#anyway the best thing about the plague is only ever having to hear about this stuff and not witness it in person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsgrimeytime · 1 year

Text

Maneater (Part One) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Dialogue Prompts: "Don’t play friendly with me." + "Try me."

Summary: You and Rick Grimes had a backstory, one no one knew except you and him. It's one you refused to share, you never really wanted to get into it. All anyone needed to know was you hated the man. When you're in a rough spot, and you could use the shelter the question is... does he hate you?

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, a touch of abandonment, grudges, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: y'all ever heard of TENSION?? Or enemies to lovers??? Because I'll tell you what, I have :))) Lowkey, you have a good reason to hate Rick, but like... you'll see. also I am living in delusion for what Rick looked like in the Alexandria timeline, so just know I picture the gif, okay? Thx <3 ]]

Before you go thinking this is another long series, this is just a two/maybe three-parter. There was more to this idea than what I felt I could naturally convey in one one-shot. So, let me know if you want to be tagged for the continuation.

"Shit."

This really, truly, was never supposed to happen. This was the worst-case scenario, the kind of thing that plagued your dreams with things that were so not probable they shouldn't be scary. And yet here you were, in nightmare territory.

"Y/N? Really, is that- is that you?" the familiar face spoke -Glenn, you realized now.

God, it had been so long, you'd thought for sure at least half of that group had vanished.

Well, maybe they had. You weren't exactly sure, but Glenn hadn't really looked worse for wear. He suited the lifestyle well, actually, which you were a little impressed by -the pizza delivery guy had come a long way.

"We thought you..." he faltered off, still a bit in disbelief.

"Died? Nope," you finished, bitter, sure, but you'd never really had the chance to get over it, "-despite your wonderful leader's best efforts, I remain unscathed."

Glenn frowned.

The joy from moments before dissipated in the now fairly tense air between the two of you -others you recognized weren't there, but you imagined they were wherever he came from. Which you were currently trying to keep in the very back of your mind -you'd never follow him to them, you just couldn't.

"I should've..." he began, words seeming to come to a stop, "-Any of us should've stuck up for you. It wasn't right."

There was a bit of pleasure hearing that, somewhere deep in your chest, you appreciated it. But while the idea was good, it was very much too late. The resentment that had developed in your chest, had only solidified there -unbreakable and set in stone. You hadn't trusted a soul since, not fully anyway.

This world was filled with broken hearts, and yours was one of them.

And that was something Rick and his group had to live with, whoever they were now because that... was their fault.

You hadn't meant to hate Rick Grimes specifically, above everyone else, but the words came out of his mouth.

'Get out of here, we can't... we can't have a group this divided.'

You could still see him now in your head, clean-shaven and dressed in his uniform, taking the world by storm despite not knowing what the fuck he was doing. You were different then, scared but ready to do what you needed -hell, the first time you'd ever even held a gun was against a walker. It was with that group, they'd taught you.

You swallowed down the bile in your throat, and pushed through the rubble -your feet ached from being on the move for so long. You couldn't remember the last time you slept, or even sat down.

You couldn't not in this world, it was all about motion, about survival, about getting through the next few hours at a time.

"Look, I know you're upset, and you have every right to be," Glenn began -following you close behind, "-but we have a place... It's safe, you could sleep. You could eat. There are houses, hot water-"

You froze in place, the idea spreading a sort of warmth in your chest, something you'd forgotten somewhere along the path. Hope. Yet, there was still a sting there -deep under your skin, "Glenn-"

"It doesn't have to be forever," he added, and now that you looked at him, he did seem clean -his clothes washed and the desperation that dusted your skin was so distant you could hardly see it, "-just for a few days."

Feet frozen to the spot, you exhaled -the breath shaking you to the root, it had been so long, but how could you trust him? How could you trust any of them?

You remembered Glenn had looked hesitant, that day, his own suspicion drawn in his eyebrows but it hadn't gone farther than that. He hadn't said a word. No one had. But now, he was here offering solace, safety. And you knew it wasn't just out of pity.

The world had enough of that on its own. You had enough of that on your own, your story spilling to listening ears -they'd all been the same. Still, you could use a break.

And as much as you didn't trust the group, whatever it had become, you knew that if anyone had survived this long -they'd been skilled. Skilled enough for you to breathe, for you to close your eyes and sleep.

You sighed, wiping the sleep from your eyes, or rather the lack of, "Just a few days?"

"As long as you need," Glenn reiterated, somehow conveying that you never had to leave, it was a small thing. But comforting.

"I get to decide when to leave?"

Glenn frowned, his own body almost shrinking in on itself, disappointment. You'd never thought you'd see this, someone from so long ago -the regret, the remorse, "Yeah, of course."

And you were thinking about it. As your joints ached and your throat burned for water, the breeze felt cold against your bones, and you truly couldn't imagine it getting any warmer. The sun setting only meant it could get colder, and you were currently without a roof.

"Okay," you quietly agreed, despite the churning in your stomach saying otherwise.

That was when one of the others, neither of which you knew, spoke, "But, didn't Rick say-"

"Shut it," Glenn exhaled, tone icy and you suddenly realized maybe they were new to him too.

The walk was long, not grueling since Glenn had known exactly where he was going -he'd always had that sense of direction though. You remembered the early days when he'd been the one to volunteer to go back to the city, he'd known so much. Maybe he was just made that way? Or it was some sort of thing they'd invented. It had been a long time.

"There's a few of us that'll be happy to see you," Glenn spoke, casually walking beside you as the other two paired off behind you.

You swallowed the tensing of your shoulders, the last time you'd been in a group it hadn't ended well, and every time before that too actually. You didn't meld well with groups, let's just say that.

"I don't think so," you hummed, remembering so far back in your brain that day -the eyes all set on you, strong and decisive. You couldn't imagine who else survived other than Rick Grimes himself. Because this world wasn't what you expected, you shouldn't have survived more that a week... but here you were.

Glenn didn't say anything else, you assumed he noticed your more pressed tone -as the opposite of an invitation to keep talking. It stung a bit, watching the man's face solemn considerably, but there was also a sick part of your brain that had been waiting for this day.

As you approached the new community, Glenn spread out his hands -with a voice close to an announcer, "Welcome to Alexandria!"

Alexandria was big, bigger than you thought really. When you pictured the homes, there was bordered up windows and broken glass -blood stained into the wood. But these?

They were almost pristine.

Your head spun as you made your way through the gate, Glenn casually guiding you through the space without much forethought. It seemed he'd known this daze, he'd experienced it himself, maybe?

You knew how this world was, Alexandria seemed to be a new wave of something fresh.

Actually, you'd seen signs once or twice but never pursued it. Things like that didn't quite work in this world, you were scared of what it may truly have been. But Glenn had brought you hear with the promise of a bed to sleep in, so you assumed whatever kinks were there had already been worked out.

Or maybe you hoped they would.

In your haze, you hadn't noticed the two other members bump ahead -headed straight for a particular place, you assumed. Nor did you really notice Glenn kind of easily navigating in front of you.

Until, you heard the voice you'd vowed to never hear until the day you died.

"Glenn?" the drawl was deeper now, older and a touch more dangerous, "-The others told me you brought someone back, I thought we talked about-"

"Rick," Glenn interrupted, voice steady and calm -he had been prepared for this, "-it's Y/N."

There was silence there, as you trailed your fingers along the trim of the house ever-so-gently -the dirt stained into your fingertips didn't need to smudge there. It would've ruined it.

"What?" His voice was low, and despite how much you wished you could understand the tone, you couldn't -you didn't know him.

He could be angry, in disbelief, in shock. You had no clue, instead focusing on the ivy running up the sides of some of the houses -rubbing the leaves with your thumb, muttering, "Wow."

"Y/N?"

You blinked out of your haze, stilling at the direct contact with you -it felt odd, hearing your name out of his mouth. So familiar yet, so so far off. Yet, the sting still burned deep under your skin -it would probably never go away.

Without turning around, you acknowledged him simply -direct and without much other force, "Rick."

Then the space grew even quieter, the tension laying thick into the air -you could feel it set the prickling of goosebumps on your skin.

With a heavy breath, you turned around -equipped to set your eyes on his skin.

He looked... different. His hair was much longer, curled at the nape of his neck, and he had a beard -now littered with grey. It suited him, he'd been too uptight back then, now though, he'd seemed more adjusted.

"Y/N, I-" he began, and you could hear it -the pity, the 'I'm sorry'. You couldn't take it, not from him. Not now.

It was too late, it made you want to rip your hair out. And thrash and cry and scream. Scream for all you'd lost, scream for the fear you felt that day, pushed into the woods -separated.

You spoke, pushing back the bite in your tone as much as you could, "Don't play friendly with me. I'm here for a few days, at most."

Rick's mouth snapped shut, jaw setting. He seemed frustrated, but that was hardly your problem, the whole thing was his really. He could die with that regret, aching to give an apology for his wrongdoings... and you would let him.

The area, which you now realized was slowly filtering people in, eyes all beginning to focus on you and Rick. Questioning, mostly, but you figured any pushback on Rick and you'd end up dead. So, you pushed back -the strength of your tone settling and the brush of the cold warming.

You didn't need to make enemies.

And then you heard it, a familiar voice, older than you'd expected, you'd known that voice younger... what was-

"Y/N?"

Your breath stuttered, as you spun on your feet and there he was, taller and older, "Carl? Oh my god-"

You hadn't even thought about it, that where Rick was Carl would follow. You had less than high hopes that he'd even survive this far, and yet, here he was right in front of you.

You'd known Carl early on in the group, he had been so young. Lori needed help sometimes, and she'd grown close to you, so, pretty quickly, she'd trusted you with him. In the early days, he was stuck to your side -playing games with the sticks and rocks you could find nearby, giving him comfort when his Mom seemed too far to touch -she was often like that. Her eyes were far, and her mind farther.

Without much less of an introduction, he ran to you with ease, despite the filth you must've been covered in. Especially compared to him, who seemed to be as perfectly clean as the rest of them. He ran into you, arms wrapping tight around your figure -and god, he was so much taller. You bit back a sob, how much had you missed?

"I thought you were dead," he spoke, muttering into your shoulder and his hands gripping desperately at your shirt.

You remembered the tiny version of him kicking and screaming, 'Why do they have to leave, Dad?!' He had been crying so hard his body was shaking, they practically had to tear him off you. You'd told them you'd leave in the night when he was sleeping, so it wouldn't be so hard on him. He couldn't put up as much of a fight if he wasn't there.

"You've gotten so tall," you laughed, pulling back and wiping at your eyes -gesturing to his stature.

Carl laughed too, wiping away his own tears.

You forgot for a second where you were, and how long it had been. Only reuniting with someone you cared tremendously about. The moment was bittersweet with the eyes of many sliding across your figure, the scar detailed across your arm, or maybe the bandage wrapped around your head. You'd had some run-ins, but you'd taken care of them with what you could.

The next few days were a bit stuffy, the doctor (who you didn't bother to learn the name of) had been keeping a close eye on you -consistently telling you to rest and sticking the one and only sheriff on you when you resisted.

Apparently, she thought that it was the best idea.

The single thread that didn't have you running out of this place wore a sheriff's hat and seemed to relish in your arrival. Carl had been by your side frequently, introducing you to practically everyone (including Glenn's wife, Maggie, what-) -which you had originally been strictly against, but the kid was your soft spot.

You'd felt more at ease after a run-in with two familiar faces, Daryl and Carol. They both did similarly to Carl, and you couldn't seem to fault them too much. Not at that moment anyway. It was midday and Carl had run off with some people his own age, which you refused to separate him from that. It was important, he needed it.

And you needed something too.

The space felt cramped, with someone constantly looking over your shoulder and someone else always in your area. It was a far cry from your previous loner life where your days fell to silence and the slice of whatever your blade was echoed through it. Before Glenn, you hadn't spoken out loud in months.

So, with new energy from the hot water and regular meals, you'd found yourself roaming the streets towards the fence. Just for a sense of normalcy, you needed to taste the adrenaline, feel the blade in your hands, and the urgency in your movements. Dancing with death.

Trying to watch your back, you kept your eyes behind you -ducking behind some of the unused houses that you'd scouted out earlier in the day. It wasn't like you were leaving forever, just a few hours that's all you needed.

"And where are you going?"

You jumped, turning to the sound in front of you, and because god simply hated you it happened to belong to one Rick Grimes. His eyes leveled with you, standing confidently in your way like he'd expected you. And shit, maybe he had.

Stammering, you regained your composure, "Where's Carl?"

"Asleep," he responded with ease.

"Look, I'm not-" you groaned, "-Why are you keeping me here like a prisoner?"

"Doctor told me to keep an eye on ya," he answered, once again too prepared, it infuriated you to no bounds, "-you don't think I'd notice you scopin' out an exit?"

"That's not-" you straightened your posture, pressing your lips into a thin line, "I don't have to explain myself to you. So, kindly, if you would get out of my way, I'll be back in an hour."

Rick chuckled, not in a really joyful way either, neither of you was quite joking, "Yeah, not happenin'."

"Rick," you echoed, tone ice and hand tightening on where your blade rested on your hip -a handmade hilt someone had made you a long time ago, "-move, or I'll make you."

He paused, licking a line across his teeth, and slowly making his way into your space. Your breath caught in your throat, but you stayed strong in your place -eyes set on his and shoulders set in place. He didn't speak until his face was right in yours, a breath away, and his expression remained unchanged -his eyes only betraying the heaviness of his words, "Try me."

Rick didn't reach for his gun, which sat with was at his hip -inches from his hands. You knew he wouldn't pull it on you, it wasn't in his character, but there was a chill in his tone -something new.

What happened to him?

You washed out the worry that settled under your skin for a second, that didn't need to be there. He'd abandoned you -they all had.

Setting your jaw, you exhaled -pulling back and letting your hand fall to your side, "Look, I just need an hour."

Rick stared at you, you couldn't read him -years of age, and most likely tragedy by the missing faces, gracing features you once knew. And even then, he was new -you hadn't known him.

"This place is-" you faltered off, looking back to the houses, where most lights were switched off in the dark -except for just a few spare ones, "-suffocating. I've been on my own for so long, I feel like I'm having an out-of-body fucking experience here. This isn't... I need something familiar."

He still hadn't said a word.

"So," you began, strong, before deflating, "-just let me kill some of the dead, yeah?"

Rick pursed his lips, before sighing deep and heavily, "Okay."

You opened your mouth to rebuttal, before the words set in, "Okay?"

"Just let me tell Michonne and Daryl I won't be around for a bit," he continued, seeming to waltz on past you, and then those words hit you.

"Rick, I don't need a babysitter," you answered, that lick of bitterness slinking through your skin again -your mouth opened before you could stop it, "-you weren't worried years ago, were you? Why now?"

He stopped in his motion, frozen solid by your words. A part of you felt vindicated, he deserved it -it may have been years for him, but that was the way your way in this world had started.

You hadn't expected him to speak, but he did.

"You can't do that."

A flash of frustration hummed under your skin -burning hot and bright -who was he to say anything to you, "I can't do that? Do what? Talk about what you did to me? The day you kicked me to the curb at the beginning of the fucking apocalypse...?"

"I've been tryin' to apologize since you got here-" he started, tone angry in the way of hands shaking not voice raising, "-you won't let me."

Something in you snapped.

"So what?" you started, tone shaky and you'd say it was for rage but you could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, "You think I want an apology from you?"

Rick looked lost then, and something in you begged to keep going. The dam was cracked now, and the water could flood out -who better than the man who hit the nail in the coffin, "What...?"

"You, you don't get the resolution that would get you. You don't get to sleep well at night because you said sorry, no."

He didn't speak.

You laughed, the tears were free now, years of being locked behind something as thick as the shell you wore after that day -your breaths were ragged and you felt like maybe your heart would be out of your chest, "I never wanted to live through this."

"Y/N-"

And there was something there in those words, heavy and gravelly against the cool night air. But you couldn't dwell on it. You had too much to say to him, to all of them really, but just him would do.

"No," you exhaled, taking a deep shaky breath in, "-Rick, I just need to know one thing."

He opened his mouth, assumedly to answer your question, but you still couldn't let him speak. Your brain was going so fast, you had to keep up.

"Did you ever ask them why?"

Rick spoke then, slowly, "Who?"

"Shane," you spoke, the air seemed to get heavier, "-and Lori. Did it never seem odd to you that it came out at the same time? That they'd both seen me that exact same day?"

Rick stilled, and his jaw seemed to set.

That was what had gotten you kicked out, Shane and Lori had alleged you'd taken more supplies for yourself -stolen from everyone. You weren't sure of the specifics, whether it be an extra graham cracker or a tissue to wipe your busted lip, as you didn't let them get too far into it. They'd been egging him on, Shane on some sort of masculine level and Lori using their love as a pawn -you'd seen it clear as day. Rick hadn't.

"I was going to tell you," you spoke quietly, barely a brush over the wind of the chillier nights.

He didn't have to ask what. He knew you assumed he had known pretty much immediately after you noticed their absences. Something had happened, maybe not long after you'd left. You could only assume so much.

"I didn't know," he echoed out, his voice strained in a way you'd never heard from him -pained, regretful.

Without much else, you turned back the way you came -voice steady and strong across the space between you two, "I know."

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #twd twoshot #does that make any sense?#maneater #twd oneshot #angsty

503 notes · View notes

frenchkisstheabyss · 8 months

Text

✨ Hold on, wait, hear me out… ✨

{unless you don’t like dom!joong, sub!fem!reader, pet names, cockwarming, mafia au’s, or four ways then don’t hear me one bit}

But anyway, my mind has been plagued with thoughts of having dom!hubby!Joong sharing you with his best friends Hwa and San who’ve wanted you for the longest time. The thing is though that only he’s allowed to fuck you.

With Hwa and San it’s just cockwarming then if you’re really good Joong will let you ride him which is what you’ve been super needy for all day. But you aren’t allowed to move when you’re with Hwa or San.

