#pride & prejudice au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladybirdswritings · 4 months

Text

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: You’re birthed into a lively family in dire need of financial stability. As the eldest, you’re paraded around to be married and much to the dismay of your mother, you deny every hand offered. Yet unbeknownst to you, a man of great power and influence, Mr. Snow, is lurking in the shadows, waiting for his chance to have you. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: I hope u girlies eat this up, getting scrapped otherwise </3 — as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated!

next chapter

one

You’d much rather be at any other breathing, standing tower of gold trimmings and cracked pillars in existence.

At any building filled to the brim, simply overflowing with tiered skirts and lively grins… offered hands and gentlemen donned in fine suits, pockets suffocated by their own riches.

Yet you cannot be; for mama has ordered your presence to be most dire and mandatory. Although you did consider fleeing for the highest hilltop or feigning ill, you knew well that mama would find you or see straight through your falsehoods.

“My my, you look as though you’ve got something unsweet taped to your vicious tongue.”

You scowl at the blonde goddess most confusingly known to be your sister, and she only flips a ringlet of gold behind her poised shoulder.

“I think it to be quite clear how dreadful I find this. No need to observe aloud, sister.”

Her mischievous sapphire orbs glow with enjoyment, face pink and flushed — skin glistening under the gold lanterns flickering above.

You’ve watched happily from your seat, she’s sure to have danced with at least twenty men now.

No wonder mama has no fears or worries about Jane. She is just guaranteed to run off and be married within the upcoming season, it only makes for less of a distraction for mama— she’ll be glued to you like quill to paper.

It is not as though men do not want you. Oh, they do. Most ardently.

The trouble is only that you do not want them.

How horrible it is to be confined to four lonesome, frayed walls with nothing more than your books and your wit to keep you company. Married to a man who will most certainly be your senior, who busies himself with trivial matters and leaves you to be cold at home.

You would much rather drown yourself in the river stix than face a fate so melancholic.

You wish to be an odd thing, to run away into a cottage and spend your days parted from the people who surround you. You will read books of men made from dreams and you will find comfort in knowing that you will not be wed to a man who will only discontent you.

Of course, that would bring great shame upon your family, ruin them. So it seems you will end up a spinster or a governess. Both fates, although not as you may hope in your dreams, still offer more joy.

“Forgive me for having fun. It is not why I displease you however, perhaps if you picked your pretty head up from that book and stopped waving the hands that greet you away— you would know this. Mama has sent me. The duke, his sister and a dear friend of his have arrived here. Here! At our party, can you believe it?”

You huff out a sigh laced with annoyance, flipping to the next chapter of the dilapidated thing in your hands.

“No, I truly cannot.” You mutter, yet you cannot spare the fresh page even a glance before it is snatched from your clutched fingers.

A first edition, it shreds from its spine and erupts a gasp from both you and Jane. Mama’s cyan gaze is cold and anxious, feigning a tight smile.

That one was your favorite.

You do not lift your head, you do not notice the three towering men who look down upon your reserved oak wood bench in interest. Mama clutches the duke’s palm in an embrace of suffocation, yet you do not pay it even a little mind as you drop to your knees in your pretty dress to find the strayed page.

“My god, where are your manners — girl! Please do not pay her rudeness any attention, she gets sickly over these things. Sweetheart, up now— we can buy you another.”

Her voice is cold, devoid of any admiration. It is a lie, too. Your family cannot afford even a singular chapter of a new novel, let alone a first edition. You should be the one plagued by frustration, yet you feel as though it is you who is doing something wrong.

Even so, your eyes search the floor with great fervor, landing on a polished leather shoe which suffocates chapter twelve.

You wince, preparing all the words you can to kindly request the stranger lifts his big foot off of your paper. Yet they dissipate in the back of your throat.

The man, he bends at his knee as he frees the old thing from his sole. Your eyes lift to greet him, then.

He is a mess of blonde locks, unruly compared to that of the others with hair long enough. Theirs are tamed with ribbons, his only sits atop his head. His eyes are a cold color, one you cannot explain. They are commanding, fueled with great intensity.

Beyond all of this?

He looks most certainly miserable.

He does not wish to attend tonight, one glance proves this.

He spares you no words as he passes you the paper, eyes locked upon the contents of it. He offers you a hand of assistance, too.

You ignore it, wincing at the disgust your mother expresses.

You need no aid as you lift to your feet and dust the old thing off, he follows you — becoming a tower taller once he stands.

Jane, you are grateful now that she is still here. She laughs most uncomfortably, placing a polite hand upon your shoulder as she snatches the page away. Far more gently.

“My dear sister, may I introduce you to your grace — sir Sejanus Plinth of Newbury. Alongside him, his sister — Grace Plinth and their dearest friend, Coriolanus Snow, also of Newbury.”

You know well that you’ve just about boiled a vicious pot of scorching water, one you’ll have to face the many consequences of. A quick glance stolen toward mama proves it.

With a soft sigh, you curtsy to the men before you. A show of respect which you most certainly do not have for them. They are just as unimportant as the others, grand status or not. Including the miserable looking blonde with cold eyes.

“Lovely to meet you. This is truly a grand gathering you’ve all put together…” Sejanus offers with a smile of pearl. You peer up at him, his eyes stealing quick glances at goddess Jane.

Mama goes off on a tangent about how much she adores hosting gatherings as much as attending them — and it’s all a mere buzz in your ears.

Your eyes shift toward the sister, Grace. She’s scowling at you… how peculiar.

“Jane, forgive me if this is far too forward but — I would be most honored to be the last dance you partake in this evening.” Sejanus swallows back his nerves, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Sweet Jane doesn’t bother torturing him, she only nods a shy head.

“Oh, come Grace! I must show you how my youngest daughter performs on the grand piano!”

You feel poorly for the scowling girl who is whisked away by mama. Jane and Sejanus follow alongside them, but part as soon as the music begins.

Both of your palms come to a clasp— shifting weight on your heels as you watch Jane twirl and giggle a golden sound, so beautiful you are certain it could bring each and every single gentleman in attendance to their knees.

Well, except the miserable Mr. Snow.

Your eyes drift to him then — and you catch his gaze already locked upon your stature. He averts it hastily, staring at what looks to be the far wall after he is caught.

Does he plan to lurk here like a shadow’s phantom for the entirety of the evening?

“Do you dance, Mr. Snow?”

His jaw is a sharp — tense thing. It clenches in surprise at your voice. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he answers.

“Not if I can help it.” Is but all he offers before returning to a miserable state of silence again.

By god, to garner more than a mere word is equivalent to the act of tugging teeth loose. You purse your lips, turning your head away to find another question you could offer.

You do not bother, however.

For the first time in all your life, in all the seasons you’ve suffered — you wish to dance. Not because you find it to be fun or any more stimulating than a novel but; rather because you would be far more joyous away from him.

Beyond this, it would make mama less angered when the gathering reaches its end.

You do not offer him a word of parting before you plunge into the lively crowd. A man with blonde locks, not quite as icy as Mr. Snow’s own tousles, offers his hand.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, pretending to be that of a girl in one of your novels. Whisked away by a mysterious, dancing stranger who offers more than just a meaningless hand.

