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axelsagewrites · 10 months

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Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Wait

Pairing: f!reader x jon x robb

Summary: Robb and Jon decide to share the girl theyve both been sleeping with (part three to share and competition but can be read alone)

Word count: 3198

warnings: hard dom robb, soft dom jon, threesome, finger f!recieving, oral f!recieving, nipple play, p in v sex, anal sex with lube, praise, multiple orgasms, mouth covering (not choking), biting (only a litte) smut 18+

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You never expecting that being fostered by the starks would be so interesting, but you certainly were not complaining. Jon and Robb had always been good at sharing growing up but neither boy expected to share a woman when they grew up. After their first night joining you in your chambers, they realised sharing you was better than getting none of you at all. However, it was only that first night they had shared you at one time so far.

Nearly every other night you slinked off into the corridors to find one of their chambers. Robbs were large and covered in thick grey furs and dusty blue fabrics. The fireplace never went out in his chambers. The warmth made it so much more enticing when Robb would take you as soon as you walked in the chambers, you both ending up laying on a thick fur rug in front of the fire’s hearth.

Jons chambers were plainer than Robbs, something he tried to apologise for, but it did not matter. After all, Jons had the advantage of being so far from the nobles that no one questioned the headboard banging or moans. While it was colder than Robbs chamber you used this as an excuse to slip beneath Jons furs, pressing your naked body against his for warmth and feeling his touch.

Occasionally they would visit your chambers however while they had learned how to share neither wanted to walk in on something you did not want them to see. But ever since that night they took you by either end it was all you wanted them to do without ever realising they both wanted to do it again.

Robb wasn’t sure why the idea of another mans cock being shoved down your throat turned him on especially considering how possessive he could get. All it took was for a man’s eyes to linger on you for a moment too long and Robb was grabbing your arm to escort you away.

While Robb was jealous Jon was a people pleaser to his core. Whether that be picking a flower for you on a walk and placing it in your hair, sneaking you a cake from the kitchen, or staying between your legs for so long that you forgot your own name. Jon couldn’t get the image out his mind of the mess you became from his and Robbs first night with you.

The pair had been skirting around the topic for weeks. They couldn’t help but rile each other up as they debated which one was the better match for you. This turned into casual comments about how good you looked to eventually sharing tips. All it took was one too many cups of wine after dinner for Robb to finally bring up the idea to Jon as they hid out in the stables with an extra bottle of wine. You had made fun of the pair’s hangover in the morning at breakfast not knowing what they had in store for you later that night.

The knock on your chamber door that night was surprising but not an unwelcomed one by any means. You had all developed a secret chap for these specific purposes so as you quickly climbed out of bed you wondered which northerner had trailed across the castle in the dead of night. As you unlatched the door you titled your head in confusion when you saw the pair standing at your door.

Robb didn’t wait for approval before sauntering into the room, “evening love,” he said as he sauntered over to drop into the armchair in your chambers.

Jon quickly shut the door behind him, stepping into the room before gently kissing your forehead, “i hope we didn’t disturb you,” he said before moving to stand next to where Robb sat.

“no, its fine,” you said, your eyes wearily scanning the pair who were currently exchange a look. You crossed your arms as if that gave any modesty to the thin night dress you wore, “has something happened?”

“not yet,” Robb said but before you could speak, he lent forward, elbows resting on his knees as his eyes flickered over your body for a moment, “we have a proposition love,” he said as his eyes finally met yours and you could see a hunger in them.

Your thighs pressed together, a heat already growing in your body that you tried to keep at bay. You nodded at them, waiting as the silence hung like smoke, “and what’s that?” You asked, your eyes flickering to Jon.

“you told us we need to learn how to share you love,” Jon said, glancing at the stark for reassurance, “but we’ve not been sharing you properly have we?”

“now i don’t think so,” Robb said standing from his chair, “we wanna make you feel good sweetheart, the both of us. Like we did that first night,” he said as he crossed the room to where you stood, “would you like that? Both of us fucking you,” he finally said.

You looked down for a moment, biting your lip in the way you knew drove Robb crazy before finally looking up and nodding, “yes. I’d like that,” you said, your hands moving to hold Robbs arms and stepping in closer.

Robb held your jaw, his thumb rubbing softly over your bottom lip, “are you sure about this love?” He asked as his eyes bore into yours, searching for any doubts.

“i’m sure,” you said, already breathless, “i want this. I want you,” you glanced over your shoulder to Jon, “both of you,”

A low growl came from Robbs throat as he pulled your face to his, his lips crashing onto yours with hungry desperation. His free hand moved to squeeze your breast, while the other kept your head tilted up to close the gap. Your hands held onto his arms, trying to steady yourself in the kiss.

Your breath caught for a moment when you felt Jons soft touch, his fingers grazing up your thighs. His hands moved up your night shift, his breath fanning over your neck as his hands reached your bare hips. Jon squeezed gently, enjoying the feel for a moment before his hands slipped out from under the fabric and you felt his fingers graze your back. You shivered when you felt his hands untie the strap of your nightdress.

Robb broke the kiss, stepping back to let the fabric fall to the floor. Your chamber had grown cold in the night and the cold air make your body tingle and nipples harden at the breeze. Robb cupped your breast again, flicking his thumb over the perked bud. “just look at her,” he mumbled, his eyes devouring your body.

“so pretty,” Jon said softly, his hands moving to rest on your hips again. He pressed his chest into your bare back, moving his face to press his cheek against yours. You gasped lightly when Robb squeezed your nipples gently and moaned when he began rolling them in between his fingers. “you like that?” You could feel Jon’s chuckle move up his chest as he watched how you reacted.

You nodded quickly, eyes closing for a moment, before Robb pinched down more harshly, “he asked a question love,” Robb said.

“y-yes,” you stuttered out, eyes opening to be met with Robbs.

“good girl,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as you felt Jons hands slip forward from your hips to the tops of your thighs, “don’t you wanna be good for us?” Robb asked as Jon ran his fingers teasingly close to where you needed them.

“i-i do yes,” you said but it was more of a whine that made both boy’s chuckle.

Your breathing faltered when Jons finger ran up your slit, “already so wet for us,” Jon said, kissing the crook of your neck, “such a pretty sight,” Jon mumbled against your skin as his fingers toyed with you, edging closer to your bundle of nerves.

Jon ignored the pleases falling out under your breath as he continued to toy with you for a few moments longer before you finally felt his fingers teasing your hole. While Jon tortured you Robb moved to leave soft kisses along your collarbones, moving slowly down. It was as if both of them wanted you to work for this.

You moaned lightly when you felt Jon slowly push in two fingers. He kissed your shoulder as he began to curl them gently inside you, fucking you slowly with his digits, “that’s my girl,” you felt his lips mumble against your skin.

Your hands moved to Robbs hair, using his curls for grips as you leant against Jons body. Your grip tightened when Robb suddenly took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it gently at first before he began to graze it with his teeth. Both northerners worked in sync causing a knot to bubble in your stomach but before it could burst Robb suddenly dropped your sensitive buds making you whine loudly, not caring how desperate you seemed.

Robb ignored your pleas, looking to Jon before nodding. You looked at Robb confused as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to rest on your hips. When Jons fingers slowed, slipping out of you, you whined once more, desperate for their touch. “shh,” Jon whispered in your ear, “good things come to those who wait,”

Before you could protest or whine again you gasped when Robb suddenly licked a stripe up your wet cunt. Your hand shot out to hold his hair, but Robb looked up with a final smirk before diving back in as if he was a man starved.

You could already feel your legs going weak as you felt your body ready itself again. Jon was the only reason you had not fallen to the floor but when his hands moved to cup your breasts you gasped as he began to squeeze your sensitive buds. Your grip tightened in Robbs hair as his tongue dove in and out of you with a wolfish hunger. His hands tightened on your hips, his fingertips digging into your skin unlike Jons usual soft touches. It did not take long before you felt your body tightening, your orgasm ripping through your body.

Jons hands moved to turn your head to the side, capturing your lips in a messy kiss to try silence the moans. Robb however did not stop his movements till you rode out every last second of pleasure he could give you. “you’re doing so good,” Jon whispered in your ear before kissing bellow it while his arms wrapped around you.

Robb placed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before standing up, his hand caressing your face, “such a good girl for us,” he murmured before kissing your lips softly but only for a moment, “why don’t you go kneel on the bed sweetheart,” Robb said it like a question, but you knew there was only one answer.

You quickly moved, no longer worried about either man seeing you naked, to kneel on the soft sheets, hands in your lap as you watched them whisper to each other. They kept glancing over you as you spoke, and you could feel the excitement bubbling inside you. All the things they could do, positions to try, your mind rushed and was only drawn back when you looked up to see Robb stripping off his shirt.

“aww look how excited she looks,” Robb cooed, almost mocking as Jon rolled his eyes and began to pull his own clothes off. Between their bare chests and Robbs words you could feel yourself flush, “she’s so pretty when she’s embarrassed,” he said which only made your cheeks heat more.

“she’s always pretty,” Jon said as he pushed past the starkling, who had moved on to undo his trousers, and headed towards the bed. Taking your face gently in his hand, Jon gazed down at you, leaning in for a soft and slow kiss. Your hands moved up his chest, enjoying his skin under your touch before tangling your hands in his long soft hair, tugging on it gently.

When Jon pulled back your head was in a daze that was only snapped back when Jon stepped back, and Robb stepped up to the bed. Your eyes scanned his bare frame, appreciating how each muscle and bone looked on his body, especially the one you had been craving since he walked in. Robb let you have your stares for a moment before lifting your chin with his finger, “you ready for us pet?” He asked, softness in his eyes.

“yes,” you managed to say as Jon walked back over who had also discarded his trousers and a small bottle in his hand that he passed to Robb without letting you see. As he did this you took a moment to compare the men. Neither one was lacking with Robbs being on the thinner side but long and Jons length being fairly average but with a good girth to his member. Besides both of them knew how to use it.

Neither man was bothered by your stares, even letting themselves chuckle at your awe-struck eyes. They nodded at each other before taking their positions, Robb kneeling behind you and Jon in front. You couldn’t help giving Jon a questioning look, this was different than last time, but Jon just kissed you softly to reassure you.

As your lips tangled with his you could feel Robb squeezing your ass softly, running his hand over the skin before pulling away. Only a moment later though you gasped when you felt his cold finger running over your asshole. “relax love,” Robb said, kissing the back of your neck. “just like before yeah?” He said as his finger slowly ran over your hole, spreading a cold liquid over it.

It wasn’t the first time you and Robb had experimented with anal btu you couldn’t help but blush with Jon watching you. “its okay love you don’t have to,” the snow reassured you, his hand stroking your cheek.

“i want to,” you said, knowing the embarrassment would fade as soon as you had a cock in you.

You felt Robb move away for a second before you felt the tip of his cock running over your ass, moving down to your hole. “deep breaths love,” Robb said, kissing your neck again as his tip lined up with your hole, pushing in slowly to test the waters, his spare hand holding your hip.

“that’s it loves,” Robb grunted as he pushed his cock in deeper, stretching you perfectly. Your head fell into the crook of Jons neck, your hands holding his shoulders to keep steady as you felt Robb easing in. “fuck you take me so well,” Robb groaned when he finally sunk all the way in.

Jon pulled your head off his shoulder, turning you to kiss him slowly as you adjusted to Robbs size. Slowly Robb began to move, pumping into you slowly at first as you adjusted to the fullness. But you wanted more, you needed Jon. “need you,” you mumbled against his lips, reaching down to hold Jons cock in your hand, pumping it slowly.

“fuck,” Jon groaned, letting himself enjoy the feeling for a moment before pulling your hand off. Despite feeling so full of Robb you knew you wanted more. Jon shuffled closer slightly, holding his cock and running his tip up and down your folds, making you whine when he rubbed against your clit.

Jon glanced at Robb for a moment before finally looking back at you as Robb paused his moves. Jon lined up with your entrancing, pushing in almost painfully slow. Your head fell back to rest on Robbs shoulder, whining as Jon finally sunk all the way into you. You couldn’t stop your hips from bucking, feeling fuller than ever before. “eager i see,” Robb chuckled.

“let’s give her what she wants then,” Jon said, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you back to him. Before you could speak Robb grabbed your hips, his thrusts starting again but this time faster and joined by Jons own thrusts. You couldn’t help the moans and whimpers as they fucked you in both holes, their thrusting almost perfectly synced.

Your head fell on Jons shoulder, biting down onto it to try muffle the sounds but to little avail. Jons hand wrapped into your hair, pulling you back up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and hungry and despite Jons trying did little to stop the noises you were making.

You heard Robb growl before you felt yourself being ripped from Jons kiss and pulled back to rest on Robbs chest, his hand moving to cover your mouth. You heard Jon cursing under his breath, this new angle letting him see more of your frame as he tried too not cum right there. His hand slipped between your bodies and your body felt on fire when he began to rub sloppy circles onto your bundle of nerves.

You felt your whole body tighten, threatening to break from the fullness and pleasure. The orgasm hit you like a brick and your teeth sunk into Robbs hand, trying to stop the whiny moans as you crashed. While neither man stopped Jon was struggling not to cum as your cunt began to squeeze around his cock. When you finally opened your eyes, you looked at Jon who looked close to blowing. With your mouth still covered by Robbs hand all you could do was nod at Jon.

Jons pace quickened, his thrusts messy and desperate before you finally saw his eyes clamp shut and felt his seed spilling into you. Jon cursed as he rode out his own orgasm before pulling out. “move snow,” Robb grunted through gritted teeth.

He did as he was told, quickly moving to sit on the other side of the bed to catch his breath. Before you could question Robb, his hand moved from your mouth to your shoulder before pushing you down. You barely had time to catch yourself, now on your knees with you ass in the air and being fucked by Robb stark. It only took Robb a few more moments before he also couldn’t contain himself, spilling into your ass as he grabbed your hips for dear life. “oh gods-fuck,” the stark man almost yelled as he finally got his release.

Robb wrapped an arm under your hips to keep you up as he pulled out of you before gently laying you down, “sorry if i got out of control love,” Robb said, a nervous tinge in his voice as he laid down next to you.

You rolled over and curled into his side after noticing Jon had moved from the bed to grabbed something from your vanity, “don’t apologise,” you mumbled into his chest. You looked up as Jon returned with a rag and water jug to help clean you up and try rehydrating after all of that. As you looked between the men you knew this night would defiantly not be a one off.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics @echos-muses

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15-lizards · 11 months

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love what you do! do you think you could expand on the winterfell region or the or bolton/umber region fashion?

I am a firm believer in patterns for men. Ignore the show no Lord of Winterfell is going to wear old leathers like a plebeian. They have fine fur cloaks, carefully made brooches and clasps, and thick fabrics that may not be comfortable but are clearly patterned and well made (no one ever said serving cunt was easy) Ned should have been rocking the fit on the left when Robert showed up and Jon should’ve been eating bitches up on the wall like the fit on the right

I am also a firm believer in big fancy wide sleeve supremacy. And big fancy hat/kokoshnik. Since silk and satin and thin fabrics aren’t feasible in winterfell, the women focus on embroidery, beading, and fur to make their clothes look pretty. Perhaps the sign of the most affluent bitch in winter fell is how big can their headpiece get and how heavy can it get from beading and decoration until it’s hurting your neck. The more slouching the better.

Bolton cool blood-core aesthetic is sadly hindered by thick extra layers of clothing that leave you puffy like a marshmallow. Bc I doubt there is much central heating in the Dreadfort. Probably not as much decoration on the clothing for minor nobles, but Roose and his crew still have some. All in red of course. A lot of high collars, long sleeves, and tight jackets with fur cloaks over the shoulders there’s no shirtless sword practice here take ur ass back to Highgarden

Honestly the Umbers probably aren’t far off from wildlings themselves. Furs and leather and using every part of the animal for their clothing, but they also still have the (albeit minor) luxury of dyes and metals etc etc. They’re still physically threatening but also they’re trudging through waist high snow most of the year and have to waddle around in ten layers of extra clothes. So yea Greatjon is scary but less scary when you see him with three scarves around his face and an overcoat on big enough to cover his four layers of shirts

Extra: smallfolk from around the Umber and Bolton areas. Why is everyone in game of thrones wearing brown. Why are they only wearing two layers. That’s stupid D&D you are stupid. The smallfolk in my mind wear handmade patterns that were lovingly made by the fire. Cotton clothing dyed from berries and plants. Grey wool from the sheep and sun bleached leather that’s turned light brown. Fur hats to keep their ears warm and big pants to tuck into their boots. The smallfolk in my homeade ASOIAF universe are realistically able to survive winter

#asoiaf #asoiaf hair and clothing #soz this took forever #I’ve been uninspired lately and don’t want to reuse what I’ve already done #but I think this is good I think

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neidermayers-mindd · 2 months

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⚠ CONTENT WARNING — overall smut. Degradation, degradation kink, handjob, public sex, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), p in v, finishing inside, hatefucking, reader is AFAB fem identifying, the kink isn't talked of at first but it gets better. MDNI 18+.

