#ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ✻ ᵃ ᵇᵒʸ ʷʰᵒ ᵈᵃᶰᶜᵉˢ ʷᶤᵗʰ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˢ

[killthebxy]

--- @zcldrizes ---

[killthebxy]

--- @thekingstrueheir ---

' guess what i brought?? ‘

          one might say it spanned well beyond his job, yes; a bodyguard, close protection officer for a pompous and more formal title, was paid to keep one safe and not to baby-sit. and yet, with how this child was as lovely as she was lonely, how could he not? Stannis was ever busy with his own duties and Selyse wasn’t anywhere near to winning prizes for being a warm mother, and Jon would sooner do extra hours (that he wasn’t even paid for to start with) than to leave this poor girl all alone during a saturday night --- which he was pretty much doing already, and without an ounce of regret. with a big, cheeky smile, then, he laid the present before her on the coffee table.

‘ if you guess wrong, though, it’s all over. i’m eating all of it myself. ‘

[killthebxy]

@thedolorous // cont.’d

          of course this would be the OBVIOUS comeback --- since when do you flat out tell someone you’re deceiving them? kinda defeats the purpose. and it’s not like Jon is a cynical person... or, at least, he doesn’t consider himself one, but technically he’s only two years old. and if a complete stranger suddenly clings to you when you’re in the middle of grabbing a pack of cereal for breakfast --- yes, the first reaction is to be startled.

nonetheless---

          soon he’s growing past it, if nothing else because he sees it --- the glint of something in the other man’s eyes that he can only describe as a perfect mix between hope and desperation. this is what stops him, this is what has him realizing it cannot be a mistake or coincidence... can he even afford to think this, ever, when every single little clue might make a difference between the black hole in his mind or a shred of light burning within it instead? which is why the said pack of cereal is soon completely forgotten, because this is A RISK worth taking even if will prove to be a trap. won’t be the first time he’s chased down a street by five or six thugs double his size, anyway.

‘ ...are you sure you know me? ‘

[killthebxy]

amidstsaltandsmoke‌:

Not sure if this has been done yet, but you’re welcome anyway

--- @zcldrizes​ ---

[killthebxy]

send ‘pain is weakness leaving the body’ for a randomly generated outcome (alternatively, send it + reversed) // accepting 22. Tass finds Jon with a black eye, ft. @saediste​

          HOME, SWEET HOME --- an expression he couldn’t claim to truly understand, for the simple reason he lacked a proper home; his home might easily be in the middle of southern Europe or one of the US states instead, a remote island in the South Pacific or a shack in the Australian desert. how was he to tell, with his memory turned to a black hole? and yet, when now finally walking in, Jon connected with that meaning more than any human being ever did. or perhaps “walking” wasn’t the appropriate verb to use... what with all but rushing in and locking the door behind him as though his life depended on it --- and, in a way, it did. heart hammering in his chest, he remained immobile and almost breathless as he tried to spot signs that he might have been FOLLOWED... only to sigh in utter relief a minute or two later, daring to consider himself out of danger.

          what sort of danger, one might ask, and especially when he was such a polite and composed person most his time? well... the aforementioned black hole had a direct consequence, and it was illustrated by how eagerly he’d been trying to find clues about his past and about himself, ever since waking up in that hospital. and, long story short, either he used to be a criminal or Jon didn’t even know what another plausible explanation might exist --- given the absolute lack of legal documents to prove he ever lived before and, above all else, the sheer number of times he’d find himself chased down the street by not-so-friendly thugs twice his size. quite the routine at this point, truly.

          now... whereas Jon wasn’t exactly of a big stature and his temper was mostly amiable and tranquil, he did happen to be immensely talented in self-defense arts and techniques; without a doubt, at some point before, he must have endured countless hours of extensive TRAINING. which did come in handy and did ensure he could overcome all odds more often than not... and yet, every now and then, the 1% would win. this time was clearly one of those and, never mind the frustration for having to run like a scaredy cat, he reckoned he ought to be GRATEFUL that he was able to escape to start with. unfortunately, the evidence he’d collected at that office and that might have proven extremely useful in regards to his past was also lost along the not-so-epic chase... but, heck. live and fight another day, wasn’t that what they said?

          finally prying himself off the door, adrenaline crash already about to kickstart, there was one final surprise for this day to toss at him before it was done, nonetheless --- one that had Jon’s jaw dropping as he made his way to the living room, only to find a very familiar face staring back. had he ever even given his address to Tass...? either way, of all the times to have guests over! not to mention, how was he about to tell a convincing tale to justify his current aspect...? most thankfully, he’d avoided any sort of flesh wounds and there didn’t seem to be any broken bones, either --- nonetheless, his clothes and hair were downright disheveled as though he’d just rolled out of bed after an entire week. that and--- with his system coming down from EMERGENCY mode, he was beginning to realize the painful throbbing on his right eye, and how swollen the damn thing must be if he was already struggling to keep it open. ...shit. offering his best sheepish smile, then, he brought his hands up as if saying: don’t worry, i got this!

