one who walked up to you with a cock?”
Shaking your head, your words slurred as they were forced you beyond the heart pounding stammer overtaking with your nerves. “You- you always wanted me to dress like this.. I was, I'm only trying to listen to what you told me..”
The chuckle was fake, but you were far too drunk to also pick up the more sinister echo which matched behind his eyes as he invaded your space. Grasping rough at your jaw he didn't let you flinch away too much from his hissing. “Such a poor memory, do you need me to repeat what I actually told you? That if I'm going to fuck you, you may as well start dressing like someone who my cock would actually get hard for.”
You were so stupid. He was always going to be mad at you. You couldn't imagine how angry he'd have been were he to have actually taken you to that restaurant in Torrhens Square. He'd have asked where you got that long, white dress, why it covered so much of your skin, and why you disobeyed him when he had told you to go to that specific store to buy the short, red one in the first place.
Trying to stammer out, “I- I'm sorry..” He just tilted your jaw up to force your eyes up at his darker ones now trailing down your frame. You read the words, what he wanted. He had taught you by now, but you shook your head as something unsettled bubbled in your chest. “Ramsay, there's other people-”
“Did I ask about other people?” Saying no, you tried to insist on finding an empty room but he leaned in more. “Did I say I was going to do this in private? You're lucky I don't leave you naked and covered in me, here so everyone can see what a real whore does in the dark.”
As drunk as you felt, you were still in your head enough to feel utterly humiliated. If you were caught now, you wouldn't ever be able to look the Starks in the eye. You'd just move out on the spot and return to Dragonstone, hide away from the world on your grim, dark girlhood home. Too slowly you tried to pull one of the silky sleeves down your shoulder but he took over, the fabric ripping as you tried to argue, “Ramsay, please this is Margaerys-”
Shoving your legs apart, he only raised an eyebrow. “So I know who to blame for turning my girlfriend into a walking cunt begging to be filled.”
No argument came against that one, you had none. Your mind was nowhere near sober enough to wonder if he was wrong. You just accepted it. You almost ruined this relationship because you couldn't keep your mouth shut in the worst moment, so it was your duty to let Ramsay punish you in whatever ways you always dreaded. The mood he was in, you doubted he would even care wasting a single second getting you even slightly wet.
When he used sex as a punishment, you weren't meant to enjoy it. That was how it worked.
It took you longer then normal to realize why he didn't do anything. Suddenly moving away from you, your slow mind hardly caught up to the fact that there were now three large figures slamming Ramsay against the wall. Trying to protest, “Wait- stop, he didn't do anything.”
It wasn't until one of them spoke did the blur in you vision focus enough to see a teeth grittingly angry Robb was on Ramsays left, now turning back towards you, as Theon took space up on Ramsays other side. Not recognizing until Robb was already talking, that Jon was in Ramsays face, keeping him pinned to the wall with only one hand. “Didn't do anything?” Robb calling your name with a confused anger, “Did you not hear a word he was saying to you?”
Theon piped up with anger clear of his own, “Or how he busted your face?”
Swallowing, you felt lightheaded and confused more then any of them. “I-” A slightly stumble trying to stand up straighter as if they hadn't already seen how drunk you were. “That was an accident, he didn't do anything.”
Ramsay was quick on the draw making intentional mocking eye contact with Jon, “See, bastard? I didn't do a thing. Our girl here is just a tad too slutty for her own good, needs a stern hand to put her in her place, doesn't she?”
The guys all started to speak, but you felt your eyes sting with tears. Shaking your head at him not to say it, but Jon captured his attention. Voice so low and rough it was but a husk teetering with something burning in rage. “Don't talk about her like you care about her.”
He smirked, as you felt your stomach twist. “Oh I care deeply, bastard. It's why I was just so angry, you see. I take her to bed, show her my love and in return all she does is-”
“Ramsay, please.”
You tried pleading with him not to, but it was too late, as soon as he started to speak it was too late to keep it contained. “Was that so hard? You remember my name here, but not when I'm inside you?” He had turned to make eye contact with Jon, nothing but a smugness in letting it fall free. “Imagine how much it ruined the mood, when I'm fucking her nice and rough and suddenly, more desperate then I've ever heard her ask for it, does she beg your name before she cums.”
But whoever was the first out of the three of them to look back to you in surprise, you didn't know. You had taken off so suddenly and so fast that none of them knew where you went. As it turned out, utter humiliation sobered a girl up, right quick.
You weren't sure the last time you had been here, likely too many years to be worth counting back to, but it was just as beautiful as you remembered. The white bark standing out against red leaves with a face carved into it as if watching over the North it stood within. Back against it as you used your shall to sit on, to try and not muddy up Margaerys dress, despite looking too many times at the no doubt expensive silk now ripped along your shoulder.
Long enough it kept your legs from the cold as you pulled your knees to your chest, forearms resting over them as you had long since stopped caring about the stain of tears on your cheeks. You were such an idiot. You had let your feelings for Jon ruin two relationships, and now he and likely everyone else knew about it.
What was more pathetic of a revelation then your best friend calling your name when having sex with their boyfriend, you weren't sure.
Enough time had passed to which your drunken fog begun to lift and a stressing headache wormed its way in to keep you sitting in the cold air hoping you could find the courage to get up. You had your phone, that was it. Maybe it would be enough, perhaps if you could pull yourself together long enough you'd be able to convince your father to let you stay on Dragonstone until you figured out what to do next with your life.
As long as you could find someone who could drive you to White Harbour, your father could send someone to come bring you the rest of the way. What other choice did you leave yourself?
Robb and Theon would think you were pathetic, Jon wouldn't want you anywhere near him after this, and thus your presence in the Starks home no longer was welcome. You hadn't called Jon wishing he'd come get you that day with Karl because of anything like that, you had done it on instinct. He was your best friend, he was the only one you wanted to come get you but now it must feel as if you were a manipulative snake.
By the time you heard footsteps, you almost flinched to get up and apologize for being here, but it was in fact the rumble of Ned Stark coming to ease you from fleeing. “It's alright, no ones asking you to leave.” Muttering quietly why he assumed that was what you were planning, he without any care sat down next to you on the rock keeping elevated enough that a hand wrapped around your back and sat soothingly on your upper arm. “So you're telling me you weren't sitting here worried you were going to have to leave here and go back home?”
Looking away somewhat ashamed, your arms crossed more over the top of your knee. An uninspiring mutter, “I presume you know what happened.” Only a glance slightly to the side showed you his nod, and your head dropped into your arms. “Suppose everyone in the North knows by now.”
However, the man only chuckled. “Far from. I heard what happened, but put an end to any scene they were about to make before most noticed anything happened. No need to make a spectacle out of you after everything you've been through.”
Ned did not hear the first try, so you lifted your head and repeated your words as new tears gently fell once more. “I'm sorry, truly I am. I wasn't trying to ruin anything or manipulate anyone.” Asking where you had gotten that idea, you paused. Not yet clear enough from all the wine could you come up with but a shrug of a shoulder. “None of it was on purpose. It just happened. First with Karl, now with Ramsay. Two relationships I ruined by saying something I didn't even realize I had said until it was all over anyways.”
You were glad it was Ned Stark listening to this, not sure your own father would dare care to listen to anything even remotely close to a sexual topic like this, but he listened with the care he gave all his children, but to you. “None of us can control how we feel, sweet girl.”
The shrug and nod you gave didn't really indicate much, but he understood in your state that was all you could offer. The quiet of the night, this place far enough from the crowd not even the muffled nightlife of the gala could be heard. Only in that quiet did you say it, “You can tell him I'll move out.” Humming in question, you clarified. “Jon, I'm sure hes mad at me. Likely doesn't want to speak to me after that, you can tell him I'll move out. He bought a lot of my stuff, I won't take it with me he can sell it or whatever he wants. It was his money.”
Ned didn't say anything for a moment, and you had almost took it as a defeated acceptance that he would indeed deliver your last message to your best friend. But he didn't stay quiet, he only spoke in a quiet tone, pulling you closer to his side running his hand up and down your cold arm. “Tell me, if my son was angry with you, why when I last saw him, was he outside the hall worried sick that you had taken off drunk as you were.”
You struggled to envision it, but maybe it was the aforementioned drunkenness impeding your intelligence more then usual. “Because he's just a good person. Simple. Always has been, even now when I don't deserve it.”
It seemed whatever he had gleaned from such a comment had cemented an idea in his head. “Here's what we're going to do. We're going to get up, bring you back to the apartment. The boys are all busy right now hosting in my absence so you'll have it to yourself. We'll get you cleaned up and you won't worry about what comes next until you've slept the rest of this off.”
Truthfully, you were too tired should any argument have ever even existed within you.