You pretend the blonde is to be a grand lover, one who will care for you beyond material needs. Beyond what is expected and a bore.

You pretend, and when the song ends — so does each and every one of your mindless fantasies.

To normality once again…

486 notes · View notes

petricorah · 2 years

Text

zukka pride and prejudice au

[ID: A comic featuring Zuko and Sokka from Avatar the Last Airbender, acting out the rain scene from Pride and Prejudice (2005). They are both dressed in regency era clothing. With rain pounding behind him, Zuko stares forlornly at the camera, and the caption reads: “I love you...most ardently.”

Sokka stares back in utter surprise, his hair wet and slightly mussed from the rain.

The bonus sketch shows Sokka angry, glaring. “ ‘Against your better judgement and your family’s expectations?’ ” he quotes. “Bitch--”

/End ID.]

#zukka #sokka #zuko #avatar #atla #avatar au #zukka pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice #id say this is long awaited but im the only one whose waited for it. i tried to draw and scrapped this like three times over months #i have a whole fic plotted out in my head #it works perfectly ok #myart

6K notes · View notes

asparklethatisblue · 27 days

Text

Overheard in 1845, the beginning of a beautiful… relationship

#fitzier #francis crozier #thomas blanky #james fitzjames #my art #the terror #pride and prejudice AU by way of fire island

283 notes · View notes

parkiebearr · 6 months

Text

a CLASSIC enemies to lovers story

(click for better quality)

#zutara #katara #zuko #avatar the last airbender #zuko x katara #zutara fanart #atla #zuko and katara #katara fanart #avatar: the last airbender #zuko fanart #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice au #pride and prejudice 2005 #elizabeth bennet #mr darcy #enemies to lovers

570 notes · View notes

aberrantcreature · 3 months

Text

‘Not handsome enough to tempt me.’

#obikin #obikin fanart #sketch #pride and prejudice au #Anakin #obiwan #starwars au #anakin skywalker #obiwan kenobi

333 notes · View notes

aoiveaeart · 9 months

Text

🌿 || You may only call me "Mrs Grayskull" when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy || 🌿

Made something quick for my Pride and Prejudice AU. I've been deeply missing this story and wanted to do something sweet for it. Had a beautiful time rewatching the movie while I was working on it, to nobody's surprise because this is my favorite.

Based on the extra final scene of the movie ')

#catradora #my art #fanart #illustration #shera #adora #catra #shera adora #shera and the princesses of power #spop #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice Au #regency #jane austen #gosh I want to draw so much more of them a #my blorblos #i love them #my first children #gotta draw more of them

980 notes · View notes

calcifiedunderland · 7 months

Text

Pride & Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

ft. Overblot Gang x GN Reader

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single leader in possession of power, fortune, and intellect, must be in want of a partner.”

“Pfft-“ you snorted to yourself, flipping through the pages. “What kind of story is this?”

Earlier that day, you and Grim had decided to clear out one of the rooms at Ramshackle. After a brief jump-scare from Crowley (who showed you how to make furniture out of a magic hammer?), the two of you were now on your way to making a ‘Guest Room.’ Finally, gone were the days of your friends groaning about your dusty couch and cobweb-filled living room!

But that also meant that the boxes in the room had to be moved out. Most of them held thread-bare cloth and other dusty knickknacks, but a few held books that looked as though they hadn’t been held in ages. Out of sheer curiosity and boredom (and the fact that Ramshackle had no internet whatsoever), you cracked open one of them and started reading, with Grim snoozing soundly on your lap.

“What are you reading, Prefect?” One of the Ramshackle ghosts wafted to you, resting on the armchair back behind you. You turned the book to read the cover, frowning, “Prejudice and Pride, by Jean August. It’s kind of ridiculous.” You ran a hand over the dusty cover, “I think we had something like this in my world, too.”

The ghost immediately grinned, “I remember this from when I was alive!” He dove in front of you, taking the book and flipping through it at phantom speed. “This was one of our required readings! Ah, you living folk miss out on the classics,” he sighed wistfully. “Here, this was the best part!”

You took the book and read through it. It seemed to be a love confession, where the main male lead was telling the female lead how much he ‘ardently admired and loved her’ and failed miserably.

“Wow, that’s cringe,” you winced, skimming the page. “And also unrealistic. I mean, who falls in love with someone they hate? And who starts a love confession with ‘you suck, but I love you anyway I guess’? Why the hell would they think that would even work?!” You and the ghost laughed, and continued reading together.

~•~

“The Prefect is… interesting, but not enough to tempt me!”

He remembered telling his dorm mates this exact phrase, after bristling at a group of underclassmen gossiping amongst themselves. It was no secret that you and he were close - after several overblots at school, it would’ve been impossible not to be. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. It wasn’t like he laid awake at night, thinking about you right? How ridiculous would that be!

Meanwhile in his room, several hours later, the young dorm leader frowned, feeling restless. It was already close to sunrise, but he wasn’t able to drift off to sleep despite the exhaustions that came with leading an entire dorm. Instead of sleep and his impending responsibilities, his mind drifted.

Over the school year, he’d been able to push down his feelings (Sevens knew it was easy, and his overblot proved it), but now, it was impossible to deny it. This will not do, he thought, huffing irritably and sitting up in bed, absently rubbing his temple.

In vain, he’d struggled. But it couldn’t be denied, and despite his best and fiercest efforts to negate it, his feelings couldn’t be repressed. You’d proven yourself to be an unrelenting figure at Night Raven College - someone who he thought would be insignificant compared to his talent and renown. And yet. And yet.

Somehow you’d wormed your way into his life, to where it hurt to think of you as insignificant. Because how could an extraordinary person like you ever be insignificant? In his pre-overblot days, he was stubborn and yet still too prideful to even consider another way of thinking. But then you came along, and made him question everything, from previous prejudices to his own bittersweet pride.

You, who fell unceremoniously out of a coffin during the sorting ceremony with a little blue fiery cat, and scurried around the school running errands and odd jobs. You, who was once a passing glance, who became one of the things in the school he looked forward to seeing the most. You, with your heart of gold unshaken by the trials and tribulations thrown at you, day after day.

The feeling dawned on him, settling heavily and uncomfortably in their entire being. As the sun began rising, his mind reeled and he closed his eyes, the light bathing his room in a soft, pleasant glow. A warmth enveloped the room, but then a sudden chill ran down his spine. It was then, that he realized it:

He truly and ardently admired and loved you.

Now, he simply had to tell you so.

Now, dear Prefect, take his hand:

The Rose Red Tyrant: R. Rosehearts

The Usurper from the Wilds: L. Kingscholar

The Merchant from the Depths: A. Ashengrotto

The Schemer of the Scalding Sands: J. Viper

The Beautiful Tyrant: V. Schoenheit

The Keeper of the Underworld: I. Shroud

The Ruler of the Abyss: M. Draconia

———

notes: i really hope this wasn’t too cringe towards the end with the P&P refs but here we go! Seven chapters to plan AH, I can’t believe I twst-ified jane austen 💀

Chapters are coming soon!! A few are in the works!

Thank you to everyone who was interested in this idea!! What started as some brainrot has become bigger brainrot lmao, I fully appreciate it~

Take care shrimpies!!