‘ first of all --- if you think i look TERRIBLE, you should have seen the other guy! ...guys, even. ‘

[killthebxy]

send ‘pain is weakness leaving the body’ for a randomly generated outcome (alternatively, send it + reversed) // accepting 1. Jon finds Ygritte with a broken arm, ft. @arcusignis​

          GROCERY SHOPPING, the most thrilling of mundane activities --- might be so, even, when one has the power of imagination of a child’s and pretends to be acquiring relics off the shore of some tropical, remote island. alas, not Jon’s case --- yet, being slightly addicted to orderliness and housekeeping that he is, it’s far from being too terrible, nevertheless. if anything, the shop is near enough his apartment that he has no need for a car or public transportation, and the bright sunny weather outside well welcomes to a walk. all in all, a good day in the making, is it not?

          perhaps not as much, however, for the young woman he’s just crossed paths with --- heading down the same aisle but turning at the end towards the morning cereal and cookies shelves, instead --- and, much as he’s well aware that staring is impolite if not downright rude, currently such urge ENRAPTURES him. one, her long hair is a shade of reddish-ginger he’s never seen before, as though a flame hopped out of a bonfire and nestled among her locks; two, the beautiful tattoos painting her arms are thoroughly enticing; three, and possibly most curiosity-inducing of all... not only he easily spots a cast-wrapped arm cradled by her chest, no doubt fractured, but there’s a dark bruise by her eye as well and a swollen bottom lip that must have been recently cracked open. by far, not the sight you expect to find at nine in the morning.

          is it bad that he promptly assumes she might have just wiggled out of a brawl somewhere? does it make him a terrible gossip? in his defense, Jon is about ready to turn around and go back to minding his own business --- if it wasn’t for the sight he just caught a glimpse of, from the corner of his eye. because this apparently badass lady isn’t vertically favored, to say it nicely, and she’s right now struggling to fetch a pack from the top shelf --- and, heck, this is an issue he himself is no stranger to, albeit in a lesser scale. ‘ hey--- ‘ reckoning he might as well make himself USEFUL, therefore, he steps in to grab it for her --- handing it over with a smile. ‘ please let me help. ‘

[killthebxy]

you’re just jealous of my big beautiful cock

— @thesellsword —

i wish my amnesia covered this.

[killthebxy]

--- @zcldrizes​ ---

[killthebxy]

// @zcldrizes

          he’d been awake for the most part, though slipping in and out of that blissful state where nothing is truly a dream and nothing is truly reality. what did succeed in catching his attention, however, was the shifting of the mattress right besides him --- a prompt smile taking over his features. one with a bit of sympathy, to be sure... well aware that she must be struggling to find a comfortable position, and how could she not when already so big --- big and glowing and beautiful, the fairest woman in the world. two weeks at most and their daughter would be with them, and quite frankly Jon still couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept. but the moment wasn’t for daydreaming, rather to do what he could to ease his poor wife’s trouble --- though still unable to conceal the smile of absolute AWE as she struggled to sit back up, promptly leaning in to help her and leave a loving kiss on her nearest cheek in the meanwhile.

          ‘ it’s still early... what do you need? bathroom break? ‘ because, yeah, jesus --- little Arya’s hobby clearly oscillated between pushing against mummy’s ribs and steal her breath, or instead tap-dancing on her bladder.

[killthebxy]

// @reekcd

          sometimes, Jon wondered why people complained so much about doing the dishes --- to him, it always felt like a very nice excuse to unwind and take your mind off things, while making plates and glasses and mugs squeaky clean. then again, he was arguably the person he knew that was most preoccupied with cleanliness and organization... though, on the other hand, he clearly did not know many people at all (basically, just the hospital staff and his clients and now Theon), so who was to say anyway. distracted with this sort of random musings, he suddenly caught himself distracted by what seemed to be that same Theon talking to himself in the living room --- quickly peeking at him from the kitchen.