Coming back down to the winding Gala late into the night, Jon noticed his father gesturing for him to come over to speak alone. Your name coming instantly out of his mouth, his father swiftly placated such worry. “She's alright. I brought her back up to the apartment to sleep tonight off.” Nodding, Jon stood tense as anything unsure as to how to breach the subject or if he should when his father did it first for him. “Whatever you're going to say to her Jon, go easy. She's upset and she's convinced herself you're mad enough at her she should move out.”
Face twisting in a mix of anger he could not fix from the night and a worry that everyone around you had let you get so intoxicated you spun a story such as that about him in your fears. “Did you tell her about-”
“I think she would take it better coming from you.” The two men stood for another quiet moment when he stepped towards him. A hand resting on his shoulder with a concern Jon knew was for both parties, himself and you. “And Jon, don't ambush her right away.”
Both nodded, his father leaving Jon to think. He knew he was right, he couldn't lay all his cards out on the table yet. Between Karl and Ramsay, they had done a number on your self worth. You'd jump in an instant to what Jon wished to say, if you thought it was a way to make it better. He needed it, only if you still wanted it once you felt safe in your own home again.
Strange, you had no dream and yet you were lulled into the world of the wake with something gentle along your hair. Not realizing until your eyes fluttered open that the morning sun was shining through your window. Jon was sat on your bed facing you, a hand running soothingly along your now loose hair.
Were your brain not about to explode from pain, you might have jumped up to apologize right away. But in your state, Jon continued to run his hands through the strands of your hair as he rasped quietly and comfortingly. “You're lucky to be alive. If I let Ghost come in here last night like he wanted too, he'd have cuddled himself into your side so much you'd have suffocated.”
The laugh was weak as you sat up, Jon not moving his hand from you as he tucked some of your hair behind your ear to more then cup your cheek and jaw. Your eyes heavy as you found a more shredded voice. “I could imagine worst ways to go.”
His grey eyes were as wide, bright and yet soft as ever. As if the night before was not an utter catastrophe you had brought upon your friendship, but the ship was steady on the water, you dared not yet rock the boat, listening to him with a warmth at his low rasp deep this early in your time awake. “You scared me last night, darling. Running off like that.”
Neither of you noticed how easily he slipped back into calling you that, or how you hadn't taken notice in any negative manner whatsoever. Sitting more against the headboard behind you, you were glad Ned Stark had insisted you wear something actually comfortable to bed instead of the ripped reminder of a terrible night. Your insides were warm as much as your front so close to Jon was warm from the proximity alone. “I'm the sorry one. About everything. Getting drunk, causing a scene..and..for-”
Mercy was what Jon showed you, but for why you couldn't put together. “You didn't do anything wrong. Ramsay's been barred from attending any Northern run event, and he's not allowed within two hundred miles of you.” Your brows narrowed in confusion, Jon giving you a gentle laugh in return, still toying innocently with your hair. “My father works fast when he's mad. I didn't think anyone could've been more mad at Ramsay last night then me, but he came back after bringing you home and went right to your Uncle to have a restraining order filed.” Asking why, Jon almost shook his head in a manner that was only amused by you. “You're like a daughter to my father, if he wouldn't let someone treat Arya or Sansa like that, he wasn't going to stand by and let Ramsay do it to you.”
Nodding, it felt strange that you weren't upset by it. Perhaps it was too early to feel it, but much was hard to care about when Jon was this warm and looking at you with such wide grey eyes pouring into your heart and soul as if he belonged there. “Jon..I really am sorry..”
But he only laughed a little, sliding his hand behind your head to pull you forward, Jon leaned enough to press his lips to your forehead. Murmuring against it, “Don't take off like that again, and you have no reason to be. Now come on,” Prompting you to slowly begin standing up, Jon rested a supporting hand at your lower back, pressing your unsteady self to his side enough he could rasp in your ear. “I'll make you something you can actually stomach.”
You didn't understand why Jon was making it so easy. For days now, things had been much like it had been before Ramsay ever entered the picture. Your days were normal, settled back into working without distractions and it all seemed as if the apartment was smoothly running.
Part of you wondered why it felt though, as if they were all waiting for something. You could only hope that it was not for you to fall off once more, you knew thus far your record had not been on your side but you hoped they had more faith then next to none. You wanted to start over this time, you were given that proper chance and you didn't want to waste it no matter what people were or were not presuming about you.
It seemed the restraining order was applied to those speaking of him as well. Margaery had not brought up anything, and when you had gone over to her house to profusely apologize over the dress she only wrapped an arm around your waist to drag you in, dismissing, “I have others.”
Trying not to fear this all had made you look as weak as you felt, but for how close you came to ruining things, Jon was the one easing that fear away. He was the only one who you didn't feel as if were watching and waiting for something you didn't understand, he treated you as the same as you two had been in your best of times. Before Ramsay Bolton, before Karl Tanner.
Things were normal enough between you that you, he and Ghost all went on a longer hike through the wolfswood for the first time in well over a year together. The warmer weather this time around was not quite what many would call warm in the south, considering heavier long sleeves were still the most necessary outerwear at the minimum, but it was not yet cold enough that spending so many hours outside wasn't preferable to ones health.
Small rolling hills led to cliff sides where the main river poured out in small divets of pooled lakes like a small waterfall, hardly anything for one who grew up on an island, but for here it was the most amount of a body of water you could get too within a days walk. Perhaps before you'd have worried about the quiet, but no longer did it feel stifling or on purpose.
Jon used to be the one person you could be your more naturally quiet self around and have it not be uncomfortable, he was the same way. The less talkative of the group of you, but together that silence was never filled only because the quiet as awkward. Jon would instinctively grab your hand to help hoist you up a steeper climb and push you forward with a hand on your lower back without sharing a single word and neither of you thought twice again.
Or how when you three had returned, Jon once again gently guided you to your shared bathroom first, quiet in your ear as it was late enough Robb and Theon were asleep. “You shower first, I'll get something started.” And without any more question, when you emerged, you took over what he had been doing and by the time his shower was done you both had a very late meal but in the comfortable presence of only you two.
For a while it went on as such, but you couldn't help those two same thoughts. Was everyone really just waiting for you to combust once more, and more importantly to you, why Jon hadn't even come close to bringing up what happened.
It went completely unspoken, but you didn't know why. Your friendship felt as strong as ever, but for what reason? You had completely violated his trust and it was as if he would rather forget, but it didn't work that way. He would've known you weren't to forget so easily, why was he? Were you lingering once more on the edges of feelings which Jon wished to pretend he never learned about? If so, why was he even more gentle and affectionate then before?
None of it made sense in your head, but you truly did not want to ruin things, not now. Not after being given another chance to keep him in your life. So you stayed quiet, didn't speak a word of it for as long as you could withhold the anxiety and nerves festering from your brain into entering your heart.
It was one evening, you both looked so much like you did as teenagers, sitting back against his bed, both too lazy to bother moving things around his room for a better set up, so your laptop was dragged in his room instead to watch something on there. Later into the night, the apartment was settled and only you two remained awake, but the mixture was dangerous for your subconscious.
His room always cozy and warm, and so was Jon naturally heated in his blood to never feel cold around and the dark from only a single lamp on his desk other then the screen, it all lulled you into relaxing a little too instinctively. You without realizing, allowed your head to rest on his shoulder, but Jon without asking you to move, stiffening up uncomfortably, or even hesitating, adjusted his position in order to wrap his arm behind you. Resting at your waist and tugging you firmly into his side as that same hand now ran lightly up and down your waist to hip and back.
Your- his shirt on you, rising slightly each time which his hand kept brushing your bare skin sending silent shivers along the surface. More and more did the film fade away, until you found a sleep more warm and soothing then you had in weeks.
Jon was caught between the concepts. Slowly shifting things as to not disturb you too much, Jon moved everything but the two of you off his bed, before turning to watch you carefully. The last time you fell asleep in his bed, it was in far more innocent times then what ran unspoken between you both now. He didn't want you to feel pressured, but Jon knew you were feeling the air between you different, and he did not wish to return to when it felt otherwise.
It was heavy and electric, but neither of you were such forward seducers to act upon it so brazenly. But, Jon still knew such feelings were there. So, instead of gently carrying you to your room and tucking you into your bed, Jon made a risky choice. Slowly helping you lay down on your side, Jon ran a hand over the hair at the side of your head, ensuring you hadn't stirred awake. Across the room, Jon turned his light off, and opening his curtains a slight bit to let some of the moonlight guide his vision.
On one end by the foot of the bed, the slumbering white ball of fur called Ghost slept soundly as you did, as if failing his guard duty to keep you safe laying only feet from him. But as Jon carefully climbed back onto his bed, he laid on his side to face you.
He watched at first, only watched. The peace in your face there was unlike the past years as tormenting figures appeared in and out of your life. Never did Jon presume his place, he was your best friend and he refused to act as if that made him obligated to your feelings. But it wasn't the same now, you had been keeping your own locked up just as, if not more tightly away from the world. Only coming out twice.