———

Taglist: @eclecticprincecollector

@ars-tral @cerisescherries, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps,

(If your user is in bold, I wasn’t able to tag you for some reason 😅)

555 notes · View notes

verkomy · 1 year

Photo

you have bewitched me body and soul

you can get a print here: inprnt!

#thorin oakenshield #mr darcy #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice au #bagginshield #thilbo #the hobbit #flowers #tolkien #fanart #my art #verkomy #verkomy 2023 #procreate #clip studio paint #prints

3K notes · View notes

emry-stars-art · 9 months

Note

Ok ok but royal au Andrew def does the Darcy hand flex™️ after any hand interaction with Abram

YOU UNDERSTAND MY VISION

#man gets to hold abrams hand once and THIS #andrew is a little darcy coded but instead of being genuinely socially awkward he just doesnt want to talk to people #at least thats the vibe i get #its been a while since i really interacted with pride and prejudice #but rest assured #i think about this moment often #not art sorry guys #asks #royal au

692 notes · View notes

vivalarevolution · 2 months

Text

𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽'𝓼 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

Viscount Aemond Targaryen x Curvy Stark Reader

Summary: She had never seen Viscount Targaryen , nor she ever exchanged a word with him. But that changed one evening, after which the man unexpectedly began to appear everywhere she looked , not letting her mind forget him. Even for a moment.

A/N: I'll admit I had a lot of fun creating the whole idea, mainly because a lot of inspiration was taken from the Bridgertons as well as from Pride and Prejudice, but I think the title explains it all. I can only hope you will like it as much as I do and you will enjoy reading it.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes can happen.

Work contains smut.

Viscount Aemond Targaryen. A man known to few. With a mystery hidden behind his lavender eye, with a hair color of the December snow and a face cold and sharp like a stone.

He radiated both seriousness and arrogance, and with every word he spoke there was a sense of crude indifference to all those he considered unworthy of his presence.

And yet , despite all this , despite his status and sense of superiority , he stood here, stood and looked at the woman he couldn't have.

Her skin looked as soft to the touch as the most expensive velvet , her hair smooth and glistening , were pinned up and styled , highlighting her face , which was adorned with full , kissable lips and rosy cheeks. Her curvy body hidden behind the material of an expensive dark purple dress left little to the imagination , letting his eye and mind feast.

But whenever he tried to force her to level gazes with him her eyes seemed to run away from him. She never submitted to him. Instead, she chose to hide from the man, which made him want to hunt her, suddenly being more determined than ever in his life. And just as he was about to seize her , trapping her in the snare of his long arms , a female hand grabbed his shoulder, halting his movements.

-Mother - he said through a clenched jaw, looking at the older woman out of the corner of his eye.

-Where are you going Aemond? - she asked , wrinkling her eyebrows in consternation -Your betrothed has just arrived , don't keep her waiting - she confessed , shifting her gaze towards Floris Baratheon , who was standing at the other end of the ballroom.

-There are matters , which I must attend to. Immediately - he replied in a controlled and cool tone of voice, gently pushing his mother's hand away , leaving her before she could stop him physically or verbally.

His steps, like himself, were full of control and composure without betraying his true intentions even for a moment. Intentions that were able to crush him under the weight of future consequences, which, despite everything, seemed of little importance to the viscount ,especially when he finally found the mysterious woman who has clouded his senses with her mere presence.

She stood on the balcony , gazing at the night sky , letting the moon illuminate her immaculate face , giving her person an almost angelic glow.

But when Aemond crossed the threshold , placing his foot on the marble slab , the stranger's gaze almost immediately turned in his direction , finally allowing him to drown in the depths of her eyes , which looked at him with intrigue as well as a shadow of irritation.

-Who are you? - she asked , looking for an answer in the features of his face , unfortunately unsuccessfully.

-I should ask you the same question Miss- he stated , walking slowly towards her.

-And yet it was not I who burned the imprint of my eyes on the stranger's body - remarked the young woman , turning fully toward the viscount , now facing him -You did sir. And now you have decided to follow me.

-I did not follow you - he replied , placing his large hand on the stone railing , giving her a feeling of almost being trapped , by how close he was to her now - The truth is that I tried to find you.

-Since you have achieved this goal , what more do you want? - she asked almost in a whisper , studying his face , which was decorated with a long scar and a sapphire in place of the left eye.

-Your name. I want to know it- he said as quietly as she did , bringing his face closer to hers.

The air around them suddenly seemed to become hotter and heavier.

-I will tell it to you…if you tell me yours sir- she replied ,breathlessly , not knowing why.

-Aemond Targaryen - he said almost immediately wanting to know the name of the stranger, who with each passing second made him forget about the bride that waited for him downstairs.

-You're a viscount - she pointed out, placing her hand on his chest to create a previously non-existent distance between them.

Aemond furrowed his brow and took her wrist in his palm , feeling her quickening pulse under his fingertips.

-Are you worried that someone will see you with me? - he asked her with a shadow of amusement on his face.

-I'm worried about what a man like you wants from me , when he is about to marry one of Borros Baratheon's daughters - she stated , stepping away from the stone balustrade , forcing the viscount to let go of her hand.

-I simply wish to learn your name - he answered , repeating his earlier words.

-Y/n Stark - she said , finally revealing her identity, causing a satisfied smile to appear on the viscount's face, which disappeared as quickly as it appeared as she continued - Now if you'll allow me, I'll go my way and you go yours, and we'll act like this encounter never took place.

-Your secrets are safe with me , I assure you Miss - he reassured in a serious tone.

The woman's gaze fled from him for a brief second, as if she needed to think deeply about something. After a moment she shifted her gaze back to him, looking into his violet eye with stoic face.

-Goodnight lord Targaryen - she said before she left the man, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

When the silhouette of the woman disappeared , he wanted to follow her , but stopped himself , turning his gaze in the opposite direction. Yet he could no longer focus on anything other than the beautiful female he meet at the ball to celebrate the engagement, his engagement.

And he wasn't the only one.

It seemed that he was everywhere she was. No matter what she did , no matter where she went , his figure always appeared in the corner of her eye. He haunted her mind as much as she haunted his , and despite how much it tormented both of their souls , she kept her distance , running away from him like a game , while he was the hunter , hunting her. With each of their encounters being closer and closer to catching her.

Until finally there was nowhere to run , nowhere to hide. The only thing left was confrontation.

They met again at the ball , in the same place where their eyes first met , the first time they heard each other , the first time they touched each other's skin.

But this time the man wasn't alone.

Floris Baratheon held on to his arm , smiling shyly at the people who were watching the viscount and future viscountess.

And Y/n was one of them. Her eyes stared at them with a shadow of longing , that the young woman did not even try to hide.

-Are you all right sister? - asked her older brother, standing by her side since the beginning of the ball , watching her closely.

-Yes , yes - she whispered , turning her gaze toward the man, -I just need to get some fresh air.

Cregan sent her a concerned look but did not stop her , silently watching as she left the residence in a haste.

Her breathing seemed to become heavier by the minute , and her footsteps got more and more aggressive.