Even the slightest rocking of your hips will get you in trouble with Joongie. Hwa’s so sweet about it. Locking his arms around your waist, keeping himself deep inside your warmth so that every breath he takes gives you some sort of satisfaction.

Hwa would kiss his way up your neck, whispering to you how beautiful you are and how good you feel around his cock. Saying how he wishes he could give you what you wanted.

“But you’ve gotta be a good girl so I can hear all of those pretty noises you make when you cum” he’d say, softly running his fingers across the small of your back.

Only Joong decides when you’re done and once he does he just kisses you, telling you what a good job you’re doing for him as his fingers press into you to feel just how wet your pussy’s gotten so far and honey, you’re near drenched.

Being handed over to San is a whole new experience. He’s thicker than Hwa, not by a lot but by enough that he has to take his time inching into you little by little. A loophole he exploits to the fullest. Some sadistic part of him wants you to fail. Just to see what’d happen.

It’s why he only holds you with one arm. Loosely at that. Giving you enough room to slip up when he pushes your shirt up to suck on those sensitive buds that have been poking through your thin t shirt all night, taunting him.

He’d run his tongue over them, humming and drooling at the way your heart races with every flick of his tongue. San says nothing but the way he caresses your body, his cock pulsing against your walls, is begging you to break.

But you don’t. You’re aching and needy, nearly out of your mind desperate for friction but you don’t break. “So proud of you” Joong would coo, his own mixture of lust and jealousy having nearly driven him to tear you away from his friends after the first little whine left your lips when Hwa took you.

He’d take you over to the couch with him, carefully watching the twinkle in your eye when his gorgeously veined cock springs free from his pants. The moisture that soaks your thighs would drip down his length like a faucet when you lowered yourself down onto him. You’ve been waiting so long for this moment that when he palms your ass, nibbling at your plush bottom lip, you’re already bouncing in his lap the tiniest bit.

“Good girl, use daddy’s cock to cum. You’ve earned it.” Joong would slap your ass, urging you to pick up speed. To moan louder. To fall apart in his hands. Hwa and San would be right there behind you. Playing in your hair. Kissing you. Massaging your tits. Your ass. Rubbing your clit. All three of them. Pleasuring you from every angle.

Showering you with every praise imaginable until your body’s trembling, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Nails digging into Joong’s forearms as you hit your high harder than you ever have before. It’d just be the most perfect thing with the sweetest aftercare.

And all of this…in an ATEEZ mafia au.

✨ Current state: Feral. Gnawing at my enclosure. Send help. Pls ✨

#ateez hard thoughts #ateez drabbles #hongjoong smut #ateez smut #yes I should be asleep #but the thirst #the thirst persists #seonghwa smut #choi san smut

299 notes · View notes

7ndipity · 1 year

Text

Dating Jin headcanons

Seokjin x Reader

Warnings: swearing, teeny bit suggestive

A/N: More headcanons because they're fun and I can't sleep🤷. Working on these lists is making me so soft for the members all over again, it's crazy. Anyway, hope you like them!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Dating Jin is like dating your best friend.

Cause, I mean, you basically are.

He is a hopeless romantic, in every sense of the phrase.

A Classic Gentleman. Opens doors for you, holds your hand on the stairs, shows up for your first date in a suit with bouquet of flowers(even though your just going to the fair or smth)

So awkward when you first start dating, his ears probably stayed red for a solid three weeks.

Does that blushy, flustered laugh thing anytime you complement him. Like yeah, he knows he's Mr.WWH, but hearing it from you just hits different, man.

He admitted before to getting so lost in daydreaming about his future s/o that he's burned food, and I think that would still happen(hopefully to a less severe degree) now that he has you.

Like, you'll be talking about something and look over at him, and he just has that distant look in his eyes. And you're like "Hello?" And he just blurts out something like "We should get a cat." "What?!"

You've heard his dad jokes, now get ready for the cheesiest, cringiest pick-up lines ever.

"I'm not a photographer, but I can picture me & you together." "Please stop." "Are you from Paris? Because Eiffel for you." "That doesn't even make sense!"

His flirt game is actually pretty good tho, he's just so nonchalant about it, that it tends to catch you off guard.

You:*walks in room* Him: "Wow." You:"What?" Him:"I just forgot how gorgeous you were."

Likes taking you on fancy dates, but usually prefers cozier, lowkey dates with you.

Like, one day he'll take you to the nicest restaurant in town, the next, he's dragging your ass to some lake to go fishing.

Cooking dates that start out pretty cute and sweet, but become increasingly unhinged as time goes on(there's a korean youtube channel TryToEat, that I swear is what he would be like)

Calls you things like 'Jagi' and 'Honey', as well as more weird, Jin-esque names like 'Bubble'(he thinks it's cute, just go with it)

Couples outfits that range from matching sweatsuits to those t-shirts that say "if found, please return to Jin" & "I'm Jin".(He claims it's for safety reasons because what if he loses you at the mall or smth?)

Y'all pick on each other constantly.

"You look like a Pokémon." "Big talk for someone built like fucking Dorito."

Like, you've seen him with Jungkook, he's a menace. But now, he's your menace. (Imma pray for you)

But he's the only one allowed to pick on you. Anyone else who tries is in for the cussing out of a lifetime.

House Husband Vibes.

Takes pride in looking after you, whether that's taking care of you when you're sick, or just making dinner on a random Wednesday. It makes him feel needed.

Speaks as if you're already married.

"Think about the kids." "What kids?!" "The cats!" "We don't have cats yet!" "Aha, yet! So we are going have some eventually!"

Has the tendency to finish every conversation by giving you a lil smooch. (Doesn't matter if he was talking to you or someone else, you're getting kisses)

Needy

Literally hangs off of you whenever he's tired or wants attention.

Long, drawn out kisses where he backs you against the wall or counter that can make you forget about anything else other than him.

Likes to lay on you rather than with you. Like, you are his favorite pillow, and he will whine if you don't let him have his pillow time, cause he's a dramatic mf.

"AGH, Y/N-AH LOVES ME NOT! HOW WILL I GO ON?!

The other members don't call him the actual maknae for no reason, he's kinda baby.

You're one of the only people who get to see his more serious sides though, however brief their appearances may be.

Argues with you over the dumbest shit, but avoids actually fighting with you like a plague.

Overall, he's very sweet though and would do anything for you. Idk, he's just so, 💞ugh, yeah Imma go now.

473 notes · View notes

katiapostsss · 3 months

Text

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 . . anakin skywalker

🎬//

𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙧 :

what can you do but help

anakin when he is in need of it?

ᶜ ʰ ᵃ ʳ ᵃ ᶜ ᵗ ᵉ ʳ ˢ : modern!anakin x fem!reader

warnings! :

slight swearing :)

SUMMARY : anakin is in need of a cake... stat. when he comes running to you even after closing shop, practically begging, you agree to help him make one.

〰️

you already knew who it was, stepping through the bakery door and setting the rusting bell above into a small fit of jingles and tunes, before you even looked up from the inked pad in your hands. wednesday, 9:30 in the morning. who else could it be but..

anakin.

your heart leaped into your throat, stomach flipping and flipping like the pancakes you cooked, despite having thoroughly gathered yourself. of course, you knew nothing could thoroughly prepare you for the smile he always offered upon stepping closer. you straightened, forming one of your own that came not-so-surprisingly easily to your lips.

"ah, let me guess... a strawberry and... what was it... nutella?... crepe?" came your usual quip, watching as anakin's chest stuttered with a chuckle.

"you don't happen to have... sunbutter instead?" came his usual quip. "i happen to hate nutella. wouldn't expect you to know that, anyways." always with a smile... though, you had engraved that into your head.

"well then, it's your lucky day!" you chirped with a laugh, whirling on your feet and disappearing behind the kitchen door. truthfully—and embarrassingly so—your bakery did not sell any sunbutter. never had. so, naturally, you didn't have it. but, with anakin plaguing your thoughts and tongue and skin, you always remembered to buy some at the local supermarket. always remembered to bring some in. just to make his crepe 15 minutes beforehand.

if it wasn't stupidly and pathetically obvious, you did have a completely fatuous crush on anakin, unlike your bakery and sunbutter. you recognized it as stupid, as would anyone, but it was also something that could and would never be helped. every wednesday and friday, you counted and prepared for his much-awaited arrival at your bakery, and without fail, he came. classes. he had college classes then, at the campus not 5 blocks down from your business. and despite the fact that you went to the same school, the only times you ever saw him were wednesdays and fridays. at 9:30 in the morning.

and so, every week, also without fail, you set a sunbutter and strawberry crepe aside until he came.

"one strawberry and sunbutter crepe," you declared upon emerging out of the kitchen, setting the wrapped delicacy on the glass display case before him and taking his extended money.

"just as i like it," anakin spoke in return, tipping you the change and giving you one last wave before he turned on his heel and walked out the door, all with that stupid smile you wanted all to yourself plastered on his face.

and you, with that stupid grin he wanted all to himself, plastered on your face.

partly the reason anakin came at all was for you. without a doubt, your crepes were the best things he'd ever had. ever. and despite not having a lot of crepes in his lifetime, he knew it always would be. for godsake, he didn't even like crepes. nor did he like sunbutter. but that first time he walked into your cozy, vibrant bakery, was only to see the cute new girl who worked there that everyone at college was talking about. upon realizing he actually had to get something if he didn't want to look like a creep, the words "sunbutter and strawberry crepe" burst from his throat and passed onto you. it was a different level of embarrassing and awkward, but he had said it with such haste and surprise, that you had laughed so prettily before him, throwing a short quip his way, and he wanted nothing more than to hear it again. so, for the next month, every wednesday and friday, when he'd walk into your little bakery, a sunbutter and strawberry crepe was what he ordered. and he ate it. because he could've wrote an essay about how good your crepes were.

the boy was completely lovesick. he even started buying sunbutter. you made him like it. it reminded him of you. maybe nothing would come out of short teases and grins early in the mornings, but he liked to believe something would. he liked to believe it was meaningful to you, just as it was to him. and it very much was.

you vowed he'd never know, though. and that was the end of that. well... not really.

---

"i owe you everything." annalise's hand was flush against your arm, squeezing it like there was no tomorrow. her eyes were wide with thanks, face awash in relief, and all you could do was awkwardly smile and laugh.

"oh, really... it's nothing.." you replied. but it wasn't nothing. after a dreadful day of lengthy work and more work—for school—waiting for you back at your dorm, you wanted nothing more than to sleep. but of course. annalise and her unreliability. you had closed up shop last night. and the night before. and before... you didn't have the effort or the time or any of the aspects one would need to clean up an entire restaurant and prepare for the next day. but could you blame your coworker? no. even if you wanted to, you were much too shy. much too kind.

"truly, this means all lot." annalise smiled, pulling you into a hug you had trouble reciprocating the intensity of. "you have my word. anything you need will be done after tonight. this guy means a lot— y'know... and i just can't miss this. you get it, right?" pulling away, she looked you in the eyes, her gaze searching for reassurance. your lips twisted into a half-frown. yes. you could understand her on this. if you had a date with anakin on the night you were supposed to close up, you'd ask of her the same lot.

"yea, of course!" brows bunching together, you sent her a look that told her she was crazy for even thinking you wouldn't understand. her grin reappeared, and she stared at you a moment longer before rushing to her bag, strewn across a seat's cushion. "thanks again, dear!" and she was out the door, the bell singing a joyful litany that was ironically funny in the coming of night.

"yup.." you watched her leave, hoping the room would simply clean itself if you didn't move. but you couldn't waste any more time. of course she left you to close on the busiest day of the week. fridays. for whatever reason, people loved coming on fridays in particular, and anyone who got the job that day was practically doomed to an eternity of preparation and cleansing. maybe you would've done the same, but she could've moved the date to any other day. it sounded strangely like she just wanted to get out of friday cleanup.

sighing, shoulders slumping inward, you circled around the counter and up to the door, turning the sign until it said "closed" to the outside. a lot of cleaning, indeed. and so, you grabbed a broom and began.

the clock above the kitchen door was your only purchase as you went, picking up trash littered across the floor and wiping down the chairs and tables. through the window, the waning moon helped burn through the dimness scattered in the room, the only light save for the lamp you kept on on the countertop. humming as you threw a wipe in the trashcan ways away, you turned back to the table and made to grab another, only to find the plastic tube empty. clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, an exasperated sigh left your throat. with heavy arms, you pushed the can into the garbage after the wipe and circled the counter again, disappearing behind the kitchen doors where you kept all the kleenex.

halfway through scanning a cabinet, knuckles against glass pulled you from your search, lulling you to the closed door. knocking. who was...? lips twisting into a frown, you pushed yourself off the floor and scaled the space between the storage area and the door, and upon emerging, was nearly floored.

anakin.

he knocked, and then knocked again, something like worry or haste in the way he moved, though, signs and posters obstructed most of your vision. with a new speed in you step, you walked to the entrance, unlocking and pulling the knob open.

"anakin?" you scanned him, eyes blown wide with worry and brows furrowed together. he was out of breath, a flush to his cheeks, and a ruffle in his hair, even bent over, hands on knees. his face was ran over with something you couldn't place. he had most definitely ran here. "what are you...?"

"i— i know you're closed— but i really, really need a cake. you see, i would've come earlier, but my friend has my car, so i had to run from the other side of town— 'cause i missed the bus— and— it's my uncle's birthday tonight, and i just remembered—... is there any way..." his eyes darted to the "closed" sign on the door as you processed all the information he just dumped on you, eyes still wide and face scrunched in confusion and understanding. then, pity.

"oh, god.... i mean, i would love to help you out, but we've already sold all of our cakes... i would've given you one, if we had any..." and the way his eyes immediately passed with pure disappointment broke your heart. anakin straightened, running a hand through his hair, still breathing through his mouth. you wanted so badly to offer up any other bakery name, but yours was the only one that stayed open this late. they most definitely would be completely closed. he seemed to recognize that too, his face suggesting that he was admitting defeat.

"oh. alright, then. thanks, anyways." anakin turned on his heel, making to walk down the concrete steps. you chewed on your bottom lip, helplessly watching him. but then, an idea popped in your head.

"wait— how— when do you need this cake by?" you called out, straightening and almost stepping forward. he stopped, though, looking back, face lighting with hope.

"an hour or two. my uncle's visiting at 8."

again, your lip caught in your teeth, eyes straying to the ground as you thought on it. "okay... look. i'm not supposed to be doing this, but... i have the ingredients to make one—" a smile blinded you with adoration. "—and if you helped me, we could be done and you'd have a cake within the hour."

you watched his shoulders slump downward in relief, face relax and eyes pass with pure gratitude. "thank you so much," anakin spoke, looking at you like you had just harnessed the stars and passed them over to him. you smiled, nodding, and motioning him inside.

---

"pick a color," you stated, voice strained under the effort of mixing the frosting with a spatula. the mechanical mixer was already stored away in its box, and it would cause a mess you really did not want to have to clean up. plus, hand-mixing wasn't that bad.

in the time it took anakin to clumsily adorn an apron, you had already managed to empty the ingredients for frosting into a clear bowl and start mixing, not without asking if this uncle of his had any vanilla allergies. he did not.

"uhh... brown," anakin declared beside you, struggling to just preheat the oven. you huffed a laugh, looking up at him strangely, buttons beeping. finally, he turned to you, and upon seeing you had stopped in your tracks, his face scrunched in confusion.

"what?"

"why brown?" you asked, a mock-accusatory tone lacing itself into your words. anakin's shoulders bunched in a bashful shrug.

"i don't know... i see him wear it a lot," came his answer, a smile fighting its way to his lips upon seeing your cute fit of laughter. you shook your head, setting the bowl down on the metal counter and bending low to swipe up a box of food coloring from the small rack.

"that's a sorry excuse for a color," you stated, opening the pack and scanning the hues within. you went with a blue, holding it up. "to match your sweater." anakin looked down at his clothing, then back up, tilting his head to the side.

"purple?" he motioned to your own shirt, and you suddenly remembered you were wearing a pinkish-red cardigan. abruptly grateful for the dimness, you silently grabbed the crimson and turned around, adding a drop of both the colors into the white.

"purple it is."

by the time the oven was done preheating, the batter was ready to be baked. it had taken a while, and plumes of flour still hung in the air, scattered on both your faces and aprons, but you finally managed. anakin only made one bad baking pun, and you had let him know just how awful it was, even while laughing.

"we should write 'im whisking you a happy birthday' on the cake," he had said, and you had burst into a fit of giggles, clutching your stomach.

"i would never talk to you again if you got me a cake that said that," you managed, and he had smiled and smiled, admiring the way your voice lilted higher with amusement and your eyes crinkled and sparked in the dimness.

now, you warned him away from the hot oven, pushing the batter in and shutting it closed. looking back at anakin, you found him already staring, flour clinging to his skin and hair. there, you grew silent, just staring, until you turned and got the timer, setting it up for 25 minutes.

"okay. just a bit longer, and you'll be out of here." anakin's eyes were still on you when you spun back around, leaning against the counter with a heaved sigh. he did the same, reclining against the second oven, attention staying on you alone.

"what?.." you asked nervously, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his gaze. a smile grew on his lips.

"i'm glad you were the one closing up. i doubt anyone else would've done this for me," came anakin's response, and the thought brought back the remembrance of your earlier disgruntlement, when annalise had dumped the job on you because of a stupid boy. you understood better now, and you imagined you still would've been sour if it weren't for the fact that you got to spend this time with the guy you had a massive crush on just because of her. you found yourself silently thanking her, the same way you had been cursing her.

"yea... i'm glad too."

---

"what do i owe you?" anakin asked as he gently took the boxed cake from you and held it in his hands, face awash with silent relief. you waved your hand in the air, shaking your head.