Jon knew now that was what Tanner was trying to tell him that day. That started the fight the morning he came to get you. You had spoken Jons name in the heat of the encounter, and then did it once more months later with Ramsay. He didn't want you to think you should stay here with him, but Jon also refused to allow you to push this all away in favour of lessening your value, to running to the next horrid man.
For now, as Jons hand ran up and down your arm, did you shift closer, and he spared no time in pulling your front into his chest. Meekly, your slumbering hands reached up, grabbing the edges of his shirt as if begging him to keep you there. And as he found a home to sleep in your hair and you in his torso, only quiet was found.
If you had one thing you needed to accomplish that day, it was to ask. You had to, even if you didn't like the answer, it was no longer appropriate to hide such wonders when he knew what you had done. But, part of you wished he wouldn't make it so difficult to be blunt about it. You had clearly fallen asleep watching the movie, and woken up in his warm, gentle embrace tucked into his chest. It felt right, and it also meant it felt unfair.
Jon should only show you such affection if he understood your mind had not moved on yet, if he wished to pull away then that was how it would have to be, but hiding your worry about it was not conducive to your dynamic anymore. But gods he made it so hard to get to it. Not even realizing you weren't alone in the waking world, Jon rasped in your ear so thick from the early morning it was just a heavy husk of a Northern accent slurring together. “Too early to think this much, darling.”
You breathed out a small smile, almost swearing you could feel him smile in your hair in return. Hardly loud enough to be heard by any not directly as close as Jon, you whispered back not yet yelling go of your fingertips toying with his shirt. “Not for how long I've been awake.” Oh that deep chuckle so close to your ear was deathly.
One of his hands around your hip and waist shifted up to run smoothing over your hair, slightly raking through the strands to pull a relaxing in your muscles against him. “Alright, why don't you wake me up by telling me what's going on inside here.” This thumb leaving it's touch to lightly tap at your head as if to indicate what he meant.
You had told yourself, ask it today. It came out as light, strained and breathless as if felt. “Are you never going to bring up what I did?” Instead of the hesitation you feared and worried, instead came the same soothing nature as he pulled you a bit closer.
Taking his own time to answer without making you worry of the passing moments to do so. “You mean when you called my name out in bed with Ramsay, or when you did the same thing with Tanner?” Your frozen nature must have given your shock away. “Wasn't difficult to put together once I knew the truth.”
Your voice muffled by his torso, but you were almost emotional at how grateful you felt he hadn't yet made you leave his warm comfort. “Aren't you mad?” Asking for what, you did not sound any more confident. “I violated your trust. Twice. Then hid it from you and lied about it.”
Once more his chuckle was utterly unfair, and his voice rasped so deep as his hands almost held you a bit tighter if you weren't imagining things. “Would you like to know what I was doing when you called my name out with Ramsay?” Not a clue how blind sighted you were about to feel, you shook your head before noticing for certain that time he held you tighter. “I was scrolling through all those voice notes you send to me, while my other hand was around my cock.”
Blood within you flooded with something warm like a burn, and only as you let a shaking breath out did Jon begun to somewhat ran his hand back to the side of your head, thumb much more firmly tilting you to suddenly meet his eyes, dark normally in colour but now the grey appeared closer to sinking into a black. “Why?”
Far too handsome for his own good when he laughed deeply, knowing your breath hitched as he leaned forward. Only to nudge your nose with his, letting his trace down yours. It seemed if your question was to be honest, he'd let his be as well. “Because I wanted to have you in my bed, instead of hearing you in yours with another man.”
Lips parting slightly, your eyes were wide trying to contain how both confusing yet unrealistic that sounded so early. And yet there was not a shred of lies or doubt within his gaze, only something far too dark yet affectionate that you wished to melt into. “But..you- why not say anything before I even met Ramsay..”
Thumb running firmly over your cheek, Jon had yet to pull away from you the rest of the way. Your mind trying to tell you otherwise, that you were imagining any other feeling. Jon though, was not you, and did not care about hiding it seemed now that the topic had been broached. “You finally had the courage to leave Tanner, I wasn't going to ambush you about my feelings when you needed someone to just be there for you. No matter how much I wanted you, still want you.”
Shifting you both every so sightly, Jon moved so you lay more on your back, and he partially still on his side, but somewhat hovered over you. Now looking at you with those bright eyes, curls all still pulled back from the night before. The hand on you cheek turned much more selfish in not pulling away from where it roamed. Tucking some of your hair behind your ear, before once more nudging your nose with his almost as it to tempt you with how close his lips would be at such a motion.
It felt like such an utterly girlish and child like question to ask, “Would all you want it to be is just..sex?”
Jons chuckle once more was deep, laced with something dark that should have set your nerves off and yet on him it only lit the fire within your bloodstream to flow. Muttering close enough to your lips you felt his breath dance across your skin as he cupped your cheek and jaw more to his control. “I want everything, all of it, as long as it's with you. I always have.”
Looking back up to his eyes, Jon looked you over carefully for a moment but in the heavy silence, slowly took over in seeking a path. Glancing between you and your lips, Jon was so close to closing that gap only as long as it took for your hands to so very willingly reach up to grasp at his shoulders and part of the back of his neck. The moment your own eyes slipped closed, you barley needed to move a single breath forward, for Jon to close the gap between his lips and yours.
Jons lips were softer then you could have dreamed of, guiding you in an instant as if kissing you was what he had been waiting for all his life, and not for a second did he waste time. Pushing up to hover over you properly, his hand at your face slid to cup the back of your neck, keeping you pressed to his lips with no escape. Not urgent, nor greedy, and without the incessant ask for you to get to it. Jon kissed you as if he enjoyed kissing you.
Which in truth, was foreign. Men didn't spend time kissing you unless they wanted to fuck, they didn't enjoy kissing, you had always thought that was the case with your limited experience. But Jon deepened his kiss as if the idea of leaving you yet was devastating, as if he sought salvation and he found it through kissing you rougher and needier. Small sounds left your chest, hands tight on Jons shoulders he begun to gently bite at your bottom lip.
Small as if only a nibble, it grew more and more of a bite until he tore a gasp from you, which was his sly plan. Using the opportunity to glide his tongue into your mouth, he brushed up against your tongue as if guiding you to explore him back all the same. Hardly did you, but hovering above you on the bed Jon was in control regardless. Stealing your very breath and drawing up small whines of need before he would pull back to only a deep kiss.
But then he'd bite and once more the entire process repeated but his need grew each and every routine. Harsher did he kiss you as your legs slid, bent by the knees you let them sit at Jons side when he tore from your lips. The saliva between you snapping as he spared no time in running his kiss along your ear and down to your neck. Lips and tongue setting the stage as he suddenly would bite down.
A gasp clawed from within, back arching up into his touch as Jon suddenly with a growl in his own chest begun to then suck at where his teeth indented into your sensitive skin, forcing the colours to turn to a tingling bruise of his making, swiftly marking down and down your neck until he reached the collar of his shirt. Hoisting himself back up, capturing your lips once more deep and breath taking did he pull back.
Both hands pressed beside your head as he looked down at you with a darker, more serious gaze. “Tell me if I'm taking this too far.” But you only shook your head, trying to desperately seek his kiss but Jon gently pushed you back down flat against his bed. That time his brows furrowing as if seeking something in your own need. “I mean it, we don't have to do this, any of this. Whatever you want we can take our time.”
It was a heart pounding need stealing your lungs away, and only a scrap of voice drenched in desire was left. Without even the means of seduction, it came off as better then any temptress could possible use her wiles towards Jon with. “We've already imagined it separately, but now I want to know what being with my best friend really feels like.”
Jons eyes fluttered closed, a low sound grunting inside to maintain but he surged back to cup the back of your head to leave a harsh, biting kiss to your needing lips before tearing away and back down the already sensitive trail he left on your neck. Kneeling up a bit for the leverage, Jon grasped the ends of his shirt on your body, looking up dark and face twisted so seriously to your expression. The single second it took for you to nervously nod yes, Jon had yanked it up off of you and tossed it far as if offended it covered you up for so long.
Staring at your heaving chest, Jon almost tore up in a glare had you not known any better. “You were with me all night and weren't wearing anything under this?” Your head shook no as the air shivered along your skin. Eyes closing again to sigh much more deeply Jon let a a hand reach up. Rough and calloused was striking against the soft skin of your chest, but it was as if his hands were made to fit with your breasts perfectly. Kissing back to your neck, now just as greedy at your collarbones, Jon spared no shame in only grasping at your other breast for the time it took for his lips to reach it. One hand pinching the small, pink bud of your breast to stiffen it up for his hand to twist at, chest arching up more for him while his teeth sunk into your other breast. Biting the same as his hand twisted the other and your hips writhed desperately at the feeling.