The realization of what was happening to her began to sink inside her brain. Miss Y/n Stark had fallen in love with a man who belonged to another.

And if fate hadn't mocked her enough , the bane of her existence appeared when all she wanted was to forget.

-Miss Stark - Aemond greeted her , standing still as she turned to face him.

-Viscount Targaryen - she replied , with distress in her tone -Why are you here?

-I saw you leave in a hurry - he explained , scanning her face, which had a grimace of fatigue on it -I wanted to make sure you were okay.

-Why? - she asked , frowning her eyebrows -Why you do this when your betrothed is inside , waiting for you. Why do you do all this? These unexpected encounters , fleeting glances. Why my lord?

The man suddenly appeared by her side. He was so close that their breaths mingled and there lips almost touched.

-Because I care about you - he confessed with seriousness in his voice , looking hard into her eyes.

-You don't know me. And I don't know you - the woman said , stubbornly trying to push away the viscount , but in vain - We can't love each other , we can't.

-And yet, despite your proclaims , I can no longer eat , I can no longer sleep , I can no longer breathe without letting you consume my every thought - he proclaimed , capturing her cheek in his large hand -You haunt me in my dreams , you haunt me during the day , you haunt me when I'm with my family , you haunt me when I look directly into the eyes of my betrothed - he growled , brushing her ear with his lips -You can deny it , but at least don't make me do it , don't make me continue to suffer without you by my side.

Y/n felt as if something had possessed her.

His words made her finally forget, but unfortunately not about him, but about the outside world that was so close to them, almost at her fingertips.

She let the viscount finally taste her full pink lips, embraced her wide hips in his rough hands, and dragged her to the carriage standing just behind them, locking them inside. The interior of it suddenly seemed so small , as their bodies pressed against each other.

His palms, large and warm, touched her in places that were forbidden to him, but in his movements there was not a shred of thought about the later consequences, only uncontrollable lust.

-From the moment our eyes met, I knew that I had to possess you, that I had to make you mine - he whispered into her neck, gliding his nose over her pulse, brushing the skin of her neck with his tongue again and again, leaving wet marks behind.

The woman moaned quietly in response , closing her eyes and tilting her head , making herself putty in his hands , which he took advantage of by pushing her onto the seat ,kneeling himself on the floor of the carriage , with his large hands running over the white material of her dress , therefore revealing the smooth skin of her legs , which he sensually kissed, leaving an electrifying sensation that caused her to shiver.

Her eyes closed involuntarily when the viscount's lips found their way to her heated and moist inner thighs , while his fingers melted into her firm bum , lifting her curvy body so her ankles could fell on the man's broad shoulders.

His teeth found their place on the woman's undergarments, tearing them in one strong movement, which caused the cold air to hit her sensitive womanhood, that trembled under the sudden change of temperature.

-Aemond - she whispered , calling him by name for the first time - What are you doing? - she asked, looking down.

-I want to taste you - he muttered , kissing her ankle - I wonder if you taste as sweet as your lips do - he said , slowly pulling up her long gown , so that nothing would block his view of the woman before him.

Before Y/n could respond to his words , his tongue touched her swollen clit , swirling it around the pink pearl , making her uncontrollably thrust her pelvis forward , imprisoning the man in the softness of her thick thighs.

Aemond , in response , growled , clamping his hands on her firm flesh , drawing her impossibly closer , feasting. His mouth explored her femininity , kissing and licking every part , leaving nothing without his attention . He was bestial , greedily drinking her juices , which tasted like the sweetest dessert of his life , as his eyes stared at the woman in front of him , who was consumed by convulsions of pleasure that tore their way through her body , making it burst into flames that consumed her mind.

The viscount watched with delight as she broke under her first orgasm of the night, licking everything she gave him , feeling under his fingertips how her muscles went limp , and seeing how her eyes became clouded by uncontrollable desire.

-Aemond - she said breathlessly , desperately grabbing his jaw , trying to pull him close to her.

-What is it my sweet? - he asked , purring like a cat.

-Please…please…make love to me, Aemond - she begged, brushing her lips against his, tasting herself on them, combing her fingers between strands of his white hair.

In response, the man embraced her curvy body , securing it in his strong arms , positioning the lovers so that this time he was resting on the seat , placing Miss Stark on his legs , immediately proceeding to assault her neck with slow kisses, while his hands crept to her throbbing entrance , which was waiting for him , embracing him tightly as he inserted two fingers into her , sensually moving them.

-So warm and tight - he muttered into her ear , biting its lobe - Full of desperation and need.

-Don't make me wait…I beg you…I can't stand it - she whimpered , burying her face in the hollow of his neck.

Viscount took her flushed cheek in his hand , making her look at him while his other hand skillfully unbuttoned his black pants , freeing his thick and long member , which he directed at her wet entry , entering her slowly and carefully , looking deeply into her eyes.

She felt like she could feel him in her throat. He rammed her insides , mixing the feeling of pain with pleasure , spreading it from the top of her head to her toes. She moaned, whimpered and mewled, letting him move her as he pleased, making her see stars. His member was hitting sensitive places that were never known by her, making her walls clench tighter and tighter against him.

The second orgasm that overtook her body felt overwhelming , yet he kept moving, wanting to feel the sensation of her thight walls clenching onto him for as long as possible, before he did what he wanted from the moment he saw her. He maked her his.

Y/n moaned softly, feeling the sudden heat that poured from inside of her , right between her wet and sticky thighs. Holding the viscount by the neck, she pulled him even closer, snuggling into his muscular body.

Everything seemed to quiet down around them. The windows of the carriage fogged up through their passionate act , and the air became hot and suffocating. However, they did not care , they were too busy melting into each other's embrace.

But this changed when she heard his words , whispered directly into her ear.

Will you marry me , miss Stark?

#house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #bridgerton au #pride and prejudice au #my writing #hotd #asoiaf #aemond targaryen fanfiction #viscount!aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x plus size reader #curvy!reader #aemond targaryen x curvy!reader #aemond targaryen x stark!reader

258 notes · View notes

ladybirdswritings · 4 months

Text

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: Spending more time with the miserable Mr. Snow, against your will, only proves to you exactly why he is a man you have sworn to loathe for all eternity. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: so happy you all loved the first part — so i guess i’m continuing ahaha. as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated! also, feel free to lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

two

The mist of September’s end and October’s greeting is a thick, heavy blanket in the air. You only scowl at it as you pick up your tiered skirt from where it drags against emerald moss and dirt. A storm is nearby.

You would melt into this very soil if you could. Become one with the lilacs and peonies if it meant you’d never be prevailed upon to marry again by the force of your mother.

Mama is unwell. As always but, with more fervor now. The dance was most successful for Jane. She and Sejanus have been exchanging kind letters with pomegranate stained kisses garnishing the print. Even so, mama is viciously unhappy.

The cherrywood cabinets slam louder when you pass, and her eyes narrow at any mention of the gathering. Perhaps your behavior was a great embarrassment for her. If only you were as divine as Jane.

The house is lively, far too lively for your liking at this settling hour. Sisters here and sisters there. They busy themselves with the grand piano and awful singing. It isn’t long until one of the twins rushes forward with a sealed envelope clasped tightly in hand.