‘ hey, did you need anything? ‘

[killthebxy-archive]

---Dany---

THESE MOMENTS MIGHT HAVE JUST BEEN HER FAVOURITE IN ALL THE WORLD, even if he was slightly bruised and broken beneath her, the soft whine leaving his lips even as he sought to chase them with his own kisses, before he surrendered, collapsing beneath her. And gods bless it, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight, thumb brushing the corner of his lips in a gentle manner that was filled with nothing but content and affection, her hues roaming his. She still thought he was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, whether he liked to admit it or not; and it wasn’t even the sculpt of his features themselves, but rather the warmth in his gaze even now through a haze of medication. Nothing but him.

It speaks volumes for him in that state of mind, that even as promises and threats of bondage spill from her lips… his concern shifts instead to her abilities in the kitchen. Immediately, her own hues narrow in mock offence as her own body shifts on his, sitting up properly as her own arms cross, pried out of his grasp now.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so horrified.”

The pout that crosses her own lips then is one he knows well – playful, of course, though she can’t help but wonder if he’ll understand that she doesn’t mean it when he’s taking everything so literally, thanks to whatever world the painkillers have placed him into. Chin quivering as her lower tier juts out to deepen the pout, gaze locks on his once more before sulking, biting back the grin. They both know cooking has never quite been her forte, and that a month of her making dinner can only go so well… she calculates mentally how often she can get away with simple toast for dinner. The answer is none.

“It’s as if you don’t like my cooking.”

          had a woman’s touch ever been more tender? it might rival that of a goddess herself, as her fingertips ghosted over the slightly broken, slightly bruised, slightly swollen flesh at the corner of his mouth and, still, caused no pain. had it been anything else, had it been even himself trying to feel it, it would undoubtedly cause him to at least wince, because the injury, while not serious, was still very raw and even more sensitive --- yet, she treated it like a fairy; like magic. she’d once looked just like a fairy, Jon suddenly recalled in his pain killers-induced haze, very recently, in that one wonderful dress of shades of gold and black --- rosy cheeks and cherry lips, and a smile bright enough to light up an entire building. how was he even so lucky?

‘ i’m not horrified, i’m... cautious. concerned. ‘

          thankfully, though, even if currently feeling like one who’s smoked a bit too much weed or sipped a bit too much wine, it’s easy to see that she doesn’t mean it; that she’s purposefully teasing him, purposefully seeking a peck to that adorable pout and some soothing to the playful insult. the former, he would have gladly obliged to, if--- ...wait, no. no ifs. he can and he will do it, nonetheless, even if it will require some ingenuity and a bit of wiggling around his now cumbersome right arm. ‘ i love everything about you... even your cooking. ‘ she’s told him countless stories at this point, of their days as high school sweethearts and how he would gobble down whatever experiment she would bring him for the day, irrespective of taste or texture --- one thing, among the many, that has not changed. with a bit of a struggle, then, and the sheer willpower he’s ever been blessed with when tempted by proper reward, Jon half-sits back up on his own --- with not much of a choice but to leave the broken arm between them, hanging by that soft sling put in place by loving wife a few minutes prior, but using the good hand to find her shoulder blade and bring her as close as possible. and, with a smile, he causes their noses to bump once more, speaking quietly against her lips.

‘ and i’m willing to prove it. ‘

@zcldrizes

[killthebxy]

send ‘pain is weakness leaving the body’ for a randomly generated outcome (alternatively, send it + reversed) // accepting 4. Oreva finds Jon with a concussion, ft. @omenofstorms​

          SHIT --- whereas he’s not usually one to cuss, there is barely any other word that can fit the current state of affairs and express his frustration any better. mind you, it is no rare thing for Jon to be chased down the street by four or five not-so-commendable gentlemen twice his size, and eventually having to get physical with them --- whatever it is that is hidden in his past by the veil of severe amnesia, he’s got no doubt it’d make for one heck of an action movie. what’s new, this time, is to come out of it on the losing side... for, despite his relatively short stature, he’s notoriously well-trained in the ways of self-defense and beyond. alas, this time a sneaky ---and downright cowardly--- smack to the side of his head made all the difference in tilting the odds against him, and his saving grace was a stranger miraculously walking by and causing the aforementioned gentlemen to run away; obviously, not wishing to be identified before their mission, whatever it may be, is accomplished.

          the same stranger now so kindly helping him up from the dirty pavement of this alleyway... a help Jon is tempted to refuse, for the sake of not having this young woman INVOLVED in the royal mess his entire existence has been since waking up on that hospital bed, some two years ago. hence, doing his best to stand on his own --- only to lose his balance immediately, and not end up going for a nosedive, precisely, because she’s got him on a firm hold. talk about a stunning first impression, really.