Trying to reach for his own shirt, Jon used his free hand to snatch yours, slamming it down beside your head and intertwining his fingers with yours, without ever easing up the treatment sparking such a burning coil within. Gasping his name, Jon bit and sucked at your breast as his hand groped a tightness that in another mans touch would've hurt. But Jon kept you on the precipice of pleasure and just enough pain to keep you pliable for him.
Pulling from you, Jons eyes scoured his work and the trail of saliva left on your breasts no doubt you could feel in the cooler morning air. His hands were slow as he reached your the top of your pants, but the second you didn't blink or flinch but slightly raised your hips Jon stared at every inch of skin pulling them from you revealed to him.
Tossing them away, Jon ran his hands up your calves as they once more parted for either side of his body, Jon held at your thighs. Spread for him and nothing hiding the rest, you had been next to him for hours this bare under the basest of clothes and yet he was only finding out now.
But he allowed you to lean up, drag his own shirt up and over his head. Grasping the back of your neck as you leaned up towards him, Jon licked back into your mouth much more freely groaning as he hoisted one thigh up at the side of his hip. Only the lower and lower down your body Jons lips and kiss explored the more your heart begun to pound irregularly, something unsure in your head making you sit up away from him when you realized. “What are you doing?”
Jons eyes were wide, almost as if stunned at your sudden confusion. “Wh- I'd like to taste you, darling-” Interrupting with a short and high pitched ask of why, Jon almost breathed a laugh. Leaning up to better meet your now on edge posture sitting up on your elbows. “Because I've always dreamed of it, because I really want you to feel good.”
You had no way of knowing how much you were ruining him, how hard you were making his cock still hidden under the jeans he fell asleep in. “No, I mean why would you ever want to do that?”
There seemed to be a disconnect. The ease in which Jon was so sure of the ways he wished to explore you, and you not at all grasping why Jon would want to do things Karl and Ramsay told you men absolutely hated. Tilting his head, he ran his fingertips along your cheek some. Sighing through his nose trying to collect his thoughts, low and rasping he explained to you. “Because if your lips taste that good alone, I'm dying to know how you taste between your legs. And I promise it will feel good for you.”
But you shook your head. “No it-” Sighing out of something unsure, you shifted up a bit more as Jon, returned to hovering somewhat over you. His hand never leaving your touch as it ran along your gentle cheek. Collecting your thoughts, ignoring how your neck and breasts stung with the same bruising from his mouth, and yet feeling lightheaded at how much you like the feeling. “Men only do that stuff in videos, none of you really want to do that.”
You didn't understand why Jon was looking at you that way. Confused and if you weren't mistaken, almost a bit heartbroken. Asking roughly and short in tone, “What else did those two say. About sex, about what people do together?”
That was easy, they told you consistent things. Which was why you were so confused as if it was the first time anyone was telling Jon something men were all supposed to have agreed on. Anything a man does to you, you owe him back, be it between your legs or getting on your knees. All that romantic stuff was for movies and all the stuff men did in porn to pleasure women was just that, for porn. They didn't like it, they both were just actors doing a job.
He had to look way for a moment, Jon couldn't look at the genuine, almost innocent expression on your face as you said all of this. Hands curling onto a fist as they rested beside your body in the sheets but he shook his head. Jaw clenching trying to keep it together before rasping out, “I need you to listen to me. And I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but you need to hear this. Karl and Ramsay were just using you for sex. They didn't care how you felt or if you liked it, they wanted to fuck you and all they cared about was that you let them.”
He was right, you didn't really feel good inside your heart hearing it. But it paired so oddly with the way he was looking at you with something you were a bit scared to admit you were hoping looked like love. Your voice was as week and unsure. “I..I just wanted to do this right this time..Ramsay used to always leave to go see another girl.. so I started just doing what he wanted because I thought he was losing interest because I was doing it wrong.”
Were you not laying gently out and naked on his bed, Jon may have found the anger in him to lash out at that. Unable to stop thinking that you knew, you knew Ramsay saw other girls and he wouldn't put it passed Karl to do the same. You were someone he loved, but in a way Jon knew he had his work cut out for him with you. You had a lot to learn about your own pleasure.
Leaning into you, Jon forced you to lay back down against his bed. Capturing your lips in a quick but biting kiss, muttering into them as he pulled back. “Will you let me prove you wrong? Will you let me taste you? Make you feel good like you deserve?” Trying to ask what about him and Jons eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head desperate for his mouth to just drink between your legs already. A growl deep in his words. “I promise, darling. This is as much for me, as it is for you.”
Nodding with a hesitant, “Please..” Jon knew he had to control his need. He'd keep you here pinned to his mouth another time, but right now he needed to show you why you deserved this kind of pleasure and why he wanted it so badly. “I trust you, Jon.”
His kiss was much softer then, muttering “I'll take care of you.”
Moving down, Jon hoisted one of your thighs up over his shoulder, nudging your other open wider on his bed as you shook. Feeling his warm breath, Jon pressed a gentle kiss to your clit. Jumping slightly in his tough, he reached out to grasp your hips, gently shushing you. “It's alright, I've got you.”
Each subsequent kiss was slowly followed by his tongue gently licking at the bundle of nerves, building the fire within up and up within you but keeping you perched on the edge of an orgasm, already feeling somewhat embarrassed by how quickly he worked you to it. Jon however, hardly cared. Sucking it more before running his tongue tightly against it, his eyes closed you felt his facial hair burn between you, gasping out at the roughness contrasted to his mouth licking and nibbling at your clit. But yet, it was another gentle kiss which pushed you. Arching off the bed, Jon grasped your free leg and threw it over his shoulder before yanking you down the bed.
Tongue hot and wet, licking flat down your folds to your core and were his eyes not closed he'd have them rolling onto the back of his head at the taste. If possible, you came quicker. Barley managing to drink every bit of wetness you gifted him between your legs, Jon heard you cry his name with breathless pleas as if this was even a fraction of how long he'd keep you there. Licking flat, he ran his tongue just barley inside of your cunt as you let go once more.
You had not realized how terribly worked up you felt until your orgasm let free within Jons tasting mouth as he grunted against you. Drawing back up to your clit he let those sparks of twisting need feel overwhelmed a bit more before kissing up your mound and to your stomach. Your mind a mess, not noticing really what he was doing now as your eyes closed and ringing in your ears from something so burning so addictingly inside your core.
By the time Jon surged upwards, he gently hooked your hip at his thigh, leaning to kiss you again, your hands winding behind his neck. A gentle smile came over him as he pulled away, “I know it was a lot, but tell me, did you enjoy it?” Nodding, still catching your breath, he smiled brighter. A single kiss to your lips. “Good, because we're going to do that longer and longer each time from now on. I want you to feel as good as I do. Now, we don't have to do anything more,”
Just as Jon trailed off, you felt a shiver run down your spine and arms into your chest. Feeling his cock gently run along your soaked core, you hadn't even been in the head space to notice when he took everything else off of himself. It was overwhelming, being bare against Jon who matched in his bed like this, but you couldn't feel the nerves normally present. You looked up at his bright grey eyes and closed yours to kiss him.
Hardly pulling back to whisper, “Please, Jon. I want to feel you inside me, I've wanted to for so long..”
Dropping his head in your neck, he muttered just as low and rough. “I know, darling. I know.” You read the unspoken of his own desire matching so perfectly for so long yet only now were about to join in a harmony.
Sliding inside of you slowly, Jon growled without removing himself from your neck at how smoothly you took his entire cock, but yet the tensing of nails in his skin at your sharp gasp. He stretched you so thick, you felt woozy thinking of his size, of how deep he was. A shameful thought would your hand even be able to wrap around him.
But he slid deep, and never sped up. Slowly pulling almost all the way out, Jon slowly pushed back in. Your cunt soaking around him, but only small sounds shared in the air other then the obscene sound each time his cock sunk deep as you were utterly wet around him. To either man before him, this pace would be unbearable and awful. But with Jon, you felt as shaking in need clenching around him as he throbbed inside of you.
Pulling up, his eyes hooded and his lips parted, he kissed you with a sloppiness that you matched, each slow thrust of his cock somehow less urgent then the gentle, slow manner he kissed your lips. Every step of the way you felt embarrassed how you came so easily, but Jon never stopped for one. Until you would cry out from too much, Jon wouldn't leave.
Slowly letting his cock push deep inside of you, licking his way into your mouth to match such a pace, but he kept going. Throbbing deeply as you let a leg wrap somewhat around him, Jon groaned your name just barley against your lips. As unexpected as your end was found with him inside you, Jon almost surprised himself with how suddenly he finished. Throbbing inside of your soaking, tight walls, Jon suddenly buried his head in your hair, pulling you to his neck as he pressed tightly against you into the bed.