"don't worry about it. it's after hours anyways. no charge." his eyes widened in shock, face scrunching along with it. you nearly died.

"really?"

"of course. just wish your uncle a happy birthday for me. tell him your favorite baker in the whole world said it, too."

anakin grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement. it made you smile, too. "the whole galaxy, after what you did."

you were still smiling when he walked out the door with a last goodbye, the weight of his presence hanging like the flour once did in the air. still did.

---

wednesday. 9:30 am. no anakin. you thought that maybe he was busy, or maybe he wasn't craving anything for breakfast, or maybe he was away, or maybe, or maybe, or maybe. you didn't let yourself think too much of it. of course, after what had commenced in the kitchen area late at night on his uncle's birthday, you were awaiting his presence more than ever before. which was nearly impossible. so, you were upset. but it was easy to look past.

---

the next friday, you were more concerned. his absence was horrible. your mind involuntarily started coming up with conclusions. he got ran over. he dropped out. he moved countries. axe murderer had killed him.

after a while, it was also easy to look past.

---

the next wednesday. still, no anakin.

---

now. the second friday, and you needed answers. or else you felt like you'd break down crying at any given moment. why. why hadn't he come? was it something you did? something.. something off-putting? strange? the whole time, you watched the clock, begging for him to walk through the doors, willing him with your mind, to turn onto the street, and enlighten you with his presence. he never did. not at 9:29. not at 9:30. not at 9:31. and not at any other time after that.

you refused to believe it, not until you got the answers you deserved. and here was the chance. right here.

"hey, you're in anakin's college class, right? anakin skywalker?" you popped the question just after you grabbed the money eli backerfield had extended to you. you already knew he was, but it would be strange to just ask your actual question without an introduction or anything, and you knew because a close friend of yours was dating him, and she had told stories of the both of them, passed on their problems in the form of gossip to you.

"yea, i am.." he uttered, his brown eyes scanning yours with a look of skepticism held within them. you nodded, opening the register and storing the money.

"was he, by any chance, in your class last wednesday?" came the actual question. eli pursed his lips, looking down at the chai latte he had in his hand.

"oh, yea." your heart stuttered.

"and... he was...?"

he looked up at you, confusion in his expression, but then seemed to realize. "i don't know. seemed perfectly fine to me." now, it stopped all together. silence. you tried processing the words, turning them over, but you wanted them so badly to he incorrect.

"oh. okay. thanks. bye." with that same, strange look on his face, eli waved a hand in the air and backed away, out the door.

---

you were scathing in rage. it was impossible to ignore, that horrible, terrible feeling within you, of what you knew was pure frustration. you had no right, of course, to be as mad as you were, you knew that. but after you had saved his ass, completely saved it, he had the absolute audacity, the absolute nerve, to ignore you?! you couldn't have imagined that you had overthought what had conspired between you that night. you couldn't have imagined that it was just you who felt the way you felt, in that room, in that time, in that feeling. you knew he felt it too. you saw it in his eyes. so why was he ignoring you?

2 weeks, and still, some part of you waited for him. wednesday. almost immediately after it hit 9:32, you began scoffing like no tomorrow whenever you remembered. and you remembered a lot. it was impossible not to. as you served, as time ticked and the day kept passing by, you remembered almost too much. because you were so stupidly smitten. and you hated yourself for it.

"alright, have a good day, ma'am." the prissy woman you had sold a black coffee to did not respond, simply turning on her high-platform heels and walking away. as you sorted the money, you scowled, cursing her in your mind. black coffee. how typical. these costumers and their narcissism. you didn't know how they could even fit in the door, with those egos, talking to you as a rich man did a peasant.. and their—

"a strawberry and sunbutter crepe, please?" immediately, your head whipped up, fast enough to hurt, eyes blowing wide and a sour taste filling your mouth, plaguing your thoughts. anakin. anakin. anakin. he was standing in front of you. just standing there, his hands curled against the edge of the counter, his face giving nothing of his feelings up. anakin. he had the nerve. he had the fucking nerve, coming to you and acting like he hadn't just straight-up ignored you for two weeks without even letting you know why. he had the nerve to just stand there and look at you like that night hadn't happened, and his silence hadn't either, with that stupidly beautiful face and those stupidly beautiful eyes. and the sweater. he wore the same, blue sweater.

you wanted to cuss him out. you wanted to cuss him out right then and there. but you knew saying nothing would hurt loads more. so, you turned on your heel and pushed open the kitchen door, grabbing the sunbutter crepe you still set aside for him, despite being mad at him. wordlessly—because silently would be implying you cared at all—you walked back up to him and half-threw it onto the counter, extending a palm and making him press the money into your hand instead of just taking it from him. anakin's face passed with confusion, with... you couldn't place it. didn't care to. still, wordlessly, you turned to the cash register and sorted the money into their slots, also half-throwing the change at him.

anakin cleared his throat, grabbing the crepe and the coins and staring at you for a moment. a moment that was not wordless this time, but silent. because he cared. and you cared. and stared. you didn't look back, continuing with your business until he finally offered a thanks and turned around, beginning to walk away. despite yourself, your brow furrowed in anger. no... in sadness. watching him amble away, you didn't want to cuss him out anymore. you wanted to yell at him for making you worry and then hug him until he grew tired of it. until he pulled away. because you would never pull away.

you ignored that feeling. you ignored it as he passed the line. you ignored it as he pushed open the door. you ignored it as he stepped out. a woman walked up to you, offering her order, but your eyes were still attached to his retreating figure. finally, you met her gaze, her old, withered gaze, and you gulped. "excuse me. i— just— just wait here."

and you were after him, ignoring protestations and shocked stares, strange sneers and exasperated sighs. the bell rung above your head, and then, it became a memory, the sound replaced by the whooshing of wind as you ran and ran and ran. he was halfway down the street when you finally caught up to him, bending over and panting loudly.

"y/n—?"

"you're a bitch." looking up at him below your brows, struggling to catch your breath and also struggling to catch the words. they kinda just... spilled out. he stared at you strangly, eyes blown wide, crepe in hand, change still in the other. "2 weeks, wednesday and friday, i waited for you. both of them. and you never— you never came—" more panting. "—and i thought you were just— not hungry— or something— or you were too busy. and then— and then i found out you were ignoring me. that you were perfectly fine." you straightened and threw your arms out by your sides to emphasize, mock surprise adorning your features. "which is ironic— after i saved your ass. after i helped you. you just... you just ignore me!"

"i didn't ignore—"

"i'm not finished!" you cut him off, watching his mouth fall agape, his eyes plead with yours.

"you don't understand—"

"i said i'm not finished!" his lips shut after that. you sighed, loud and hard, just so he'd know how angry you were with him. "i mean— do you even know how worried i was? well, i was worried. very, very worried. i thought maybe you didn't like me enough, or that you hated me. i also thought you got murdered or ran over or something, or just moved countries without telling me. i mean— i've never been more worried in my life! and i have an older brother! that's saying a lot. so, you're a bitch. and you can stick your stupid crepe. and i never liked sunbutter anyways. i mean, who actually likes sunbutter! oh, right. lying, conniving, ghosting, bitches!" finally, you stopped. and he stared at you. and you stared back. his eyes were completely void of emotion, as was the rest of his face. he looked at you like you were a pigeon, searching for any stray piece of bread in a world full of better, more important people. your silence seemed to let him know that he could finally explain himself.

"check your apron." your lips shut after that, a confused look passing through your face. you thought for a second, that he was joking. but he was dead serious. he looked dead serious. silence fell once again, and you stared at him a moment longer, searching for that laughter in his eyes. it wasn't there. finally, you looked down, opening the pocket of your apron and reaching inside. from its depths, you pulled out... a folded piece of paper.

again, your eyes met his, scanning his features for sarcasm. for anything that would give this joke away. if it was a joke. apparently, it wasn't. finally, you opened up the paper, and the contents made you even more confused. what looked to be a... "is this your..?" anakin was all seriousness when you looked back up at him, and it confirmed the exact thoughts in your mind. his phone number.

"i thought... i assumed... when you didn't text or call, that you had gotten uncomfortable." oh. "i thought that maybe you didn't feel what i felt. i thought i had read all the wrong signals. i thought that because you didn't even reach out to tell me i had, you didn't even want to talk to me. so... i let you be alone." oh. "turns out—...."

your mouth agape, eyes blown wide, a feeling of absolute guilt washed over you. accompanied by horror. and embarrassment. and shame. you had just cussed him out, basically, in front of a whole street of watching people, for a reason that was never even a reason to begin with. he had respected you. he had stepped away when he thought you didn't want what he wanted. and you had jumped to conclusions and hated him for just trying to recognize your feelings. oh....

face flushed, you sputtered, blinking, mouth opening and closing like a fish. you felt like one too. at least, you felt like you had the brain of one.

"oh. i— oh. i don't— i'm so sorry— this—" you looked down at the note, lips sunken in horror, and tried to ignore his eyes all over you. "i didn't mean to—"

and then, laughing. face contorting from guilt and shock to pure bewilderment, you looked up at anakin, expected a grimly-set mouth and a harsh stare. just a passerby laughing. but no. it was him. he was laughing. your nose scrunched in shock, lips parting. if it were any other day, any other hour, any other story, you would've smiled at the sight. he was so adorable. but no. you were just shocked.

"what?" you asked silently, and as his laughter died down, smile half covered by a raised hand, he met your eyes again and shook his head.

"does this mean you feel the same way? or are you just in the process of pitying me?" then. then, you smiled. it erupted on your face like an exploding bomb, engraving itself into the land of your skin. he was joking about all of this. he found it funny. he found it laughing-worthy. and if he did, you did too. you searched for words, and for a moment, there was only the sound of his chuckling.

"no, i'm just not very fond of phone numbers." and then, you were both laughing. it was so stupid, all of it, but it was also extremely funny, and extremely ironic, and so you laughed and you laughed and you laughed until your stomach hurt, and he laughed until he had to stop just to breathe long enough. finally, you shut your lips closed and brushed a stray piece of hair from your eyes. "does... does this mean you forgive me?"

"i only ever ate the sunbutter for you, so yes." he must've pocketed the change, because his fingers closed around yours with ease, and you looked tentatively up at him, skepticism in your eyes. you let that topic go. for another time

"i really am sorry. really. i didn't mean to explode like that. well, yes. i did.. but—" and you heard more laughter, and you felt his lips on yours. and you felt everything within you implode and rebuild when his mouth moved against yours and his eyes fluttered closed. felt everything implode within you when he pulled you closer, flush against him. and kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you. you grabbed his other hand and let the crepe within it drop to the floor. when you finally pulled away, noses just barely grazing, he was still smiling, face pulled along with it. you were smiling, too.

"you owe me a new crepe."

"and you owe me two weeks worth of kissing."

"ah, so it did cost something."

I REALLY ACTUALLY LIKE THIS FIC

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #fanfic #hayden #hayden christensen #star wars #star wars anakin #fandom #anakin fanfiction #sam monroe #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x reader #hayden.txt #anakin x you #anakin imagine #anakin smut #sw anakin #obi wan and anakin #anakin and padme

139 notes · View notes

evilgaygothgf · 1 year

Text

I Know What I Said

Quackity x reader (any pronouns)

Please send in requests!! I’m aching in my bones for things to write please please please

“I’m not looking for anything right now.”

The words repeated in your mind day and night, gripping and tugging at your heart. You’ve wanted to admit your feeling to Alex for the past few months after coming to terms that they wouldn’t just go away on their own. You’ve know him for over a year now, and the feelings only keep growing stronger. “The worst he can say is no,” is what your friends kept telling you, but he’s already said the worst thing in your opinion.

“I’m not looking for anything right now.”

You thought you’d bring up the topic of dating in general to him and try to gauge his feelings before admitting your own first. Kind of just beat around the bush. You thought maybe he’d just come out and admit he had a crush on you and then you could easily slip in how you felt about him too. Or maybe he’d pull the old “well my friend has a crush on their close friend they’ve known for a while but he just doesn’t know how to confess without ruining their friendship” and you could respond with “well he’ll never know unless he confesses, right?” and then he’d confess his feelings and turn out to be the “friend” who wanted to confess the whole time. Just like in movies and fanfics, right? Right? Wrong.

When you brought up the topic he went into a full rundown of how he just doesn’t see himself dating anyone anytime soon because he’s just so busy with his career right now and blah blah blah. As soon as he started talking you had just tuned it all out. His voice was drowned out by the voice in your head telling you to pull it together and choke down the icky feeling in your chest. The unrequited feeling. The only part of his entire response you heard loud and clear was the part you keep hearing play over and over in your head.

“I’m not looking for anything right now.”

Well shit. What do you do now? Respond with a chuckle and a “haha yeah me either”? Cut him off and tell him that he’s wrong and that you’re what he should be looking for? Admit your feeling regardless? Your thoughts were cut off by him asking you the question right back. “Sorry I feel like I really went on for a while. I didn’t mean to unload all that on you. Anyway, what’s your opinion on dating stuff?”

He asked the question so simply like he had no idea why you had asked him in the first place. “Umm,” you started, “well I mean yeah I guess I can see where you’re coming from. I guess I’d feel the same way if I was in your shoes. I don’t know. I guess for me dating is just like something I’m ready for now in my life. Im kind of tired of being single honestly, but hey, you know at least I’ve got you around, right?”

Alex grinned at the end of your last sentence. “Yeah, of course! I’ll always be here as your best friend so you don’t have to feel like a loner,” he chuckled. “But hey, you know if you’re trying to look for someone I’ll be the best wingman to ever walk this earth. And if anyone starts giving you shit or mistreating you, send em to me.” He turned from you and started throwing punches at the air and you couldn’t help but throw your head back in laughter. Alex was such an amazing friend to you and you started to wonder if wanting him as more than a friend was too much to ask in the first place. You were already lucky enough to have him care for you on a friendship level. The words still plagued your mind regardless.

“I’m not looking for anything right now.”

It’s been over a month since that happened and you continued to hang out with Alex like normal. You tried so hard to push your feelings for him down and appreciate the friend you had in him. The two of you had been hanging out all day and at the end of the night, he offered to drive you back home. The car ride to your place was more quiet than usual; void of loud music and laughter. It had been a long and eventful day and you were both exhausted from all you had done that day.

Alex pulled the car up to the front of your place and you reached to the floorboard of the car to grab your things and tell him goodnight before getting out. Before you could unbuckle your seatbelt, Alex’s voice broke the silence.

“Hey. I just…can I tell you something?”

“Uh yeah sure,” you responded as you placed your hands back in your lap and turned your body to better face him in the car.

He looked down from your face to his cup from the fast food restaurant you both ate at earlier as he played with the straw. “I lied. I lied to you and I’m sorry.”

You were too confused to respond as your mind raked through all of the things he could’ve possibly lied to you about.

He started up again, “I know I..well when we talked before…fuck like I didn’t mean to really say-“

“Alex spit it out. You’re making me nervous,” you said in a half speaking and half laughing voice trying to cover up the waver in your voice. Your fingers were already toying with each other as you tried to ease your nerves for whatever was to come.

“y/n I know this is gonna be awkward and I’m so sorry but I should’ve said it then and I’ve been making myself sick trying to think of a time to tell you this.” He brushed the pieces of hair back that were falling over his eyes as he finally looked back up to you. “I know I told you before that I wasn’t really looking for anything but the truth is that I’ve actually been falling for you. So hard. And before you interrupt and ask me why I said what I did, shit, I don’t know. I just..I just freaked out because I wasn’t expecting you to just ask me that out of nowhere.”

“Alex, Im sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No please don’t apologize I should’ve just owned up to it and told you then because I really and I mean really wish I had. It’s been gnawing at me so bad that I didn’t take the opportunity to tell you. You honestly make me kinda nervous ever since I realized I wanted something more than friends with you.” His eyes dropped from yours again and went back to playing with the plastic straw.

“I make you nervous?” You could help but grin as you said it. You couldn’t believe he actually admitted to being nervous around you.

“Yeah yeah yeah go ahead and make fun of me, whatever, I knew I should’ve left that part out,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes and sat back into his seat.

“No I’m glad you told me. I think it’s cute.”

“Oh so you think I’m cute?” He sat up straighter in his chair and smirked. “So you like me?”

You rolled your eyes at his sudden comeback in confidence after all the nervous toying with his straw he was just doing moments ago. He always ate up any little compliment you’d given him and you hated to admit you loved it.

“Yeah honestly I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and if you must know, I was actually trying to confess to you back when I asked your opinions on dating but wouldn’t you know, someone cough cough shut me down before I could. Mr. I’m not looking for anything right now.” You said the last part with finger quotes as you playfully rubbed what he said into his face.

He reached up and lightly smacked your finger quotes out of the air while trying to make an obviously forced angry face. “You should’ve just said it anyway. We could’ve been going on a date today and not just hanging out as friends. And then I could’ve kissed you goodnight when I dropped you off,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he said the last sentence.

Your face already started heating up. You knew exactly how a lot of your days spent together could’ve gone if you two had already been dating by this point. You practically thought about it every time you hung out together and every time you laid your head down on your pillow at night.

This time, you were the one to break the silence. “I mean, we still could,” you said quietly in the darkness of his car. “Only if you want to I mean I know we both just now told each other how we feel but I’m okay with-“

Your rambling was cut off with his lips shutting you up. It was just a peck, but as he pulled his head away you instinctively reached up to pull him back in. It was just a series of small closed-mouth kisses, but it was more than you could’ve imagined receiving from him just 15 minutes ago.

You pulled away from the kiss but kept your face close to his as your eyes scanned his. “I can’t believe you lied to me,” you whispered through a smile in the darkness.

“I’ll make it up to you, baby, don’t worry,” he whispered back as he closed the distance between the two of you again.