Author's note: Saw a disappointingly low amount of Jonathan Davis fanfics on-line. I do understand why there might not be that many and it's honestly respectable. I love JD, he's such a goof. Don't we all love him, though?

You dare kiss me with that mouth? — Jonathan Davis (KoЯn) x fem!Reader (SMUT)

The first time you heard Jonathan do it, you were backstage — KoЯn was opening for some famous band you've strangely never heard of, and the man now in front of you was stressed enough to make you ask if he needed any help with calming down.

Jonathan is a sexual man by nature — so, you found yourself wanting to feel him close to you while you were giving him a handjob, with his most eager consent. There you were, sitting as close to him as you possibly could, on his lap with your legs spread so you could prop yourself better, while your hand worked up and down his pulsating length.

Your lips were most often pressed against each other, the man moaning into your mouth as you went harder or faster, and making a sound each time something in your rhythm changed — he had to get his release, after all. You knew he was close, because his head was thrown back, and the grip on your waist was more than enough to leave bruises later, something you learned with experience.

You swore you could hear Jon mutter something through his moans and whispers, but paid no mind — it's a good reaction to pleasure, after all. Your ears, no matter how destroyed they were from years' worth of loud concerts and a life of pure sin, could eventually catch up when he did keep on speaking, almost slurring his words out as you felt him twitch in your hand.

"Fuckin'.. yeah, slut, keep movin' your hand.." Jonathan panted out, in his own trance, his hand going over yours to finish himself off with your help. "Hyeah— couldn't bear lettin' me onstage without some of this cock, ah— fuckin' whore—" He grits his teeth as to not let out any loud noise, feeling the warmth of his hand and his pulsating cock as he came thick ropes of cum on your shirt.

Did he just call you a slut?

You didn't care about the shirt, it was Jon's anyway.

And you didn't care that he came, no matter how bad that sounds.

Your eyes were slightly widened in shock, only being able to sit still as Jon smiled goofily, a wonderful haze of happiness washing over him post-nut. The shock quickly dissipated as you thought to yourself that Jon would never devaluate you.

You couldn't help but not feel insulted. Rather, you felt yourself twitch in your panties at his degrading words.

Jon didn't even seem to notice what he said, and your lack of reaction didn't give him any insight. If you were truly hurt or offended, he would have known and apologised, as the last thing Jonathan would ever do was to hurt you. He thanked you sweetly for calming him down, planting a kiss on your forehead and lips, took off his own shirt (as if he'd wear it onstage anyway) so you'd have something un-came on to wear, and off he went, leaving you both confused and aroused.

The next time Jon did it was after a fight you both had. The motive was rather stupid and unconventional — yet you had a bad day at your shitty cashier job, and the man now ramming himself into your cunt like he wants to split you into two wasn't doing all that well, either.

One thing led to another and you were pretty sure this could be classified as the meanest hate fucking one could hear of — your body was covered in hickeys, especially the soft flesh on your neck, and make-up wouldn't be enough to avoid getting weird looks from people, not that you cared, anyway.

You were pressed into the mattress of your bed, legs spread apart and held over your head as Jonathan snapped his hips against you, balls slapping right under your cunt and on your ass as he kept hitting against your G-spot each and every time. The dim light of the room only made you see his dreads moving with his head as he leaned down to see you eye-to-eye, his expression still enraged and face flushed with arousal.

"Was it worth messin' round, Y/N?" Jon growled out, his hands holding onto your hips as he kept drilling into your sore cunt. "Huh? Was this worth pissin' me off, gettin' fucked, dirty fuckin' bitch?" His dark eyes were fixated upon your expression, slightly closing as he let out a moan, feeling you clench around him right when he called you that.

He seemed both shocked and amused, not stopping from slamming inside you as he felt himself getting closer to his orgasm, leaning in fully so he could press his lips against yours, tongue going in your mouth and hands now squeezing on your tits.

"You like it, huh—" Jon asked in a slightly curious voice, the tinge of anger from earlier dissipating with his impeding orgasm— "goddamn slut. I— if you want to get f-fuh—" his hips sputtered, his sloppy pace getting worse, "ffffhucked this good.. aah, Y/N, you should've— mmnh—"

You're pretty sure he got lost in his words as Jon comes right when you do, both of you moaning as you milked him of his seed. You can feel his dreads tickle your chest as his head falls on top, legs shaking as much as yours as he fills you up.

Jonathan pulls out, a small, playful "tsk" coming from his lips and a comforting smile on his face as he grabs a nearby towel and wipes the both of you of his cum, and tosses it on the floor, on the same day you got your damn carpets cleaned. But that didn't matter, now.

Jon fell right next to you, the mattress shifting under him, and he turns around to face you, cupping your face. "'m sorry for earlier.. was it too much?" He asks, genuine concern in his voice. Your lips curl into a sweet smile, contrasting your fucked out look, and you shake your head. "I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you, Jon. I, too, am sorry", you reply, your hands playing with his hair, noticing the way his eyebrow piercings shine the tiniest bit from the moonlight outside your window.

Silence ensues, the two of you unwinding after a long day. Then, Jonathan breaks the ice— he wants to reassure what he felt a few minutes ago, "You.. uh, you.. tell me if I went overboard with the name callin', but am I dreaming,"

Jesus, is it this hot in here, or are your cheeks just heating up from the embarrassment?

" - or did you actually.. like me calling you a bitch?" He reiterates, seeing the look on your face, "You're not. No, Y/N, you're not a bitch, I- I got a bit too lost in the m-moment and—"

A pair of hands cup his cheeks as soon as you heard the overcoming guilt in his tone of voice — like Jon, the last thing you wanted to hear is that he's hurt.

"I liked it", you spoke out, your tone still a bit unsure, as you have never done thus before; meek but determined. His eyes light up and meet yours, mouthing an 'oh?' before smirking as to himself. He playfully attacks you with kisses all over your sweaty face, and you try to push him off, but fail miserably.

"Joooon", you whine out, your hands attempting to get a hold of him, "we're both sweaty—", as if that would stop him.

The next day, you talked it out with him. One beautiful thing about your relationship with Jonathan is that you could talk to him about the actual relationship. Even if he had a harder time expressing himself, and making music was a way better alternative to do so, he listened, made sure the both of you were comfy with it, and dove deep into the whole degradation niche.

He wouldn't like it on himself — but Jon made sure to tease you with it, and make sure you're okay after. The man, although seemingly ferocious, was a yay-sized bear and the sweetest at heart. That's what you loved about him.

You were sure that you were soaking wet even when he cussed out random people on the street, as you had Pavloved yourself into this situation. But at least you knew that you felt safe exploring this new thing with Jonathan, even if it meant asking him to fuck you silly in the nearest public bathroom after he'd call people endearingly insulting names.

#smut #fanfic #jonathan davis korn #korn #jonathan davis #jonathan davis x reader #jonathan davis x fem reader #fanfiction #korn band #korn smut #lemon #jd

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eiightysixbaby · 5 months

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18+ only! eddie munson x fem!reader x jonathan byers cw: threesome, oral f + m receiving, unprotected piv, creampie

floating. you feel like you’re floating; levitating off of the bed with the pleasure being brought to you. an orgasmic exorcism of sorts.

your skin feels hot, burning beneath each press of jonathan’s lips to your chest. his teeth bite at your peaked nipples and the sensation courses through your body all the way down to your toes, which curl at the way eddie plunges three fingers deep inside of your aching core. his mouth is trained on your clit, tongue flicking over it repeatedly as you whine — shrill and pretty for them both.

jonathan can’t help but steal glances at the way eddie eats your pussy, groaning as he resumes sucking on your soft and sensitive tits. “so fucking pretty, baby,” he mumbles against your skin, tongue swirling around one of your nipples as his fingers play with the other. “is eddie making you feel good?”

“yeah, oh god yeah,” you moan, nodding your head enthusiastically. “you’re both makin’ me feel so good,” you pant, meeting jonathan’s eyes and earning a satisfied smirk from him.

“she’s fucking soaked, byers,” eddie says, pulling his mouth away from your cunt. “why don’t you come down here and get yourself a taste?” the shaggy-haired man grins, a wicked thing, his eyes playful as they look at you.

the encouragement from eddie makes jonathan light up; always a little less confident than the older man. he eagerly scoots down on the mattress, kissing down your tummy until he reaches the place you crave him most. eddie’s fingers continue to curl inside of you as he lays beside you, leaning in for a hot and sloppy kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and it makes you delirious as you continue to let them please you.

jonathan’s lips suction around your clit, your hips bucking up into his mouth. every once in a while, his tongue brushes against eddie’s fingers, until eddie suddenly pulls them out of your dripping core.

“here, lick ‘em clean,” he rasps down at jonathan, holding his fingers an inch from the other man’s face.

jonathan accepts them, opening his mouth and letting his tongue clean your honey from eddie’s thick fingers. his pretty brown eyes are trained on you the whole time, and eddie lets out a low groan beside you.

you whine without the stimulation from either of them, making eddie tsk in your direction.

“what do you need, sweet girl? feeling neglected now?” he pities you, finding your neediness amusing.

“need more,” you emphasize, looking back and forth between both of them.

“why don’t you suck my cock while jon fucks you, hm? would you like that?” eddie asks, directing the second question both to you and the man between your legs.

jonathan’s nodding eagerly, impossibly hard in his boxers and begging to be touched. you’re on board just as quickly, mewling out a small “yes, please.”

and then you’re planted on your hands and knees on the rumpled sheets, eddie’s cock pressing to the back of your throat as jonathan fills your cunt with every inch he has. you look up into eddie’s deep brown eyes, tears springing into your own as you gag around his thick shaft. you can feel jonathan’s hands digging into your hips, holding you firmly in place so he can fuck you the way he wants to.

it’s primal, the way he drives into you over and over, curses and praises tumbling from his lips.

“god, you’re so fucking tight, holy shit,” he whimpers, voice strangled as if he’s already ready to blow his load.

“you’re such a good girl,” eddie says, voice low and gravelly. “take our cocks so well,” he praises, hand entwining in your hair and tugging.

you moan around him, spit dribbling out of the corners of your mouth as you bob your head back and forth.

“and so messy, sweetheart,” eddie coos, bringing a finger down to wipe the saliva from your chin. “making such a mess of me.”

he loves to talk in bed, always the one with more to say, and his words only make you and jonathan more turned on.

“she’s — fuck — she’s making a mess of me, too,” jonathan adds, drawing his cock out of you slowly as he watches. he’s coated in your slick, slippery wet sounds coming from the friction his movements create.

eddie’s head tips back, eyes closed as a low moan rumbles from deep within his chest. it’s too much; watching and feeling your mouth around his cock at the same time he gets to watch jonathan slowly unravel while seven inches deep within you. he’s close, and he knows he’s not alone in that.

as if on cue, jonathan reaches one hand beneath you to play with your clit, making you moan around eddie’s impressive girth. the vibrations from your mouth make him hiss, his hand tangling tighter in your hair.

you’re losing focus on the task in front of you, tongue growing sloppier in the way it swirls around eddie’s cock; you’re simply too lost in the pleasure you’re being provided with. eddie takes the reins a little, thrusting into your mouth and making you choke on him. your eyes are watery and wide when they meet his, you truly look a fucked-out mess, and it’s enough to send him hurtling even closer to release.

“need you to cum, pretty girl. you gonna cum? gonna make such a pretty mess of jonathan’s cock?” eddie asks, voice strained as he tries to keep his own composure.

you nod, unable to speak with your mouth full, air leaving your nose in heavy spurts as jonathan’s thrusts grow more desperate. before you can even speak, you’re clenching hard around his cock, orgasm ripping through you. your release triggers jonathan’s, filling you to the brim with warm ropes of his cum as he whimpers your name over and over behind you.

“oh, fuck,” eddie groans, one final thrust to your mouth before he’s spilling, too. you suck him completely dry, every drop spilling down your throat save for the bit that dribbles out the corners of your mouth.

both men are quick to move in for a kiss, jonathan’s mouth eagerly cleaning eddie’s cum that drips down to your chin before they’re both battling to kiss your lips. it’s messy and lazy the way each of their tongues lick into your open mouth, their hands easing you down into a comfortable position on the mattress so you can rest.

every inch of your skin is caressed between the two of them, lulling you into a sleepy and content daze as they share soft kisses where they sit behind you. you can hear them whispering sweet things to each other, but you’re too tired to process the words. drifting into a peaceful sleep, you’re confident that when you wake they’ll be itching to please you again.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #jonathan byers smut #eddie munson x jonathan byers x reader #divider by cafekitsune #jonathan ‘seven inches’ byers as decided by me

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thelustybraavosimaid · 5 months

Text

Jon of House Snark™️

"It's no freak," Jon said calmly. "That's a direwolf. They grow larger than the other kind." Theon Greyjoy said, "There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years."

"I see one now," Jon replied. (Bran I, AGoT)

"This is no toy," he told her. "Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with." "Girls don't shave," Arya said. "Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?" (Jon II, AGoT)

Tyrion sagged back to the ground with a grunt. "Don't help me, then. I'll sit right here until you leave." Jon Snow stroked Ghost's thick white fur, smiling now. "Ask me nicely."

...

"Why did he attack me?" Tyrion asked with a sidelong glance at the direwolf. He wiped blood and dirt from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Maybe he thought you were a grumkin." (Tyrion II, AGoT)

"You broke my wrist, bastard boy." Jon lifted his eyes at the sullen voice. Grenn loomed over him, thick of neck and red of face, with three of his friends behind him. He knew Todder, a short ugly boy with an unpleasant voice. The recruits all called him Toad. The other two were the ones Yoren had brought north with them, Jon remembered, rapers taken down in the Fingers. He'd forgotten their names. He hardly ever spoke to them, if he could help it. They were brutes and bullies, without a thimble of honor between them. Jon stood up. "I'll break the other one for you if you ask nicely."

...

"You make us look bad," complained Toad.

"You looked bad before I ever met you," Jon told him.

...

Alliser Thorne overheard him. "Lord Snow wants to take my place now." He sneered. "I'd have an easier time teaching a wolf to juggle than you will training this aurochs." "I'll take that wager, Ser Alliser," Jon said. "I'd love to see Ghost juggle." (Jon III, AGoT)

Slynt slammed a fist on the table. "I heard you! Ser Alliser had your measure true enough, it seems. You lie through your bastard's teeth. Well, I will not suffer it. I will not! You might have fooled this crippled blacksmith, but not Janos Slynt! Oh, no. Janos Slynt does not swallow lies so easily. Did you think my skull was stuffed with cabbage?" "I don't know what your skull is stuffed with. My lord." (Jon IX, ASoS)

Thorne was much the more clever of the two, Jon realized; this had his stink all over it. He was trapped. "I'll go," he said in a clipped, curt voice. "M'lord," Janos Slynt reminded him. "You'll address me—" "I'll go, my lord. But you are making a mistake, my lord. You are sending the wrong man, my lord. Just the sight of me is going to anger Mance. My lord would have a better chance of reaching terms if he sent—" (Jon X, ASoS)

"Words. Words are wind. Why do you think I abandoned Dragonstone and sailed to the Wall, Lord Snow?" "I am no lord, sire. You came because we sent for you, I hope. Though I could not say why you took so long about it."

Surprisingly, Stannis smiled at that. (Jon XI, ASoS)

"What are you doing here, bastard?" Thorne asked. "Bathing. But don't let me spoil your plotting." Jon climbed from the water, dried, dressed, and left them to conspire. (Jon XII, ASoS)

"Close the door, Sam." Faint scars still marked Jon's cheek, where an eagle had once tried to rip his eye out. "Did that wretch break the skin?" Sam eased the books down and peeled off his glove. "He did." He felt faint. "I'm bleeding." "We all shed our blood for the Watch. Wear thicker gloves." Jon shoved a chair toward him with a foot. (Samwell I, AFfC)

The red woman walked beside Jon down the steps. "His Grace is growing fond of you."

"I can tell. He only threatened to behead me twice." (Jon I, ADwD)

This is wrong, Jon thought. "Stop."

Emmett turned back, frowning. "My lord?"

"I will not hang him," said Jon. "Bring him here."

"Oh, Seven save us," he heard Bowen Marsh cry out.

The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Jon said, "Edd, fetch me a block," and unsheathed Longclaw. (Jon II, ADwD)

Alys Karstark leaned close to Jon. "Snow during a wedding means a cold marriage. My lady mother always said so." He glanced at Queen Selyse. There must have been a blizzard the day she and Stannis wed.

"I have slain a giant, boy. Why should I fear some flea-ridden northman who paints one on his shield?"

"The giant was running away. Mors won't be." (Jon IV, ADwD)

...

"I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" He laughed. "If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood."

"My name is Snow."

"Bastard."