Spilling inside of you, you felt his seed was somehow almost hot. Thick that you felt strange taking so much of it so deep but you let your other leg find your ankle around his back as Jon almost grasped at your waist to keep you steady as he slowly filled you with his thick, pouring seed. Your heart feeling light in your chest, but as Jon pulled you both up to meet your lips something in his passion told you he felt the same floating feeling.
Though you did notice, how he had yet to lose any shred of how hard his cock was inside of you despite cumming mere seconds ago. And when Jon didn't pull out, only sped his pace up just the slightest as he once more thrusted in and out of your cunt, his forehead leaned against your as you wrapped up in each other.
It was slow, and not urgent, and still very much brand new to a strange degree but Jons cock gentle inside of you was the first time you both felt as if you finally fit into each others life properly.
It was some hours later when you both properly emerged to the world. Only after Jon had lost his control when trying to clean you both up, and pressed you against the wall of the shower. Holding your hands above your head against the tile as he slid inside of you again and again. Only when the water turned cold did he pull out.
Each time a little faster, a little rougher, and a little more greedy for what you finally let him sink his cock deep inside as if you both desperately needed it. Which you did, only, your hearts also followed such a connection that time.
The topic though, was not at all addressed in the apartment until that evening when Robb and Theon came home. Jon had currently been hovering by you looking into the fridge as you both decided what you would cook together. His hand so freely pressing against your lower back in such an intimate stance for two best friends.
Theon had commented first, much to how quickly it made you playfully roll your eyes. “So, are we turning your room into a nursery, or have you two not moved everything into his yet?”
Robb's laugh was louder then Theons, but nowhere near as free and amused as Jons as he joined. Pulling your head close to press a kiss to the side of your hair, did it clue in. They had all been waiting for something to happen.
You were just the last one to find out it was not for anything morose. Theon and Robb had simply put bets as to how long it would take for Jon to finally make a move. Though, considering both of them handed the silver to Jon instead, your realized no matter what changed between the love you felt for your best friend, you still lived with three brothers who all were very unaffected by this new development.
Theon once more asking in jest about the nursery thing, and in truth, Jon had left you entirely flustered as he muttered both into your ear and loud enough for the others to hear, “We have a lot of years to make up for, shouldn't take long.” Your hanging head and deep sigh had all three laugh at your expense that time.
Some things it seemed, would always stay the same between you four.
#jon snow x reader#jon snow#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#jon snow x you#jon snow imagine
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GOTU Masterlist
💖 Fluff / 🌧 Angst /🔥 Smut / 🤝 Platonic / 💞 related / 🧬 hybrid / 🐺 omegaverse / 🍆 G!p / 🧛vampire / 🐕 werewolf / ⚡️Modern Au / ✨authors / 💀 supernatural au
—— G A M E O F T H R O N E S ——
Daenerys Targaryen
Cersei Lannister
Her Little Stark 💖🔥🐺✨
-> Her little cubs 💖🐺✨
Sansa Stark
Brienne of Tarth
Jon Snow
Yara Greyjoy
Catelyn Tulley
Margery Tyrell
Ellaria Sand
Oberyn Martell
—— H O U S E O F D R A G O N ——
Reactions
You say its too big 🔥🐺
Imagines
Rhaenys Targaryen
Daemon Targaryen
Rhaenyra Targaryen
Laena Velaryon
Alicent Hightower
We should call her aemma 🐺
Aegon Targaryen
A Lovers Comfort💖
Aemond Targaryen
Pleasant surprises 💖
-> Unexpected news and welcome surprises 💖
Of dragon rides and thunderstorms 💖
Who do you belong to? 🔥🐺
Helaena Tragaryen
—— S E R I E S ——
The Kings Daughter and The Queen (Alicent)
One 🔥🐺 Two 🐺💖 Three 🐺💖🔥 / Three Alt. 🐺💖 🌧
An eye for an eye
One 🌧
—— S M U T D R A B B L E S ——
Smut Asks
Pregnant!Alicent x Reader x Rhaenyra 🔥🐺✨
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Watching Matty on GBBO and he looks like modern rugby Jon Snow somehow and yes of course I'm thinking of a Jonsa GBBO AU, it would be such good fluff
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request guidelines
REQUESTS ARE ACCEPTED
writing for — james potter, sirius black, steve harrington, billy loomis, marcus baker, miguel o'hara, miles morales (and earth 42!miles), spencer reid, rafe cameron, kevin lomax, older!john wick, young!johnwick, john constantine, bradley 'rooster' bradshaw, jon snow
OTHERS
you could also send in requests for characters that aren't currently on my list though please dont be upset if i choose not to write it x
WHAT I AM WILLING TO WRITE
fluff, angst, smut, heavy angst, yandere, manipulation, power imbalance, dubcon, noncon, predator/prey dynamics, toxic relationships, kidnapping, possessiveness , manipulation, breeding/breeding kink, i can write modern au’s, pregnant!reader, hurt / comfort, parent!reader / parent!character
WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE
anything about piss, cheating (done by a character or reader), paedophilia, vomit, period
OTHER
if you have any type of request including angst, fluff ,smut, dark rom, etc, feel free to send through them!
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Juulna’s 2021 Multi-Fandom Fanfiction Rec List - Part Six
(Yes, I realize this is a year late, but this year's been a bit nuts. I still hope you enjoy these fics anyway!)
Based only on what I’ve read with my own eyes this year!
Follow me on my journey into what, at times, was…
…actually rather calming! Perhaps you can find some comfort and entertainment, fluff and angst and romance and friendship, smut and a distinct lack of it, space adventures and fantasy and modern adventures, serial killers and good guys, redemption and reconciliation and learning to become someone completely different — there is so much here I read that stuck with me over the past year, and the 2021 Fanfic Reading Challenge ( @fanfic-reading-challenge ) allowed me a new way to keep track of all of my favourites. So props to that event! Definitely participating again (considering I run the event, yeah, that's probably a given lol, but full disclosure).
Without further ado, here were my 2021 fic favourites!
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six
Fandom: GoT/AsoIaF
Jaime/Sansa/Oberyn/Ellaria:
Names in the Snow by OperaPhantom
“It’s a punishment,” most whispered. “Punishment from the Old Gods for betraying them for the Seven.”
A few others disagreed. “A gift from the Old Gods to the eldest Stark daughter,” they said. “Or a gift to the North.”
~~~~~~
Sansa Stark receives the Gods' Gift, the mark that identifies her soulmate, only to find out it's what no one, not even herself, expected it to be. But sometimes, surprises can be sweet.
For the February 2021 Pack Prompt of "unexpected".
Jaimsa:
I'm not a princess (this ain't a fairytale) by K_R_Closson
After Joffrey beheads Ned Stark, and his engagement to Sansa is broken, he decides to host a tournament, with the prize being Sansa's hand in marriage. When Jaime Lannister shows up at the last minute to win it, she's afraid she'll be stuck in King's Landing until Joffrey's cruelty does her in. But Jaime made a promise and, one way or another, Lannisters always pay their debts.
Joberyn:
Bequeathed from Pale Estates by Author376
In a Westeros where Soulmates are bound and Marked by the Gods to bind Houses together and pay blood debts, Lyarra Snow and Oberyn Martell are about to get a shock...
Jonsa
and no net ensnares me by thimbleful
Since Jon left, Sansa has struggled to keep things together and she longs for his return. However, when he does return things only become worse. Jon learns about his parentage and doesn't know how to make sense of anything, how to fix the inevitable mess the reveal will create, or how to protect the people he loves. But at least, after all these years, the pack is finally back together. Then, one day, Sansa disappears.
Post season 7 fic.
His Winter Queen by @tm-writes-blog
A rewrite of the show's last seasons and how Jon and Sansa forged a true ruling block to challenge the Dragon Queen and defeat the Night King.
There will still be major character deaths, but some very different choices greatly impact the story.
we are buried in broken dreams by Anonymous
Prompt: Sansa and Jon sleeping together before he goes to Dragonstone and when he comes back he finds out she is pregnant.
A full on s8 fix-it fic at this point.
Like winter we are cruel by @ferrame
Winter has come to Winterfell, Jon expects a war north of the Wall, and Littlefinger is brewing one inside the very castle.
you are my sun, my moon (and all of my stars) by Goodforthesoul
When the white wolf came, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to give him his eldest daughter. Eddard Stark had grown up on legends of wolves, on the stories of bargains made by the First Men, on the knowledge of the price that he and his family might one day be forced to pay. His father had explained the reason their house had taken a wolf as its heraldry and “Winter is Coming” as its motto, a reminder of a promise to honor, a recognition of a debt owed that would need, one day, to be paid. Ned had breathed a sigh of relief when his sister’s twentieth winter arrived and the beast had not. And he had watched the dawn sky for the first signs of the snow that would mark that his daughter, too, might also be spared, might escape the fate that had been handed down by their ancestors. But no man could be so lucky.