#quackity #alex quackity #qsmp quackity #qsmp #quackity x reader #quackity imagine #quackity scenario #quackity blurb #quackity fanfic #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x y/n #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt scenarios #mcyt fandom

655 notes · View notes

swee7dream · 3 months

Text

the types of littles cg!dreamies would take care of caregiver!nct dream x gn!reader

a/n this is agere content ! all inappropriate interactions will be blocked. please don't interact if you sexualize age regression. thank you ! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

mark lee (ᓀ‸ᓂ)

a regressor on the older side! probably someone that can communicate their needs and wants with ease.

i feel like mark would be the type of cg that loves teaching you about his passions. he would sit you on his lap and have his hands over yours as he helps you play hot cross buns on the keyboard.

out of all the dreamies, i feel that mark's tiny would be the most fascinated with music and all its elements. you and mark would most likely spend a lot of your tiny time together in a band where the drums are cups and your sticks are pencils.

he's definitely patient and does his best to fulfill his baby's requests no matter how deep in their imagination they come from.

you want a unicorn drink? he'll do his best to make a unicorn with whipped cream and chocolate chips on top of your hot cocoa! you want to go to mars? a trip to the space museum!

huang renjun ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა

a middle (12-15) regressor is definitely someone renjun could go tit for tat with.

you do have lots of little arguments that leave you with your arms crossed but you're always grateful for renjun at the end of the day.

he definitely holds you accountable for habits you know are good for you but you just don't want to for one reason or another.

but it's not as if renjun is a dictator!

renjun is a big fan of dressing up. he's like a little kid on a field trip except instead of asking 'are we there yet?' he asks 'am i pretty? you're making me pretty, right?'

for some reason, i feel like renjun would like to take pictures of you (or pretend to if you don't like being pictured when little). he just thinks you're the cutest thing in the whole wide world! if his tiny felt embarrassed by his fawning he'd only kiss the embarrassment away before continuing to do it some more.

lee jeno ૮ .◜◡◝ა

regardless of age, lee jeno is less of a caregiver and more of a stuffed animal come to life. or maybe a gentle guard dog.

he's usually snoozing on the couch while his tiny plays in the same room. you may think he's asleep but when you try to leave just for a second you hear him go 'where are you going, gumdrop?'

he's a little overbearing at times, which could be a problem especially for regressors on the older side, but he means well!

despite what others might think when first looking at him, jeno is not an iron-fist type of cg. unlike renjun, jeno's tiny can get away with poking his buttons most of the time. keyword: most.

lee donghyuck ʕ˙Ⱉ˙‧:ʔ

cg!donghyuck screams teenage babysitter. he likes kids, but he's kind of too embarrassed to admit it so he tries keeping a distance.

the best pairing for donghyuck would be a bratty little, someone that makes him care. someone that's so unapologetically themselves that he also begins to not care about the anxieties plaguing his mind.

he's still a little annoying as a cg; knocking a piece of track a little to the left so your train rolls off its route, beginning to build his own ice cream store with the block you were about to use, holding up your animal crackers in exchange for some cute and embarrassing poses.

donghyuck and his tiny are fighting the war of getting on each others nerves and neither side is ever gonna win but they fight on anyways.

"i love you, Angel." "...love you too, Channie."

na jaemin ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

not to put all age regressors in a box, but i feel that jaemin would do well with the image you get in your head when you think of agere. pastel colors, pacis, the whole shebang.

like renjun, he likes playing dress up but specifically enjoys dressing you up. always the prettiest dresses or suits, never letting you even close a button by yourself.

more than dress up though, he definitely likes playing royalty. he likes being either a brave knight that protects you from an evil dragon or your trusty and loyal butler.

jaem as a caregiver would be the most fun thing ever (in my opinion). still, that doesn't mean he's a total jeno i mean pushover. who wrote that? wow that's crazy...

anyway, cg!jaemin is a scary guy. it's at those times when you know you messed up, maybe you broke a vase or something, and you know he should be mad but he's not. he's disappointed. that's a thousand times worse somehow and so you promise him in tears that you'll never do it again.

zhong chenle (ᯟ︿ᯏ)

this guy. this guy is the scariest.

if you have any little buddies and chenle is your cg? you will probably hang out everywhere but his place.

it's a total illusion though, he's not scary at all. he's a big, loud, goofy guy. he's just a little blunt and the fact he wears sunglasses indoors that it scares all the more shy littles away. i feel like this is a bit of a struggle because i imagine that, like chenle, his tiny would be a very friendly social butterfly and their 'baby radar' is nearly 99% infallible.

chenle's tiny is like a well-behaved version of hae's. they're both little gremlins at times but chenle's would definitely keep it under wraps about it.

chenle's tiny has a phd in malicious compliance to chenle's manner rules. lots of "stern" stares full of longing and 'i need this' along with "juice box, please. juice box, please. juice box, please. juice box, p-"

however, they also double majored in kisses and crayon portraits so chenle doesn't even have a chance to get mad.

park jisung (∩˃o˂∩)

jisung's tiny is so teeny tiny and shy, even around him.

jisung is a one in a million man because he's the only one that can instinctively, telepathically, via sign language knows exactly what his baby needs without them having said a word.

it's usually quiet when you're little. maybe you're drawing, maybe you're sleeping, maybe you're just staring off into space. for jisung's little, their regression is just a time when everything can freeze for a second and all that matters is that their favorite plushie is clean and ready to cuddle with.

if jisung had one word to describe the role he has with his little, he would have to say a wall. something firm, something strong, something that ensures that nothing outside is let in and nothing inside seeps out.

a/n hello ! i'm working on some other projects but in the meantime, have this ! i have been posting some of my work also on ao3 so in case you're not on tumblr often, you can also find my one-shots there ! i think i'm gonna keep the bulletpoints here for now tho. i'm hoping you're all having a great start to your springgg (or autumnif ur in the southern hemisphere). oh, i also have question for you! putting aside ur actual dream bias, who do you think would be the best cg for you? me personally, i feel like either jisung or jaemin hehe

124 notes · View notes

ynsvnte · 5 months

Text

Between the space — Lee Heeseung

Genre: angst, friends to strangers, unrequited love, wc: 970 , warnings: crying, pairing: bsf!hee x gn!reader

Masterlist

Late at night, sitting down minding your own business. Just you lost in your thoughts, like usual. Your little bubble will burst when a voice speaks up.

“Hey what’s on your mind..?” The voice said you look up and see your best friend, Heeseung. You lower your head and speak.

“Nothing..just got distracted..” you said. He didn’t buy your words. Something was clearly wrong. “No. I don’t believe it.” Heeseung says as he sits right next to you. You look at heeseung before sighing. “Look I’m okay, don’t worry.” You spoke softly. “No yn, I know when you’re not okay. I’ve been your best friend for years.” ‘Yeah best friends…nothing more..’ you thought to yourself. “Yeah..but some things are better left unsaid..”

“And..what do you mean by that..?” Heeseung was now getting curious.. “Don’t worry about it, besides you wouldn’t want to know anyway.” Your words made him laugh, but still curious. He wanted to know what you meant by that. Unsaid?? What's the worst thing that happened..right.. Definitely what Heeseung but not you. Your relationship status wasn’t complicated. Maybe if heeseung..liked you..he did but in a friendly way.

Your feelings for him were strong, growing up with him for almost all your life. You gained feelings like most people would. Heeseung didn’t…or so you thought. Heeseung liked, LIKED. Teenager Heeseung had the fattest crush, but later he only saw you as a friend and not as a crush anymore. Of course he would never tell you that he had liked you. You on the other hand, those feelings never changed. Your younger self promised to always like him. Now..maybe you can’t keep that promise to younger you. You tried to move on before..but that was useless. Look at you now,.. so foolishly in love with someone you know that wouldn’t return those exact same feelings. That’s you’ve been trying to avoid him like the plague. The longer you were around. The more certain you would never lose feelings.

Heeseung has been very open about his love interest. A fellow classmate of his..you knew she was one of the prettiest girls you ever seen..and you can’t blame him for liking her.

“You know we haven’t been talking that much…” Heeseung spoke up. You only nodded your head, choosing not to verbally respond. “Is there any reason for that..?” He asked you. You only stared at the ground pretending to not hear him. You of course did. And heeseung also knew you heard him. “Look, don’t ignore me, I know you heard my question..” You became flushed.

“F-fine..there is but I rather not say..” you were slightly embarrassed..not wanting to expose your true feelings for him and ruining your friendship. “And why not..does it have to do with me..?” You could only nod your head. You hoped he wouldn’t ask more questions, but luck wasn’t on your side. “Did I do something wrong..?” No..no you didn’t, you wanted to tell him. But you couldn’t find the courage to actually tell him. You sighed and finally looked up, making eye contact.. “you did nothing wrong..more like I did..” You spoke..voice almost slightly cracking…

“What could you possibly have done wrong because all I know is that you're a good kid..” He wasn’t lying, you were never a troublemaker in school, just always decided to mind their own business. “It’s not that..heeseung it’s more complicated..” More complicated..? Heeseung was now confused.. he thought you were speaking nonsense at one point.

“Heeseung..look..I-i like you okay..and I know you don’t like me back..” Oh… you were still making eye contact with him..but soon enough your vision was becoming blurry. You were crying. Heeseung hated seeing you cry. It made him sad. But right now he was feeling shocked..more than sad. His childhood friend has a crush on him..he feels bad truthfully..for not being able to return to the same feelings..

‘C'mon please say something..’ you thought to yourself. You are already embarrassed by crying in front of him and knowing you would get rejected. Heeseung looked down for a quick second before speaking up. “Yn..I’m sorry..but yeah..I’m sorry..” heeseung was at a loss of words himself. He didn’t know what to say. You sob a bit harder making heeseung pull you into a hug, trying to comfort you. Just like the old days..when your young love existed, but that’s far too late.. and you’ll always blame yourself for it. You pull away from the hug and stand up..

“Don’t apologize I expected it..especially when you like y’know..” Heeseung only nodded his head at your words. “I wish it didn’t end this way..but I don’t think I can continue being friends with you..” your next sentence shocked heeseung. What do you mean? All of those years of your guy’s friendship is now being thrown out. “Huh? Yn please tell me you're joking.." Now Heeseung was close to crying. He may not have liked you in a romantic way but he still loved you and cared for you. You were his best friend and he couldn’t afford to lose you.

“I’m not..heeseung if i continue being friends with you my feelings are only going to grow stronger..then why did I try to avoid you..?” Your words made sense..you were avoiding him and now that he knows you try feelings about him. You only did it for his happiness, but you not being his friend anymore was not happy. Heeseung begged you. But you wouldn’t budge. You only apologized.

“Heeseung..I’m sorry..but thank you..I’ll still love you from afar of course..” and with that you walked away.

And that’s how the friendship ended…

Author’s note: I had trouble trying to figure out the main plot for this Drabble umm third-ish attempt at angst it sucks I know I promise to get better (I hope) anyways love you all mwah

87 notes · View notes

mothdruid · 3 months

Note

Hi my lovely abby! For your birthday blurb weekend celebration I’d like to request this storm prompt: ⋆ "come here, i'll keep you safe. swear." With Anakin please and thank you❤️❤️hope you have the best day and happiest birthday! Love and hugs💕

Safe

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x afab!reader

word count: 900

a/n: ps. sorry if there are any inaccuracies with my star wars lore. i haven't watched anything star wars related in years. my love for anakin only recently resurfaced

A shudder ran through you as you listened to the unrelenting storm outside. The rain was pounding down outside, thunder clapping frequently with lighting following shortly after. It was making it hard to sleep. Each loud clap of thunder was frightening you back awake. Every shock of lightning illuminated your room.

Kamino was nothing but an endless ocean. As someone who grew up on Mandalore, it was hard to be okay with this watery landscape they called a planet. Especially with how severe the storms were. You had had the occasional storm on Mandalore growing up, but nothing like this. You were surprised the buildings were still standing above what.

Being sent here felt almost like a punishment. You knew it was necessary, but hell. The only thing making it better was the people you had been sent there with. Obi-wan had been the one to ask for you, which apparently Anakin encouraged. When Ahsoka said that you couldn't help the flutter in your chest.

You weren't sure what it was, but there was just something about Anakin that made your heart beat a little faster. The two of you had been on one assignment together. That was the beginning of it all, and now you could barely get him out of your mind.

Ever since the storm had started you wondered if he was like you. If he was staring at the ceiling, hoping for some calm. Or if he was fast asleep, the storm barely even noticeable. You closed your eyes, mind wandering to more thoughts of Anakin. Just as your mind was wondering if he was in his normal sleep ware. His broad chest cover by nothing, only a loose fitting pair of black pants on his waist.

Boom! Crack!

You sat up that time, chest rising and falling quickly. You dug your nails into your palms. Tightness tugged at all of your muscles. You needed to do something else besides just laying there. Without another thought you got up and headed to grab your robe.

After putting your robe on, you opened your door and moved into the hallway. At least in the hallway the storm didn't sound as loud. You didn't have a plan in mind. At this point, if you needed to walk around the halls all night to feel better you would. So, that's what you did.

The halls were empty, except for the occasional guard. Your foot steps were being drowned out by the sound of the storm outside. Hell, your thoughts were starting to become drowned out by the noise. You were starting to wonder how any of these guards were staying focus with all of the noise.

While lost in thought you rounded the corner of the hall, hoping to continue walking. Instead you were met with another body. The two of you bumped into each other, obvious that neither of you were really paying attention. Strong hands steadied you, keeping you up straight as you regained your balance.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," you started apologizing immediately, ready to start hear some guard yell at you. It never came though.

"Hey, it's okay," a familiar voice said.

Everything started clicking into place in your mind. The strong hands and chest, soft yet firm voice. You had slammed directly into the man who had been plaguing your thoughts all night so far.

"Anakin, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you apologized again.

"Like I said, it's okay," a soft smile was on his lips. "What's got you up this late anyway?"

"Oh, I just am having a hard time sleeping," you tugged the front of your robe around you a little more.

Anakin was exactly as you had imagined him. Black robe, black pants, no shirt. Tonight really just wasn't your night. First the storm and now him.

"Is there any particular thing keeping you up?" His tone had a bit of concern to it, something that wasn't too common for him.

"Oh no, not real-"

As if the storm knew what you were about to say, a loud boom of thunder clapped outside. You tilted your head inward, drawing away from the loud sound as your body tensed. Anakin's hand on your arm tightened a little bit, as if he was still trying to keep you up right. Lightning flashed and leaked in through the windows of the hallway.

"I don't like the storm either," he whispered reassuringly.

"I'm just not used to them like this," you started, "not with the water and everything. It makes me worried."

"Worried?"

"Yeah, like what if it gets too bad and something happens?" The nerves were making your voice shake a little.

"Come here, I'll keep you safe. Swear."

Without warning, Anakin's arms slipped around you and pulled you into him. The soft skin of his broad chest was pressed against your cheek now. You let your arms wrap around him, holding him in a similar embrace that he had you in.

The two of you sat there like that long enough for another loud boom of thunder to occur. That time when you tensed Anakin was there, arms wrapped tightly around you and holding you close. His embrace almost made you forget about the storm, the loud noise being the only thing reminding you now. Even the lightning had ceased to exist with face nestled into his chest. For the rest on the night the storm didn't bother you.

thank you so so much for asking for my boy ani!!! i really hope you enjoy this fluffy blurb<3

don't forget to send blurbs in for my birthday event!

birthday blurb weekend!

#moths 26th #blurb weekend #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fluff #star wars fluff #star wars fic

73 notes · View notes

rise-my-angel · 6 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

30 - Winged Shadow in the Sky

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 17.8k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, child illness, non descriptive inferences to incest, graphic description of disturbing imagery, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v

Notes: Certain subplots and character storylines may be a mixture of book and show content, rather then strictly one or the other. If someone does not seem to be following their show plot, until mentioned otherwise assume they are following their book plot instead. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Jon was never a great sleeper even at the best of times. His mind always found itself racing, too loud, thoughts too vivid and when he did dream the various stages of his life plagued with whatever would startle him awake the most. Whenever that happened, he usually didn’t go back to sleep. He could recall as a boy, Maester Luwin telling him dreams are simply a way the mind tries to work a problem out, but all Jon ever saw was his own insecurities haunting him and those dreams didn’t change much for a long time.

He hadn’t slept in over two days the first night out in the North, as he finally followed his Uncle Benjen to take the black. His mood was horrible, he was exhausted and he was as unsettled and irritable to everything and anything, no matter what he tried to focus on. Jon’s room was further away from the other Stark children, but close enough that even if all he heard was pure silence hiding whatever noise was beyond each thick stone wall, he still couldn’t handle it.

His last night in Winterfell and he had to spend it watching you marry his brother, and Jon could so easily see that you and Robb looked good together. He hated it. He also really hated, that Robb was about to get the one thing from you, that Jon had spent years wanting to share for both yours and his own first time.

You and Robb had sat up together at the main table and Jon recognized that exact look on your face all too well. The silent nerves trying desperately to hide in plain sight. It was the same look you had that day in his room, when the only sounds were the crackling of his fire, and the soft sounds of your clothes as he pulled them all off. He saw all of you for the first time, and he knew he had been staring intently in silence for a while, and when he returned to your eyes there was that look.

So that last night in Winterfell, sitting in the reception hall, he left.

Drinks, music, commotion and the royal company added to the noise which let Jon slip away after he had likely downed more to drink then he should have. Sober, he was smart enough to know Robb wouldn’t do it, but Jon was too inebriated to risk it. He was your best friend, and he was Robb’s eldest brother, tradition expected him to participate in, what he always felt, was the stupid custom of a bedding ceremony.

In no way could Jon handle that, others seeing you like that and knowing he was only handing you off to his brother. It wouldn’t, and didn’t happen, but Jon left all the same into the cold night.

He spent the rest of his night also avoiding anywhere near Robb’s room. He wouldn’t have heard anything anyways, but he avoided it all the same, knowing what was happening. Yet that first night out in the cold going to the wall when he finally slept, he dreamt of Robb finding out his secret, mocking him and humiliating him in front of everyone for ever thinking Jon could be worthy of you. Saying he was never and could never be a true Stark, just a worthless bastard who never deserved your love.