"Guilty. Of that, at least." (Jon X, ADwD)

"You say these boys will serve as squires. Surely the lord commander does not mean they will be trained at arms?" Jon's anger flared. "No, my lord, I mean to set them to sewing lacy smallclothes." (Jon XI, ADwD)

All your questions shall be answered. Look to the skies, Lord Snow. And when you have your answers, send to me. Winter is almost upon us now. I am your only hope." "A fool's hope." Jon turned and left her.

...

"Dark wings, dark words," muttered Tormund. "Isn't that what you kneelers say?" "We say, Bleed a cold but feast a fever too," Jon told him. "We say, Never drink with Dornishmen when the moon is full. We say a lot of things." (Jon XIII, ADwD)

#asoiaf #jon snow

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roppiepop · 5 months

Text

JayTim K-POP AU WIP

A plastic box gets shoved to his chest.

Only because he allows it, obviously, because the little gremlin of a brat is still several lifetimes away from being able to get a drop on him.

Though the demon spawn is also a picture of silence, lips pursed and shoulders tense where his fist extends to press whatever he bought on Jason’s pecs.

With a barely audible sigh, Jason peels that arm off to see what it was that demanded his attention so badly that the kid broke into one of the few safe-houses Jason thought was off the Bat-radar.

The answer is a thick box, covered with a glossy sleeve. On the cover are a group of five men piled on top of each other, composed artfully to look like a playful candid rather than an unfortunate accident. The only other thing on it is a logo stylized to look like a clock. Jason might be able to read where the lines form ‘SPF50’.

He sends Damian a blank look. The kid visibly heckles.

“Tt.” he starts, “This isn’t for me- I would like to emphasize that, for the record.”

Pause. Damian crosses his arms. “It’s Jon. He gave me an adequate birthday gift. It would be a dishonor to reciprocate with anything less.”

Jason replies to that with a hand gesture. What the hell does that have to do with him?

Damian looks at him like he’s rotten meat. Jason returns the glare twofold.

A frustrated groan. The kid almost swipes his arm back- like he was about to reach for his katana before realizing he’s out of costume. “Are you daft, Todd? I am asking for a favor. Name your price.”

“Yeah, Shrimp, I got that.” Jason bites back, “I’m just wonderin’ why the hell anythin’ related to this-“ he holds up the album, “-would be somethin’ I have an in with.”

Without missing a beat, Damian swipes back the album and pulls a card out from the middle to show him.

It’s a low angle selfie, cutting the pictured man off at the forehead. Stray locks, black with a blue-ish tint, fall just at the edge of the frame, and shadow a pair of striking blue eyes. Below that is a lopsided grin showing off a row of straight teeth. The rest of the picture is a swath of yellow- maybe a hoodie? Its laughably big though, dipping low enough to show the prominent curves of the man’s collarbones.

“This is why.” Damian says, before Jason could get a word in. “Your paramour, he’s Jon’s favorite in the group. He must be detestable if he has stooped low enough to romantically engage with you of all people, but nevertheless. Have him and his group sign this album and I will owe you one favor.”

“Huh.” Jason starts. Stops. Considers if he’s in the mood to start a fight. Sighs instead. “You’re outta luck, kid. I don’t know any of these guys.”

Damian’s eyes narrow. He steps forward in a stomp. “Don’t try and lie to me, Todd. Everyone has confirmed you are dating this idol. Agree to my terms before I am pushed to use force-Ow!”

Jason’s fingers moved to flick Damian’s forehead before he even registers that they did. “You can’t force me to do anythin’, Brat. I’ll send you back to your Mom.”

He flicks the other’s nose this time before he can respond, garnering another indignant squawk. “And two- just because you heard Blondie constantly yammerin’ about it doesn’t make it a public fact.”

Jason moves for the chin this time, but Damian has jumped away from striking range and looks a second away from hissing.

Jason would probably hiss back at him if he did. Something about this kid is just makes you want to mess with him.

But Damian seems to already be in retreat mode, sulkily skulking back to Jason’s fire escape with a deep scowl.

“Fine.” he says, right by the threshold of the apartment. “You prove yourself yet again useless. But just so you know Brown isn’t the only one talking- Father also suspects.”

And he’s gone just as Jason opens his mouth.

“Bruce?”

#jaytim #roppie tries to write #an unfinished au where janet gets custody of tim and takes the both of them out of gotham before he ever gets the chance to be robin #is this technically like???? a subday wip????? yeah #putting this here…….. again to motivate myself…… to make progress with this #hopefully it will come across as very fun and without needing any prior knowledge of the industry 👍

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saintmagx · 7 months

Text

✨ Cruel Summer ✨

Part 2

pairing: Solo Sikoa x reader, Jey Uso × reader (briefly)

AN: If you’d like tagged, let me know 💖

⚠️ Warnings: 18+ , swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity (if you squint), jealous Jey, toxic behaviour, bad/embarrassing writing ⚠️

doesn't follow a specific timeline however it is more recent, total divas making a return.

✨ Said I’m fine but it wasn’t true, I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you ✨

The match was going off without a hitch, I had Charlotte in a headlock ready to execute my finisher when I’m taken down from behind by Rhea, the plan was for her to beat me down then escape through the crowd laughing and holding her title up high, I sold the beat down like a pro and the heat she was getting was phenomenal. Corey Graves and Michael Cole were doing their part on commentary making this look like a sickening attack, though as per his character Corey was doing his best to be a little shit that he is and side with the heel superstar. Smackdown ended with me out cold in the middle of the ring. What a way to kick off this rivalry.

Backstage, Gorilla

Back in the gorilla I’m met with hunter.

“Amazing job out there yn!”

“I’m afraid that was all Demi, I just followed her lead.”

A thick Aussie accent fills the gorilla.

“Nah, don’t sell yourself short yn, I wouldn’t have been able to look half as good if your selling of the beat down wasn’t as great.”

I’ve finally come face to face with demi, her aura radiates confidence and raw sex appeal.

“Okay ladies, you both did good.” Hunter states “but now, we have to incorporate the Uso’s into this, so next week on Smackdown the Judgement Day will meet the Uso’s.”

There is a real buzz backstage about this upcoming Smackdown. I just hope it’s something that the fans can really sink their teeth into.

Yn interview (TD segment)

“I always try and look at social media after a match, everyone things I’m crazy but honestly I need to know how it’s coming across to the fans.”

“If something isn’t working or isn’t believable you best believe the WWE universe will make their opinions known.”

Yn picks up her phone and goes into twitter.

“See, look at these comments.”

Mami vs yn????? TAKE MY MONEY NOW #smackdown #wwe

Mami stepping all over yn, me next jkjkjk unless👀 @RheaRipley_WWE #smackdown

Rhea why????? What did yn do to you :( #wwesmackdown

My two favourite woman beefing 😭 this will go down as the greatest rivalry ever!!!!!!!!!! #wwe #smackdown

“Okay, yeah some are a bit more extreme than others, but it shows that what we are doing, the story we are trying to tell is getting over with the fans. I just hope the Uso’s and Judgement Day can pull it out the bag too.”

The next day after I’m on television, I always wake up to messages from family and friends congratulating, consoling or just trying to get details out of me about what’s happening next, but my lips are sealed.

If I don’t see Jon, Trin or Josh before leaving the arena I always have multiple messages from them too, and today was no different.

J 💖

Get yo ass ready, we going for breakfast

Or we could stay in and I’ll have breakfast 👀

Did you get message?

You better be getting ready!!!!

I’m leaving now

Yn?

*10 missed calls J 💖*

Shit.

As I’m getting up, I hear banging from the other side of my hotel room, I don’t have to guess what, or who is making that noise. Opening the door, I’m greeted with an unamused Josh.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls or texts? I thought something had happened to you!”

“Well as you can see, I’m fine, so if you don’t mind, I need to get ready for breakfast.”

As I turn to walk away, I’m pulled into the familiar arms of his, my forbidden safe place. If Josh knew I was harbouring these feelings for him, this would all stop, and I could potentially lose him and I’m not ready for that.

Whispering into my ear he says the one thing I’ve been desperate to hear:

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for yesterday and the way I acted when you were talking with Orton, I know he’s just a friend but fuck, I hate when other men talk to my girl.”

“Your girl? So, are you mine then too?” I say sarcastically, knowing his answer.

He smirks “You know all this can’t be tied down.”

As much as we have had this conversation before, and I already knew his answer - it hurt but I couldn’t let him see that.

“Exactly Josh, so how about we cut the bullshit and call this for what it is? Two friends having fun.”

He spins me around and lifts my chin so I’m looking at him, his eyes dark and fiery – he was pissed.

“Okay, lets call it for what it is, you are mine.”

His large soft lips engulf my own, filling my body with the same euphoric feeling I always get with him.

“Now go get ready, Trin and Jon are waiting for us.”

At Breakfast (TD Segment)

“Hey girl, you took your time.”

“Ay did my brother try keep you from us AGAIN?”

“Trin, I overslept and Jon no one can keep me from you guys.” I say sitting next to Trin.

No matter what I’m going through, being with my family always makes me feel better. My happy place.

“Ya’ll mind if I sit?”

Joseph Fatu. As much as we run in the same circles, I’ve only ever met him once and that was in Hunters office. From what Trin and the boys have told me he’s quiet at first, but when he warms up, he is truly a special soul.

“Sit yo ass down, you aint gotta ask uce.”

I can see the Fatu resemblance. The dark mysterious eyes, the infectious smile and in contrast the brooding stare. These boys have good genes. My eyes start to wonder to the ink across his arms, studying each piece as if I was an art enthusiast. Looking back up I see his eyes are already on me with the signature Fatu stare, I smile and return to my conversation with Trin, hoping he hadn’t realised how long id been staring.

Unbeknownst to me, the waitress that had been serving us had been making heart eyes at Josh the entire time, and he had noticed this. Whether it was to get back at me for speaking up earlier or Josh being Josh, he started flirting with her at the table, she was over exaggerating her laugh and he was pulling out all the usual material that worked on these types of women. Watching him flirting wasn’t something knew and normally I wouldn’t bother much, however they exchanged numbers and arranged to meet up tonight. My stomach became heavy, and I felt like I was going to throw up, my heart was breaking once again and the cause? Josh Fatu.

Trin and Jon interview (TD segment)

“I love my brother deeply, but he is such an idiot.”

“Flirting with another girl right when yn is sitting at the table? That’s messed up.”

“Yeah Jon, your right your brother is an idiot. How could he do that to her?”

My eyes begin to sting as I excuse myself. This behaviour is nothing knew but each time it happened it took a little piece of me. Why did I have to fall in love with him of all people?!

tagged: @southerngirl41 @christinabae @raya-hunter01

#wwe #solo sikoa x yn #solo sikoa x reader #solo sikoa smut #solo sikoa #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #wweedit #wwe x you #jey uso x reader #wwe x reader #joshua fatu smut #joseph fatu #joseph fatu smut #fatu #wwe x oc #jey uso fan fiction #the usos

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bitterkarella · 6 months

Text

Midnight Pals: Prog

Todd Keisling: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call the tale of the yellow kings Keisling: so there's this progressive rock band making an album based on the yellow king Keisling: with a cover by our greatest living artist roger dean Dean Koontz: hey! that's my name too! Keisling: that's no coincidence boy

Keisling: so there's this groupie Keisling: camilla Keisling: and she's got ideas for the band's music Keisling: horrifying apocalyptic ideas Keisling: she's going to have everyone take off their masks Robert W Chambers: i get it!

Keisling: they're going to cause an apocalypse with the power of progressive rock Dean Koontz: wow progressive rock sounds pretty dangerous Keisling: only in the wrong hands, dean Keisling: the power of progressive rock turned to evil, like Univers Zero or Van Der Graaf Generator, can be devastating Keisling: but turned to the light...

Keisling: take a look at this album, dean, pretty cool huh? Keisling: oh dean Keisling: prepare to have the doors of perception Keisling: blown right off their hinges

Kiesling: check this out dean, i think you'll really like this music Poe: whoa todd this might be a little advanced for dean Kiesling: no don't worry i'll start him off slow Kiesling: let's start you off with some Yes

Dean Koontz: Yes? Keisling: yeah i think you can handle it Koontz: why is there a scary zombie on the cover? Keisling: that's steve howe Keisling: actually dean on second thought Keisling: Yes might be a little much for your first time Keisling: let's start you with Yes Featuring Jon Anderson, Trevor Rabin, Rick Wakeman

Keisling: behold, my record collection! King: wow this is quite the collection todd! King: you know, you could save a lot of space if you went digital Keisling: yeah but Keisling: vinyl just has a warmer sound ya know?

Keisling: dean i think you're really going to like this band Keisling: it's called jethro tull Poe: whoa whoa dean is not ready for that Keisling: oh don't worry i'm not playing thick as a brick or anything Keisling: just bungle in the jungle Keisling: you'll like it dean it's about animals

Koontz: can i listen to this album? Keisling: Crack the Sky? no dean that's the ayahuasca of prog Keisling: you want the flintstones chewable vitamins of prog Keisling: here, try some tarkus

Dean Koontz: [vibrating while listening to headphones, blood gushing from nose] of course i understand it all Keisling: Dean! No! Keisling: Not Gentle Giant! Keisling: it's too much, too soon! Koontz: each day actually consists of four days occurring simultaneously

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #edgar allan poe #dean koontz #robert w chambers #todd keisling

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owlsinathens · 6 months

Text

The head bounced off a thick root and rolled. It came up near Greyjoy’s feet. Theon was a lean, dark youth of nineteen who found everything amusing. He laughed, put his boot on the head, and kicked it away.

“Ass,” Jon muttered, low enough so Greyjoy did not hear.

AGOT, Bran I

Moat Cailin has fallen, Reek realized then, only no one has seen fit to tell them. He rubbed his mouth to hide his broken teeth, and said, “I need to speak with your commander.” “Kenning?” The guard seemed confused. “He don’t have much to say these days. He’s dying. Might be he’s dead. I haven’t seen him since … I don’t remember when …” “Where is he? Take me to him.” “Who will keep the door, then?” “Him.” Reek gave the corpse a kick. That made the man laugh. “Aye. Why not? Come with me, then.”

ADWD, Reek II

Two kicks, two different audiences, two very different reactions. Both intended to seem careless and flippant, the first earning him contempt, the second a laugh.

And yet both of those kicks seem like a part of a character he puts on:

Theon Greyjoy, ward of Lord Stark, the self-fulfilling prophecy, catering to the bias against him.

And then Reek, playing the Prince of the Iron Islands and invoking Theon Greyjoy the ward.

That boy has spent every moment of his life, from the time he was taken away from his home, on stage. Always watched, always trying to fulfil expectations. He definitely knows how to please his audience.

#theon greyjoy #asoiaf #asoiaf reread #valyrianscrolls #a song of ice and fire #agot #adwd #quotes

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rise-my-angel · 6 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow

Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 15.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, character deaths, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, rape, forced sex acts, abusive/forced relationship, sex under threat of death, male victim of female sexual violence, suicidal ideation, visions of smut & visions of p in v (between Reader and Robb)

Notes: Did you ever wonder what Jons story looked like during the chapters he was not a main character? These are snapshots into how the events of Heart of the Great Wolf effected Jon, that we did not previously get to see in this story. Series Masterlist Here

“Being me a horn of ale, Snow. And pour one for yourself.”

Jon should have known right away that something bad had happened, but in no way did he understand what the world looked like down South enough to guess. Night hadn't even properly hit and already one thing after another piled on top of each other, what was one more thing to add to it, he thought.

He and Sam had said their vows. Brothers of the Nights Watch they were, and yet to start off, from the woods beyond Ghost came trotting out with a human hand in his mouth. They had all went to seek where he found it and two rangers laid dead not far away from the Weirwood beyond the wall. Yarwick had quickly identified them, Othor and Jafar Flowers but with no hint of where his Uncle Benjen may have been, it felt less morose in Jons chest then it did unsettling. If his uncle was simply gone, then why were two of his company back here all alone?

There had to be more to it he thought, and maybe there was. Sam had mentioned that there was no smell to the bodies at all, and at this point there should have been. Lord Commander Mormont's attention had been called over a raven from Kings Landing, and so he made his way to his office, ordering the rest of them to help move the bodies so Maester Aemon could examine them. All Jon thought as he walked into his office, was of his uncle. He didn't at all realize, it was the wrong family member which was to be his newest fear.

Jon was hesitant as he poured, and he could sense the Old Bear was choosing his slow spoken words to him very carefully, sitting at his desk going over what news the raven had brought. “The King is dead.”

Pausing in his movements, far too much to choose one thought, passed through Jons mind. The air in the room felt thick, and he knew that the conversation was not about to end with that as the worst of it. Not quite turning to him, he had no idea if the words came off as calm as he was attempting to sound. “Is there any word of my father?”

Moving to place the ale on his desk, Jon was told to sit. Already he felt sick, he'd rather not sit he'd rather just be told what happened here and now with no lead up. Get it out of the way and maybe Jon could stop the nerve wracking pounding of his heart. Eyes wide, he did as he was told but what came out of the Old Bear's mouth was not at all what he was bracing himself for. “Lord Stark has been charged with treason.”