Sansa, too, had been born with the North in her blood, had been raised on the stories of white wolves, had lived her life with the knowledge that one might come for her.
if you try to break me, you will bleed by @dialux
It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.
And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.
The pursuit of non-bath time happiness by Queenofthebees
After Jon refuses Gendry's ask for Arya's hand, citing the fact Sansa was not yet betrothed, Rickon observes and, with the help of Shaggydog, Ghost and Arya, comes up with a plan to have Jon realise he should court Sansa himself. And if it were to result in Jon being less strict about bath times, that was totally coincidental!
The She-Wolves of Winterfell by @vixleonard
The pack survived. So has the Stark habit of keeping secrets.
Jonsaery:
and in the night, you'll hear me calling by @lesbiancerseilannister
When you met your soulmate, touched them for the first time, you would see everything in all its colorful glory.
Jonsanerys:
Brave, Gentle, Strong by @jonsainthenorth
The Night King is defeated, the battle is ended, the dead heroes are burned, but the song is not yet done.
Now, Dany must grapple with the news of her newfound family and the possibility for the Targaryen line to continue beyond her. . . and beyond her brother’s son. She offer Sansa an impossible choice, one that will destroy the Lady of Winterfell's independence but grant her heart's desire and protect the North in perpetuity. Jon is caught between the two halves of himself, between two Queens, Targaryen and Stark, Fire and Ice, Dragon and Direwolf, honor and dishonor...
Sanberyn, Brandon Stark/Catelyn, minor Rhaelyanna, Jon/Cersei:
The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey
Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]
Sanberynia:
A Winter in Braavos by Silberias
Sansa escapes to Braavos with the Dornish.
Desert Winds Rather Than Mountain Air by Silberias
Catelyn Stark leaves King's Landing telling even her old friend Petyr Baelish that she is taking her daughters back to Winterfell. Instead she takes them, without telling Ned, to Dorne because if anyone will believe a tale of Lannister treachery it will be the Martells of Dorne.
She realizes, as she reaches the gates of Sunspear, that she is really no better than her father was all those years ago.
Clinging To The Wild Things That Raised Us by TheSweetestThing
If the Martells demanded the traitor Sansa Stark’s hand in marriage in return for peace throughout the Seven Kingdoms, then so be it.
For Fear Tonight Is All by Silberias
Tyrion knew, as he gazed up at the dark skinned Martell man that this was perhaps his only chance to spirit Sansa out of King's Landing and away from his father's greedy fingers. Tywin Lannister would have married the girl himself if he felt he could have gotten away with it, and so Tyrion knew his own marriage was no protection to Ned Stark's daughter whatsoever.
"Invite her, demand her, steal her--whatever you choose, Prince Oberyn, choose it soon. Else my lady wife shall break into more pieces than the stars."
a sad tale's best for winter by @branwyn-says
Oberyn and Ellaria visit the finest brothel in Oldtown. One of its most alluring attraction is the harpist, a girl with dyed brown hair.
She's still a maid, the brothel-keep assures them.
in this expected country they know my name by @lesspopped
At the wedding feast, Oberyn and Ellaria are approached by the Master of Whisperers, who begs they indulge him with a discussion of clothing — specifically, Lady Sansa Stark's. Very fine, they all agree...but what a shame, Ellaria tuts, she has lost an amethyst from her hairnet.
So when Joffrey begins to cough, they follow her, and find her in the godswood.
I See The Stars In Your Eyes by @themistressmaster
She feared that she was just like her aunt, a wreath of winter roses bestowed upon her at a tourney.
Sanberynia/Jon:
Dornish Customs by @framboise-fics
Sansa escapes from the Eyrie to Castle Black after being accused of the death of her late husband Harrold Hardyng, arriving just after Jon has been resurrected. The two of them decide to flee South together and after journeying for many moons, they arrive in Sunspear and find sanctuary with Prince Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria Sand.
But neither of them have escaped from their pasts unscathed, and during the sweltering days and long sultry nights of Dorne, tensions boil over in unexpected ways.
Sansa deserves a good man guarding her, an honourable man, and she has put her trust in Jon, who is not an honourable man at all. Perhaps he came back wrong, he thinks sometimes, perhaps this sickness is something the red priestess gave him.
Stansa:
Half of Winter by @manic-intent
Stannis Baratheon has survived wars, sieges, pitched battles and skirmishes and worse, but nothing has made him feel as lost and out of place and unnerved as this very moment.
The little pink infant in the crib sleeps peacefully, wrapped in furs, and her wrists are innocently blank. For an irrational moment, Stannis envies her, then he straightens up and turns away. Winterfell is warm, somehow - some sort of piped system, apparently - and his gloves are tucked into his belt, baring the pale silver script on the underside of his right wrist: Sansa Stark.
Wolf's Blood by @manic-intent
"Ser Davos tells me that my brother Robb has done something rash," Sansa cuts in hurriedly, before Stannis rebukes Davos. "Is that true? He has broken his word to the Freys?"
"Aye, and Lord Walder will not so easily forgive that," Stannis looks over to the Twins where they are marked on the huge table that forms the centerpiece of the Chamber, and behind him, sleek and voluptuous in her sheer red dress, Melisandre smiles with her full, crimson mouth. "Your brother is a gifted commander, but he is still a very young boy. Still," Stannis adds, with a lift of a shoulder, "Older men than he have sundered far more over women. I should know - I was part of the last war that broke out over a woman. Your aunt."
Queen of the Seven Kingdoms by @sarahtheblack
Ned doesn't go to Cersei with a warning. He goes to Dragonstone.
#got#asoiaf#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#stansa#sanberynia#sanberyn#brandon stark x catelyn tully#brandon the elder#rhaelyanna#jon snow x cersei lannister#i promise that all makes sense#jon snow#cersei lannister#jonsanerys#jonsaery#jonsa#joberyn#jaimsa#jaime lannister#margaery tyrell#ellaria sand#oberyn martell#sansa stark#stannis baratheon
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Jon Snow*Home Alone
Pairing: Modern!Jon Snow x f!reader
Summary: Jon and the reader finally get the flat to themselves and want to make use of the freedom
Warnings: fingering, teasing, f!receiving oral 18+
Word count: 1298
GIF by thatonekimgirl
Masterlist here
You had half an hour before you had to leave and Jon was still curled into your side, refusing to let go. “I’m gonna be late,” you said but it came out as more of a laugh.
Jon nuzzled his face into your neck, “No one even uses High Valyrian anymore why do you need to study it?” You laughed as he wrapped his arms even tighter around your waist. “Just email in sick,” Jon pouted.
“I need to study,”
“I’ll help you study,”
You laughed remembering the last time he had said that “Look how well that went last night,”
“I think it went very well,” Jon grinned as he finally removed his head from your neck at the memory. “I never knew you could bend like that,” You rolled your eyes as you hit his shoulder, but Jon only laughed, “C’mon. Lemme give you a reason to stay in bed,”
“What reasons that?” you laughed as Jon finally released your waist only to grab you by your hips before pulling you on top of him to straddle his waist. You settled into the position, his morning wood under his boxers pressing into you, “I have 20 minutes before I need to go and im not even dressed yet,” you protested, putting your hand on his chest to keep you steady.
Jons hands went on top of yours, “This is like the one time no one else is in though. We're finally home alone," he said, eyebrows wiggling causing you to laugh.
“Yeah, cause they’re in class,” you teased, leaning down to kiss his lips. It was supposed to be a quick peck, but Jons hand moved to the back of your neck, the other to your hip, as he captured your lips into a desperate kiss. His hips bucked up beneath you and you couldn’t help yourself grinding down onto his hard length. His fingers squeezed into the flesh of your hips as you began to grind against him. Finally, you broke the kiss, glancing at the clock before back at Jon, “I suppose missing one class wouldn’t be the worst,”
“Yeah?” Jon asked, “Because you know I value your studies,” he teased.
“Oh, shut up,” you laughed shoving his chest, “You’re the one who got us into this position,”
“I could stop,” Jon said, moving his hands away with a smirk.
You rolled your eyes before diving back down for another kiss, “I never said that” Jon ignored your taunts, desperate for your kiss. His lips fit perfectly with yours. His hands returned to your hips as you began to grind down onto his clothed cock.
Jon broke the kiss to flip you back onto your back, “Make up your mind,” you giggled.
His lips moved to kiss your neck and you silenced your protest. You moaned softly as he left sloppy kisses to your skin. His hand moved in between your thighs, his finger dragging a slow line up your wet cunt before he smirked, “No panties?”
You had fell asleep after your shower in his shirt but without putting any on. If his hand wasn’t between your legs, you may have argued but Jon just smirked as his finger trailed your folds, “Stop teasing,” you whined.
“But it’s so much fun,” Jon said as his hand fell away causing you to whine but it was silenced by his lips crashing onto yours.