But then he got to the Wall, and he started dreaming about you. Not realizing what he was seeing even when he kept hearing about you. He still remembered Commander Mormont telling him that you and his father had been arrested for treason, that Joffery and the Queen Regent had claimed you had conspired with his father to help him usurp the crown. He didn't yet know he had dreamt of that. And he didn't realize he had dreamt of a lot more, until Sam told him about you and Robb going to war. He had seen that too, and only then, realized all of these dreams of you had been truths.

He’d seen a lot of that, but it wasn’t until after Sam, Grenn, and Pyp had already brought him back did he start seeing you in visions before his waking eyes almost everyday. Then he really didn’t sleep well.

Seeing you in his dreams, or dreaming a memory of that thing taking the newborn baby, turned into not sleeping more then a few hours at a time as long. That was once more, even worse as he travelled with the free folk, or, more specifically, Jon didn’t sleep much at all travelling with Ygritte. Not before that day in the cave, and certainly not after. If he was awake, he could work to avoid what she wanted before she decided she was just going to take it. Most days, she would take it anyways though.

It was worse when she would talk, because there was no escaping it, knowing her voice was overpowering whatever he was trying to imagine in his mind. You sounded nothing like her, spoke nothing like her and there were times he was seeing you in visions or in his sleep only to be interrupted, woken by her, taking what she thought she was entitled too. And barley awake from dreams of you, Jon would have no choice but to pretend he was fine with it all.

After you and Robb were gone, his dreams could be split into two. One half was a vision that still haunted him, even now when he would wake up and look at you alive. The other was finding the eyes of Ghost and walking through them. He still had those, only he knew what that was at this point. What kept him awake now though on this particular night, was the dream he didn’t understand more then the others.

A night storm had found it’s way over Dragonstone, pouring and rumbling overhead to accompany him in the darkness. Turning more on his side, his arms were wrapped firmly around you. The hand by your hair toying with the loose strands as he watched you. Tucked right into his chest as if trusting him to keep you safe in your unconscious state. If he slipped his hand down, he could probably still find traces of him between your legs. He had taken you a few times with purpose, before rutting into you with a greeding need, and Jon liked how calm and peaceful you looked in your sleep after. The rougher he took you, the better you slept and Jon was more then happy to provide that.

But then he fell asleep. And he dreamt of you, but not like before. Not a vision or image of you in something trying to show him your paths, not a memory you shared together. He had no reason to dream anything like this, nor should he have known anything about it, but he did. Following you around at his age now, still on Dragonstone, but he could see you were twelve.

He followed you all throughout that dream, as if you weren’t guiding him anywhere just living a life no knowledge of being watched. Then finally, convinced this was the strangest dream he’s had yet did Jon finally move to reach out to you trying to almost comfort the sadness in the girl you used to be.

Shifting in his hold, he slunk more down back onto the bed, pulling you more into his chest so he could rest, face finding a home in your hair. Just as he tried to close his eyes once more, your voice muffled sleepily into the quiet. “Your thoughts are rather loud, did you know that?”

Chuckling without moving from his new position, Jon mumbled back, “I could always go think in another room, if it woke up you.”

Sighing what might have been playfully were you more awake, you pulled back enough, forcing Jon to do so as well. Shifting so you could see his face more properly, both of you hardly moved much from laying comfortably under the sheets facing one another. “You could, but considering I’m already awake, you could tell me what’s keeping you up so late like this.”

Jon wasn’t sure what to say that time, it was a dream he felt like was a memory that belonged to you, not him. But he walked through it with you and now wondered were it a true memory how much of it did you even remember?

Looking into your eyes, you found yourself easily getting lost finding his back. Even in the dark of night they were bright and shining. Speaking volumes of words he found not the speech for. “Weird dreams, that's all.” You sighed out a little bit, one hand reaching up to run gently across the his shoulder as that same arm of his held firmly at your hip. “How about you tell me what was on your mind the past few days, and I’ll tell you what I was dreaming about in return?”

If you said it, it would have to be real and you wished desperately it wasn’t. Nothing good would come from it should it come here. Finding his gaze soft, you sighed out once more letting that hand now run mindlessly along his chest, fingers purposely making a path to avoid any contact with the scars littered across him. “Do you know why my father was given Dragonstone instead of inheriting Storm’s End?”

Shaking his head slightly, you continued to look at what you could see of his scars and retraced every path without touching the open scars never to heal as you spoke quietly. “It was a punishment. A reminder of what Robert thought he let get away. At the end of the rebellion, he sent my father to Dragonstone to destroy the remaining Targaryeans, but by the time he got there, Rhaella had passed and her remaining children were already smuggled out to Essos. Robert thought it was his fault, so he gave Storm’s End to Renly. But most of the realm never knew my father didn't actually get to them first.”

Pausing for a good while, your voice if it was possible, dropped even more. “It was a raven from one of Aegon’s connections across the Narrow Sea.” Looking up to him, the hesitation in your eyes bled right into Jon’s as soon as you said it. “Daenerys Targaryean is alive, and she has dragons. Three living dragons.”

Slowly sitting up, the sheet pooled around Jon’s hips as you followed suit, trying to pull enough to keep your chest covered in the cool, storming night air. “Dragons?” You nodded, something fearful in your own gaze that once more watched green engulf the shores of your childhood home and how those screams were your cause. What worse would it be from a true dragon? “I thought they were all-”

“They were. And any dragon eggs that remained eventually turn to stone if they can’t be hatched. An informant Robert had watching her and Viserys told us she had been gifted three dragon eggs turned to stone..and according to Lord Varys's little birds, she had one of her own slaves burned alive as a sacrifice to bring them into this world.” A thought that horrified. Sacrifice of life through death and fire.

Jon knew too. It was what Stannis had led the red woman do. It was what had been done to your family as well to bring victory. That wasn’t a cost either of you thought was worth it. But the cost for this, he didn’t imagine anything was worth it. Shaking his head for a moment as his face twisted in thought, “The last of their dragons was small though.”

Your eyes drifted to beyond. The skull in the underground of Kings Landing. Even the size you were now, you could stand upright in it’s mouth and not hit the top. “If they aren’t fully grown now, they will be soon. What happened the last time a Targaryean came to Westeros with three full sized dragons?”

Eyes drifting from his gaze, there was something unsettled in both of you. There was so little either of you could go on, but what there was seemed to be nothing but a picture of a horror. Jon leaned down slightly, attempting to meet your own eyeline to his. “Hey, look at me. This isn’t the last time.” Your eyes finally flickered up to him with a wavering doubt. “We know what we’re up against now.”

Dropping from his again, all you could do was see the cold in your dreams and the fire that burned inside and letting both consume you seemed as fate as any. “We barley know how to survive the Others, how are we supposed to turn around and fight this too?” Finding his, there was a strength in Jon that was found doubtful in your smaller voice. “It feels like both sides are coming down on us, like we’re about to be trapped between two horrors and there’s nothing we can do to fight it.”

Shifting slightly, Jon moved to face you a little better, a hand coming gently to the side of your face as he let his thumb run along your cheek. Without thinking, your hand reached up too, grasping around his wrist as just as it always was since coming back, beat strong as ever as you continued. “The Targaryeans would have used their dragons to slaughter the North if your ancestor didn’t kneel to them, but we both know better. Either she slaughters us first, or the Others do and her and her dragons burn down what’s left. I’ve seen the ruins of Harrenhal, Jon. The strongest structure ever built and they burned through it so badly it was still smouldering when our army got there. If what I did was even a tenth of what dragonfire can do-”

Turning you to look at him properly, Jon’s own eyes were a tinge darker and face set much more sternly as he leaned more in. “What we did.” Trying to shake your head, Jon called your name more firmly. “We did that together, and do you know what’s important? We didn’t enjoy it.”

In that dark night, the rain coming down still around outside those walls, the weight of wars coming on both sides felt too heavy to pretend to be hopeful about, but Jon looked at you with enough all on his own. Rasping low as he moved the hand on your cheek to run along your hair loose at the back of your head. “The Mad King laughed when he burned by Uncle and Grandfather alive, that woman was proud of Mance Rayder’s screams until I shot an arrow in his heart to stop it, she told you burning your little sister alive was doing you a kindness.” That agony weighed far too much in your heart to stop that feeling from choking up in your throat as your hand tightened more desperately to his wrist, still feeling his steady pulse under.

“We’re finding a way to survive winter, but you and I already know fire isn’t an answer. If it was, we wouldn’t have cared about what we did. But this is just one more thing, one more step. We finish here, and we go home. Then we figure out what to do next, not worry about it before.” The hand running through your hair felt as if finally something of comfort was running through your spine and warming the shaking nerves inside. “Winter is coming, so that’s the war we fight. Beacuse the storms won’t stop just for her. Her coming for the Iron Throne isn’t more important then our fight, and if only you and me get that? Nothing changes. We’re still here to protect our people, and we’ll do that no matter what’s coming for us.”

A shadow of a smile wished to form on your face, but struggled to form it even through the whisper lightening your tone and eyes with it. “How do you do that?” Your other hand skipping past running along him and cupping his jaw, running your own thumb over the facial hair and part of his cheek as you looked to nothing but the grey. “Everything you’ve seen, everything that’s happened and you still come through it all a better man then most could dream to be in a lifetime.”

But he didn’t take that as praise, just shook his head only slightly as he raked his hands through your hair more. “I’m not a better man then anyone else. Just one who wants to do what’s right. And so are you. We fight for our people, the ones we love, and protect those who can’t protect themselves beacuse no one else will.”

That wishful smile eased more as his deep words rumbled through your heart, bringing more life back into it. The ask wasn’t in doubt, or even a true hesitation, only the honesty of what he truly wanted on your lips. “Are you sure you want all of this with me? Trying to find a life together even when it feels like the end is coming for us on both sides?”

Jon wasted no time holding back a smile. “We died before we had a chance to be together, what better time then to start that life together then now? We’re already fighting for our people, being with you, having a family together? It just means you and I fight back a little harder to keep them safe too.”

Nodding, you were the one to lean up. Jon sparing no time to steady himself, wrapping one hand around your waist as you had one palm braced on his chest and the other on his shoulder. His lips soft as they moulded right into fitting with yours, keeping every last bit of cold in your bones rushing with warmth as he kissed you. Moving back, Jon leaned against the stone wall behind him, pulling you gently onto his lap. Both your hands moving to run along his scarred chest and up around his neck to seek your own comfort in his curls.

Both of his own hands settled firmly on your waist before one trailed up your spine and wrapped gently in your hair to keep your lips to his. Never pushing it, never demanding you with greed. Just a soft kiss that he refused to let up as you didn’t want to part from. Gentle smaller ones pressed to your lips before Jon used your hair to tilt your head down. Pressing a kiss to your forehead as you leaned more into his chest with a sigh.

The hand on your hip wrapping around behind your back as you held around the back of his neck with one and resting flat over the scar covering his beating heart with the other. The air quiet until you whispered into it, “When are we leaving do you think?”

Jon tilted his head to press a light kiss to your neck before mostly resting in that same place as he held you in his close embrace. “If everything stay on track, a few more days at the most. Why? Sick of your home already?”

But you didn’t skip a second, your nails running along his scalp and curls as you leaned in closer to his touch. “You’re my home. At the wall, here, Winterfell..Highgarden.” Jon breathed out a laugh into your neck, “You’re the only thing that’s been home for me in a long time, and Winterfell is your home. That’s where you belong, and I belong wherever you are. This place hasn’t been a home since I first stepped foot in Winterfell all those years ago.”

Nodding in his spot in your neck, neither of you dared move as if to break the thin string keeping the emotions mostly at bay, but you still heard his low rasp clear as anything. “I love you.”

Nuzzling into his curls, you both felt that fire burning inside but instead of consuming you with a terrifying lust, it was a dance of embers that soothed over you both as if ensuring nothing could pull you apart. “And I love you, Jon Snow.”

Jon thought no more of mentioning that strange dream, and you thought no more of mentioning the one you had that’s led you down a path of total mystery. If you had a choice between fire and ice, you’d choose ice. You had told Theon that dragons don’t create, they only destroy. Well, it was fire which started a war that almost destroyed Jon’s family and it was in the cold of winter and ice where you reunited.

You hadn’t noticed as you both drifted back to sleep, that as Jon pulled your back against his chest, his hand moved to run across and find a slumbering home against your own scar almost protectively, just as Robb used to do so many times before.

This time it wasn’t a memory that didn’t belong to him that he dreamt of as Jon drifted back to sleep, or the nightmares of visions which haunted him for so long. This time as his eyes turned white behind their closed sleeping place, he walked the snowy wolfswood of the North through red eyes. The search of wolves Ghost was on, and it was as Jon warged into him in his sleep, did together they found the end of that search. And it was something equally as large as Ghost they found.

One that the last time he saw that direwolf, they had been sitting at the side of Arya the final time he and his baby sister saw each other. And as the direwolf came up to him, it for a moment, almost felt as if it wasn’t really Nymeria who was looking back at him, just as it wasn’t really Ghost who was looking at her.

“So explain to me how exactly it is you know that?”

Glancing over to Theon who was watching a fair few of you, working to determine the most effective way to carve the dragonglass into use, you contemplating the effectiveness of arrowheads but only dependant on the amount brought North and what could be spared for more. It wasn’t a difficult process, just time consuming. Only a small section could be broken off at once and too much force could shatter it.

It was obvious why it was not a stone often used for anything.

You weren’t sure when the discussion came around to the Lannisters, but you had made some comment about how they couldn’t afford to hire a foreign sell sword company the manner which Aegon had. When asking you why not, you had almost in passing mentioned that they couldn’t even afford a loan at this stage.

Looking back to your work, you would carefully use a cloth sitting in water to soak the dragonglass, slowly cooling it down which seemed to soften how brittle it would otherwise snap under immense pressure. Once you got the hang of it, it was easy, just tedious.

“The only place they could go to would be the Iron Bank of Bravvos, and they wouldn’t touch their treasury even as a last resort. They rely on stability and predictability.” Likely you knew, was why they had sided with your father. If he said he would work to pay off their debt, then he would find a way to do so if just to get them out of his way. “They know the Lannisters have no money to pay them back with, when I had left Kings Landing, the crown was already four million gold in debt to them, and another three to Tywin, meaning when Joffery was crowned they already were seven million gold in debt. And the war wouldn’t have helped.”

Not noticing the degree of how little the others in room with you were following any of this discussion or how needlessly confusing it all sounded in their ears. Theon however had spent much time working with you in the peaceful days in Winterfell and how much headache numbers quickly caused were you not to wrap your head around it. “How can you be sure? That they lost more in the war?”

You had one answer first, but not the words to speak it past your throat. Eyes drifting up to nothing as you could recall Roose Bolton saying that he was offered a Frey wife and her weight in silver from Walder himself should he help in their treason. Hence why he chose Walda, you knew. But that would be costly to the old man, and you knew too well that money would’ve also been provided by Tywin.

But working around it, you came to a more reasonable answer. “Because I know how much war was costing us, and we were beating them by a far margin. Means that they had to pay triple just to afford to spend three years running and hiding.” Gloved hand running down the edge of the shard in front of you, the sharpness putting good pressure on the leather even with little effort. “And the Lannisters gold mines ran dry almost five years ago.”

Theon’s head snapped up to yours, wide eyed with also a confusion as you realized that wasn’t quite publically available information. “Wait, so you’re saying the richest family in Westeros has no money?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Nothing but a flat tone and even expression as you didn’t look back at him. “The Tyrell’s still control the Reach, means as long as the land is fertile they still control all the food for most of the South. Meaning they’re the richest family in Westeros now. The Lannisters don’t have Tywin, they don’t have their gold, and they don’t even have over half the realm’s loyalty. Not what I could consider an enemy to fear.”

If Theon was baffled, he looked even moreso. So much of the families bravado came from their money and you stood there as casual as could be and said they had none but debt to their name left. “How can you be sure? That their mines are empty.”

You shrugged a shoulder, leaning closer as you snapped off a larger section almost too harshly, pulling back at the last minute avoiding the shattering of the broken piece. Spare arrowhead that one could be now. “I served on the small council, I was in charge of their ships and since they weren’t yet at war it meant most of what I did was control and negotiate trade deals. And you need to know exactly the kind of money the crown can work with to do that. They stopped going to the Lannisters for gold, and start going to the Iron Bank of Bravvos, put two and two together.”

That and a certain spider many years ago, may have once divulged certain information to you.

You could almost admire Tywin Lannister for how hard he worked to keep all of this under the table if you didn’t wish to drag him from his grave and boil him alive. Just how much money it must have cost in loans to orchestrate that night, how much was the cost of killing a King, you wondered. What did the Lannisters consider Robb’s life to be valued at, beacuse whatever the price was it wasn’t the right one.

Not a single thing was the right price in exchange for Robb’s life.

Tormund had been leaning against a wall, listening before finally he had a question that came close to distracting you enough to make your hand slip as you worked. “What’s wrong with not paying them back? You can live without so much fucking gold.”

Your smirk was easy, “Not if you’re a Lannister. Gold is the only weapon they had left, and now they have nothing.” Glancing up to him, you elaborated better with clarity in tone. “The Iron Bank won’t do anything to them, but when they couldn’t repay their loans the simply moved their eyes to somewhere else. If one doesn’t pay them, then they fund your enemies.” Glancing back down, your voice more of a mutter, “One way or another, they always get their gold back.”

According to Ser Davos, just as they were desperate enough to look to sell swords for help themselves, he had dawned on the idea of the Iron Bank of Bravvos, and it turned out, they didn’t need much convincing from the two of them. He was not a charming man, but Stannis Baratheon certainly knew how to lay out the direct facts with out any decorum or fluff. Just as they liked it over there.