‘ sorry about that... i--- i just need a moment, i’m all right... ‘

[killthebxy]

send ‘pain is weakness leaving the body’ for a randomly generated outcome (alternatively, send it + reversed) // accepting 8. Jon finds Helena with the flu, ft. @helenaiism

          he really wants to ask again --- there’s a little devious serpent that made a nest in his belly, seemingly, and keeps twisting and turning and slithering and overall ruining everything. the serpent’s name is ANXIETY, CONCERN as the middle one, and was set lose the moment he came within his friend’s ---and, admittedly, more-or-less secret crush--- house to find Helena not as her usual cheery self but, instead, confined to bed and clearly losing the battle against whatever lineage of Influenza virus that has settled in her poor organism.

          and so, yes, he really wants to ask again if she’s feeling better or if she needs anything or if he can do anything at all to help, yet he’s asked six times within the past half an hour --- and, by the last one, she was already giving him a playful glare. but is it his fault, that he hates to see her feeling so sick and has no way to trade places with her?? all that is left to do, then, is to pout and sulk as he keeps her company and provides at least enough tissues for her nose that is as runny as it is stuffy. that and to cave and indeed ask again, but in a slightly different manner. it’s progress, right?

‘ you know... i can take you to the hospital, if you want. or call a doctor. ‘

[killthebxy]

// @deltiitnu

          there was no awareness of the person who miraculously found him in that dark alleyway, and rushed to call an ambulance — and literally saved his life, while at it. much as he was unaware of the paramedics carefully taking his limp figure in their arms, as to be carried within the vehicle and promptly attached to every necessary instrument — oxygen mask, IV tubes, you name it. anything and everything usually reserved for movies and shows was suddenly part of his reality. 

          by that moment in time, there was NOTHING. nothing at all. there was no pain, no agony, no sadness nor despair. it was like unplugging a TV, a screen gone completely blank and with no hint of light nor sound. until, all of a sudden, his eyes were open again. or, well… partially open, heavy-lidded and drowsy, but he could see. and he saw a lot of white… white ceiling, white walls, white covers snuggled into him. had the world ever been so white, before? it caused him to wince, hurting his sight still so used to the comforting dark, but he resisted the urge to close them; curiosity winning over fatigue. 

          this was a sort of room, wasn’t it? with a repetitive beep beep beep coming right from his side… it seemed so close, yet his body was refusing to move. maybe he was tied down? it was hard to tell what made sense and what didn’t, when his mind felt more like floating a whole mile above his body. but he noticed it, then — the face. the face of a young man staring back at him. who was he? why was he here, where were they...? the other was speaking, he could hear it… but was unable to understand the words. they seemed more like a long string of sounds put together casually, without a beginning nor an end, and the only reaction he could offer initially was to frown in CONFUSION. his tongue felt odd as well, clumsy and thick and lazy, as though he’d never before used it in his life. forcing it to work though, even if through a quiet, hoarse voice, he eventually tilted his head in the other’s direction.

‘ where— where am i…? ‘

[killthebxy]

i stg Jon if you put popcorn and gummies in the same bowl we're not brothers any more - bran

@helenaiism …seems we have spooked my little brother with our REBELLIOUS spirit.

[killthebxy]

send 😘🍺 to drunkenly kiss Jon Snow; platonic smooches also accepted (accepting) // @rhaggat

          most of their nights seem to end the very same way --- close protection officer and paid regally so, doing duties more akin to the baby-sitter of a toddler more than anything else; make sure he eats well, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself nor gets into trouble, make sure he sleeps on a bed and not somewhere among the carpet of the lounge. and is it worth it? surprisingly, in a way... it really is. perhaps because Jon does love children as it is, and what better analogy could he find --- but, more than any arguably questionable jokes, it comes laced with the fact that he’s extremely FORTUNATE to have this job to start with. beggars can’t be choosers, and one without memory and without a past begs most of all.

          it is also not unusual for matters to escalate to a degree of intimacy and affection that, at this point, has grown from startling to quite acceptable; from fearing it would end up with him being fired on a whim to actually laughing, in equal doses of amusement and enjoyment, every time Viserys grabs his face to plant little kisses all over --- like flower seeds tossed carelessly to a field, to see if at least one of them will BLOOM. this time, however... this time, it just turned into a deliberate kiss right on his lips and quickly followed by a daring tongue ventured into his mouth till he’s left as breathless as he is baffled --- that and at a complete loss for words, though also doing nothing to pull free from his boss’ hold just yet.

‘ ...you will REGRET this in the morning. ‘