As his tongue explored your mouth you felt his hand trail up your thighs before finally returning to your wet pussy. You shivered as he ran a finger up your slit before he finally moved two fingers in. you moaned into the kiss but did not break it. your hands tangling in his hair as his fingers began to curl inside of you.
“You look so hot in that shirt,” Jon praised as his lips fell from yours only to begin sucking light hickeys onto your neck. “You should wear it more often. Just the shirt,” his lips left hot kisses to your neck, his fingers still curling inside of you.
“Please,” you moaned at his touch.
“Please what sweetheart?” Jon grinned as he hovered his face just over yours, lips just out of reach.
You could feel his hot breath fanning your cheeks driving you insane, “Please just fuck me already,” you begged.
Jon laughed and placed a kiss to your check, “Not yet baby,” he cooed, “Just relax and let me take care of you first, okay?” Jons lips finally closed the gap, moving against yours with slow passion. His fingers moved to the speed of the kiss, and you were desperate to speed it up, but Jon wanted to enjoy this sight.
A pressure began to build in your stomach as Jons thumb rubbed your clit and his fingers hit the right spot. You were moaning into the kiss and the vibrations of it alone was already making Jon hard and desperate. He broke the kiss, his breathing hard and his eyes filled with lust, “I wanna taste you,” he said before moving down your body.
His lips began to latch to your skin around your hips, pressing rough, sloppy kisses down your body, till he was kissing your inner thighs. He kissed your inner thigh, nibbling the skin gently between his teeth before turning his attention to your wet pussy. You shivered as his warm breath fanned over your wet folds, desperate for his tongue. You whined, gripping his hair softly in your fingers. Jon just chuckled.
“I’m gonna enjoy this love,” he said, placing a soft kiss to your mound, “I wanna make you scream,” he added before suddenly licking up your folds. You gasped as his tongue began to leave gentle kitten licks up your cunt almost painfully slowly. Jons hands gripped your hips to stop them from bucking as he slowly began to increase the pressure and the pace of his tongue.
Moans and soft whines fell from your lips as Jons tongue worked you up, a knot building in your stomach. When his nose began to nuzzle your clit, a loud moan ripped through your throat causing Jons own moan. The vibrations against your cunt sent chills up your spine. Your fingers gripped his hair tighter, but Jon was not complaining as his tongue worked its wonders.
One of Jons hands moved from your hip to your pussy, slowly teasing your desperate hole. Jon slipped two fingers back inside, curling them with precision, while his tongue moved north. He began to lightly suck on your clit, pulling it into his mouth gently. The feeling made your toes curl as moans raged your body. “Fuck Jon,” you moaned as his fingers began to hit new spots.
The pressure was almost too much in your stomach until your felt his teeth gently graze your bud and the pressure washed over your body like a flood. A loud whiney moan came from your lips as your grinded your cunt into Jons face as you rode your orgasm. Jons tongue did not stop till he felt you collapse onto the bed like a puddle.
Jon came up from between your legs with a massive grin, his face wet with your juices. “You are amazing,” he praised as he moved to lay beside you.
You couldn’t respond as you panted for breath, eyelids drooping from the ordeal. Jon chuckled gently as he pulled you into his arms for a cuddle, nuzzling his face into your skin, placing soft kisses to it. you looked up at him with hooded eyes and admired his loving face gazing back. Jon placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” was all you could think to say as you came down from it all.
You felt the vibrations of Jons chest as he chuckled, “You're welcome love. Better than class?”
“Way fucking better,”
Game of Thrones Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy
A/N: Accidentally put this in my queue instead of my drafts so it posted before i got a chance to format and tag ppl so sorry about that lol
#jon snow smut#jon snow#jon snow imagine#jon snow x reader#jon snow x y/n#modern jon snow fluff#modern jon snow imagine#modern jon snow#modern jon snow smut#modern jon snow x reader#jon snow fluff#game of thrones smut#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x reader#got#got smut#got imagine#got x reader#modern game of thrones#modern game of thrones imagine#modern game of thrones smut#modern game of thrones x reader
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Wool to Brave the Seasons
Chapter three, the ending, was posted earlier. I just made it before Christmas was over. The link to the complete fic is below. I hope you had a lovely Christmas if you celebrated it🎄🎁🎉 Happy New Year when it comes 🥳 🥂 as I doubt I’ll post anything else before then.
Jonerys Modern AU - Neighbours. 3 Chapters. 21k Words. Explicit. Fluff and Humour. Romantic Gestures. Tropes. Smut. Teasing and Flirting. Intended to feel like a fanfic version of a Hallmark Christmas Rom-Com that doesn’t fade to black. The summary is below.
~*~
It wasn’t long before she was squinting, utterly perplexed, at the small amount of Christmas decor he claimed was his and wondering if everything, even down to his toothpaste, matched his monochrome color scheme.
“Oh, Jon. This is just sad. Why is it black?” She said, smothering a childish giggle, hands planted on her hips as she looked between him and the sorry little black tree.
~*~
A sudden blizzard cancels Dany's Holiday plans. Lucky for her, her handsome neighbor is also spending Christmas alone. A string of bad luck soon follows the snowstorm, leaving her with no choice but to take Jon Snow up on his offer to wait it out at his place.
Thank you so much for reading🥰❤️
#modern jonerys#jonerys smut#jonerys au#fanfic#fanfiction#jonerys#writing#ao3 smut#ao3 writer#ao3fic#ao3 link#game of thrones fic#jonerys christmas#christmas fic#jon snow x daenerys targaryen#jon x dany#jon x daenerys#jon snow#daenerys x jon#game of thrones daenerys#daenerys targaryen#game of thrones fanfiction#fluff and romance#fluff and humor#comedy#smut and fluff#tropes#snowball fight#joneryswinterwonderland2023#jon and daenerys
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screamer (1)
Summary: Sansa finds a little thing about Jon.
(Just some mindless Dom!Sansa x Sub!Jon porn.)
WC: 1.6k words
Warnings: Tension. Fluff. Communication.
masterlist
If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.
Sansa raised her eyes as Jon got another notification from his phone, frowning a little.
What had happened that it was just going off today? He always complained they barely used their group chat!
They had gotten together long after Jon had returned from his time up the far north. He had made a lot of friends there, and even had a girlfriend, but they had broken up by the time he was to go back home, but were still good friends.
Sansa had met all of them a couple of times, and they were nice, but they were all kind of rowdy... nothing like her sweet Jon.
They jokingly called themselves savages, like the old folk that lived beyond the wall when there were Queens and King's around.
"Jon," she stood up, walking to the bathroom and knocking on the door with the back of her hand. "I think someone died, your phone won't stop."
He chuckled from inside.
"It's alright," he assured her from under the shower. "If someone had died they would be calling both of us."
She scoffed.
"But you can check," Jon suggested.
"No, no," she said quickly. "It's alright."
Sansa would never be one of those jealous girlfriends, going over their boyfriends' texts out of jealousy or some sense of entitlement.
She trusted him very much.
But his phone kept buzzing and buzzing, so much so that it had moved from its spot and almost fell from the little table by their couch.
So she picked it up and opened it, just to give it a little glance. Just a little check.
And it was from the group chat, yes. And from Ygritte.
"Well, I can teach her a bit about putting you in your place, Tormund. I'm sure she'll love a way of shutting you up."
She frowned a little, going back through the messages.
Oh. Tormund was trying to find a way to get with Brienne - her friend that was around the last time they were.
They were all giving him advice, most of it useless. Most of it also telling him not to be himself.
He was a little... uh...
Not bad. Tormund was perfectly alright.
But he was going in far too strongly.
She shook her head at Tormund's answer, an emoji of an eye roll, but Pyp spoke next.
"Gonna teach her how to tie him down and shut him up?"
That made her eyes widen?
What now?
"It's my speciality," she texted back. "Jon knows can tell you all about it, hm?"
Her face got hot with a bit of anger. How could she speak of him like that! He wasn't her boyfriend anymore!
But Jon wasn't the type to ever care. He would just shrug and be all 'Ygritte is like that'.
It had happened in front of her once. But they stopped when they realised it made her uncomfortable.
But not in the chat, no.
When Jon - Sansa - didn't answer, the texts kept coming.
"Oh, someone's bragging"
from Edd.
"Did she shut you up a lot, Snow?"
from Pyp.
"I bet she did!!!"
from Grenn.
Sansa's face burned even more.
"She always knew how,"
Satin added.
"Gods, I'm glad I didn't share a place with those two,"
from Tormund.
"You should. I reckon he is a screamer,"
Sam added.
Her eyes widened.
Sam?!
Sweet Sam was joining in that?!
And... a screamer?
Well, Jon was vocal when they fucked, but he wasn't a screamer with her!
What did-
But she jumped in shock when she felt Jon's hand brushing her back.
"So, did anyone die?" he asked.
Sansa would have dropped his phone if she wasn't quick enough to grab it with her other hand.