“Mama! It is for Jane!”

You snatch the paper from her palm, worrisome that she will ruin it with how tightly she squeezes. Beyond this, you are most eager to see the development in your own personal romance novel starring your dearest sister. Mama slaps your hand away in turn, tugging it back into a monstrous grasp that nearly shreds it to minuscule little pieces.

You see the breath halt and dwell comfortably in her throat, unwilling to part or falter. This is most important to her, trivial matter as it is.

So long as Jane is happy…

You gaze on at the girl with petal-pink cheeks and bright eyes — her smile is a thing of beauty and joy at the mere idea that Sejanus Plinth could admire her.

“Mama! What does it say!”

Her hands tremble like hummingbirds now, and your frown stitches itself promptly upon your pretty face. Oh no, he is certain to have changed his mind.

At least he was kind and gentleman enough to inform dear Jane by letter.

That joy, excitement and eagerness once swimming within your mother’s eyes has dissipated to sheer horror.

“When did we receive this?” She whispers, a ghastly and terror laced sound.

“This morning!” One of the twins happily offers, twirling her chocolate ringlet tight enough to knot.

Mama cries out a sound of agony, shoving the paper hard against Jane’s chest — enough so that she stumbles. She is a frantic thing, running round your quaint living space like that of a farm animal who has lost its head.

You are fueled by your own confusion, constricting your mind to only wait upon Jane. She shakily reads the crumbled thing — hesitance becoming her. Her eyes shift then; a look of joy, excitement, fear — then dread.

“What is it?” You whisper, watching as mama mutters nonsense and brushes the collection of scattered breadcrumbs from the countertop — eyes wide as the moon aglow at midnight.

“Mr. Plinth and his sister, alongside Mr. Snow and sir Plinth’s dear — rich uncle, have all planned to meet with us this evening. They’ve taken a carriage, and have made arrangements to arrive by sundown.”

Four pairs of eyes, in perfected unison, glance into the grassy plains where the sun has begun to set.

You do not intend to giggle at the irony, perhaps it is a thing fueled by nerves just as your mother. Yet it floats from your sweet lips like a prayer, slender fingers rushing to suffocate it.

It is undeniably numerous, however. How could it be anything but?

The way your dearest blood all melts at the brim for the gaze of three men whom are only important by cold silver is a thing of great mystery to you, something you do not understand. It is not just mama and Jane and the entirety of your own family however. No, it is all of society. You only wonder what it would be like for a woman to reach beyond the horizon line — to be great. To not be forced upon a man of all creatures to be of true importance.

Mama rushes past, so quickly your hair becomes unruly. She presses her palms firmly against your cheeks — your face piecing together like a swift minnow from the nearby fish pond.

“Oh heavens — if you do even the littlest act so to embarrass me, I am certain to die of great illness. My nerves are far too weak, you must behave for me! Be as sweet Jane is. Sir Plinth’s uncle is of the richest gentleman in Newbury, 5,000 a year! You must converse with him, do it for your dearest mother. Oh! And brush that wild hair from your face, girl. He will think you to be a witch — keep guard at the window.”

Her words are a tangled, knotted mess of all the things you despise. Even whilst tucked away into a place where you do not truly listen, you know well she is asking you to be social for gain of a husband.

You frown, grateful when the headless chicken runs off from you again. Your hand fussses with the wisps rested amongst your forehead — and you obey mama’s orders by sauntering to the creaky old chair that faces the fogged front window.

The fog is a veil, a curtain hiding from you only dread. You are grateful for it now, though it does no good for your locks and tresses. Your eyes dart to the torn book beside you — and you consider disobedience as an alternative to this state. You know well what will happen if you stray, so you do not dare it.

It is an awfully timely and punctual arrival — perhaps ten ticks of the grand, tower clock before the stallion’s snouts peek through the fog. Just as the golden halo sets beyond them.

“Mama!”

You call, but she only waves you away with a busy hand as she continues fussing with the knit table mat. You will not bother it again. You shrink, hiding all but curious eyes behind the lace curtain.

Sejanus is grinning, nervously you think. Then the scowling sister, a small, old creature with a sunken gaze — and the miserable one. They approach, you sink further.

“God Sejanus, smile any more for the poor thing and your pockets will start betraying you.” Grace sneers, voice sewn tightly with disgust at the less fortunate situation your family finds themselves in, glancing around at the quaint, pathetic home. It is as if she believes one breath of hers will cause it to collapse to the soil — to her polished feet.

“Please Grace, she is the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Oh, uncle, her eldest sister is very agreeable as well. Don’t you agree, Snow?”

Oh, he’s asked the cold thing who’s far too proud and rich for a humble party. You’re curious.

“Perfectly tolerable, I suppose. But not pretty enough to tempt me.”

Oh…

Your mischievous, sneaky grin melts into that of a hard line — ample with annoyance. How arrogant of him to say. As if his blonde locks and blue eyes make him any different than the handsome officers that pass by now and then. As if he is some prize. You scowl, Grace’s laugh an unpleasant sound.

Four hard knocks and you are quickly up to your feet.

Mama rushes to you immediately, slapping your hand enough so that it stings greatly and fades the color crimson.

“You were meant to watch! Places, take your stance girls!”

It takes beyond the greatest force to drag your feet to stand beside Jane. Mama checks each forced position anxiously before she tugs the door open wide — with a horrible, eager grin.

“Welcome!”

They trail the moss and dirt onto your oak floors, not bothering to wipe it away on the torn cloth you call a carpet. No need, they believe. The house is pathetic already as it stands. No dirt shall make it any less worthy than it already is.

In unison, a curtsy of greeting becomes all of you. Prim and proper and perfect just as mother groomed you all to be. For preparation of husbands.

Good god, the blonde looks even more dreadful now. Cold eyes darting to the old, harmless hound that chews on a racket ball. He winces at the sight of dust and chipped oak wood furniture surrounding. He looks down upon this place as if it is beneath him.

He far from belongs here.

“Sit, please sit! I’ve already prepared us supper!” Mama practically pushes Sejanus with most nervous palms, and his shadows follow suite.

Though you dream of running through the open door and fading into the mist to never be found again — you obey; sauntering into the archway with tired eyes and reluctant feet.

“My lady…”

Oh.

The short man with bushy brows and coal colored, untamed locks pulls your seat back enough so that you may sit upon it. To your dismay, the miserable one takes place in front of you. His eyes are cast downward to the far from fine silverware laid before him.

“Thank you sir.” You whisper, the chair feeling as though it is determined to suffocate you the longer you sit upon it.

“Oh, Jane — everybody, please meet my uncle, Mr. Casca Highbottom of Bristol.”

You only nod at the grinning old man, and mama rushes back like a midnight breeze through the archway — setting plates filled to the brim with but all of the food left for the entire month. Even so, it remains poor to a gazing eye. Though it matters not how little garnishes the porcelain, for when you catch gaze of miserable Snow pushing his few peas around in disgust, you cannot help but narrow your sight.

How can he be so proud? Certainly, if a humble gathering invited you in for a warm meal in this awful mist — you’d be most grateful for even a singular pea on your plate. Let alone twelve.