If that sentence did not make sense to Jon, the next one made even less.

“They say he conspired with Roberts niece- your brothers wife, to deny the throne from Prince Joffery. They both have been arrested as traitors to the realm.”

On instinct, Jon held his hand out. Needing to read the words himself but still it made no sense in his head every attempt. His father wasn't a man who did things like that, his father was the most honourable man Jon's ever known. If a mistake hadn't been made, then something else very wrong had led to this, he knew it.

The only so called treason his father ever committed was rebelling against injustice done to his own family over twenty years ago, but you? You were smart. A good girl. Someone who, insult or honour, always did what you were told. Not a conspirerer in a game of kings. He read the words again and again, and for some strange reason he recalled something the other day.

He thought of you often, he dreamt of you often, but only days ago Jon could recall having a strange image in his head of you somewhere he's never seen next to his father and he had done what he did any other time he imagined such a thing. Threw it away in his mind of simply a yearning to see again the girl he never would.

Not a clue where he was even moving towards, Jon stood up. Making his way to the door he could suddenly see all of them. Leaving on the Kingsroad and the realization that if his father and you were being charged as traitors, what about-

“I hope your not thinking of doing anything stupid. Your duty lies here now.” Stopping mid step, Jon didn't really look back at him. No, not stupid, necessary, but what was that? All Jon knew, was he had to get out of this room. He had to do something, he couldn't stand by and let this all just happen.

His voice was weak, and he knew it was a plea the Lord Commander would not accept but Jon had to say it anyways. Someone had to be thinking of them. “My sisters were in Kings Landing too.” And he was right, it wasn't anything the man accepted. He just told Jon, he was sure they'd be treated gently.

Jon couldn't stop that feeling of anger as he walked about Castle Black. His duty lay here, but if his father and you were rotting in a dungeon, who was now doing the duty of protecting his sisters? Arya and Sansa were just girls, young and naive in their own ways and the gentle they'd be treated with didn't feel like it was going to be the same definition Jon would have of it. It was Joffery and the Queen, who was there to stand in between them and his little sisters if there was no one left there to do it, or care?

What was the point of honour, if it meant Jon had to choose what honour was supposed to mean more over the other?

It didn't get better as time passed. People were awkward around him, people whispered and either looked at him strangely or avoided his eye entirely. He didn't want to think about what they were saying, Jon didn't have time for it. Or the patience.

Standing in the kitchens, he was distracted. Quieter then normal and looking nowhere but where the knife in front of him was cutting and the sights in his head he was being told to abandon the idea of protecting. Giving Arya a sword didn't mean Jon trusted her to be safe with it. She was young, short, small, and too quick and snarky for her own good and even if she knew how to use it, that wouldn't protect her against the power of a crown calling her father a traitor.

The last time he saw her, the way as they always had for years, she jumped high into his arms for a hug and nowhere in that city would a girl barley eleven years old find herself safe enough for long enough for- for what? For him to go get her?

For Jon to leave the Nights Watch and find his sisters? If Arya wasn't safe with a sword, Sansa was even less safe without one. She didn't understand violence, she wouldn't have anything or anyone to protect her without their father, but again, what was Jon supposed to do? Hope his little sisters assumed Jon just didn't know the danger they were now in? Did they believe the treason the crown claimed you and their father had done?

Would Arya and Sansa hate him more or less, if they realized Jon knew they weren't safe there, but had to stand here and choose not to do anything about it? His family weren't traitors, his father wasn't a traitor and neither were you. But Jon could only stand there, and feel that helplessness grow into anger at being told to do nothing for the people he loved.

At least, do nothing actually productive. But he sure did something with that anger, only it helped no one, including himself. The second Jon heard Ser Alliser's voice his muscles tensed, trying not to look or focus but he spoke right at him, walking right up beside him. “Now there's a rare sight. Not only a bastard, but a traitors bastard.”

The worst of it all, was that Jon knew it might have been less of an offence if he reacted right away.

Ten, twenty, maybe thirty seconds had passed. Sam, Pyp and Grenn all taking their turns glancing over to Jon as he stood there in complete silence. His eyes looked up to Ser Alliser, who condescendingly nodded for him to go back to work, to stand there and let the man insult his father.

Too bad for both, his father meant more to Jon then not reacting to that look in Ser Alliser's eyes. In a second, Jon flipped his grip on the knife and felt not a shred of regret going for him. Anger and red hot rage flowing through his blood, but he'd rather see it pour out of wherever he stabbed the man then let it fester silently inside his own mind. Instantly, his brothers reacted.

He could hear Sam and Grenn yelling, “Jon, stop put it down-” Right as he came close, Pyp moved to haul Jon away as Grenn tore the knife from his hand. Every part of him felt as if it was screaming to let him finish the job and damn the consequences, but the three of them knew Jon better then to let it happen.

Leaning angrily into his person, Ser Alliser all but hissed at him. “Blood will always tell. You'll hang for this, bastard.”

Jon couldn't do anything to help his father, couldn't do anything to help you, and couldn't do anything to help his sisters, and now he wasn't even allowed to be angry over it. The Old Bear didn't hang him, but it was clear to Jon as he was confined to quarters, that he had more coming his way. More then just that night, setting an already dead man on fire.

It was days later the next news of a raven came. Funny thing it was, how it was almost a skill the degree to which Jon could go from such an easy mood to something intense and far too angry raging deep in his bones. Sitting next to Sam, he was trying to pry out what it was he claimed he couldn't. “I'm really not supposed to say.”

Tilting his head in amusement, Jon prodded him a little more in jest. “And yet, you really want to say. You want to say that..” Leaving the air open for Sam to pluck up the courage and spit it out already, but just as days before, Jon almost wished he never heard it.

“There was a raven. I read the message to Maester Aemon.”

By the weary look in Sams eye, Jon expected it to be more of his father. But, it was somehow even more conflicting for Jons resolve. It was about Robb. Robb and you. “Someone helped her escape Kings Landing in the middle of the night, a Kingsgaurd. She's reunited with your brother, they're heading South together. To war.”

Every lack of luck in Jons life, the only thing he's heard of you in months, and twice now in days both things left him torn of too much. On paper, he should be happy you escaped. But it wasn't your freedom which left Jon's blood chilling inside him. It was his lack of freedom now. You had fled and joined Robb, going to war with him even beacuse if it wasn't duty you did, it was always trying to do what was right and now Jon had to sit there and do the opposite.

Robb was heading South declaring war on the Lannisters with you at his side, and Jon only had one breathless thought as his eyes drifted to nothing at the surmounting pile of useless he felt. “I should be there. I should be with them. Both of them.”

Jon had imagined you in his head more time then he could count since being at the wall, but it wasn't until he sat there in the hall with Sam, did he realize. Maybe he wasn't imagining you. Jon should be there, with Robb, but maybe, something was forcing Jon with you. It was too detailed, too unknown, an image he had not the creativity to pretend was his imaginations capability. He should be there with Robb, but it wasn't until that day did Jon finally come to understand, something in his mind, was keeping him with you.

Both in armour as you stood in an unknown land next to Robb. His silver and heavy, yours thinner and black almost something like scales as it sat lighter on your person. A shattering of nerves left just a distant heaviness in both your eyes as across was blood on yours and Robbs person, all he could see was Robb twisting his arm to hold at your wrist, and you returned the gesture right back, before the vision was gone. If you and his brother left for war, Jon started to wonder if he was watching it.

Guilt, anger, and confused shame all swirling in his mind, but maybe if he had one thing to hold onto, it was that just perhaps the gods had granted Jon one grace. If there was one hope he clung onto as everything told him to abandon this duty and go to his family, it was that you were not gone from his life entirely.

If Jon was seeing you standing beside Robb at war, he couldn't help but wonder, how much more of you would he finally be allowed to see again. He felt angry and useless here, but if he was seeing visions of you, it might be of some comfort.

Were anyone to hear Jon say what was happening in his head, they'd think him out of his mind no doubt. It was cold beyond the wall, and too easily someone could argue that the cold can mess with the head a little bit. Not even Sam would believe him if he said what was really happening.

There was not a shred of doubt anymore to Jon however. He knew he was seeing you. For a solid fact, Jon knew he was seeing you. First it was dreams, then in waking days he thought he was making things up because he missed you but it was impossible to deny now. He saw things of you that came true, and he continued to see things of you that were happening along the same war path he was not following.

Robb was King in the North now, which meant you stood beside him as his Queen, and Jon desperately wished it was that which he was seeing. Show him his brother growing into a leader, or your rule together, but don't show him this. It wasn't battle and strategy Jon saw. No, Jon would see, hear, and sometimes, somehow, feel only the moments of quiet he never got to.

What Jon had with you, before you had Robb, was minimal in the grand scheme of things. He knew a bit of what being with you felt like. He knew in great detail what your kiss was like, he knew what a truly beautiful sight your bare body looked like, and he knew some bits of how you felt against him. It was supposed to be enough, he'd lay awake at night at the wall and those small parts of you were his only comfort.

Eyes shut in the dark of his quarters, and he could just barley feel your soft skin under his hands or hear your gentle, high pitched sigh in his ears and Jon would fall asleep just a little easier. He would never have you the way he wanted to, the way Robb had you now, but what Jon did have was supposed to be enough.

But then he'd see you, hear you. Not just you, not just alone or in memory.

As he sat close to the ground, back up against a tree, Jon almost dropped his sword as soon as he heard it, and he nearly cut himself by accident as soon as he felt it. Your high pitched sigh in his ear as your breathe trailed along his neck like a phantom. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could feel you actually pressing your lips there. But if he closed them, he may stop seeing it. And Jon couldn't tell if he wanted to stop seeing you like this quite yet. No matter how awful it made him feel.

It was in front of his eyes as much as the crowded yards of Crasters Keep was. He could see both, and hear both. But it was not himself in a memory of you he watched. It was Robb. Robb taking you, the way Jon dreamt of being able to do with you for years.

The room you were in, some war tent no doubt fitted just enough to be fair of a King and Queen, but without the pomp he imagined many others might have wanted. In terms of luxury, Robb was as humble as you were and it made Jon swallow harshly at how easily you matched his brother. Once, he thought it was himself you were made for, but now he wasn't so sure. Robb touched you easier then Jon ever did even after six years.

You were gorgeous this way, eyes barley keeping open and your mouth parting with breathless begs and pleads, but it burned Jon everytime it was “Robb” he would hear you sing. At the mercy of his brothers touch, you moved just the way he wanted and never protested how thrown around he'd toss you about.

Watching as if before him, Jon could see the way you were moulded perfectly to Robbs demand, and Jon, aggravatingly, almost could feel as if he was the one inside you. His brother had you on your hands and knees, your back arching into each thrust as you barley gasped for air before Robb took it away again. It was rough, the way his brother fucked you, but gods help him, Jon could tell you took Robbs cock as if you were born for it.

Barley a word you'd mutter out, just begs for more, begs for Robb to do whatever he wanted, and promises that you'd be good for him as you cried into the air. So perfect it sent shivers down Jons spine more then any winter winds out here. None knew, none could hear, not your cries nor Jons thoughts but you were so effortlessly loud without being obnoxious.

Just the sounds that couldn't be contained, but he would've. Forced to sit there, eyes dark and narrowed, Jon watched and knew he would've by now, flipped you onto your back. Covered you with his body, pressing you into the sheets and stolen every last breathe with his lips. Kiss you so only he could feel your cries and none would hear it.

Robb would mutter filth at you then groan and Jon somehow knew you were clenching around him so tightly, but he couldn't help the wonder on his own as he watched. Jon wouldn't talk to you that way, and clearly you couldn't get enough when Robb did, but Jon would make up for it. He'd slow down, take you so every inch dragged along your sensitive walls and pull your needy cries that way instead of seducing them with words.

You reached a hand back, and Robb pulled you up. Knelt upright on the bed, your back against his chest as he fucked up into you, and muttered low in your ear as you begged for him to finish inside you. And you were perfect for it, beautiful for it. Jon would never get the chance, but every insecurity left his head as he watched you in his own wide eyed silence.

You begged for his brother, begged for Robb to spill inside of you, but Jon wished it was him. He'd keep your lips pressed to his, you'd barley be able to beg, beacuse he'd spill inside of you before you could go too long without it.

So, imagine the true cruelty, as the image before Jon shattered out of nowhere. Left back in only the cold of Crasters Keep and you were gone. He was used to it by now, he supposed. Without much due, Jon picked Longclaw back up, and returned to properly taking care of it. He saw you enough that he could go about his business and none would know what he watched. But too often, Jon knew it was such an intimacy he never had that he was being forced to witness you have with Robb.

It didn't make it much better, when minutes later Sam came walking up to him with one of Crasters wives standing wide eyed next to him. “What are you doing?”

“This is Gilly. She's one of Crasters..daughters.” The fact that both terms were used interchangeably was vile, but it wasn't the girls faults for that. It was however, Sams fault that he spoke to one of them in the first place, when they definitely weren't supposed too.

With a bit of a shortness he glanced to her, “Hello Gilly.” Eyes flying back to Sam with the same quiet, even tone on his words to allow him to explain himself before Jon lost it. “What are you doing?”

The girl, Gilly, tried to implore to him first. Saying that Sam had told her Jon could help, and he couldn't fathom what in the world Sam had gotten himself into now. Trying to shoot it down, that they weren't even supposed to talk to any of Crasters daughters, Sam interjected. “She's pregnant.”

Oh, Jon was going to throw Sam head first into the snow. Slowly letting Longclaw fall into his lap, he turned his head up to look at him in disbeleif. Talking to one of these girls was one thing, but Sam managed to find one to talk to that just so happened to already- gods help him, Jon already didn't like the feeling he got around Craster and this was not making it any better.

Quietly, Sam managed to get to the point. A point Jon would've rather been anything else but what it was. “We have to take her with us when we leave.”

“What?” All but slamming Longclaw down onto the snow, Jon stood stepping towards Sam as he tried to keep his voice from all but yelling at him. Saying he knows the idea sounded mad, Jon felt as if he was losing his mind. “No, it doesn't sound mad. It's impossible.” The two of them arguing back and forth, as this was the last thing Jon wanted to deal with at that moment.

Gilly interrupting with a more gentle approach then either of the two men before her, “Please Ser, please. I can still run if I have too.”

That did not make Jon feel any better for arguing against it, knowing she seemed desperate for someone to help but she and Sam were asking for something that had no solution from him. His tone quieter, trying to be fair to the girl and staying calm as he looked to her. “It's just not possible.”

Jon couldn't change his mind, but she certainly implanted something there which he suspected she didn't actually mean to do. “I'm going to have a baby, if it's a boy-” Before cutting herself off, mouth agape as she realized how close to a mistake she got.

But Jon wouldn't let that one go. It was one of his first thoughts as they got here. Craster had countless daughters, but not a sign of a son anywhere. No boys were in Crasters Keep which were not men of the Nights Watch. His eyes darker as he looked to her, something less kind and sliding into more demanding as he asked, “If it's a boy, what?” But she wouldn't say. Opening and closing her mouth before choosing the answer of silence, Jon inhaled deeply. Turning to properly look her in the eye, he felt his patience wearing thin over this. “You want us to risk our lives for you, and you won't even tell us why.”

Either shock, or upset, or disbeleif, maybe even a bit of fear Gilly looked between them as she ran off without another word. Sam beside him now louder and much more indignant then he was trying to be in front of the girl, all but scolded him. “Why do you do that?”

Turning his head to look back at him, Jon was back to wanting to shove Sams head in a snow bank as the irritation rose once more. “Do what? Ask her a question?” Sam tried to argue that he was cruel, and that time Jon let his voice raise more to a shout. “Cruel? Sam are you in such a hurry to lose a hand?”

Shaking his head, Sam defending himself as if it really made a difference. “I didn't touch her,”

What he wanted was worse Jon knew, and he was blunt with him about it. The man had said anyone who touches one of his wives loses a hand, and Sam was coming to Jon with something about a hundred times worse. “No, you just want to steal her. What do you think Craster cuts off for that?”

If he wasn't so frustrated over far too much in his life, Jon might have felt bad for the unintentional comparison he put forth as Sam whispered, “I can't steal her. She's a person, not a goat.”

But once more, there was too much on his mind. His father was dead, he didn't know if Arya and Sansa were safe or even alive, he didn't know if Bran and Rickon were safe, and to top it all off he almost every day it felt like, had to watch his brother be King with the woman Jon loved. And if he had to have a vision of you and Robb fucking once more time, he might lose it.

But in fairness, he knew none of that was Sams fault. He came to Jon trying to help this girl, and Jon had to address that without taking his frustrations out on him with it. Collecting himself, Jon knew Sam didn't respond to arguing well, but he did with logic and reason. “We're heading deeper and deeper into wildling territory. We can't take a girl with us. Mormont wouldn't have it, and even if he would, what would we do with her? Whose going to deliver a baby? You?”