"No," she gasped, turning around.
But Jon didn't look any upset when she looked at his face, just confused.
"Just..." she cleared her throat. "Your friends. Being themselves."
His eyes travelled over her face, and she looked away, feeling so hot she knew her neck and ears were as red as her face.
"Please tell me Tormund didn't send his dick pics for a second opinion in the chat again," he sighed.
Sansa gave him his phone back, not wanting to answer, and walked away before he could even read it.
"I'll go shower now," she decided.
Yes, shower. Good idea.
She walked into the bathroom quickly and undressed, ready to hop into the shower so he wouldn't follow her for at least a bit of time, but Jon knocked on the door before her bra was even off.
"Sansa?" he called.
She froze, wide-eyed.
"Can we talk about what you saw?" Jon asked, sounding gentle. "Please?"
Sansa wanted to groan and hide like she did as a little girl, but she didn't. Instead, she walked to the door and opened it, looking at his face.
"Did it make you uncomfortable?" he asked. "What they said?"
She squirmed a little, kicking her feet.
"No," she mumbled.
"Because I'd understand if you were," Jon added. "They are... annoying, to say the least."
Yeah, she knew that. But his friends respected her when she was around.
It was just...
"Were you?" she asked him. "A screamer?"
What did Ygritte even do to make her scream?
His grey eyes widened when they met hers.
"I... hm..." he stopped, looking for words. "Kinda?"
Sansa looked away from him, shifting her jaw as she did. Oh.
Good for him.
"Are you-"
"How?" she asked before he could. "What did she do?"
Jon's face went all red.
"Sansa..." he exhaled.
What, didn't he want to tell her? Didn't he want to share?
"I want to know," she insisted. "Because everyone else does, except for me."
He raised a hand to his face, rubbing it slowly, exhaling.
"Can we talk about that with our clothes on?" he requested instead. "Because I'm naked, and you are in your underwear, and we are supposed to talk, but my brain won't understand that."
That made her freeze.
Oh?
"Okay," Sansa agreed. "I can do that. We can do that."
They were dressed when she sat on the couch, right by Jon's side, and he looked a bit too nervous.
It wasn't that Sansa didn't know about his relationship with Ygritte, Jon was always honest with her about it. Tormund had introduced the two of them to one another, and they were quite the strange match in the beginning, but liked each other very much. The only reason why they had broken up was because of incompatibility on their plans for the future. Jon wanted to come back to Winterfell, get married, and have children... Ygritte wanted none of that.
That was why they such good friends. There was no big fight, no strong conflict of betrayal... just two adults with different plans.
And maybe that was why she was so insecure when it came to her, Ygritte.
And now it turned out she was so good at sex she made Jon scream?!
Sansa was still learning sex stuff, Jon was the only boyfriend she had ever had who didn't expect her to just get him off.
"Well?" she asked. "What did she mean?"
Jon's face looked all red again.
"It's... not..." he stumbled with his words. "I don't think it's even your thing. She was... Ygritte was just experienced. And she liked different stuff."
Sansa stared at him with her jaw slack for a moment.
"Well, thank you," she practically spat out.
He shook his head.
"I don't mean it in a bad way," he insisted. "I love seeing you growing into your interests, Sansa, we both know that."
She scoffed, looking away from him, and he took her hand, squeezing it.
"Ygritte liked different things," he told her. "She was... well, she still is, a professional dominatrix. It's her thing, and she loves that."
She was...
What?
"A professional dominatrix?" she repeated. "For a living?"
He shrugged.
"It was a hobby when we were together, she kinda of quit her job recently to do that full time," he told her. "It helps her travel around, keep the nomad lifestyle she likes."
She blinked, shocked.
Oh.
So that was how she was always in a different town.
"And was she your dominatrix?" she asked.
Jon looked away, licking his lips, and she just knew his mind was full of thoughts.
"Yeah," he told her. "I mean, we would... switch places. Not that she liked being dominated much, but we did that."
Sansa processed it slowly.
Oh.
Well, she was very subby, very soft.
"Do you miss that?" she asked, worried now. "Being domminated?"
Was she denying him that?
Jon didn't answer right away, and it made her anxiety grow by the minute.
"I thought I would miss it," he told her. "But I did realise I'm much of a dom than a sub."
Sansa watched him.
"That's not a clear answer," she told him.
He took her hand, tangling their fingers together.
"Sansa, I've been in love with you since the day we met," he reminded her, a soft smile on his face. "I've never been as happy as I am with you."
Once again, not a clear answer.
"We tell everything to each other," she reminded him.
And they did. Their communication was very open.
"Exactly," he affirmed, kissing her knuckles.
Sansa moved, a bit uncomfortable.
"Okay?" he asked gently.
She nodded, still.
"Okay," Sansa exhaled. "But... what if I want to try it?"
He looked at her face, not showing much emotion for a moment, and smiled a bit.
"Well..." he spoke slowly. "You know I always admire your curiosity. But I don't expect anything of you, I promise."
…
“screamer” was posted on Patreon on April. To read it now before anyone else, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month and it helps a lot.
#welldonebeca's the screamer#jonsa#jonsa fic#jonsa smut#jonsa fluff#jonsa modern au#jonsa fandom#jon snow#jon snow smut#jon snow fanfiction#jon snow fluff#jon snow fic#jon snow x sansa stark#jon snow x sansa stark fanfiction#jon snow x sansa stark fic#jon snow x sansa stark smut#sansa stark#sansa stark fic#sansa stark smut#sansa stark fluff#sansa stark x jon snow#sansa stark x jon snow fanfiction#sansa stark x jon snow fic#sansa stark x jon snow smut
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title: when we kiss: mmmm, fire by kattyshack // @majicmarker
word count: 40k
tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Westeros, Neighbors, Humor, Seduction, Teasing, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, jon snow tryna get into those sansypants, he actually has a lot of chill this time tbh the level of self-control here is inspirational, Dark Jon Snow, (that feels like a weird tag for this filthy fluff fest but??), (he's a sexy menace on a sansa prowl so it's accurate), em dashes ellipses italics parentheses you name it i overuse it
summary: Sansa might be seeing someone casually, but thanks to Arya, Robb, and Theon, it’s Jon who’s got the inside track on how to get Sansa to take him seriously. Aka: the one where jon finds out that sansa has a daddy kink, and he uses it to seduce her away from the dating scene and into his arms, heeeey-oh!
(work and chapter titles from “fire,” by bruce springsteen)
for the @jonsadungeonsanddrabbles event
day three 🌡 Wednesday (Mercury) - Dirty Talk / Stolen
#jonsa#jonsa fic#jonsa au#jonsa event#jonsawarriors#jonsaedit#jonsa dungeons and drabbles#jon x sansa#actually jonsa#this one fits the dirty talk prompt to the tea#one of the holy grails of jonsa modern au fics#you might be thinking the gifs are too pg#but trust me#the fic is far from that
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Birds With Broken Wings
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/a3necdl
by MockingBird68
House Stark is one of the oldest to hunt vampires and also the most respected. For centuries they, along with the other Houses Lannister and Targaryen have protected the world from the creatures of darkness. Sansa Stark, a naive but good-natured young girl who sees the good in everyone, meets a man one night who introduces himself as Petyr Baelish...
Words: 921, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/M
Characters: Petyr Baelish, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, Arya Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark, Robb Stark, Brandon Stark, Ned Stark, Rickon Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Cersei Lannister, Lysa Tully Arryn, Jaime Lannister
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark, Petyr Baelish & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Additional Tags: Romance, Drama, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst and Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, First Love, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Loyalty, Jealousy, Betrayal, Blood, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Modern AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Vampires, Vampire Bites, Human/Vampire Relationship, Vampire Hunters
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/a3necdl
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everything that's mine
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/oWpE7mF
by WinterRose527
Jon comes home from the war in Yunkai in need of a job (and a whole lot of healing), and his friend Tormund sets him up as a bodyguard to Myrcella, who needs protection (and a whole lot of healing of her own).
Title is from The Alcott by The National ft Taylor Swift, and the full lyric is 'everything that's mine is a landmine' so uhhhh just keep that in mind...
I know that I have a LOT of WIPs but I've been soooo writer's blocked lately and just had to give in to this little idea I had in my head, I hope you enjoy it!
Words: 3159, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M
Characters: Myrcella Baratheon, Jon Snow, Jaime Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Podrick Payne, Tormund Giantsbane
Relationships: Myrcella Baratheon/Jon Snow, Myrcella Baratheon & Jaime Lannister, Myrcella Baratheon & Tywin Lannister, Tormund Giantsbane & Jon Snow
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Kidnapping, Post-War, Military Jon Snow, but like let's be real, It's me so, Fluff, Dead Cersei Lannister, Dead Joffrey Baratheon, Dead Tommen Baratheon, Aftermath of Violence
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/oWpE7mF
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