“So what are you saying? That taking King’s Landing will be easy beacuse they can’t afford to pay to fight back anymore?” Just as you looked to Theon to answer, another did it for you from the doorway.

Voice unamused and bordering on frustrated, you turned to see Aegon looking not a shred of amused. He found your eyes, things had been unreasonably hostile between you both since the raven. You seemed to have more information then the rest did, including himself and he clearly didn’t like that. “What she means, is that she doesn’t think we can hold onto it long enough to pay them back. Right?”

Standing up properly, you turned to lean against the wooden surface which was your home for a number of hours. Your face didn’t shift expressions in the slightest. “You haven't lived here since you were a baby, Lord Connington hasn’t lived here in nearly thirty years. What of these lands do you know so well that you could find a way to pay back likely tens of millions of gold? How are you going to keep King’s Landing if you can’t afford to even feed the realm?”

“How’s your father going to do it?”

It was a condescending challenge rather then a real question, but you only narrowed your eyes in the slightest. “Similar to how Jon convinced them to aid in funds to the Night’s Watch, when they normally produce even less money then the Crown does now.” You didn’t elaborate on purpose, and it clearly annoyed Aegon he couldn’t figure it out.

You were as not easy to read, just like your father, and maybe you were finding out once more that few people outside of the North cared to tolerate your demeanour. “You want me to bend to your cause and yet you express no interest in aiding my-”

“You mean to lie about my intentions in front of my own men?” You grabbed one of the finished shards, formed much easier into that like a dagger. You could thank Sam for that were you to ever meet the man, a dagger was the most effective if Jon’s retelling of Sam’s heroics was accurate. If a man incapable of combat could use a dagger to kill one of those things, anyone could.

Flipping it in your hand with no care as you looked at him, not noticing the watchful eyes with impress at how easily you let a very sharp dagger of dragonglass twist and flip in your hand and not look at it in any way. You stopped mostly a few feet from the man, bringing it up to your face and moving it upright to look at. “Jon came here for this, he came here to find a way to protect his people. Jon’s cause is survival, not politics. As should his, and yours, and everyone’s. We didn’t ask you to kneel for us, we hoped you would have enough sense to fight beside us when the time comes.”

“Against your ice monsters and spooky snow corpses? Yes I am sure I am desperately needed up North to fight against the dangers from beyond the wall. And that is why the only man you could pull to your side is your father.”

You looked up at Aegon with little change in your eyes, and nothing to even portray irritation, just a calm, steady voice and unblinking eyes. “My father thought I was dead. He joined that fight of his own choice, and he hasn’t even seen what these people have,” Your head nodding to where much of the others were now standing almost ready in defence for you. They had taken less kindly to Aegon and his Golden Company then even you were. “I’ll tell you what Targaryean, we have ships. How about you and I take a trip. Sail up to Eastwatch by the Sea, go beyond the wall and when we come across the army of the dead, you can drag one of them all the way to Kings Landing to convince the Seven Kingdoms we’re telling the truth. If you survive that is.”

He said nothing but the agitation was felt tenfold as you leaned up, even if you were on your toes you would not reach him in height, but your quiet calm was all the intimidation needed. Your voice only a breathe more pedantic as you raised an eyebrow. “What do you say? You and I go beyond the wall, capture a wight and show the world what’s coming to kill us all. Or maybe, you could trust what the free folk have all seen, trust that the people they lost at Hardhome were real, and trust that so far, two men of the Nights Watch have killed these things.”

You don’t need to be shown her dragons to know that three flying creatures of immense fire were at the control of Daenerys Targaryean. You trusted in what Aegon had told you and the look in his eye when he described his aunt’s cruelty. So why could no one else bother showing an inkling of that respect to Jon?

He didn’t want to just save the North, he wanted everyone to fight together. Protect the realm beacuse this was all of our homes, you thought. Eight thousand years ago, it was the First Men and Children of the Forest. Now, the Children were gone, but the descendants of the First Men, the Andals, and the Rhoynar surpassed such a population. The First Men left no written histories. But if Kings Landing now had one million people living in that singular city, you reckoned that alone may be more then the entire population of the First Men during the Long Night.

Glaring at you, he found it frustrating you suspected, that you were in no way intimidated by a thing about him. Silent as he grasped for a word, before glancing to the others in the room and lowering his tone only for your ears. “Tell me, what does it say about Jon Snow that he's chosen a Queen that's so frustratingly unpleasant?”

An eyebrow raised, and without the restraint which would be more appropriate it came flying out of your mouth a little too easily. “Says better of him, then a man who thinks it's normal to marry his aunt.”

Oh the stammering silence which Aegon glared at you with almost made you laugh were you not smothering the intent to grin already. Leaning forward in your space, “I did not choose that myself, a decision made counciled by my advisors.”

Losing patience quickly you still had not blinked. “Did you come here for something or just to annoy me?”

If you were to have asked, Theon and Jon both would have told you it was a degree of amusing that even looking from low on the castle grounds where they stood, they could they see the sheer agitation in both your stance and Aegons as the two of you stood up on the battlements trying not to let whatever you were discussing, turn into an argument. And failing.

But, Jon had known the idea might mean more coming from you then him. Aegon to a degree already trusted somewhat in Jons intentions, but he did not trust yours. So, to him, it made more sense to have you approach the dragon with Jons idea, give the man a reason to trust both of you together.

“In what world do you think I would share his strategy with you, if he already refused?”

Sighing deeply, he glared at you before turning back to the sight of the sea. Looking out with his arms crossed over his chest. “You all want to work together, but Stannis talks down to me like I am a child, Jon Snow is angry with me for not believing in bed side stories, and you-”

An arm braced on the stone to the side, you continued to face Aegons side profile with a narrowed gaze not quite a glare. “I'm what, Targaryean? Not willing to share my fathers secrets when he already refused to himself? He didn't even tell me what his plans for taking Kings Landing was you know. I had to put that plan together myself with no help of his.” He said nothing and you stepped more into his space, voice lowering to a hiss. “You want to be a King, then start thinking like one. But do not stand there and get angry with me that you don't have allies flocking to your side when you haven't done a single thing to prove yourself.”

Sighing deeply, you could tell he was as on edge as you. “I do not expect allies to come without cause. I know my House does not hold the support it once did. The name Targaryean alone doesn't mean much anymore. Having to prove myself against Kingdoms that have been fighting for years isn't as easy as it sounded before I came here.”

Palms now perched on the stone, you looked out to the waters of the bay. The men had done a swift job, you almost could not tell you had committed an atrocity just to be able to stand here now. Your sleeve was well covered all the way down your arm, but for a moment you felt it. The touch of a gloved hand reaching to your wrist as you did his.

“I sent two thousand men to their graves today.”

You nor the North blamed Robb for that. It was a sacrifice that led to only victories for three years of battle, but it weighed on him more then any could imagine. It made him feel like a monster, but the horror in his heart was what kept him human despite the cost. You wished you could return the phantom sensation once more, grab Robbs wrist as he did you.

You wondered if he would understand this, as you did that.

But also, you understood here and now, that as much as you despised the one next to you, he spoke of an enemy that would be far worse. Whatever you disliked about Aegon as a man, you feared in Daenerys as a ruler far more. You weren't fighting for your fathers claim, but you knew hindering Aegons own was not why you were here. And in truth? You had more faith in him then you did the Lannisters either.

Voice low as you spoke, “If you want to take Kings Landing, then you can't stay here. Dragonstone is too far from the mainlands, and it is only advantageous beacuse no one wants it.” His head turned slightly to see you, but you stared harsh at the waters once green. “My Uncle holds Storms End. If you promise me no harm will come to his or his guard, I would be willing to share exactly how my father managed to hold onto it during the siege in the rebellion.”

Voice was calm, but his stance was as rigid as yours. “Storms End is your House's ancestral seat, why would you help me take it?”

You knew your father wasn't going to be happy about it, but in truth, if Aegon was not going to help Jon, you two would rather he leave the North alone then try and bring them back into this fight. Lions or Dragons, someone was going to try and force Jon into this fight, but maybe the one standing next to you would agree to a truce if nothing else.

Swallowing harsh, you forced your breathing to steady first. “Not long ago I was preparing to go to war with my father one day, now he is our strongest ally. I'm not asking for you to help us against your will, but I can promise you will have one less Kingdom to fight against you if you agree to a truce. And Jon and I are smart enough to know you won't agree to that unless we offer you something first.”

The wind blew between you both for a long while before Aegon spoke. “I don't believe what your husband tells me about the far North. But I know I believe my aunt has dragons, and I know if she gets here, whatever her dragons don't burn she will do worse to the rest of us who remain. Perhaps it will bring some peace of mind to know I at least wouldn't have to worry about the North siding with her against me.” Quick to point out Jon would not let his people fight in such a war, Aegon relented. “Tell me how to take Storms End, and I'll never force him too.”

So this was how betraying Stannis felt like, you remembered. Doing the hard thing beacuse in the end it was the option that would hold the most peace. At least if he considered you a traitor for it, you were already well acquainted with what that feels like.

The throne in the Great Hall seemed larger then you remembered somehow. Most of your time here as a child and it now felt bigger then each last, but perhaps too much had changed. Seeing the world from the perspective of a child never meant to inherit a single thing of a throne and now you stood as something the North called a Queen.

It was always a strange feeling, thinking of yourself in that term. It had been from the very moment Greatjon Umber had pulled out his sword and proclaimed Robb as King in the North. Robb pulling you to stand with him as something akin to a shock hit you. The feeling as every pair of eyes eventually turned to you, knowing that you would have to choose a side against father or husband and there was no real choice.

You sided with Robb beacuse he was the one you believed in, but you never sided with a King. Only a man.

But they called you Queen regardless and to this day that has yet to stop. But it never felt right, you never looked at yourself in the mirror and saw a Queen. A Queen to you had always looked like Cersei Lannister. Beautiful, always immaculately painted and dressed with rich fabrics draped in colours as she walked tall and with an elegance that you never held a candle too. Men far and wide would comment on her renowned beauty and many would do anything to be the one in her bed.

That had never been you. Awkward, never with the right figure that was seen as perfection. Not tiny enough in some places, and too soft or with too many curves in others. A face strong and fierce like many Baratheons were known for, a vision of a green eyed boy in a Kings Landing armoury that looked so much like you in another life you could’ve been born as twins. You looked like that boy, not like the beauty of a Lannister woman or the renowned allure spoken of a Targaryean Queen.

What mark would you make upon the world? The only Queens any remembered in this age were the worst of them. Short reigns of chaos and madness like Rhaenyra were the ones the realm remembered, ones like Cersei would be remembered for the horror her own perverse indiscretions had caused.

Robb was a good King. And he would only be remembered as the good King who was slain at a wedding. If you had died with him, you would’ve already faded from the memories of the people, but here you were in front of the throne of Dragonstone and still with the world being called a title you were never meant to have.

You were born a noble lady, raised to marry a high lord and have his children. You didn’t know what else was expected of you now. It was almost easier when you were pregnant, your duty had become to stay healthy and at Robb’s side. Now though, you felt as lost as you did that day in the cold, you and Robb surrounded as they chanted King in the North.

“Hard to imagine you on that.”

Turning to the side, you could see Jon approaching. Each footstep echoing in the vastness of the room as you came close to half a smile, looking back up at it. “Hard to imagine me on any throne, was never raised to value luxury.” Coming up beside you, Jon faced the same looking it over before turning to you with squinting eyes. “I’ve never actually sat on it before.”

A playfully surprised look amused over Jon’s face as he turned more to you before relenting with a smug look hiding in his eyes. “You never were good at knowing how to have fun.” Rolling your eyes with a real smirk winning over, he nodded towards it. “Try it now, see how it suits you.”

Turning to him, you stepped back slightly with a more dramatic wave. “A throne is a seat for the King, your grace.” Jon took his turn to roll his eyes, and with no decorum took the few steps up and sat down with no care for the authority of it.

Looking at him, a throne suited him yet didn’t. He looked right in something that was commanding of authority but there was not a shred of ego attached to many who sat there or the Iron Throne. His eyes, bright and grey shining in the light as he looked up brightly at you. You grinned with a shake of your head, “I change my mind. I don’t think I like the image of you in some large, godly throne.” Meeting his eyes, your tone lowered as your gaze shined with mostly just admiration. “You’re too humble for this sort of place.”

Hair pulled all back, and dressed down in nothing like that showing his status of a King. He looked like any other Northerner outside, and it didn’t look right with the ornate stones that sat in an empty room to rule over. “Maybe I’m missing the most important part.”

Before a fluster could come over you, you pulled the skirt of your dress back with a light yell of amusement as he reached out to try and snatch you, no doubt about to yank you onto his lap. A laugh leaving both of you as you stepped back more when he stood up. “That isn’t how it works, I’ve never known a good King to yank women down onto his lap during court.”

Stepping closer to your side, Jon cupped the back of your head to press a kiss to your forehead as he turned to the space of the room. “That’s assuming they think I’m a good King in the first place.” Looking around for a moment, Jon only sighed as you watched him. Still a few feet away as your hands found themselves wringing mindlessly in front of you. “Some days I still worry they look at me and are waiting to see when I finally start being like Robb. I can’t be Robb, I know he was a good King but I don’t know how I’m supposed to be one of my own.”

He was surrounded by Kings on this island now. Stannis and now Aegon, both men with vivid identities as Kings. Watching him move to sit on the small steps leading up to the throne. You looked to the chair and finally out to the room, voice somewhat echoing in the quiet space. Every remembered Queen was for horrible reasons, but you also knew that good Kings were not easily come by, and not for what people remembered.

Stepping a bit closer to where he sat, you kept your eyes around the room. “You shouldn’t have to figure that out.” Jon turned slightly to look back at you in confusion but your attention was in the details carved into the high walls. “Most Kings striving to be good ones never quite saw past their own titles.”

“Like who?”

Eyes squinting in thought, you had some easy answers to that. “Everyone still speaks highly of Baelor the Blessed. Most would call him a good King. The small folk loved him for his charity and he built the Sept of Kings Landing. He also imprisoned his own sisters in the Red Keep beacuse he believed their beauty would tempt him into corruption, and ended up starving himself to death beacuse he thought food was filling his mind with lust.”

Glancing down you could see the twisting grimace on Jon’s face at the sheer idea of it. Not only merely locking his own sisters away but the reason being to not be tempted by their beauty? Some things never quite became less gross and uncomfortable the older you both got.

“Aegon the Unlikely was known as a good King. Was known to dislike most of his families..strange traditions and knew the common people well. He almost had a peaceful rule, then he tried hatching a dragon egg at Summerhall and killed numerous people including himself.” Your tone with a small bit of an unsettled bite against it at your eyes looked to nothing, “Then once his son had the throne he, and then his son, undid every good reform done before them.”

“What about your Uncle?” Looking back to Jon, a genuine curiosity was on his face and not a shred of mocking or malice as so many spoke of the man now. “He won the rebellion, ended the Mad King’s reign, kept the peace his entire rule.”

You almost smiled, coming up to his side properly, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you sat down on the small steps beside him. “He did, but Robert also attended only four small council meetings in twenty four years. He instead chose to spend his days hunting, drinking and sleeping with any women which weren't his wife.” Your brows narrowed with a bit more of a distant mutter.

Inhaling deeply you looked back up, the room now much larger from such a low point as you at least felt Jon’s warmth against the chilling air. “Three good kings, one who locked his sisters away from his own lust, another who got himself and others killed trying to revive dragons, and a man who thought that winning and ruling were the same thing.”

Finding each others eyes, his tone was deep and rasping as he muttered, “So which one am I closer to? I’d like to think at least two of those three don’t actually describe me.” A breathy laugh shared between both of you as you leaned more to look at him better, once more finding not a King but just a man before you.

Were you realizing you were openly looking at him in such a genuine admiring manner you didn’t know, but Jon certainly did, as did he pick up the gentle tone from your lips. “You’re better then all of them, beacuse you’re not trying to rule as a King. Just a man who wants to protect his people. That’s the difference. You’re fighting for survival, for the innocent who can’t fight beside you.” His eyes painted with tenderness as he looked deeply into yours, transfixing you from ever being able to break that spell.

“And Stannis? Aegon? What are they?”

Quiet for only a moment, you leaned more into Jon’s side. His arm easily wrapping around your waist to pull you snug into him. “They both fought for the right to be called King. I won’t shame them for it, but that does mean they still have a long way to go.” His free hand on the other side sat close enough you found yourself mindlessly toying with his fingers or tracing along his palm. “They want the Iron Throne, while soon you and I are sailing back to our frozen waste of a home with no throne or crowns to welcome us back, and at this point that’s more then I could possibly ask for.”

Pressing another kiss to the side of your head he muttered in your hair, “Could always make you a crown if you wanted. A nice pretty one with painted metal and carved wolves all over.”

When you laughed, he laughed into your hair even more. “We both know I would look positively ridiculous wearing a crown, Snow.”

Another kiss, a deeper rasp closer to your ear as he pressed another just below it. “Maybe if it were the only thing you were wearing, it wouldn’t.”

Turning instantly to look at him, a bit of a darker tint in his eyes as he looked into yours then shamelessly down to your lips and back. A look that was desperate to be lecturing but was verging on an accidental sultry at the feeling in your veins. Leaning in playfully instead to hover closer to his lips, “Well, if my King commands it.”

It took Jon a moment, but he eventually let out a frustrated sigh that made you laugh far louder then it should have. His brows narrowing defeated as he opened his eyes once more, rolling them and yanking you back to rest at his side. One arm of yours wrapping behind his back as the other reached to rest gently more by his stomach. Voice husking into your side, “It’s like you want me to pin you down where anyone could walk in.”

Muttering quite quietly that maybe you did, and Jon only grumbled more. Muttering something about how much you drive him crazy, all the while his hand ran along your side soothingly and your heads occasionally nuzzling the other as you enjoyed what small quiet you two were allowed to share on your days in this place.