Quite literally any answer was the right one except for what Sam actually said. “I could try.” Turning his head away as Jons brows narrowed at him, Sam moreso he suspected was trying to just plead his reasons to himself, he already knew what Jon was saying. “What? I read about it..a bit..”

There was little Jon could do about anything in his own life, let alone this one girls own. It didn't make him feel good, but Jon was as honest as he could be. “I'm sorry, Sam. We can't help her.”

Though, Jon certainly thought to himself later, that he wished they could help. But he wouldn't tell Sam that, beacuse it would mean telling Sam what he saw that night, and every bit of it made Jon feel sick. Realizing Craster was taking his newborn sons into the woods, to seeing one of them walk up and take the child, to the stunningly unsettled revelation that the Old Bear knew about it already.

Jon could only say it to Lord Commander Mormont exactly as it found it in his mind, close to that of a yell in shocked anger, “He's murdering his own children, he's a monster.” But nothing could compare to the inhuman dread building inside of him as Jon gave his own honesty once more, but a strained mutter with something fearful behind it. “I saw it. I saw..something take that child.”

Both men wished it weren't true, but the Old Bear was right as he spoke just as quiet and feared of the unknown about it. “Whatever it was, I dare say you'll see it again.”

In his moment standing there on his own, Jon wondered if you were seeing things as Jon was. If you watched parts of his life now, as he was yours. He hoped not. He didn't want to have seen what he saw take that child, and away at war you had far more to be concerned with then things far north you couldn't possibly understand.

Besides, as twisted as it felt for Jon to watch you and Robb the way he was forced too, he didn't want you to have the same conflict. He could tell you loved Robb, and Robb loved you, that much was certain from the visions in Jons eyes. It tore his heart a bit to think it, but Jon was glad you and Robb had each other, he truly was. And as much as the selfish side of Jon wanted to know if he was still part of your life even as a figure in your mind, he didn't want to get in the way.

He told you that night before your wedding that he wanted you to be okay with the fact that you were going to be Robb's. And that still hadn't changed. His brother deserved to be loved, and so did you.

But these visions Jon kept having, it just made that feel all the more needlessly complicated.

As if things weren't bad enough, as if he wasn't already grappling with what Qhorin Halfhand was about to make him do, Jon was getting the increasing urge to turn around and fling this girl into the closest body of water. He was immensely fed up, but this was his punishment for hesitating too long.

Taking a life like that, his first real one like that of an execution, that wasn't something Jon had done. He fought and killed a wight but taking a human life like that was new. It wasn't as easy as men pretended it would be. But, Jon decided instead of forcing himself to do it, he'd try mercy. So he took the wildling hostage and it all led to this.

They came back looking for him, and it got them captured and killed and now it was only Jon and the Halfhand left. The plan was the same, someone needed to get inside Mance's army and both of them knew they'd boil the Halfhand alive before ever letting him escape with his life. But the man argued that they might be able to trick the wildlings into trusting Jon, and the only way to do that was coming.

Jon still hadn't taken a life. But he was about to, and he was struggling to accept it.

Or, he'd be struggling to accept it more were it not for the bane of his existence making him miserable behind him. Acting as if she was so much better then him, when all she had done was make things worse for Jon. He ended up most nights having to have Ghost sleep in between he and her, beacuse she would try making advances on him in the middle of the night.

Whatever she thought this was, it wasn't. But she was loud, and rude, and hypocritical and wouldn't listen and so Ghost had to protect him at night. She was tied up, and still, Jon didn't really feel safe being asleep around her, so Ghost had to be there. Now that the positions were flipped?

Shockingly, none of the mercy Jon showed, was shown to him. He many times had to almost silently implore Ghost to stay out of it, he needed to do this, and so he needed to put up with this. Thankful, there was something about he and his direwolf that was almost beyond needing words. Ghost understood what was in his head right now, and let it happen, and kept his distance, but were Ghost any closer, Jon knew he'd be able to hear him growling at her.

If her non stop loud talking wasn't the thing giving Jon a headache, it was the way she quite literally, was smacking him with the flat edge of his sword. Smack after smack she would hit him with it and it was really testing him. Ned Stark did not raise his son to hit a girl, but gods Jon would've been about to turn around and hit this one if it wouldn't also immediately get him killed.

“We should be there by sundown. Won't be a fun night for you. Mance knows how to make crows sing. If you know what to say, you might just make it through the night.” Jon never once said anything about the things which would happen to her when he reached his brothers, but there she walked behind him, the glee in her voice about what Mance Rayder was going to do. What torture Jon was to endure come nightfall, as if it was going to be the best part of her day.

Besides hitting Jon in the back of the head for the hundredth time. When did he ever hit her? Right, never. He felt his temper rising, and for the rest of their sakes he hoped not all wildling girls were this obnoxious.

“Not talking's not the way to go.” He had been silent, not any interest in speaking to her, but once more she hit him again.

So Jons patience ran thin, and so did his ability to control the short temper in his words. “Careful with that, you might cut yourself.”

As soon as he said it, he knew it was only a matter of time. Qhorin Halfhand had the advantage of where he walked being able to see the right opportunity, and so Jon knew he was going to have to start attempting to create ones for the man. It had to happen, and just maybe, he'd get Ygritte to shut up for once while doing it. As if he hadn't been training with a sword since he was old enough to hold one, she acted as if it was this easy.

Only, Jon had used a sword that long. Ducking in an instant, he turned to move behind her. Eyes all found them, and Jon needed to keep them on him. As long as it wasn't happening, Jon could work up to what he was going to have to do without quite thinking about it. It wasn't real yet. So he kept the eyes off the Halfhand, and on him instead. “Never swung a sword before, have you? You look like a baby with a rattle.”

It was an easy target he knew, mocking Ygritte with how he knew in a fair fight she'd stand not a seconds chance against him. But she was easily riled up as if she could ever deny it, and so she turned to him in anger as he did her. A brief thought in Jons head that the girl hadn't done anything anywhere near enough to prove that the bravado she held, was earned.

Jon thought however, that it was you who did earn the right to hold that sort of superior attitude, but never would you come close to it. In a sword fight, Jon knew he'd be able to cut a smug, over confident Ygritte down with ease. But Jon knew one thing for certain, you were one who could take Jon on in a sword fight. He taught you not just how to fight, but how to hold your ground against Jon himself and you both always sparred with a playful fun in your eyes. Even this far away, gods help him beacuse Jon could still see bright as ever how beautiful you looked, in memory and in visions of now.

Ygritte just looked like an angry child who wasn't getting her way.

But the Halfhand took the opportunity, knocked down the one holding him captive, stealing back his sword and making his move. Knocking Jon down to the snow, Jon had to find the mindset right away. This was their only chance, Jon had to make this convincing no matter how much he didn't want to do this. But he had to, yelling for him to stop, the Halfhand goaded him into the right mindset like they both knew he would. “Why, traitor? So you can give Mance Rayder an invitation to Castle Black?”

Rattleshirt yelled at the wildlings holding both men back, yelling them to let them fight. Being allowed to grab his sword, Jon and the Halfhand fought. He was good, and he was convincing at seeming angry, but they still both knew, Jon had to be better, beacuse they would never trust the Halfhand. Back and forth they swung, trying to find the grounds to get this right.

But, the Halfhand was smart and knew exactly what needed to be done to force Jons hand into winning this fight, and played right into a weakness. Yelling at him, “Your traitor father teach you that?” Jon moving onto the attack only for the Halfhand to parry, and the final nail in the coffin was landed that had Jons blood boiling just the right amount of steaming red to find the strength, hearing the man yell at Jon, “Or was it your whore mother?”

That anger swam right through him, enough that he swiftly was able to knock the sword from his hand and then in a moment of silence, they both stood staring at each other knowing Jon had to do this. Running his sword right through him, Qhorin Halfhand looked right into Jons eyes with a conviction and trust that they were making the right decision, barley whispering to him almost as a reminder of why they made this sacrifice, “We are the watchers on the Wall.”

Falling dead to the ground, Jon heard nothing around him. No words, no conversation. The wildlings spoke, some maybe to him even, but Jon heard not a single bit of it. All he could do was stand there seeing and feeling how plunging his sword through Qhorin Halfhand felt, and a horrific ill crept up in his throat.

His first kill was a good man, a man who did nothing wrong, who died beacuse Jon failed to kill a single wildling. One of his own brothers of the Nights Watch. The first red staining Jon Snow's hands was a man he wished he never killed, just to convince these people to trust him.

Looking back to see them burning the Halfhands body, Jon wondered how long it was going to take until this sweeping guilt came up from the earth and swallowed him whole.

The guilt wasn't allowed to stay long, before he knew it, he was in their army camp. One hundred thousand wildlings and Jon was being led there to meet Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall. It was now or never, it didn't matter how much Ygritte and Rattleshirt trusted him, Jon needed Mance Rayder to trust him or none of this would ever matter. Ghost slunk silently in the background, keeping his blood red eyes no where but ensuring he was always paying attention to where Jon was. His only protection left, the only tie to who he really was left, beacuse Jon was entering that tent as nothing but a lie.

To be honest, he wasn't what he expected at first. Large and imposing, yes. But there was something rumbling and unhinged in the mans demeanour. Hair a wild orange and a thick beard to match as he ate, not looking up to him yet. His voice was low, and Jon suspected were he to yell, it would rumble the earth like thunder. “I smell a crow.”

Rattleshirt spoke behind him, “We killed his friends.” Jon worked hard to stand there in stillness, keeping his breathing even. He had gotten them killed, it was no ones fault but his for not killing Ygritte when he should have. “Thought you might want to question this one.”

Still, he didn't look at him. “What do we want with a baby crow?”

Ygritte coming to a defence Jon didn't want, “This baby killed Qhorin Halfhand. He wants to be one of us.” Jon was at the very least glad someone bought it, beacuse Jon felt such drowning guilt it felt as if it was painted all across his very face.

The man felt even larger as he stood, Jon looking up at him, blue eyes staring him down harsh with not a hint of impress. “That half handed cunt killed friends of mine. Friends twice your size.”

But that didn't scare Jon, he even had seen a giant out in that camp but every one of them were men, they were all made of the same things. Looking with no more intimidation in his eyes, Jon spoke with a rough truth, “My father told me big men fall just as quick as little ones if you put a sword through their hearts.”

This was an imposing man, not a single ounce of care in his eyes as he rumbled deep in kind. “Plenty of little men tried to put their swords through my heart. And there's plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods. What's your name, boy?” Jon answered, but in a second did it clue in, who he was clearly speaking too.

It wasn't anything but everything he was taught and valued, but he kneeled, “Your Grace.” And everyone in the room laughed. The man before him, found it the most amusing.

Arms reaching out with a bright glint in his eyes as he jested to the others, “Your Grace? Did you hear that? From now on, you'd better kneel every time I fart.”

Then, he stood from the corner of the tent. Tall just like the man before him, but there was a serious air about him that was more then just the orange bearded ones intimidation. “Stand, boy. We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall.”

Looking at the real Mance Rayder face to face, for a single second Jon thought to himself it was odd that in a way, the man looked as if he'd somehow seen him before. Even worse though, and even though it was impossible, Mance looked Jon in the eye with the confidence no stranger beyond the wall should've had. “So, your Ned Stark's bastard.”

No one here should have known that. Ned was his fathers nickname, bastards weren't even a concept for children here beyond the wall, he'd never met this man before. And suddenly Jon realized, there was something more dangerous about the King Beyond the Wall then he ever knew.

As the others left, Jon had no idea what she wanted at all, but the simple fact that Mance had caught Ygritte giving Jon a look as she left the tent was enough it seemed. “The girl likes you. You like her back, Snow? That why you want to join us?”

Even if he could even slightly tolerate her, Jon would consider himself an utter disgrace of any kind of man, either as man of the Nights Watch, or a man with Stark blood in his veins, if meeting one girl was enough to make him betray his brothers. The other man, found only amusement in the comment that Jon cared not for. “Don't panic, boy. This isn't the damned Night's Watch where we make you swear off girls.”

No, he thought. Jon only swore off one girl.

And right here, in that tent as the only girl these men spoke of was Ygritte, Jon wished you would appear to him here and now. He didn't care what he would have seen, he wanted to see you and only you. Don't lump Jon into the kind of men who jumped from girl to girl as they fancy, he thought.

Jon had a girl. He'd only ever have one. His first girl.

But, he managed to convince them to trust him. Mance knew right away, Jon didn't care about the girl outside, or being free, or anything of the sort. Jon convinced him with the truth. That he had seen one of those things, one of the Others take a baby boy away in the woods. That the Lord Commander already knew. “I want to fight for the side that fights for the living. Did I come to the right place?”

Simply telling him, they would need to get him a new cloak, but Jon did not miss the fact that Mance Rayder, had not actually answered his question.

Jon felt worse then he ever had before in his life. He was miserable, and lying, and everything felt wrong. Who in the seven hells was he anymore? Being with you never felt like this, it never made him feel uneasy, it never made him hate himself, it never made him hide from the truth beacuse it felt sickening.

But he had to lie about it. Beacuse he knew the word. He knew what word was to describe what had happened, what was happening, but he couldn't accept it. Jon was a man. A strong, capable man. He shouldn't be allowed to say that happened to him. He should be a better man then that beacuse everyone would laugh and mock him if he said what he was thinking.

Everyone but you. You'd see through it right away if you saw the way Ygritte was with him, and you'd know the truth Jon was painfully hiding from. You, and Ghost. He had to send Ghost away. She demanded it. It was the only way, they all knew if Jon walked out of that cave without doing it, they'd know he was still loyal to the Nights Watch and they'd kill him faster then he could come up with an excuse.

Ghost wouldn't ever have let it happen, and he almost didn't. His direwolf let a lot happen at Jons order, but this was not one Ghost would stand back from. He would have torn her apart if Jon didn't send him away, and he hadn't seen his direwolf since. It made it all the worse. What he had to do, what she made him do, and how much he felt disgusting for it.

Jon never felt such a deep hatred in himself when he was with you. He'd have you on his bed, perched on his lap with your soft lips against his, part of your dress falling down your shoulders almost exposing your breasts were you not pressed tight against him. He'd guide your covered hips along his covered cock and it was a heaven which was found in your touch together.

So why did he feel dirty, filthy? Like his skin was so covered in a grime he'd have to tear it off just to get it all clean. But he couldn't. He did what he did, and whatever forced pleasure his body found, only made Jon want to scream.

He didn't care that you married Robb, he didn't care about any of that. Even if he'd die without it, Jon would have waited that entire lifetime to share it with you. That belonged to you, just like his heart but Jon let Ygritte take it and it was only a miracle which Jon didn't break down that day.

He had seen you in the middle of it. A vision like before, but this time, his vision was of you telling Robb you were pregnant. The glee shared between you both and the way his brother took you after as Jon was forced to watch as he himself was taken, but by force. But Jon was still here, and so were the wildlings and now he had to pretend he was part of this.

Jon had to pretend Ygritte was who he wanted, and he had to pretend he didn't feel fear now everytime she came close to him, not knowing when she'd just take and take what Jon didn't want to give all over again. He lied to himself, and said this was normal. This was how a relationship felt. In fear and avoidance.

So why, did Jon sit there terrified at the thought that you could see this? If this was real, why did you knowing about Ygritte scare Jon? Why did the idea that you thought Jon moved on, make him feel as if he was nothing but a low life who was betraying you? But now they all thought Ygritte and Jon were with one another, and Jon had no choice other then to pretend like it was all okay.

He couldn't think about how much he missed you, and how desperately he wished you were here instead of her. Being with you felt like Jon and you were born to find one other, being with Ygritte made him feel like a stranger in his own mind.

He knew too, his father would be horrendously disappointed in who Jon had become.

“But I'm your woman now, Jon Snow. You're going to be loyal to your woman. Don't ever betray me.” Sitting next to him she said it with such conviction. But if that was how it was, why did Jon dream of you every single night without failure, why did he still see you in visions day after day and wish he could reach through them and return to you?

But he couldn't say that. She'd kill him here and now. So he just said, “I won't.”

She kept talking, and threatened him as if it was cute and Jon sat in silence feeling ill. He had to love her, he had to. He couldn't do this otherwise, he couldn't think of you. It had to be her, beacuse Jon couldn't handle feeling like he was betraying your love.

You and Jon teased one another, so he had to tell himself, Ygrittes threats and insults were essentially the same thing. You were strong willed, and Ygritte smugly saw herself with a superior opinion, that was the same thing, right? Your touch was gentle, and selfless, and so unbelievably loving, and Ygrittes was selfish and forceful and mean.

Maybe, Jon thought, if he just didn't let her touch him anymore, he could lie about the rest until he believed it. He had nine hundred feet of the Wall to climb, so maybe he could spend that, telling himself his love for you didn't matter anymore, beacuse his survival was dependant on loving her.