Grace laughs at the sight of Snow displeased — placing a soft palm against his knee beneath the cherrywood table. He spares her laugh a glance, and his lip twitches in what appears to be an amused smile. They talk lowly to each other, you notice it from where you peer behind your glass. She must be fond of him what with the way she touches him and leans closer with each word he speaks. You cannot possibly imagine why. Perhaps they are just alike. Rich, rude things.

“So — I dare ask if any suitors captured your heart at the party then?” Grace, she speaks to you now. You snort, ready to offer words of disdain and disgust toward the lot of men and their sweaty palms. Your mother’s cold glare silences you.

“No… they did not.” You mutter in quick defeat.

“Hmm, how dreadful…” it is mock sympathy, noticeable to both you and Jane.

Tension thins to a mere string lacing the table together. Silence blanketing even more so than the mist as worn silverware and mama’s embarsssing tangents erupt in painful harmony. You are grateful for Jane who manages to pry her eyes from Sejanus for a single moment so to save you from mama’s disapproving glare at your silence. She is selling you to the short man, it seems. She has been for the entirety of this meal.

“It is not as though gentlemen do not flock to my dear sister…” Jane starts. “It is simply that she is far too preoccupied with her books to notice them. She is an avid reader, adores her novels you see. She possesses great talents because of it!”

You hoped Jane would be so kind as to avert the attention. Yet it remains stable upon you, the available wife — as cattle with clipped ears. You feel as though you are livestock being powdered and pressed for the market. If the short man is buying, you’d rather be butchered.

He is awkward and stout and his jokes are uncomfortable as they are just rude. He is far from a gentleman and all the reason you deny each hand bestowed to you in the first place. For reason of men like him.

“You write?” Snow inquires.

Those cold, devoid eyes are locked upon you — and despite wishing to send him away to never return so you may be free of his arrogance, you only peer up at his gaze through fanned lashes to see them commanding an answer of you. Awaiting one.

“Occasionally, sir.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, nor does the gaze of Mr. Highbottom, even as he presses a boiled potato to his tongue.

“What of?”

What a silly question, you think. What else would a woman of your age and lack quill about?

It baffles you to find him curious. Perhaps he does not wish to seem obviously rude any more so than he simply is — perhaps he is only creating small talk.

“What else, sir? My thoughts and desires, my ideas. Romance — dramatics…”

“Oh but she just despises poetry!” Mama interjects, as if to end the conversation and refocus it upon your eligibility. Even when she speaks, Snow does not spare her a single glance. His eyes, they still rest upon you.

“You do? I thought poetry to be the food of love.”

You dare a snort then, suffocating a fit of laughter with a spoonful of food. You take your time chewing it, only offering more words when you realize that the conversation does not seem to be at its end. No. It cannot be. Not when he looks at you in a such an expectant manner.

“A poet writes of women in the gaze of all men, which I do not believe to be a true show of adoration. Perhaps it is the food of love — if you want to suffocate it. Stone it till it remains no longer.”

His next words come quick, immediately almost. As if he is grasping at the first chance to reply, much to Highbottom’s dismay whom snaps his mouth shut after losing the opportunity. Every eye in attendance is on the both of you.

Do they think you to be an enigma? You wonder…

“What do you recommend then? To encourage affection between two people…”

You do not know why he asks you this, but you can only assume it is because he wishes to embarrass you. Grace’s sharp gaze morphs into that of an amused smirk. Why would he ask the only woman seated what encourages affection when she cannot obtain it on her own?

You are certain then of his intentions. To mock you in front of Plinth’s sister, his uncle. In front of your blood. He does it so subtlety that if you were not bright as you are — you would most certainly miss it. He is a fool, a great fool because miraculously — you can reciprocate.

“Dancing… even if one’s partner is only tolerable.” You almost sneer with a tilt of your head and raise of your sharp brow.

If something truly clicks within him, it is most quickly dissipated. Most tricky to see. Sejanus clears his throat, and Highbottom — rude creature, erupts into a fit of laughter with a mouthful of food. Your mother is nervous, she joins him.

Grace only gasps, and Jane’s soft features are laced with confusion at the thing only you five are lucky enough to understand.

You remain stoic, challenging his eyes and his tense, twitching jaw with proudness.

“Shall I fetch dessert mama?”

Your mother nods through fits of forced laughter, and you take the opportunity to lift upon your feet. The chair scrapes against the creaky panels and nearly topples as you rush into the quaint kitchen and away from him.

It brings you joy knowing that he has nothing further to say.

You are smiling, terribly overflowed with pride as you place canned, sugared peaches upon ten porcelain plates. How proud he must have felt to speak lowly of you, a girl he spared little words to at a party he refrained from dancing at for it was too poor for his liking.

You disliked him then — but a chat with miss Lucy-Gray Baird while passing by in town confirmed all of your prejudice. She claims to have been treated most coldly by him whilst he was courting her. He offered his hand, then fled into midnight when he grew bored of her. Only the next morning.

He is as any other man is. A heartless hound. His behavior in your small home only further proves your prejudice is with more than enough reason.

You take longer than you should selfishly, and when you return — your gaze locks upon Sejanus who is entirely enamored by the sapphire gaze of Jane.

Mama aids you in placing down the plates you juggle. It is a poor dessert, but one that is most delectable.

“Oh well, your daughter is most precious. Funny, too! How uncommon for women.”

“Oh please uncle, we all have our wit. She is just peculiar, I daresay.”

Mama laughs at Grace’s words, and you only offer a polite, tense smile before being seated once again. It is you now that pushes your food around your plate, fading into the mist truly as you remain silent.

They speak of things you care the least bit for — all irrelevant matters to your mind. You are grateful when wine is poured, you nearly inhale it and garner a slap on your hand once again from mama.

You need it to get thought this.

Highbottom and mama speak of you, she tells him lies. How much you wish to be wed, how eager you are to find a lover. All contradictions of Jane’s earlier lick of truth. The rich fool believes her, his eyes cast upon you like poisonous darts. Slowly suffocating you.

Sejanus is preoccupied entirely by Jane — and the miserable one chats lowly with the scowling sister.

“Well, how about some music and dance? Lizzie, off to the piano!”

Your youngest sister lifts — eager to press her hands against the keys. It will be a mediocre melody but one that offers enough sound so to dance. You wish to stay glued to the table as they leave you to the living space — but mama tugs at your braid harshly, you have no choice other than obedience.

Sejanus kindly offers Jane a hand — and you feel as though you will just sink entirely into the floor as Highbottom approaches. Your heel turns you swift as you try and find even a small bit of space in this little home.

A navy vest with a crimson rose tucked into its pocket cages your escape. You never thought to see the day you’d be grateful for the cold blonde who cuts in front. You nearly collide with him.

“Dance with me.” He commands.

How baffling…

You do not notice the tension settled within your features until your brows ease in confusion. Your chin is pointed upwards — enough so that he can be equal to your gaze.

“Are you asking this of me — or ordering sir?”

His jaw ticks once more, but he does not follow up with any more words. The cleared throat of the short man behind you is enough reason to pick the far less uncomfortable poison. You’d rather be fueled by annoyance as opposed to discomfort and dread. One dance is all.