Leaving for the North couldn’t come fast enough. He had been wanting to take you home the second you had left for White Harbour.

There had been almost too much of a crowd in the docks, men moving every which way and yelling thrown across ships. Navigating through them all for you at least was a bit on the easier side, not terribly dissimilar to working around the dense harbour of King’s Landing.

Not much was keeping many here now. Jon’s place was back North now that he had secured the one resource of Dragonstone he required, whereas Aegon and Jon Connington would move into the Stormlands and start their southern war on the mainlands. No one could make them believe, or force them to join this cause. If waging a new war was their choice, they had to be allowed to leave and make that for themselves.

Allies would start to choose sides, and once more the North would be forgotten until they decided they needed it, but they will not draw these people back into it. Your last victories compiled together high enough that when the wind blew it over the destruction left lands in tatters. Now the war which mattered most in the North was the one to protect the people before the storms could come.

If you even could.

“Strange seeing you the one acting in such a role.” Turning from your crew, approached your father with a squinting look in the bright sun of the afternoon. Gesturing with a slight nod to the side, they cleared way to leave the two Baratheon’s as alone as could be in such a place. Looking around you didn’t make much eye contact when you returned.

Air high in your tone, you sounded more casual then once intended perhaps. “If you are playing me, you could always find a high point on rocks to sit at, watch me leave until your septa yells at you to come down.”

Stannis eyes brightened just a tad bit, arms crossing over his chest as he stepped closer so you didn’t have to shout quite as much. Moving a bit to the side allowing passing men to run by to whatever task they had. “Perhaps if you had listened to her more often, she wouldn’t have felt the need to be harsh with you.” Barley mustering a laugh, you wondered if it was as difficult for your father to accept the distance never growing shorter between you as it was for many to understand.

It was not a farewell made of forever, yet it sat in the air heavy between you both begging to be treated like one did an actual family. Your voice coming up from deep in your stomach with a strained sternness, “You’re aware they are going to march on Storm’s End once we leave.” Your father nodded. “You need to let them take it.” His eyes looking doubtful, but it needed to come from you , there was no hiding. “It was your home, it is our ancestral seat, but if you fight them for Storm’s End then you are drawing your men into their battle on land. Once Aegon declares his claim publically, anyone making their presence known will be drawn into another war, and we cannot afford to be involved in it. Not anymore.”

Stannis’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly without any gaze within them truly changing, a curiosity that looked non existent to the non observable. Tone just as flat only with the lightest tint of the same feelings under, “We dedicated over four years of our lives fighting wars just like his, it isn’t so easy to turn your back on all of it.”

“It is if you choose to do so.” Yelling echoed over the quiet of the conversation yet it felt as it they muffled and faded into nothing. “I have people trapped in the Riverlands that I have no way of rescuing, good people who put their life on the lines for the North and in return I can’t even get anywhere near them without sending myself or any men with me into a slaughter. And it bothers me that I have to just let them think they’ve been abandoned so I can be in the North and fight the one war that will come for us all.”

There was one person in particular that you would never be able to bring home, and before the fires and chanting returned you interrupted whatever your father was about to say, attempting to push past that horror from taking that space again. “I have to abandon some of my people to save more of them, but if you leave here to fight whatever Iron Throne battles come of his arrival? You’ll be fighting those battles forever.”

Looking intently at you, your father managed to get out, “It is relieving to hear you starting to sound like a Queen once more.” Your gaze hardened, pleading him not to bring it up. Not right now. “I am glad coming back from the dead didn’t rid you of your manners.”

The power to not roll your eyes at your father was a strength not many were blessed with.

“I know you have a duty to the throne, your claim. But winter will come for the south sooner then any of them think. Don’t die in the Stormlands fighting their battles when that happens.” Before you could contemplate how you both were supposed to say goodbye, rescue came in the form of Jon coming to his side.

They shook hands, and you were glad the attention drifted from you right away. “Never seen you look quite so out of place.” Your father spoke to Jon in a tone lighter then he did you, and were you not so preoccupied with many a thoughts, you might have mustered enough amusement to consider that if you married Jon, your father would finally have the son he’s always wanted. In a round about way at the least.

He did best he could with you, but you knew too well for a commander such as him, war was easier then daughters. Sons to him were as simple as any other man in at his command, and he and Jon found that ease at least. “I never lived near the sea, there’s not a lot I know about sailing that most men here don’t already know better.”

Your father with a light amusement that only spoke deep hidden in his eyes as he gestured to you with a tilt of his head. “Watch her long enough on the journey back, and I’m certain it will be easy to pick up on it. Not exactly quiet she is out on the open water.”

Face twisting, you swallowed protest of the sheer audacity to act as if that was not behaviour as a captain you had learned directly from him. Robert hadn’t been the only Baratheon man who had a bossing set of lungs on him. Arms crossing over your chest, your eyes spotted a figure.

Striking blue hair watching, and you knew Aegon was trying not to feel relieved that you were leaving his shores. Were it not the quickest way to rile him up in an unhelpful manner, you may have had half the thought to tell him if he truly wanted to try again against you, you knew how to get to the Trident from Winterfell but you knew that wouldn’t go over well.

Still, the honesty in his claims, the way he insisted in his aunt’s brutality across the Narrow Sea as something to fear. Aegon himself had done nothing to prove such a threat, but you could hear that set of lungs on your Uncle that day yelling about how honour didn’t keep his Kingdoms in line. You too, could hear Lord Varys and the thought didn’t feel good as you looked at Aegon across the way.

“It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule, must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm.”

Were you right the whole time about her, Lord Varys?

Was the horror of murdering an unborn child the thing which blinded you to the truth of what she could be capable of? Beacuse now you knew what losing a child like that felt, and you couldn’t stop but think though that she had lived and no word was spoken of a child. Both women with claims of Queen who lost a child, but did the flames of green in the bay of your home mean you had let that turn you into the kind of cruelty spoken of her?

You desperately hoped not, but so much was hard to see with any clarity now.

He was much like how so many of you started, a boy of summer trying to play King until he was ready to be a true one. When Aegon became that, you hoped it was not the footsteps of a father by birth or the influence of an aunt ruling with fire that judged his actions. Hope was not lost, he might be good for the realm should it stay standing one the snow melts, but it would be up to he he chooses to become.

Daenerys Targaryean had let herself follow a path close to her father. Aegon could become Rhaegar if he pursued it, but you saw little of him no matter how much the two of you despised one another.

The night sea should have been soothing, it was a quiet waters with little waves and only a wind to cool off those coming from deeper below deck, and yet it was a commotion that had so many come to gather and disturb the sights. It had happened before, happened to others and some even watching had it happen to them, but not this intense.

It hadn’t horrified the way this one did. But whatever was showing you this, disturbed the peace of the night you had on the journey to White Harbour. A peace that you all desperately needed.

He had found you in the small captains quarters, leaned up against a small table pushed to the side as if not a single rock of the ship even gave notice in your mind. In another life, Jon considered the idea that instead of Highgarden, perhaps he could find a new fantasy. Finding love in a beautiful girl dreaming of travelling the seas and he the only man safe enough to protect you on his own ship as he brought you to whichever ports you desired.

It would perhaps be a bit nicer then the fate waiting for you all. The one that stood behind the only thing keeping safe the realm. And the some eight hundred men between all three forts guarding the Wall. At this rate Jon was contemplating the reasonability of requesting whatever prisoners Aegon takes hostage, he send to the Wall instead of whatever he chooses to do with them.

Two hundred men once loyal to the Boltons and instead of watching them in his lands knowing the horrors they stood by Roose and Ramsay for, he sent them to the Wall with instructions for each commander to not take it easy on them. Edd, much to Jon’s silent chagrin, was more then eager to show them what kind of discipline was to be expected from them that point on.

Now thousands of miles away, Jon watched your eyes trained deep in thought on the dragonglass in your hand, something more like confusion seeking an answer in your eyes on it.

You hadn’t even noticed he walked in, the black glass like stone turning in your hands as it did not provide a shred of help for why it was something to fight back with. It just looked like any sort of stone but it somehow did the one thing many would likely need to defend themselves. How many thousands of years had it all been down there with no use?

How did the First Men figure out it worked, and why in the thousands of years since did no one find any more answers to the far more pressing questions which followed this one. Catching sight of Jon in your peripheral vision, you flipped it mindlessly in your hand as he tossed off most of his outer layers. His voice low as he stepped towards you. “I’m starting to think when the time comes, I should just cover you with dragonglass.” Your eyes flickered up to his in a bemused question, “The way you jump into fights, think you’d need it.”

Forcing a smirk down your throat, you looked back at the stone. “I don’t jump into fights, only ones that I think are important to not stay out of.” Hand opening in front of you, you let the dagger drop gently into Jon’s hand as he stepped into your space.

Giving a glance of doubt, you raised an eyebrow in challenge to elaborate. Muttering low as he looked it over trying to imagine the bravery it would’ve taken Sam to shove this into one of those thing’s not even sure it would work. “When we’re back in the North we need to start planning out how to train our people.” Reaching an arm to rest the dagger on the table beside you, keeping it there as he stepped into your space more, his other hand toying with the strands of hair laying loose by your shoulder. “As much as I wish you didn’t have to fight, this time everyone is going to need to, and it isn’t going to be a popular idea..”

Meeting your eyes, one of your hands rested at his hip while the other trailed along the laces of his last layer covering his torso. “I only started to learn how to fight beacuse you taught me.” Fingertips trailing up what of his bare chest you could reach beyond the soft material. “And it wasn’t on the field of battle where I died. I reckon that means the rest of them have fairly good odds.”

You didn’t comment that his jaw clenched as you swung such a door back open once more. As much as you didn’t like thinking about his, he still didn’t like thinking of yours and you understood. He had thought you dead far longer then you to him. “I have no idea what this fight is going to look like, but after how many of the free folk died at Hardhome, I can’t leave anything up to chance no matter who they are” Brows narrowing you could see a twisting fall on his face trying to work it out as he did most of his days. “The first wight I killed was over four years ago and I’m no closer to figuring out how to stop them.”

The hand on his chest rose up, tilting his face gently to find yours as your thumb ran over his cheek. As you sat up the slightest, the hand on the table you felt had made his way to your waist. “Fire, Valyrian steel, dragonglass..I’d say you are already three steps ahead of the rest of the population on what to do.” Sighing lightly at your words, you then had his eyes fluttering shut with a shakier breathe as you trailed your hand now to run through his curls, loose to the world. “One thing at a time. For now, we go home, and we start having them run drills, daily if we have to. We do that first, then we figure out what comes next.”

Smirking lightly to himself, a glint in his eye swam over as he danced his hand in your hair down to trace the sensitive skin of your neck. “Second.” Your eyes narrowed in question with a slight tilt of your head. “That’s second. There’s something more important we need to do when we first get back.”

Grasping for straws until your wonder turned to almost an incredulity as his eyes shined brightly with nothing but a genuine smile. “Jon, that is certainly not more important. We have nothing prepared even, why would we-”

“You have nothing prepared.” The smirk turned more mischievous, causing you to bite your tongue trying not to let it infect you as well. You were failing miserably. The playfulness in you dropped, leaving but a wash of a gentle awe left in your eyes that any but Jon might have mistakened for sadness. His hand on your waist toyed with the soft material, looking down at you innocently.

Leaning up, you met his eyes only for a second before slipping closed. Finding Jon’s lips in a soft kiss, his hand cupping your jaw and cheek tenderly as he stepped into you.

Without any lustful intentions behind it, Jon grabbed you by the hips, lifting you up and back enough to sit you on the wooden surface behind you before leaving to push the skirt of your dress up your legs enough he could make himself space to stand between them. His touch at your cheek returning once more as you gently let him kiss you more, never deepening it but keeping you there until he sensed you needed the air more urgently then he did.

Grabbing both sides of your cheeks he moved you, leaning your head down enough to press a kiss against your hair. Your own hands toyed with the edges of his shirt, sliding under to run along his torso, skipping past each mark as to force such an image out of your mind. Not giving up the touch, he rested his forehead against yours. “Feels like we’re making stories up again. Under the Weirwood talking about what other life we could be together, it feels just like as soon as we step off this ship you’ll go right back to being someone else’s I could never dream of having.”

Moving up, you pressed another kiss to his lips before nudging his nose with yours, your hands winding around the back of his neck. “Better do it quick soon as we get back then. It’s much harder to annul a marriage after it has been consummated.”

A deep chuckle returned, his lips brushing against yours with every word spoken as his touch on your cheeks grew a bit tighter. Voice that of a deep husk with hot breathe dancing across your skin, “I think you and I are long past that by now.” Jon kissed right beside your mouth, then one more just at the skin under you ear before rasping into it. “They’d be able to do even less if I give you a child.”

Shivering in his touch, he knew too well it wasn’t from the cold air. Your breath hitched and voice a high pitched strain a your nails dug a bit into his neck from a growing desire in your nerves. “Hard to split a man and wife apart once they’ve brought a little prince or princess into the world.”

His lips pressed hot against your neck, never committing to a bite or roughness but enough to toy with you. Enough it burned your insides, legs tightening a bit around Jon’s hips as he stepped into you with purpose. Pressing his covered cock against your core, you could feel it hardening as it was pressed right against the only fabric hiding it from him. “You think I’m only giving you one or the other?” His lips against your neck pressing a little harsher, a little more of a nibble against the skin.

A whine left your mouth before you could stop it. The second it did, Jon’s teeth bared against your neck and didn’t move. His sounds more like a growl as one hand moved to force your hips forward, pressed right against his covered cock as he pushed himself more into you. Your nails dug more as they dropped to his shoulders, and the second your exhale came out with a whimper a the pressure between your legs, Jon had enough games.

Not stepping back, he only leaned away slightly as he wasted no more time yanking your dress up and off you. A lack of any care where it landed as he tore his own shirt off to the pile. Large, calloused hands grasped your hip slinking to what he could feel was an already soaked material only now in his way. Only stepping back from you enough to pull it down, eyes so dark they never left yours as even just here your breathe picked up in need.

Swallowing another whimper in your throat as Jon pulled your legs apart, and making sure you kept his eyes as one hand slunk between your legs. Face hardening as he exhaled rough through his nose at his fingers finding you already wet. Gathering a good amount together before moving two fingers to your clit, running tightly around the sensitive bud as you gasped. Grasping around his shoulders as you tried arching into him. But he kept you at bay, making you stay locked to his eyes.

Your insides burned and twisted, sparks of pleasure sharp through you as he roughly rubbed your clit, only to stop your lungs in agony entirely when just as tight circles were making you shudder, those same two fingers trailed down your wetness. The other hand keeping your other leg sitting wide leaving it’s task to gently tilt your head up, looking him so close in the eye by your chin as he sunk his fingers deep inside you. Dark eyes scouring your face as you cried out, arching into him as that pleasure screamed in flames around you. Dragging them right along something desperately sensitive that had you cry out until he was sunk to the knuckle.

Pulling them halfway out before sinking back deep, heel of his palm rough against your clit as the wetness from inside you soaked all between you, to the point each time Jons fingers pushed back deep you could hear it. He didn’t kiss you, or even say much of anything just watching you with black eyes and a clenched jaw as you tightened around him.

Just as he pulled them out, a whine leaving you as your palms pressed against his chest did a third slid in with the others. Three of his fingers, thick and deep sliding soaked along your sensitive walls as his eyes watched you trying to contain your cries. Rubbing the heel of his palm against your clit without any care of being gentle with it, your hips jolting as your core twisted and turned ready to snap a your body flooded with fire.

Hands curling into his shoulders, your head dropped with a whine as your eyes closed as the need filled you, only to have Jon nudge your chin to look back up at him. A furrowed brow with a disapproving frown on his face as if you needed permission to look away from him. Which you didn’t dare disobey again. Sliding in and out only as you tightened around him did Jon pull from you, not giving your lungs a chance to catch up.

Kneeling down he yanked you by your hips to his mouth, licking up how utterly soaked you already were and teasing back at licking and sucking your clit and running his tongue flat against you down to drink from deep inside. Your hips and thighs already were bruising from the touch.

A hum from Jon vibrated inside of you, making you clench harder and causing him in turn again to hum more in satisfaction as he kept you tugged right against him. Whatever you were soaked with before, Jon made it worse. His work sloppy with intention, soaking you with his mouth and it only made you cry out, a hand gentle in his curls as you soaked him more and more. Which he licked from deep inside, keeping your thighs as far apart as he could as he did so.

“Fuck, wait, Jon-”

His hands tightened and now almost left a grunt between your legs as he shamelessly ran his tongue along your folds to your clit and back. The tightening in your core approached so quickly, and you had no idea if he would even let you. You couldn’t tell when he wanted you to feel only good and when Jon was toying with you.

Moving your hips to raise up just slightly so Jon could shift his angle, keeping your legs wide but now he could almost tilt his face down into your cunt, and he could reach far deeper with his tongue. Shaking instantly at the sparks before they let loose with no warning.

One hand on your thigh reached back to tightly grip one of your ass cheeks, while he hooked the other under your knee and kept it pressed against him over his shoulder. Your orgasm swimming through you and gifted right onto his tongue as he didn’t let up for a second.

Your cries tried so hard not to be loud, almost painfully your throat hurt trying to stay quiet and your lungs burned as did your blood. Your orgasm soaking his mouth as he so desperately wanted, Jon licked back up to your clit until your cries were sharp and panicked, the desire too much but he didn’t stop.

Shaking your head as did your limbs, “I- Jon, please, I can’t..”

But he didn’t give the plea much care. Tongue licking your clit and then back to lapping deep inside of you, you shook in his touch as your head dropped back, the hand not tight in his curls was gripping the edge of the table so much your knuckles strained. One nibble to your clit before grunting into you did you snap again before you even came down.