But then they got to the top, and Jons world shifted. He could see here and elsewhere, but it wasn't a scenario he watched. Just you. Standing out in the woods, green all around you with red watering eyes and something devastated in them that made Jon want to pull you into his arms, but then you looked up. You looked at him.

Wherever you were, you could see Jon as he saw you. You were so upset, and Jon realized you had seen exactly what he didn't want. You had seen him too, and he wanted to lash out. You looked at Jon, shocked you both were seeing the same vision of the other at the same time, but you also had seen what looked like Jon moving on. It looked to you, like Jon didn't love you anymore.

As soon as you were gone though, Ygritte moved to kiss him. But he rejected it entirely, twisting from her and just walked away, damned the looks they all gave him for it. You had seen him, and now you thought Jon didn't love you anymore and he hated it. He hated this plan, he hated he had to kill Qhorin Halfhand for this plan, and he hated that he gave up the only thing he had left that belonged to you, to her.

Jon never felt more alone then ever.

He always remembered something his father told him. It was after the first time he had gone with him to witness his father carry out an execution. He had told Jon something that stuck so heavily with him every day since.

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.”

Jon since that day, even more so now as a man, tried to live by those words. And today, he had a growing feeling deep in his gut, that it was all coming to an end. The words of his father he lived by was about to clash with the free folk and what they demanded of him. All knelt behind a stone fence, waiting for Orell to return from scouting, and the news he came with only made that prediction of Jons that much stronger. “Only one old man, and eight good horses.”

Tormund turned to Jon, asking why one man would have eight horses, and he was honest about it. “He breeds them for the Watch.”

Discussing what to do, Jons eyes once trained on the grass intently, raised up in a deep protest as Orell whispered with the larger man, “He's got some gold in there, and proper steel. Let's carve him up.”

He knew what he was doing, Jon knew exactly what they were all about to think if he said it but not for a second was any of this right. Roughly he hissed out, “We just take the horses and go. The old man's no threat.”

Jon had gotten good at detecting when Ygritte was putting on a soft tone to manipulate him, and there was no patience left for it in Jons body. He too knew, mercy, was not something she cared about, not with the dangerous blood thirst that ran through her veins. “He’s an old man. A spear through the heart’s a better way to die than coughing up your last with no one but your horses to hear.”

A better way to die he thought, was when the gods fated it too. Not being slaughtered beacuse they wanted to plunder his own livelihood. Not even sparing her a glance, Jon kept his attention on Tormund instead. “The Watch might send a few men looking for a horse thief. They’ll send a lot more to hunt down murderers. “

The strange thing was, Jon at the very least, found it in him to respect Tormunds honesty. He didn't manipulate or lie, he was blunt and honest about his intentions and goals without care of what others thought. But regardless, as he leaned into Jons space and spoke, Jon knew he wasn't going to let these people do this to an innocent man. “I hope so. Killing crows in their castle is tough. Killing them out here in the open, that’s what we do.”

All jumping over the edge, the group made the run across the field and Jon came up with a plan in the seconds it took him to reach it. He knew horses well, and he knew how easy it was to spook them. Not a soul saw him do it but the gods, and that was the only eyes he cared about. Slamming his sword down onto a passing rock, the clink echoed enough to reach the horses ears as they neighed and shifted.

Enough together it would grab anyone's attention. Stepping outside to see what the ruckus was, the old man spotted the group running his way, and moved thankfully quick. Jumping onto one of the horses, the man begun to make his escape as Jon had one last thing to do.

Raising her bow up to shoot an arrow into him, Jon angrily called Ygritte's name. Just enough of a distraction to throw her aim off enough so the man could escape. Her head whipped around to glare at him, and Jon could only avoid her eyes and walk passed her in silence.

If this was love, why was a deep part of him, still scared of her?

By the time they caught up to the old man, it was pouring rain, and getting close to dark. Jon couldn't help the uncomfortable thought, that they had spent a lot of effort hunting down one innocent man.

Ygritte and another shot the man down by plugging his horse full of arrows, sending him flying to the soaking ground as the group all walked up on him. Tormund approached from the opposite side to face him, and the man still with a tough resolve, pulled a knife out and pointed it at him. Jon, turned his head slightly away.

This was who the free folk had hunted down, an old man with but a knife on him and nothing more, just defending his right to be alive. He felt sick.

The ironic thing to him once more, was that it was Tormund who showed the man respect. Man to man, he didn't lie or soften the blow, but was respectful and honest as strange as it seemed as he simply took the knife and tossed it away to the side. “Where were you riding?”

“Doesn't matter now, does it?”

Tormund agreed calmly, that it didn't matter. But, it was the angry yelling of Orell that made Jon feel even worse. “Cut his throat, or he'll tell the crows we're here.” His heart sunk more in his chest, how could he stand here and be part of this, the man didn't deserve this.

Pulling his own blade out, Tormund spoke with a raw honesty, “You understand.”

The old man holding a hand out, looking up to him with one last request. “Let me stand at least. Let me go with a bit of dignity.” Despite everything, Tormund held his hand out and helped pull the man up on two feet, himself.

But Orell, was the one there, who could sense what was going on. He knew what was going on in Jons head and he had poked and prodded at him about not being on their side and it seemed tonight he was going to press the issue just as Jon felt he was reaching his breaking point. “Make the crow kill him.” He moved to get right in his face, voice low and both men knew, that the other knew the truth. “You're one of us now. Prove it.”

But Orell didn't want Jon to kill him, he wanted to expose that Jon was lying once and for all.

Jon knew, if he didn't kill him, he was fighting his way out of here and it would be one against too many to be able to escape easy. Pulling Longclaw out, he let it rest gently at the mans neck. “She looks sharp.” Jon could only nod, maybe, if Jon could do it, it would give the man some solace knowing the blade was good enough to be clean and quick.

But then he'd have to do it. Jon stood there, keeping the sword there as the rain poured around them all and he couldn't stop looking at the man instead of his blade. He was an innocent man, and he stood there hearing his last words, watching him pray to the same gods Jon prayed too. A swirling devastation rose in his mind and in his eyes, why should they get to do this to an innocent man? Why was this who Jon was supposed to become?

Jon looked him in the eye, and heard his final words. So why hadn't he moved yet? They all goaded him. “Do it.” Ygritte was seething anger as she looked at him, and it felt horrible. This was who she thought Jon was, and this was what she thought was worthy of such anger, Jon hesitating to kill one, innocent man.

Jon shifted his grip, as if that was the problem. Tormund yelling at him, “Come on, boy. Go on,” So he raised his sword above him, and Jon knew, this wasn't who he was. Jon looked him in the eyes and heard his final words, but still, he thought, the man did not deserve to die.

His sword fell loose in his grip, as he accepted it was all over. The mask had slipped for good and putting it back was impossible. But just as he did it, Ygritte unceremoniously shot the man dead with an arrow and hell all broke loose.

The fight was chaotic, and just as Jon was almost overwhelmed, multiple men going for him as Orell yelled with an attacking swing, did a figure leap passed them both taking a man to the ground. Turning in shock, Jon saw a wolf, a direwolf and a darker one just as large attack another.

His brothers wolves?

But he had no time to think, Jon fought Orell off, and no hesitation that time, plunged his sword right through the mans chest. Rasping with the most confidence Jon had felt in years, “You were right the whole time.”

The mans eye's turned white in his final moments, and as quick as he fell, did Orells eagle screech. In the mind of his own bird, he attacked Jon, knocking him to the ground and tearing at the skin on his face, trying to go for his eyes before Jon gathered his bearing and knocked him harshly away.

In seconds, Jon climbed up onto a horse, and rode away from them all without a single regret. Only a day later, as he gathered his bearings to plot his path to Castle Black did Ygritte find him. He tried one last time to hopefully get away without issue, playing off what he knew she felt for him, and all it did, was get Jon shot full of arrows so much he felt faint even just riding away from her.

He hadn't had a vision or dream of you in days. Jon could only think in that agonizing ride to Castle Black, that he never wanted to see Ygritte again, and how much he desperately wanted to one day, find a way to see you instead. See you beyond just visions that told you lies. You loved Jon for who he was, and he was a fool for ever thinking he'd love someone who wasn't you.

Ygritte only loved someone who was never real, but you loved Jon Snow exactly as he was. That, was the woman he wanted to see again. And maybe if he were lucky, he'd find a chance. But, when Jon woke up in Castle Black, Sam came to him with news. News of Robb, and news of you, shattering his heart.

Jon knew, he would never get that chance ever again.

“Three dozen bodies with slit throats tossed off the top of the Wall. Seems like that would be a good lesson.” The men all shouted and slammed fists against tables, but none of it helped. None of their eagerness to right the wrong, changed what happened.

As soon as the boy arrived, Jon knew right away, he'd never forget the day Olly came to Castle Black. A boy of twelve telling a horrifying story of losing everything to him. The massacre they had committed and likely he was the only survivor. A hand firm and as comforting as could be sat on Ollys shoulder, as Jon did not hide the way his eyes shined with something unshed. It wasn't the same way or how, but he knew. Jon knew what losing your entire family and home felt like.

He knew what being left alone in the world felt like, and Olly was too young. It wasn't fair.

The worst part though, was that they didn't just do it to do it. They did it beacuse they knew it would cause this reaction. They knew, it would lead to the men rallying for justice. For once as Jon stood there, hoping to be a pillar of any support to Olly, did it feel strange that for once, he agreed entirely with Ser Alliser.

Without Mormont there anymore, Ser Alliser was acting commander. Standing in the middle of the hall, speaking loud and clear the exact thoughts Jon was thinking on his own. “If we go after them, we'll be giving them what they want. They want to draw us out, pick us off a few at a time.”

Maester Aemon sat with the same wisdom as ever, with more then any of them combined it sometimes felt. He was quiet, and all fell even moreso to listen when he spoke. “We have just over two hundred men. And that's including stewards and builders. And me. We can't afford to lose a single man. We must remember our first responsibility. We are the watchers on the Wall.”

Jons head sunk, but not once did his disagree. Qhorin Halfhand did not sacrifice himself to Jons blade so they could sabotage themselves for the sake of justice. No justice could be found if they died before they could protect anyone else. He already had enough of failing to protect the people he loved.

He couldn't protect Robb, he couldn't protect you. So Jon would protect the only thing the gods graced him with left in this world. The Watch and the Brothers now remaining to him.

Admiring Pyps spirit, he insisted there had to be something they could do. But in the quiet, Ser Alliser turned to Jon, both for a serious answer, and he suspected, to test the loyalty remaining in him. “You're a champion of the common people, Lord Snow. What do you say to Brother Pyp's proposition?”

Loyalty however, was all Jon had left. Loyal to the things which truly mattered, and the Nights Watch was not going to be able to protect anyone if they let the free folk slaughter them all. “Mance Rayder is coming. If the wildlings breach the Wall, they'll roll over everything and everyone for a thousand miles before they reach an army that can stop them.”

Robb already lost his Kingdom to the Boltons when they took his life. Jon couldn't let the free folk come and ravage through what of his home, his brothers home, his families home, was left. Jon couldn't save Robb, but he could protect what was left of his Kingdom from this one thing if none else.

Just as Ser Alliser spoke of shoring up Castle Black, did the horn bow. One blast, rangers returning.

And suddenly they all scrambled to get to the tunnel. Only two figures came through barley standing on two feet as they dragged each other. Others helped, some grabbed Grenn and Jon grabbed Edd.

It might be, he suspected, the first time in years that Jon actually, genuinely laughed as Edd strained out in pain, “Thought you'd have blue eyes by now.” Leave it to Edd to be the one to get the first laugh from Jons miserable life, seconds upon his return.

Sitting them both down, freezing and in pain Grenn showed the red marks of the chains that kept them so long from coming back. Edd telling them that they were kept at Crasters by the mutineers, the brothers who killed Craster, and killed Lord Commander Mormont. But the terror hit Jon, leaning down to Edd he rasped out “Are the mutineers staying?”

The answer was what he expected, but also the worst case scenario. Grenn explaining “They're not going anywhere. They've got Craster's food and his wives.”

Edd muttering morosely of the fates that likely were finding them. “Poor girls. Never thought they'd miss their daddy.” Grenn explaining that it was Karl running things, and Jon instantly knew what kind of men that stayed there. Those girls had been through enough with Craster, he couldn't imagine what torture they were finding with men like Karl Tanner keeping them hostage.

Taking a step away from the group, Jon ran a hand over his face realizing what they were going to have to do. They couldn't stay there, they'd be met by Mance Rayders army and they'd sing faster then drunks in a tavern. Once more, Jon thought of the Halfhand. He died for this, the men he was with died for this, that innocent farmer died for this.

They couldn't fail now. Turning to Ser Alliser, Jon's tone was deep and urgent as he cut through the discussion around him. “We need to ride north and kill them all.” Ser Alliser trying to tell him that justice could wait, but Jon interrupted once more, raising his voice as his heart raced. Eyes wide and full of the same dread they all were beginning to sense. “It's not about justice. I told the wildlings we had over a thousand men at Castle Black alone. Karl and the others know the truth as well as we do. How long do you think they'll keep that information to themselves when the wildlings are peeling their fingernails off?”

Voice dropping as his face twisted and narrowed, they were risking too close to the line of loss as he looked up to Ser Alliser. “Mance has all he needs to crush us, he just doesn't know it yet. As soon as he gets his hands on them, he will. Then he'll throw his full strength at us.” Turning to the rest of the men, he let his voice raise, they needed to know how urgent this was has Jon felt. “And even if every one of us kills a hundred wildlings, there's still not a thing we can do to stop them.”

What was worse, was that in a horrible way, it didn't matter that Jon had led men to end the mutineers, beacuse still more death came. This time Jon felt the guilt just as someone else did. But Sam didn't deserve that guilt inside him, and Jon sat next to him that night feeling horrendous, feeling that dark rooted anger twisting inside of him that they couldn't do anything.

They had hit Mole's Town. The closest place North before the Wall, a little run down town where it was mostly known as a place the brothers would sneak out at night to and visit the brothel. It also, was the same brothel where Sam had taken Gilly. Not for that, not even a chance, in fact it was that sort of act which he was protecting her from.

Knowing the kind of men Karl was, or Rast, men who in their free lives outside the wall were killers and rapers, still were in the walls too. And Gilly was one, defenceless girl with a baby who despite the sometimes amusingly quick and sharp attitude she held, was nothing of a fighter. So Sam made a deal with the brothel owner, Gilly would live there and in return she'd cook, clean, and look after the other working girls babies as long as they gave her no other work.

But after Ollys village was attacked, Jon was the one who was the guilty party, not Sam. He had talked him out of going back for her, once Ser Alliser ordered none of them to leave the castle and now that the free folk had rolled through it, Jon knew no one was left. Including the brothers who still snuck out that night.

Jon tried weakly to tell him, “You couldn't have known.” But Sam was grief stricken, and it made Jon feel so much more guilty. Gilly and Little Sam didn't deserve that, none of those girls in Mole's town deserved that, no one did. Sam didn't hide the tears in his eyes, as Jon sat trying to keep down that gut wrenching anger brewing within, which Grenn was not able to hide.

He paced back and forth, shouting the rage that Jon felt inside. “We're just cowering here while they slaughter our brothers?” Edd more calmly behind tried to argue that they were supposed to have been in the Castle, but Grenn grew angrier. Edd and Grenn both had a point, but maybe it would help letting it out as opposed to Jons silence making him feel worse. Maybe not. “Oh, so it's alright then? Black Jack, Kegs, and Mully chopped to pieces 'cause they broke the rules?”

Edd stayed calm at least, “I didn't say it was alright. I'm saying they shouldn't have been there.”

It was a strange time to think it, but Jon could recall the morning after he tried leaving Castle Black to find Robb and you after his fathers death. How easily the Old Bear called him out for leaving, only to placate his fears. “Don't look so terrified. If we beheaded everyone that ran away for the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. At least you weren't whoring in Mole's Town.”

Sam next to him cut the wound even deeper as he muttered “She's dead because of me.”

Grenn still enraged pacing back and forth, “We pledged to guard the realms of men. We can't even guard Mole's Town.”

Jon had to interupt, he knew Grenns rage, he truly did. But the truth no matter how hard, had to be accepted. The two men hated each other, but Jon knew Ser Alliser was entirely right in ordering all of them to stay within the Castle Black walls. “We can't go after them, you know that. It's what they want.”

Gods help him, he hated that he knew how Sam felt. “Little Sam..as if I cut their throats myself.”

Oh Jon knew too well what that pain was, and it made him feel heavy for not having any words to comfort him over it. Little Sam wasn't his baby and Gilly wasn't his wife, but really, for Sam they still might as well have been. Jon still dreamt every night, a vision of you dying in a pool of your own blood. And he could always see the wounds in your stomach, right where he saw you gently guide Robb's hand to, when telling him you were with child.

Not all of those free folk were bad people, many of them, men like Tormund were just acting as soldiers doing what they knew, what they were told, but it didn't make it any easier. In fact, it made it harder to accept. How on earth did Jon ever trick himself into thinking he could've been one of them.