“Fine.” You mutter, sealing your fate and betraying your swear to be far away from the man whom you loathe entirely.

He is a pale thing up close. Birth marks kissing silken skin, soft as the moss kissing your shoes. You are grateful that this dance does not require touch — only the occasional closeness.

You follow him to where Sejanus and Jane stand — his head nearly reaches your ceiling. His palm hovers over yours, eyes downcast on your pretty features. Grace is scowling, again.

Your fingers twitch as Lizzie begins the sonnet, and you follow his lead.

It surprises you greatly, how well he dances. Though his mouth is a hard line, and his eyes are like round lumps of charred coal. He is noiseless.

“Are we to dance in dread and silence, Mr. Snow? I dare comment on this awful weather, now you may follow with a remark about the food. How much you despised it.”

You catch a glimpse of him, a suppressed twitch of his lips. As if the words offended him. Maybe amused him. You step forward and then back, frayed skirt floating against the movement. He follows suite.

“I could comment on how you dance. I am happy to inform you it is more tasteful than how you cook. Please do advise me on what more you want me to say to you.”

You stumble by his words — and his eyes dart to your clumsy feet. They are stable soon enough, circling him like a shark in vicious waters. His words upset you.

“Mama and Jane prepared the meal. I only prepared the peaches; but I do believe that if a family was kind enough to welcome an abrupt attendance with a warm meal — I would not be so complacent about its contents. You see — we are not all so fortunate to have garnered inheritance, Mr. Snow.” A cold melody, but one he would be a fool to ignore. It is all true.

Now it is him that halts. He steps forward, dipping his head low. Your eyes wander to his gloved palm — it clenches then flexes outward; all evidence of his annoyance with your words.

There you both stand, Sejanus and Jane alongside the twins, mama and Highbottom swirling around you. You do not know where Grace lurks.

You both are still, he stands a tower above you. His eyes pour heat into your own, admonishing you — offended with your words. It is as if the room is only filled with the two of you, the lace of connection between you just your anger. Even in your short time being familiar, it is strong.

“Do you imply that my inheritance is all the reason for my success?” He forces through clenched — perfect teeth.

“Perhaps I do sir, miss Baird of Newbury certainly agree—”

The hand that lays against your side is snatched into his own. He squeezes it tight now, eyes wide and swimming with disapproval and frustration. It has been resting at the surface, but bound to crack.

“Oh I’m certain she does. I am sure she told you the many tales of her troubles and woes brought upon by her time spent with me. You won’t speak to her again.”

It is you that steps forward now, so laced with upset that you do not notice your poor and worn shoes are stepping upon his tip toes. Up upon the rich and shined leather. Your chin is pointed upward, your stance tense.

“You command me as if I am wed to you sir, but I am not. You have come here, unannounced and unhappy with your humble plate as if we are all but a quaint inn with poor maids. Just because we gather little and obscure and we do not have pockets as generous and full as yours does not make us beneath you, Mr. Snow.”

The music halts, and your eyes shift quickly to find a concerned Jane gazing on — alongside your horrified mother. How crazed you both must look now. Stepping upon his toes with palms clasped — anger and upset becoming you both.

You release his gloved hand and part your soft lips to dismiss yourself — yet a strike of lightning cracking from above the grayed sky is a gift given, a distraction from beyond. Yet alongside it? A curse.

The horses startle, lifting to their hind legs before running far and fast with the carriage. Grace cries out from where she sulked in the shadows, and Sejanus alongside his uncle run after the wild beasts. Your sisters and mama follow.

“What are we to do!?”

“Grace, please be calm. We will fetch them.”

“We cannot travel in these conditions, boy.”

“You may rest here!”

Dread is a serpent that wraps tight round your throat — making the pounding of your heart halt entirely.

It is all a blur, but by the end of the lively conversation it is decided. They will stay. They will all stay. You bow your head, crossing your arms round the beating at your chest so to protect it.

“Excuse me.” You whisper, so low it is taken with the breeze from the open door before rushing up your dilapidated steps; knowing full well that the hospitality offered by mama, selfish reasoning or not, is the last thing a man like Mr. Snow deserves…

325 notes · View notes

esther-dot · 5 months

Text

Pride & Prejudice AUs

You Look Like A Movie, You Sound Like A Song 2k @jonsastan

She had met Jon Targaryen there. It was a complete accident and at first, Sansa thought, a complete misfortune. He was drenched from an impromptu swim in his pond, and she was flustered, not wanting him to think she was vying for his attention. But as she had attempted to make her hurried escape, he had found her and invited her parents to stroll with him around the gardens. He had offered her kindness, and thoughtfulness, he had talked with her parents, discussed the present state of politics with her father and chatted knowledgeably about gardens with her mother.

A Certain Step Toward Falling in Love 2k by @comma-splice

Jon Snow returns North after departing abruptly one year ago.

The Bennet Sisters - a P&P AU comic by @melinaillustrations

P&P Gifset by @sardoniyx, P&P Gifset by @dcbicki, P&P Gifset by deactivated

Persuasion AUs

Who Loves Longest, Who loves Best 1k by @ladysaruka

After refusing him years ago, Sansa sees her cousin once again.

Persuasion edits one, two , three by @glueck

Mansfield Park AUs

Half Agony, Half Hope 10k, incomplete by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

After the death of his disgraced mother, Jon Snow is taken in by his uncle's family, the Starks of Winterfell. He grows up alongside his cousins, including the beautiful and kind-hearted Sansa, but knowing he can never truly be their equal, he fears he has little choice but to leave the place he's come to call home. corresponding moodboard

Catch Me If You Can 34k (P&P and Emma inspired too) by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

Set in the countryside of Regency England, Jon Snow has been in love with Sansa Stark for as long as he can remember. He wants her as his wife, but Sansa is not sure she wants to be a wife at all, and she knows she doesn’t want to marry the pragmatic and boring Jon. She’d rather help Theon Greyjoy come out of his shell and play matchmaker. But then Jaime Lannister comes to town and Jon finds he has some serious competition for Sansa…

Moments Like This (So Few and Far Between) 3k by @lydiamartenism

Mama and Papa left the house to go pick up Jon, the son of her father’s oldest friend. Three weeks ago, the phone rang and their parent’s announced that Jon would be coming to live with them since his mother passed away and had no one else to take care of him.

Northanger Abbey AUs

The Lady in White 7k by @kissed-by-circe

Dragonstone Manor had looked like it had woken only a few days earlier, after a slumber of several years, if not decades, and Sansa had felt like the heroine of a gothic novel, a mysterious, naive girl with a dark past or a dark secret, arriving at the opening scene of the most dramatic story of all times. Or Sansa as Katherine Morland in a Jane Eyre Setting.

Sense & Sensibility AUs

In Such Jocund Company 2k @maybetwice

It would be no matter at all for Captain Snow to return to the north after seven months’ absence, had Sansa’s heart not changed entirely in that time. A remix of Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility.