Tears watering your eyes as you almost split your own lip trying to keep the cries at bay. Your core ached in the strain of how much the second orgasm washed through you. Jon drinking every bit you had to offer with almost an anger should you try to move away before he was done.

Even when he was the one on his knees, you still, were the prey at Jon’s mercy.

Finally coming back to you, his lips shining from how much you coated him, Jon roughly bit at your lips himself. Rough enough that he knew he had split it for you, but your gasp and hands rushing to pull him into you more, Jon licked inside your mouth, coating your tongue with the taste of you on his. One hand kept down between you, as the other ran through your hair before gripping it tightly, tilting your head up to his lips as he was as deep and greedy here as he was between your legs.

Just as your hands raked through his hair, just as Jon’s tongue brushed against yours, he wrapped his other arm around your waist and before you had even come down to earth to sense it, his cock, red, thick and already leaking pushed deep inside of you.

Your walls still clenching from your orgasms, Jon seemed to snarl into your mouth before biting your bottom lip again, hand now on your jaw keeping you angled to where he could be the one to control how you had to sit back and take him.

Rough thrusts of his cock deep inside, shallow and barley moving from you as your hips almost ached at the strain. Your hands on instinct clawed at his back, red trails of nail sets raking down as he shook and growling into your mouth. His hand in your hair tightening as he pulled back, saliva still trailed before snapping as he looked dark at you. Only to tilt his gaze down, and his hand moved, your forehead now tilted to the same angle pressed against his as you both watched how much his hips slapped into yours.

Hands holding desperate in his hair as you cried out. The fire within consuming you as the room faded only around Jon, something sharply twisting with almost pain that you would cry and beg for more of should it be taken away. The sounds from you were a muffled quiet, and Jon was silent. Jaw harshly clenched with blown out, black eyes and a loud slapping of his skin as his cock pounded roughly into you.

You whimpered his name, the pleasure tightening too much and begging to flood with a snap as he glanced up to your eyes. Still black, but much softer then when watching his cock sink into you, Jon nodded. Lips parted slightly as he held you against his cock’s rough treatment, voice a tender husk through it all. “Cum for me, darling,” Nodding at you gently, “I know, you can cum, it’s alright.”

So high in the clouds, you for a moment almost didn’t believe him until his kiss pressed soft to your lips, opposite between your legs. Hands wrapping around his shoulders once more nails in his back, your orgasm came faster then you wanted, but so did his then he wanted.

As you were so tight around him, Jon could only manage one, two, maybe six more thrusts each rather rough and aggressive to sink deep inside you. Almost too roughly, but his hands one around your head to hold you into him, he other pushing your ass more to take his cock deep inside. Cum far too warm to be fair as he filled you with his thick seed.

You gasped for air in his neck as Jon shook in his breathing and body as he spilled inside you, your hips jolting in too much pleasure caused you to whimper at the feeling. Jon pulling back, raking his fingers through your hair, and leaving a gentle kiss to your lips between soothing shushes. “I’ve got you,” Nodding against him, he felt your muscles sink into his touch as he let the rest of his seed fill you.

Jon had wanted to take this to the bed, but as you looked up at him, eyes bright and wide with lips begging to be kissed. Jon was nothing but gentle, pulling out of you as he kissed you to ease the whine of the loss inside.

By the time you both were in bed, Jon laying partially over you as he kissed you. No tongue, no teeth or force or wandering hands. Just a gentle soothing touch along your scar as the other hand tilted your head to the side. Neither of you finding the strength to stray from the others lips and touch. You felt yourself fading at one point, and Jon never once bothered to clean what of his seed had been painted just on the inside of your thighs.

He wanted him to cover you as much as he wanted it all to spill deep inside your cunt. He didn’t however, quite realize that while your voices couldn’t be heard, the smacking of skin echoed through and sounded almost as aggressive as the table which each pound of his cock inside you, would slam against the ship walls.

No one needed to hear your cries to know that a strong wolf had taken you for himself that night. Some things between one wolf King to the other while taking his Queen, weren’t quite so different after all.

It wasn’t a dream, it was a memory. Both figures asleep in the others arms, your dream looking at that of a memory from years long passed. Only you appeared in your walk through that day was just as you were then. Only you walked without a notice that this was a memory or dream, and not knowing that Jon was as himself, realizing he was once more in your memory. He himself, not seeing who in fact, was too, following him.

At first Jon was on the black stone path, walking alongside a group heading towards the castle as a man he did not recognize came to greet the figures beside him. A few were maesters, and some looked like healers or apothecaries, most walked right by directed by guards as a younger one closed the gap with a steady handshake.

The older one spoke first with a more defeated look in his eye. “Matthos.”

“Lord Alester.” Dropping the firm handshake, it seemed the younger one was the farrier to bring some of those men earlier to shore. A look of sorrow fell over both though quickly. “Is it as bad as they say? My father tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but I could see he was worried.”

The other man, Lord Alester, patted the man on the back as he turned him to walk up the path as well. Jon following beside as if he was part of this group but instead trapped watching a memory play like a dream he could not escape or control. “Worse. I’ve never seen Selyse quite like this before, barley can get through the day without crying.” The younger man mentioned your name with a concerned question in his tone as the older one grimaced. “She was the one who discovered it, if that tells you anything.”

Nodding, Matthos sighed deeply. Glancing up to where Lord Alester pointed, both Jon and the man in the dream looked around the castle to see arrows. Many arrows scattered about embedded within the eyes of the many dragons carved into the structure. “So she is taking it well, clearly.”

“Everything the girl’s been through, and now it’s been a fortnight since she’s even been allowed in the same tower as Shireen? Can’t leave the castle walls, can’t send or receive any ravens.” Whistling, he winced through his teeth. “Poor girl even had a gift from one of those friends of hers in the North, unopened and everything. Her septa made her burn it, said they couldn’t risk anything foreign that could have spread it. Now I think the girl’s spending most of her days avoiding the woman as much as she is shooting arrows into eyes.”

Jon felt odd, if this was a dream why did he know what they were referring too? He had given you a gift right before you left, it wasn’t ready exactly on your twelfth nameday and he had spent a lot of money and worked very hard to ensure it was perfect for you. You never said a word about it, and it twisted uncomfortably in his stomach thinking was this true?

Was this dream a lie, beacuse you treasured every other gift he’d given you over the years but that one was the only time your silence made him nervous. He had thought it was too forward, too obvious and perhaps it was beacuse you were never allowed to open it.

The septa in question, stormed out of one of the tower doors as she paid no mind to Jon. Like everyone else, he did not exist. He was only a spectator. Only, he was not the only spectator. But the shorter one, knew Jon couldn't see him as the memory couldn't see either of them.

Her tone was short and her face twisted into an unpleasant lecturing one much like Jon could recall Septa Mordane walking around with on Arya’s bad days. “Lord Alester, I swear to all the gods that child is going to send me into an early grave. She’d rather play with her bow then have her lessons like a lady.”

Huffing about, Matthos and Lord Alester looked more amused then agreeing. Lord Alester trying to placate her, “She has gone through a lot, give her some patience she is upset.”

Letting out a “Pshh,” she shook her head. “I’ve told her father time and time again, he needs to stop sending her North. Everytime she comes back she gets harder and harder to control.”

Just as Jon stepped forward as if he was anything but a spectre, Matthos did it for him with a tone which reminded him like one would speak as a brother. “Lord Stark has done much for her, she’s learned a lot don’t undermine her progress. The North had been good for her-”

Dismissive, the septa waved him off. “Good as long as she’s with Lord Stark. As soon as she spends any time with those boys of his? All they are doing is teaching her how to come home and behave like a wild animal.” Jon’s eyes narrowed at what just may be a dream figure of no reality. He and Robb were your first true friends and he had spent a lot of your last visit, if this indeed was taking place after your twelfth name day, trying to break you out of your shell.

Teach you it was okay to have fun and not listen exclusively to what your father orders of you. He had seen you laugh and smile that visit more then the previous ones combined, most of which were when you were spending time with him. He had snuck into your room right before you fell asleep, tossing his cloak at you and dragging you out of bed to go for a ride to a nearby lake. He wanted you to have fun without feeling guilty.

“Well she can prove it by coming down here and stop hiding from me like a child-” All of the group real or not, suddenly whipped their heads to the side, as perhaps only a foot above the woman’s head right in the mouth of a statue was an arrow. A good shot. All turned to look up at what happened.

You at twelve, walking the high walls of Dragonstone with a more sullen and cold look on your face then normal. At your back was a quiver of arrows, and a bow hanging around your arm. Your septa yelling at you to come down at once, and all you did was turn on the spot and walk along the edged walls higher up the curtain passes on the castle edge. Both unseen figures, now following.

The higher you went, the more the wind blew loudly around you and yet you knew there was little chance you would fall at this point. Coming up to what was the Stone Drum Tower, atop was a fierce dragon and in your eyesight was a lit torch licking away in the wind. Bracing both hands on the edge you hauled yourself up onto a small space big enough for only two feet standing perfectly still.

One arrow pulled from the quiver at your back, setting into your bow as you swung it off your shoulder and around your person to the front. Looking up to the wind, your eyes squinting just slightly at the pressure hitting them so high up. But regardless, you raised your bow and drew.

In one fell swoop, the arrow shot through the windy air, flew right into the middle of the torch flame and was extinguished just as fast as the arrowhead slammed into what would be right at the dragon’s heart. No victory followed, or jest of a good shot. Just the wind.

But as you stood there, you could see the Sea Dragon Tower not too far, and if you looked hard enough you knew getting to Maester Cressen’s quarters would be easy and from there you could get to the ravens. You had written this one out in haste, too much time on your own and a worry of Shireen’s life turning what you had written off as an anxiety turned into fear.

It was a bit rambling at first, apologizing to Jon that your septa made you throw his gift out before you could open it, but then going on about the flames. And the more you read, the more the memory in your mind of what happened was so vivid you knew it was real.

But you couldn’t stop the worry that Jon would read this, and think you either playing childish games or just crazy. But you had looked up to the candle light that evening, and transfixed on it showed you images that startled you up and off your seat, sending a bottle of ink all over your dress and the stone, mere minutes before you had discovered the greyscale on Shireen.

What it said though, what was written on the raven scroll? That was even more insane. Seeing a vision in the flames sounded off your rocker as it was, but to tell Jon what you thought you saw in the flames?

He just may suggest to his father never to let you come back with how delusional it made you sound, no matter how much you could see it all so clearly. A pounding in your heart, you stood up on that wall edge and tore the raven scroll up. Letting the pieces scatter in the wind, telling yourself that you were focusing on the wrong things.

You told yourself that stupid fire vision was just something you made up to cope with what was happening to Shireen. You were twelve, you couldn’t go running to Jon like a child everytime you had a frightening daydream. He would be turning fifteen soon, so you had to shut your mouth and grow up.

But then you caught sight of it. Off in the distance in the woods beyond the castle walls, a rustling in the trees that shouldn’t be there. There was nothing on this island which would be big enough to see from where you stood, so you walked.

A short hop from the stone walls to the cliff side and you made your way swiftly down to the woods ground with a huff. Eyes narrowed and sharp as you walked through the dim and sparse, lifeless woods until you reached the clearing you saw.

There weren’t deer here, not naturally. And certainly not three of them. Two were large, a female and the other large stag. Both littered with pockets of spurting blood with nothing you could see that did it. Right up against the females stomach was the same image but of a baby deer, and it was as bloody and dead as the rest.

Kneeling down with a sickening unknown on your face you looked over them, nothing killed them that you knew were in these woods, or how these three even got here..but just as you looked morosely at the baby, a strained crying came from the female.

The mother making horrid noises that made you wince, still alive but only just. She shouldn’t be in pain like this, that was cruel. Coming around, you knelt behind her head, one hand running gently over her with gentle shushes. “It’s okay, it’s okay girl.” Using a free hand you pulled a small dagger as you almost hummed soothingly at her. “I won’t let you be in pain, it’ll be alright.”

You swallowed heavily as you ran the knife into her, but it ended the moment you did.

Nothing of the scene made sense, but you felt shaking in your bones. Standing up you walked to the creek, more like a somewhat deep puddle of water stretching across dead woods, you knelt down in front of it. Washing the blood from the blade before carefully putting it back, and then moving to run your hands through the same water rinsing what red would otherwise quickly stain it.

But then you realized, someone followed you here. Someone was watching you, and if you were being honest, if it was Allard, you were about to be very angry. Just as he snuck up on you, you felt him large behind your knelt figure. If he thought you couldn’t tell he was there, he was a moron.

Grabbing your shoulder gently, you whipped around to yell at him, only to almost fall over. He wasn’t behind you. He wasn’t anywhere. You were in a clearing, there was nowhere to run but no one was behind you.

Standing up in a wide eyed uneasiness, you turned to look around. There was nothing in the woods, but you felt a hand grab you gently. Someone was right there and yet as you looked around the clearing there was not a soul to be found.

The problem was, that was where visions and dreams for the night ended for Jon but morphed in your mind to something else without notice of a difference.

Standing in a field, grass around far and wide and rolling hills all around as far as the eye could see. In front of you was a little girl, very small, perhaps three at the oldest. She stayed knelt down by a cliff side playing, her face so young she had yet to even grow out of the chubbiness of a young one’s cheeks.

But as you stepped towards her, you both felt a rumbling. A shake of the earth and a rattling like it opened up, only it wasn’t the earth. Over the cliff side flew up that of a dragon.

One that had the little girl fall back, and you stepped back a foot in terror. It was scaled black, and with eyes that looked vicious and horribly menacing. It didn’t look hungry. There were sheep behind you if your ears hadn’t previously deceived you, yet it did not go for them. But the dragon was large, not as large as the skull in the lower halls of Kings Landing but not so far off it was inconceivable. But you could not move, you or the little girl.

She started to breathe heavy in sobbing gasps of terror and your eyes widened, lips falling open as the dragon braced itself and suddenly you were both engulfed in flames. The sound of a dragons roar and the flames around you, only for a second did you hear the little girl scream before her voice vanished as your limbs all shocked you.

Trapped only on your two feet, once the flames stopped did the dragon swoop up and fly to the right of you. Your head whipping around to watch and then there was a boy.

A boy who was rather young, perhaps only just entering his teenhood with long, shaggy hair and standing on two feet. He looked at you and not once at the dragon, his face in a desperation as if asking you something but you couldn’t hear it. Your muscles all screamed and stabbed with knives in agony.

Just when you realized you knew the boy who was staring at you, did you whip back to look at the little girl. But there was no little girl. Laying on the floor of a temple, was in a blanket tiny body of black charred bones. Your lungs filled with liquid and poured from your eyes as it strangled you in horror, what that dragon had done to her.

You were not there though, you stood there as a woman with a smooth voice spoke to in a language you should not know, but understood here with clarity. Your eyes soaked as you looked at her bones, and then up.

Two guards stood at the side of a grand staircase, carved trenches of water on either side as right at the top was one seat and three figures. Your terror turned to outrage at what she had caused.

The two knights at her side, were not from these lands, they were Westeros knights and you recognized at least one of them, but not the senses to understand who they were. But you looked up at this new proclaimed conqueror calling herself Queen, having her translator promise you payment a hundred times worth then lambs or sheep and that her bones will be allowed to rest in the Temple, as long as you promised not to speak of how she died.

But it was her fault, it was her dragon and you felt the fire and heard her screaming as it took her for nothing but seeking death and destruction. You could not tell if it was the guards who grabbed your arms, trying to pull you back and tear you from the room. But you in a language that was not yours, begun to scream at her.

The arms turned to that of the boy from the field, and his voice was one you knew telling you in common tongue desperately that this isn't your memory, that you needed to wake up. But either he or the guards dragged you as you stared up at this cruel silver haired conquer as you screamed through tears as if you were standing in the place of the father it really was. But his voice came out as yours and you screamed at her, repeating the little girls name. Through anger and tears yelling it was her fault and nothing she said would bring her back, forcing her to remember the little girls name was Hazzea.

But just as the boy you finally recognized called your name, he turned you around to face him, when you were back. The night sky was as dark as ever but you stood by the bow of the ship, a crowd all around you watching you as you realized it was Jon in front of you.

His hold on your forearms as an absolute terror in almost a stinging red was over his eyes as he stared at you, and you realized you had no idea what was going on. You didn’t remember waking up, you didn’t remember dressing, or leaving the cabin or coming up to the deck.

You didn’t remember that you caught everyone's attention in terror as you seemed to scream with tears in a language you didn’t speak. Jon had pushed through everyone before desperately calling your name and only when he managed to get you to face him did you see where you were.

One hand came to your waist and the other cupped your cheek as he looked down at you, eyes bright and close to a fearful cry of his own as you could feel your lungs hurt from screaming and your face stained with tears. Muttering your name gently, as he leaned in close trying to make sure you were with him.

But as you looked up at him, mouth agape and stammering for words, you looked also to the crew of your ship who all had been drawn to the deck by your display.

Looking back at Jon, you found more new tears at such an overwhelming confusion. You never had a dream quite like that, but you also had never walked in a dream and screamed in a foreign language of a bloody horror like you were. You stammered and when no words came, Jon only pulled you into him.

Your arms desperately coming around his when he did. His voice was rasping but loud as he almost angrily shouted for everyone to go back to what they were doing.

Jon though, just pulled you right into him before changing his mind and picked you up in his arms, your arms wrapping around his neck as your heart pounded in confusion and an overwhelmed anxiety like you’ve never experienced before. Jon almost with angry tears of his own moved passed everyone making a path clearing the way. Trying to contain his own terror of watching you hysterically scream like you were not actually here, he lifted one hand slightly to gently let you hide partially in his neck. Taking you away to the safety of your quarters, from such a terrifying spectacle.

All you could think the entire time as he carried you, was that of charred bones. All you could hear, were the screams of a little girl named Hazzea.

#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

70 notes · View notes