The mask slipped beacuse Jon refused to kill one innocent man, but by now? How many innocent men, women, and children had been slaughtered since? Olly had described a woman with red hair who shot his father dead, an expressionless look on her face as she walked away. Jon thought to himself, how many have you killed since I left, Ygritte? Is that what she wanted him to become?

You always looked at Jon too highly, always saw him as a better man then he was, but you also always pushed him for more. You saw his potential and supported him no matter what beacuse you believed in him. You never pushed him to be someone he didn't want, never forced him into anything.

You always had a soft spot for children too, you helped raise all of his younger siblings on and off. This would have utterly horrified you. His gut twisted, knowing that you didn't just die that night, but you were slaughtered like an animal right in the stomach where your own child was growing.

Around him, Jon could hear the others trying to assure Sam she might have gotten out, might have escaped somehow but Jon couldn't convince himself to say anything. If Gilly was dead, Jon didn't want to give Sam the pain of false hope. That was equally as cruel as the bloody truth. But as he sat there, it clued in his mind.

Brows narrowing in thought as he connected the dots of the maps he knew like the back of his hand. “If they hit Mole's Town, then we're next.” Looking up with an unnerved distance in his eyes, Jon looked despite knowing he wouldn't see them. Not until they wanted to be seen. “Mance's army must be close.”

Finally, Pyp asked the most pressing question. “How do two hundred men kill a hundred thousand?”

The silence was his answer. Edd circled around to them, pouring ale into each of their mugs as he spoke grim. “Whoever dies last, be a good lad and burn the rest of us. Once I'm done with this world, I don't want to come back.”

All five of them drank together. Their days were finally numbered.

He was trying not to get angry, it wasn't Sams fault. He didn't know. No one knew. He explained it that day the only way someone like Ser Alliser would care about, and from they point on he just let them all say what they wanted about it. None of them would've believed him, and even if they did, they'd mock him for it. Everything Jon was capable of, and yet they'd torment him for not being able to defend himself against one wildling girl.

As if it was that simple. Jon didn't need to be held down to be forced into it, it was far more complicated then that, but no one cared. The only person who would've cared was you, and you were dead, so why should Jon care anymore about people knowing the truth?

But Sam kept trying to ask. “I want you to tell me what it was like to have someone. To be with someone. To love someone and have them love you back. We're all gonna die a lot sooner than I'd planned. You're the closest I'll ever get to know it.”

His hands tensed and untensed, trying to keep himself calm. His men needed him to be calm and in control tonight of all nights. Jon loved you, and you loved him. That was it.

“You know right? Even if I don't say it?”

If Jon could go back and say damn it all, he would've just told you how much he loved you if he knew how this was all going to end. You died thinking he didn't love you anymore, and now Jon was facing death where everyone would wrongfully assume he loved someone who wasn't you.

He tried very hard to divert the question to anything else. “So you and Gilly never-”

They went back and forth about vows and what not but in truth Jon didn't really care. Not now. As they walked, it was only when Jon found themselves alone for half a moment when he finally got fed up enough and turned to Sam. “I didn't do it beacuse I wanted to Sam. I did it to keep myself alive. I don't know what being with someone you love in that way is like.” Your name came from his lips for the first time in months, and it stunned Sam silent. “She died before I could find out. Ygritte is nothing like her. Not even close.”

That ended the conversation. If they died tonight, or tomorrow as they all expected, he wouldn't do it with no one knowing it was you he wanted to be with. Just one person had to know what he had with you was the only real thing he's ever felt. Someone had to know Jon only ever loved you, beacuse you died, thinking that he didn't.

All beacuse of what Ygritte forced him to do.

The barrels all rolled into place, Jon found himself standing next to the man himself. “That's the last of the oil, Ser Alliser.”

Both men stood there, looking out into the darkness as he asked what he already knew. “A hundred thousand you say?” Jon confirmed once more, feeling the same motivated dread he did. “You can say it if you like. We should've sealed the tunnel while we had the chance like you suggested.”

But Jon didn't want to say it. He didn't agree, but he understood why he refused. And pointing out who was right or wrong about what didn't matter now. They were here to do the same thing, defend the same place and people. Hating one another or not, tonight Jon and Ser Alliser stood on equal ground fighting for what they both knew and felt in their bones, was the right thing. “It was a difficult decision either way, Ser.”

“Do you know what leadership means, Lord Snow? It means that the person in charge gets second guessed by every clever little twat with a mouth. But if he starts second guessing himself, that's the end. For him. For the clever little twats. For everyone.” Mormont had tried to help Jon become a leader, and it was him who says he first needed to learn how to follow. “This is not the end. Not for us. Not if you lot do your duty for however long it takes to beat them back. And then you get to go on hating me and I get to go on wishing your Wildling whore had finished the job.”

In truth, Jon wished she did too. Then he wouldn't have to experience the painful reality of knowing what living without you in this world felt like.

When it mattered most, Lord Janos Slynt was exactly what Jon knew he was. A coward. They looked to the fire and the army of Mance Rayder as they stood high on the wall, and the man was the only one of them who panicked. “No discipline. No training. Gang of thieves, that's all this is. I commanded the city watch of King's Landing. Those men obeyed orders.”

What in Seven Hells was this man even going on about? Jon turned to him, yelling without a care for holding back now. “We can't just let them attack the gate,” Janos babbled something about the steel as he lost more and more of his own command. Jon gesturing out, yelling in the cold wind to the sights coming for them. “Those are giants riding mammoths down there. Do you think your cold, rolled steel's gonna stop them?”

If they all made it through, Jon made a note in his mind to thank Grenn later. Coming to him, he leaned over to Slynt with an easy lie on his lips. “Brother Slynt, I've just got word that Ser Alliser needs you below. You're the most experienced man he's got, he said he needs you.”

So he left like a coward, and Jon knew the men up here still needed a commander. He had learned how to follow, and he felt the call to action as natural as it ever had come to him. It was time Jon lead.

Watching as the fight raged on, two giants came down from their mammoths and the worst begun, if they got through it was all over. They used their great strength to begun pulling the gate off and open with ropes, and Jon knew if they did one thing it was they needed to hold that gate closed. If Mance's army got in, it was over, for them, the watch, and everyone who the free folk would rampage over in what was left of Jons home.

Turning to Grenn, Jon couldn't have known how much he was going to regret choosing someone who meant that much to him. “The outer gate won't hold. Take five men, hold the inner gate.” Grabbing his arm before he left, Jon muttered roughly “Hold the gate. If they make it through...”

But Grenn was a fighter if Jon had ever seen one. Not a doubt in his mind as looked back at him. “They won't.”

The night raged onward, and it was a strange sight in the carnage to see Sam coming up behind him. “What are you doing up here?”

An urgency in his voice as Sam relayed the dire state below. “The Wildlings are over the walls. Ser Alliser has fallen. The castle walls can't stand much longer.” One leader high, and one leader low. But now? It all fell onto Jon, he needed to be the leader fighting for the only purpose that mattered. Giving Edd command of the Wall, Jon turned to make his way down the path.

Grabbing Longclaw, he it pulled free with a yell to his men, “Come brothers, now fight with me,”

For a split second, Jon feared it was all over. He stood there, knowing he couldn't kill her faster then she would kill him. Ygritte was angry, upset and kept Jon at bay with an arrow pointed right at him, but this wasn't who she thought he was.

This was the man he always had been, the one he wanted to be. Ygritte forced him to love her as someone else, but he wasn't that falsehood. Jon Snow stood for better then the destruction and bloodshed she raged in favour of.

But perhaps, he used it for once, to manipulate her to his advantage. If he stood there, risking her shot, letting her think he wouldn't or couldn't kill her, then Ygritte wouldn't turn around. And she wouldn't see what was coming her way, just like how Ollys father never saw her arrow coming his way.

The boy stood with a bow in hand, and as she thought it was her Jon was looking at, Jon made eye contact with Olly. He was a good shot, and Jon trusted in that. The nod was to him, not to her, and when the arrows flew, Jon found himself uncaring, as the memories of what she forced him to do flashed before his mind.

Maybe it was cold or cruel, but Jon could feel the filth she made him cover himself in when she would force from him what he never wanted to give her, and he couldn't find it in himself to care when she fell to the ground dead. Jon Snow already lost the woman he loved, and your name sure as hell wasn't Ygritte.

He didn't want to think how many brothers he lost that night, but Jon forced himself too. Pyp was gone, an arrow through his neck and the gods were cruel enough that Jon knew she had done it. He should have killed her that day beyond the wall, he should've just killed her when Qhorin Halfhand was still alive. Beacuse then Pyp would still be alive. The brothers all around him would still be alive.

Tormund was the only one left, the men surrounded him but he was angry and a fighter with rage flowing through him and they all stood back in a degree of fear, instead of fighting him. But Jon, for once, finally didn't care about how Tormund saw him. Walking over with a crossbow in hand, Jon yelled to him. “Tormund. It's over. Let it end.”

Gruffly spitting at him, “This is how a man ends-” But Jon had no more patience for it. Raising it up, Jon shot Tormund in the leg, and just as he yelled out, Jon kicked his blade out his hand and to the ground. He had been the only one with the bravery to get anywhere near the wild man.

“Put him in chains. We'll question him later.”

Jon turned and walked away as his brothers dragged him off. Tormund yelling and spitting in rage, “I should've thrown you from the top of the wall, boy.”

Rasping quietly to no one, Jon didn't really care if he heard him or not. It didn't matter. The dead were all still dead and there was no changing the past. Most who Jon cared about, were still gone after all.

“Aye. You should've.”

It was a terrible idea, but every idea everyone had left was a terrible idea.

Qhorin Halfhand had said it the best all those years ago. “Sneak in, kill Mance, and scatter them to the wind.” And he was right. But no one here was willing to do it, beacuse it was a plan that ended in death for the brave soul who would end him.

Jon had lost his father, brothers, sisters, family, home and you. He had nothing left in the world outside, all he had left was the watch and the brothers who died, after turning to him to lead in the darkest part of the night. As he approached Sam, he knew it would be the last time he saw him too.

But no one here was going to make this sacrifice. Which means it was Jons responsibility, and truthfully, Jon felt as if it was the only path left for him that made sense. Do one last thing, beacuse Jon had nothing else left.

Sam called it a great victory, but he rasped roughly at him the hard truth. “Great victory? Mance was testing our defences. He almost made it through. He has a thousand times as many men. They'll hit us again tonight. Maybe we can hold them off for a day or two, but we can never beat them.”

Walking away Sam realized what Jon was thinking, trying to argue with him not to do it, but Jon kept walking anyways before being told it was a bad plan. In honest, Jon sort of smirked. They were all full of lots of those these days, weren't they? “You're right. It's a bad plan. What's your plan?”

Grenn lay dead, he held the gate just as Jon told him too. Add another person Jon cared about that this was going to be for. Jon was doing this for him now too. He deserved better.

Pulling off Longclaw, he handed it to Sam. “I promised Jeor I'd never lose it again.” Taking it gently, the two looked at each other. The only person Jon had left, and he was about to walk away from him too. “In case I don't come back.”

“Jon. Come back.”

He knew he wouldn't. But Jon walked through the gate anyways. He had one last stand to make that no one else would. Beacuse he was taught to be a leader, and sometimes, leaders had to be the ones to throw themselves on their sword to save the rest. And just maybe, Jon couldn't do any of this anymore anyways.

Walking into that camp, Jon felt little care left for the life he was about to give up.

Only as he stood in Mance Rayders tent, as the two men realized Jon was there to kill him? That's when it all changed. That's when it happened.

Moving outside, men on horseback charged into the camp. More numbers on horses then the free folk knew where they came from, and they had come north of the wall too. Taking down men left and right, Jon knew right away these were not men of the Nights Watch, and they weren't free folk either.

These were soldiers. Real soldiers.

Mance in minutes realized they stood no chance, and yelled a surrender to his people. “Stand down, I said my people have bled enough and I meant it.”

Standing next to him, Jon watched as two riders in the distance approached. The banners he realized, weren't just normal Westeros banners. It was inside a heart set ablaze, but Jon knew the sigil all the same. Beacuse inside that burning heart, was a Stag. A crowned Stag.

Climbing down from their horses, Jon knew it was no coincidence men had come to their aid. Sam and Maester Aemon sent pleas to whoever remained in the Seven Kingdoms to help them, and at the last minute, only one King answered that call.

Without seeing him before, without even hearing a name, Jon knew who came to their aid. Older, much more rough and serious in every way, but he could see it clear as day. He knew what was coming, yet still wasn't prepared for it. It was still too raw.

The man looked at both of them, and found Mance Rayder's gaze. “You're the King beyond the wall. Do you know who I am?”

Sensing nothing that Jon was about to spiral into a meltdown from, Mance simply jested, “Never had the pleasure.” But it was Jon who felt his heart sink in his chest at the truth of who came to help him in the end. It was a connection to the one thing Jon would never let of again. The second man spoke what Jon already knew, but he still felt stunned in his heart hearing it.

“This is Stannis Baratheon. The one true King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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ew-selfish-art · 1 year

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Okay so ignore me, a Maribat shipper using the Dcxdp fandom for my own gain but like y’all keep doing de-aged Danny plots without considering something. Yes it’s great for those paternal and found family vibes but you know what it can also be used for: shipping.

This is heavy on the maribat vibes so skip if that’s not your thing:

> Danny, early 20s, pretty solidly being an everyday hero, left amity and kicks it on his friends couches when not in the GZ because going home is no longer an option. The town is basically rigged to find phantoms ecto signature

> Danny becomes a part of the JL and is fast friends with Kon and Jon but warms up to Damian over the years. He just thinks “huh what a weirdly spicy guy” and enjoys the chaos of befriending him. They have regular conversations about animal conservation and video games. Damian has always played the newest one, and he’s always down to best Danny

> Ladybug has also joined the JL and is very skittish about making friends since she’s trying really hard to keep her identity under wraps. She eventually warms up to Danny, talking about you guessed it, old video games, and she brings him like, so many snacks, that it helps him rewrite the normalcy of having food attack him. He starts to notice that she is her own flavor of chaos gremlin and they get along thick as thieves

>Here’s the thing, Robin has an great Admiration for (aka huge crush) Ladybug and only Danny has noticed. Ladybug is oblivious, Damian thinks he’s undetected and Danny might combust from the amount of times he’s now tried to set them up. The rest of the JL just, meh, doesn’t really see it.

> Danny gets a note from CW that the GIW are honing in on his ecto signature and something needs to change quick, or he’s going to pull him from the dimension for his safety. Well, the note mostly says: find this artifact and it’ll change your frequency. Take a bird with you.

> Danny initially recruits Tim to go as Red Robin but then he can’t bring himself to wake the bird up when found asleep at his desk. Robin steps in and says he’s free so long as the mission doesn’t take more than a day.

> Danny is de-aged, the artifact is lost, Damian is now barely functioning as a young 8yr old Danny opens up a portal to get them back to the watchtower before he detransforms and gets a bit younger. He looks like he’s seven and if his powers are linked to the aging cycle- then no powers for danny.

> ladybug enters the watchtower trying to escape a team member who needs to get a clue about the fact that she needs to detransform every now and then, goes into her normally empty meeting room, and as the magic washes off her - boom portal and Danny and Damian appear. Marinette is so fucked. Everyone is floundering and then Danny gets an idea about how this can still turn around to be an ideal outcome for all three of them.

> Danny decided now is probably the best time to pull a Cupid gambit: joint parenting. He demands that ladybug be the one to help portal them back to Gotham. Congrats, you guys are going to help me wait out this spell. Ladybug feels like she should just run from this whole thing, her identity is already compromised, but then Danny begs her for her help since it’s magical

> Just, Damian and Marinette trying to jointly manage Danny while trying to sort out aging him up- CW leaving vague notes here and there about why he’s not going to help them reverse the spell- Danny having so much fun going between Gotham and Paris with his “parents” and trying to nudge them together

>hell yeah they fall in love.

> oh and then Dani shows up and quickly gets Danny to sort himself out. The Dummy forgot that shapeshifting was a thing he could do.

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #damian x marinette #ml fanfic #mlb x dc #dc x dp fic #dc x dp #mlb x dp #danny phantom #maribat fic #de aged danny

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bellysoupset · 8 months

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Halloween Saga - Pt 1.

Jonah was pleasantly sleepy by the time he came home. It had been a long day, but it had been a good day. He got to share his shift with Wendy, which was always a perk, and two of his most frail patients had been looking up, one of them with a release scheduled for next week. All in all, it was a great day, and he couldn't wait to cuddle up with Leo and JD.

"Leo?" Jon called out, stripping off his coat and hanging it near the door, kicking off his shoes too, "Leo, you're still up?"

It wasn't late enough that Leo would be asleep, but it was still a possibility. Leo made a noise from the couch and Jonah opened a smile.