Emma & Clueless AUs

if i loved you less 2k by @ladystarks

Her father has, often and fondly, told Sansa that she and Mr. Snow bite at each other like wolves, but he hardly understood that their verbal sparring was as exhilarating as a sport well done, or a match coming together under Sansa’s skilled hands. corresponding artwork

Sansa: A NOVEL in Five Parts 15k by @imagineagreatadventure

Sansa Stark, handsome, clever, rich, hopes to establish herself as her town's foremost matchmaker. After seeing her governess Miss Shae married to the rich and clever Mr. Tyrion Lannister, she feels as though she deserves that title. Her dear friend and cousin, Jon Targaryen, heartily disagrees and is quite proven right when Sansa sets her sights on marrying off her newest and dearest friend Jeyne Poole to the vicar Mr. Baelish.

A Baldwin and a Betty 2k

Jon drives to the Valley to give Sansa a ride home.

Emma AU art by @dcvahkiin and Clueless art by wolvesofspring

Emma Gifset by @dcbicki

General Regency AUs

No Notion of Loving by Halves 2k @darkmagyk

The Stark cousin, Jon, goes home to discuss matters concerning the entail on Winterfell. In which Jon is a really good guy, and I flagrantly disregard how entails actually work.

Manners and Misunderstandings 114k, WIP by @x-winging-it

The Stark sisters have travelled all the way to London to begin their first season, leaving behind the familiar world of Winterfell Hall and a disappointed Jon Stark- with whom the eldest Miss Stark has been convinced to break off a connection. In London they join family friends the Baratheons and the fashionable young Tyrells in a world of romance and balls. Meanwhile Gendry Waters has been plucked out of the life he knew to become his ailing father's heir, Robb, Theon and later Rickon embark on military careers in the Napoleonic wars, and their aunt Lysa makes a foolish marriage. When tragedy hits the family, they must come together, learning how manners may hide monsters and the best people are often those misunderstood by society.

You Could Draw Me to the Gallows 2k by @azulaahai

After having eloped from home with and subsequently been abandoned by wealthy heir Joffrey Baratheon, Sansa Stark refuses to come home. Having caused a scandal that is sure to prevent her from ever marrying, she is adamant not to bring further shame to the family name by returning to Winterfell. Until, that is, a visitor comes to her - Jon Snow, an old family friend, determined to bring Sansa with him back north. He has a solution to offer her - a proposal with the potential to change both of their lives.

A Perilous Dance Indeed & fiercely, tenderly and eternally 27k by @amymel86

He should either look away or interrupt this improper little meeting, he knows. For some unfathomable reason, he does neither. The two look far too intimate for Jon’s liking, although he feels he should have come to expect it to be so. A romantic like Sansa – however proper she is – would simply adore overt flirtations and a secret tête-à-tête. Even from where he stands, Jon can see the way in which she has stars set in her eyes like precious cut stones. He only hopes the man for whom they shine is deserving of it. *** Cousin Jon is to inherit Winterfell Manor and its estate after the untimely death of his uncle leaves a widow and two daughters. Sansa is expectant of an imminent proposal from her dear beau, Harrold Hardyng and everything will be absolutely, stunningly, utterly fine.

Waiting for Your Slippered Feet 49k by @wintry-ritu

Lady Sansa Stark has always looked forward to her come-out season in London, the balls, the rides in Hyde Park, evenings at Vauxhall, the romance and wonder of it all. Never had she imagined that it would happen like this, with her parents gone and her younger siblings underfoot. Now, all Sansa wants is for it all to be over quickly so she can get back to Winterfell. She needs a kind, amiable man who will be brave enough to take on his wife's siblings. That should not be so hard to find in London, should it? And while she is most grateful for Jon Targaryen's help, why must her cousin be so distracting?

To Make You Love Me 16k incomplete and orphaned

When Ned Stark dies, he leaves behind his wife, two daughters, and his family’s estate at Winterfell. What follows is a series of unwanted marriage proposals, houseguests who far outstay their welcome, and Arya parading around in a comically large hat and an oil-paint mustache as she declares herself the new ‘Lord of Winterfell,’ in an attempt to dissuade her sister’s suitors. However, when Mr. Jon Snow — their distant cousin and Ned’s appointed heir to the estate — comes to call, an oil-paint mustache is hardly enough to deter him from courting Miss Sansa Stark. And she thinks, perhaps, that a man could marry her for love more than her claim, after all.

Mine for a Season 101k by @vivilove-jonsa

Colonel Jon Targaryen is a single man in possession of a good fortune who claims no interest in finding himself a wife. With his war wounds, he thinks no young lady would want him anyway for anything beyond the allure of his pocketbook. Fortunately and unbeknownst to him, Fate has chosen to find a wife for him and will even deliver her right to his doorstep. Taking on the responsibility of shepherding a young lady about for a Season in London is not at all what Jon had wished to do but he had accepted out of a sense of familial duty. However, once he meets Sansa again after only having met her years ago as a child, he may not consider it a duty so much as a torment.

a lady of winterfell 185k, WIP by @wandering-scavenger

She bit her lip and exhaled shakily, “If you are so sickened by the prospect of marrying me, we should be able to obtain an annulment easily enough with your father’s connections.” “I will do no such thing.” he snapped, refusing to look at her. Sansa had never felt more rejected than she did at that moment. Her past experiences of being humiliated at the hand of Joffrey did not feel as painful as this. Even so, she could not allow him to see the weakness in her, not now. “I will not be left out, Jon.” she said, tilting her chin up to look down at him. He grimaced. They were silent for longer than she cared to count, but each second that he did not speak chipped away at her resolve and her ability to withhold her tears. Jon did not want her, and she could not blame him. Who could ever want her? It should not have distressed her as much as it did. She was never his favourite sister, she who treated him as a stranger since she was old enough to understand what a bastard was. A tear slipped down to her face until she tasted the salt of it on her lips. “If we marry, we will remain so.” corresponding gifset

moth's wings 47k by @cellsshapedlikestars

Sansa was determined to convince her aunt to let Arya debut, which is how she finds herself in her current predicament. “Who is this secret gentleman who has asked for your hand?” Aunt Lysa asks, and Sansa knows from her tone that she does not believe. (She has every right not to believe, for it is not true.) And then Sansa does something very, very foolish. She says a name. “The Duke of Dragonstone!” Or, Sansa fakes an engagement so that Arya can debut and marry the man she loves. The only problem? Her fake fiance just so happens to be in the city when he was not supposed to be.

An Understanding 2k, WIP by @thewolvescalledmehome

At the start of Sansa Stark's third London Season, she decides it will be her last. She will secure a husband by the end of the final ball. Jon Snow is new to the London Season and high society. He never expected to inherit money or property from an unknown uncle. When they meet at a ball, Sansa gets an idea.

you're in my blood like holy wine 72k

Sansa finds it difficult to look at Jon’s face, with its weathered lines and cragginess. It is the face of the North and a face that northerners trust; the face of Sansa’s brothers and her father, who had been loved and respected by their tenants as their forefathers had been when they were kings. How can Sansa feel anything but resentment, looking into that face and knowing that all of her years of hard work will never earn her the respect that that profile engenders within seconds? But she does. It is a small, burning coal of something that must be smothered.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON

#jonsa #jonsa fic #regency au #pride and prejudice au #emma au #northanger abbey au #mansfield park au #persuasion au #dot fic list #marriage of convenience au #arranged marriage au

239 notes · View notes