"That's how you greet...me?" he raised his eyebrows, circling the couch and being faced with the scene in front of him. Leo was sprawled out, surrounded by candy wrappers, with JD happily sleeping on his chest. There was even a snickers wrapper perched between her little ears, "what the hell?"

"Hey," Leo grumbled, seeming to be in a shitty mood and unwrapping another kit kat bar. Instead of breaking it in the rectangles it was meant to be broken, he bit the on the thing straight on.

Jonah let out a confused chuckle, "uhm... Okay, why are you sulking? And where did all this candy come from? Did they give it out at work?"

Leo let out a scoff, mouth so thick with sugar that it turned into a cough and woke up JD. Their kitten pawed at his chin, before turning around and walking down his body, settling between his legs.

Jonah noticed that Leo was still in his work clothes. He had ditched the blazer jacket, but he was still wearing the social pants, belt and the button up. He had rolled up the sleeves and loosened up the tie, but that was it.

"Leo?"

"Did you know we can't have Halloween here?" Leo said, taking another bite of the chocolate, "I bought all this candy and then Matthew said that we can't celebrate Halloween. Apparently it's against the rich people's rules."

Jonah cringed, sitting on the very end of the couch and smiling when JD promptly moved so she could curl up on his lap, "no, I didn't know. I never thought of celebrating Halloween here... But it makes sense, we don't have any ki-"

"The O'Conners from upstairs have twins!" Leo cried out "and I've seen a bunch of little kids in the sixth floor!"

"Oh well, uhm..."

"They don't even allow the trick or treaters from the streets in! Matt said they're not allowed up and no kid ever comes here anyway. I mean, who would, this looks like a fucking cartoon villain building."

Jonah pressed his lips not to laugh. He could tell Leo was genuinely upset, but it was very hard to take him seriously when he had chocolate dots painting either side of his mouth like brown lipstick, his cheeks all pink. He looked like a little kid who had broken into the secret stash of candy.

"So you've been eating all the candy you bought for the trick or treaters, is that it?" Jonah smiled, looking around. There were so many wrappers. He had basically devoured a whole bag of mini kit-kats all on his own, but Jonah also saw snicker wrappers and twixes.

Leo nodded, letting out a little burp and then finishing up the kit-kat he was currently holding, "I can't..." he burped again, "fucking believe this."

"I can't fucking believe you ate all that candy," Jonah rolled his eyes, studying his boyfriend. Leo's button up was strained around his normally flat stomach, "I didn't think you liked Halloween, it doesn't seem like your thing..."

Leo pouted, planting a hand on his belly and rubbing little circles in it, while he opened another snicker bar with his teeth, "it's not, it's just... I never got to go trick or treating as a kid. Either we were too broke for me to have a costume worth a dime or I was working during Halloween or dad was raging..."

Jonah frowned, moving closer and undoing his boyfriend's pants. He tugged on his belt and then raised his eyebrows when Leo let out another belch, but didn't slow down at all on eating candy, "and when I moved here, I was still too broke to do anything cool."

"Not last year, it was fun," Jonah pouted and Leo rolled his eyes.

"Last year we got drunk with Luke and Vince. I wanted a real Halloween. I mean, for fuck's sake, Jon, we live in Maine. It's Stephen King's home state."

Jonah opened a little smile at his boyfriend's nerdy reasoning and then rubbed his thigh, "I'm sorry, baby... We can go out for candy if you want...?"

"Oh yeah, because people are definitely gonna give candy out to the two grown ass men," Leo rolled his eyes, then grimaced when yet another sticky burp pushed past his lips, "ugh... It's hopeless."

Jonah smiled at him, unable to come out with anything comforting to say. Instead he just reached in, wiping the chocolate clinging to the side of Leo's mouth with his thumb, "I think you've had enough candy."

Leo raised his eyebrows, unimpressed and in a bad mood, turning his face away. He munched on the last bite of his snicker and Jon watched, rolling his eyes, as his boyfriend struggled to swallow it.

"You'll make yourself sick."

"Too late for that," Leo scoffed, hugging his stomach with one arm, still pouting, "that was at least five kit kats ago."

Jon frowned, "goddammit, Leo... Why did you do that to yourself?"

"Don't be mean to me," Leo said quietly, curling up more and hugging his bloated belly with a grimace, "I feel horrible."

"Yeah, because you ate your weight in chocolate."

"No, because we're not gonna have a fucking Halloween!" Much like a kid, Leo hit the couch, only for another wet belch to roll up and him to pale. He gagged softly, "okay, maybe because of the chocolate too."

Jon rolled his eyes, "I'm gonna get you some water."

When he came back to the living room, Leo had unbuttoned his shirt and pants, rolling them down to the start of his boxers. His normally flat, toned stomach was puffing out, all red near the belly button, a trail of honey colored hairs disappearing down his boxers.

"If you're gonna stare at least help me rub it," Leo pouted, pressing the heel of his hand to his distended side and rubbing in circles. Jonah let out a huff, handing him the glass of water and sitting on the couch, pushing away his boyfriend's hands from his unsettled tummy.

"You're impossible", Jonah put a hand on either side of Leo's stomach, noticing how warm he was. Clearly Leo had done a number on himself, there were angry bubbles right under his hands. He pushes his palm in, rubbing it in small circles and moving his hands towards Leo's belly button, only for the blonde to groan, leaning his head back.

"Hurts?" Jonah asked, stopping the belly rub and Leo shook his head, clutching the half empty glass of water.

"No, it doesn't hurt," he ran a hand through his hair, then made a face as he realized he had just spread the sticky sugary coat all over his hair, "I can feel it right here," Leo said, pointing his throat, and Jonah grimaced.

"Okay, let's go to the bathroom, you idiot," he sighed, getting up and offering Leo a hand. Instead of his boyfriend accepting it, Jonah received a half hearted kick to his ass.

"I'm not gonna throw up," Leo groaned, swallowing down thickly, "I just need to let it settle."

Jonah didn't buy it for a second, but he figured this was not a fight he wanted to have. He was tired and if Leo wanted to sit there and feel sick, so be it, "Okay," he yawned, "will you at least come to bed?"

Leo seemed to mull it over, before he nodded and struggled to sit up correctly. As soon as he did, he pitched forward with a sickening belch, hand rushing to cover his mouth. Jonah jumped back, expecting to see a puddle of vomit between his boyfriend's feet, but it had just been the most disgusting burp he had ever heard.

He cringed as Leo muffled two other belches against his fist, the type that turned wet at the end, clearly threatening to bring something up.

"Baby?"

"I'm good," Leo's voice was deeper than it was in the mornings, all grave and sticky, "go ahead, I'll be right there."

Jonah didn't move, instead he crossed his arms and stared at his boyfriend, watching his throat bob up and down as he swallowed against the sick sensation. Much like the stubborn prick he was, Leo swallowed down one last time, forcefully, and then opened a nauseated smile.

"See?"

"Amazing," Jonah scoffed, then got to the task of picking up all the wrappers that JD was tearing to shreds.

He was running out of energy, but he knew he had to shower before bed, so Jonah all but dragged himself to the bathroom, while Leo collapsed on the bed and curled up, arms wrapped around his stomach.

By the time he made it back, Leo had successfully managed to strip out of his work clothes, but he was still wide awake, rubbing lazy circles over his naked bloated belly and pretending to watch TV. His face was pale and clammy, causing Jonah to wince.

"You look like you're gonna vomit, Leo."

"No," the blonde shook his head stubbornly, "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're damn near green!" Jonah stood next to the bed and fought the urge to drag Leo standing up, "go sit in the bathroom."

"I said I'm fine," Leo glared at him, before punctuating each following word with a sickly burp, "I just need... To let it digest."

"Fine," Jon said bitterly, tired and frustrated as he circled the bed and fell against the pillows, "You better not puke on the bed after I told you multiple ti-"

"Shut up, Jon," Leo interrupted, then curled on his side, making a little pitiful noise, "come rub my tummy."

He couldn't help but smile, even if he was tired and frustrated with Leo's stubbornness. Jonah got under the covers, then rolled on his side, planting a hand on Leo's belly and his cheek to his shoulder.

"You're such a baby," Jonah yawned, pressing his thumb to the soft skin under Leo's navel, smoothing the little happy trail down with soothing circles. He could feel how upset his boyfriend's belly was, gurgling non stop under his hand, "does this hurt?"

"No," Leo turned his head, muffling a wet belch against the pillow, "it hurts here..." he grabbed Jonah's wrist and pulled his hand up, to the top of the belly. His abs were almost gone, distended. His stomach was gurgling fiercely and when Jon pushed his fingers in, Leo gagged and slapped Jon's hand away, "don't press it, you'll make me puke."

"Like that's not gonna happen regardless," Jon yawned again, closing his eyes and moving his hand down, to rest on the center of Leo's tummy, scratching his belly softly instead of rubbing. His coordination was slipping from him, the more sleepy Jonah got.

If Leo hadn't consumed that one last snicker, maybe his chocolate tummy ache would've turned out okay. However, as it was, he had eaten far too much for his system to handle.

Around 2 AM, Leo woke up with a start. The bed felt like it was swaying and he felt like he was drowning, saliva pooling on his mouth, throat closing up, stomach seizing... Without even knowing each way was up, Leo heaved harshly and up came a huge stream of vomit. He was suffocating, he thought, starting to cough and struggling to figure out how to free himself.

He let out a choked up noise and his hands reached out blindly, until he felt something sturdy and shook it with all his force, hoping it was Jonah. Leo's head swam with panic, his stomach churning and even more vomit rushed up, just as a pair of hands forced him to sit up. The puke covered his naked chest and his lap and Leo continued to cough, as he managed to breathe better.

"Leo!" Jonah thumped his back and Leo let out a whimper, gagging again and spitting another mouthful of sickening sweet and sticky puke all over the comforter. Now that he was more awake, he could tell there was vomit on the side of his face, he had puked on the pillow too...

"I'msry," Leo slurred, voice shot, his throat feeling messed up. He felt like he had inhaled some of it, his heart was still racing, "I'm... I'm sorry, the bed..."

"Are you alright!?" Jonah ignored him, finally coming into view. Their room was still dark, but they had left the curtains pulled back and it was a really bright night, so Leo could just make out the fact that Jon's eyes were wide with worry... And that there was a huge brown stain all over his silk pajama shirt.

"Oh fuck," Leo groaned, his stomach churning with renewed force, "your shirt..."

"My shirt...?" Jonah sounded confused, much more focused on Leo, "baby, you scared the shit out of me..."

"I'm sorry," Leo squeezes his eyes shut, not bothering to muffle a sick belch, "I'm sorry, my tummy... I just feel horrible..."

"I know," Jon stressed, squeezing his nape, "c'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, feeling boneless as Jon grabbed his arms and carefully hoisted him up, folding the mess in the comforter. The bed was absolutely ruined.

Another burp snuck past his lips and Leo hunched onto himself. Although he wasn't stuffed anymore, his stomach was far from settled. He let out a groan, hugging his belly, which got even louder as he realized with disgust that he had just gotten his arm covered in puke too by hugging his belly.

"Leo, c'mon," Jonah pulled him with more force and Leo collapsed before the toilet, leaning over it with a deep heave and whimpering when it caused his throat to throb.

He vaguely heard Jon cussing, then the shower turning on and Jonah's silk pajamas meeting the ground as he stripped down, crouching next to Leo, "are you done?"

"I'm sorry about the bed..." Leo said, voice deep as a sick belch morphed into the end of his sentence, "and...UrOurp- And your shirt..."

"Yeah, no shit," Jonah let out a scoff, but although he sounded annoyed, he didn't sound angry. If anything there was a hint of smugness in his voice, "get it over with, baby."

"I'm never eating candy again..." Leo mumbled, pressing his forehead to the soothing cold porcelain and taking deep, measured breaths. His stomach was still a sticky, churning mess and just the thought of food had his mouth flooding with saliva again.

"What? You still have half a bag of Twixes in the kitchen," Jonah teased him and Leo gagged as he could immediately taste them. He scrambled forward, almost missing the bowl as yet another huge stream of vomit rushed up.

Jonah's hand came to support his forehead and Leo coughed, pathetically, head hanging over the bowl, a line of drool from his bottom lip and moaning nonstop as he couldn't manage to catch his breath, his queasy belly refusing to settle down.

He half closed his eyes to avoid looking at the mess, shoulders hitching with another gag and Jonah flushed it all away, before crouching back down and rubbing his back.

"You're alright, Leo, it's over now..."

Leo proved him wrong, opening his mouth and coughing a mouthful of chunky vomit, then dry heaving for another five minutes. He still felt so incredibly nauseous.

"Jon... Jon, I don't feel well..."

"Maybe because you have dried vomit on your chest?" Jonah sighed, pulling him up and flushing again, "c'mon, let's shower."

Leo couldn't argue, although he didn't think a shower was the solution as his belly continued to flip and attempt to empty itself. He allowed Jonah to pull him under the hot water stream and let out a relieved sigh when the congealing mess was washed away... Then stumble over the drain, bracing against the wall as even more watery puke hit the tiles.

"Christ," Jonah sighed, squeezing his shoulder, "okay... Get it up..."

Leo forced up a burp, then with it came another little dribble of vomit and he let out a sigh, black dots dancing in front of his eyes, "I'm... I'm fine now... I'm just... dizzy..."

"Diz- LEO!" Jonah caught him just as he swayed on his feet, hugging his torso, "fuck, fuck-" he slid them both down to the ground, the hot water pooling around them, "baby? Leo, open your eyes-" Jonah patted his cheek frantically and Leo let out a groan, leaning further into his hold.

"I'm good, I... I'm good," the blonde said quietly, his voice raspy, pressing his forehead to Jonah's shoulder, "it was just too much..."

"If I wasn't so worried right now, I'd strangle you," Jonah scoffed, "stay put, let me just-" he moved around, propping Leo against the wall and getting up to grab the shampoo, "you got it all over your hair."

"Ugh," Leo whined, but then couldn't help but let out a smile as he felt Jon start to wash his hair. He was definitely worried and Leo was feeling shitty enough to milk it, so instead of straightening up, he leaned in, "my tummy hurts, Jonah..."

It wasn't a lie, but it also felt a million times better than five minutes before. Jonah cooed softly, though, fingers scratching his scalp, "I'll get something for it, let's just get you cleaned up first," he said calmly, kissing Leo's brow.

Leo leaned his weight against his boyfriend, feeling drained, not just from all the puking, but because it was past 2 in the morning. He let out a yawn, tilting his head back as Jonah washed the suds away and then lathered his hair with conditioner.

"I never use that," Leo said sleepily, smiling as he heard Jon let out a huff.

"That's because you have pin straight hair, if I skip conditioner I'm fucked," Jon pressed another kiss to his brow, then grabbed Leo's biceps, "up."

He stumbled up, letting out a groan, "fuck, my abs are so sore..."

"Gee, wonder why," Jonah teased him lightly, shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around his hip, before grabbing a robe and forcing Leo to put it on, ignoring the blonde's complains about it.

Leo sighed, blinking heavily and following Jon out of the bedroom... Only to immediately gag against his fist. He had forgotten the horror movie worthy scenery that was their bedroom.

He had thrown up all over the blankets, but not just that, the pillows too. A large puddle of vomit between his pillow and Jon's.

"Fucking Hell..." Leo groaned, then cringed even more as he noticed Jonah swallowing a gag, the bathroom light spilling out clearly showing how ashen he was, "Jon, hey, look at me."

"I'm...fine," Jonah groaned, pressing the back of his hand to his lips, "I just... Fuck, I can't sleep here-"

"I don't think anyone can, babe," Leo rolled his eyes, tiptoeing around the mess to grab Jon a new set of pjs and himself some boxers, "let's go to the guest room. C'mon, move."

Jonah didn't even attempt to argue. Only once they were out of the bedroom did he seem to be thinking, because he groaned, "I'll call a cleaning crew."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'll handle it in the morning," Leo pushed him inside the bedroom and then went straight to the double bed. It wasn't as large as the one in their bedroom and the mattress was sturdier since it hadn't been worn down at all, but it was comfy nonetheless.

Besides, he was feeling too sick to mind. He curled up on the bed, wrapping both arms around his belly and bringing his knees up. Jonah ditched the towel, changing into the pjs and then he crawled on the bed, pushing Leo's damp hair back.

"Leo, if you keep squeezing your stomach like that, you'll make yourself sicker," he said softly, grabbing the blonde's arm and pulling him closer, "come here..."

Leo snuggled closer and letting out a satisfied sigh once he felt Jon's hands rubbing his back in gentle, steady circles, lips pressed to his forehead. He could feel Jonah's breathing against the top of his head.

"I'm sorry again."

"Go to sleep," Jonah said, kissing the top of his head and letting out a huff when the guest bedroom's door opened slightly and then JD joined them on the bed, happily curling up between them.

#mywriting #sickfic #emetophilia #emeto #leo wagner #halloween mini saga #overeating #bellyache #upset tummy

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