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k4marina · 4 months ago

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— viii. Beyond the Wall || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: while you and jon lead a hunting party north of the wall, you come face to face with a being that you'd only read about in history books.

warning: game of thrones cannon violence and themes follows the episode Beyong the Wall [S7, Ep6]

all dialogue in italics is Valyrian

authors note at the end !!

series masterlist || next part

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

4.9k word count

[gif found on pinterest]

The weather had gotten slightly better, the sun was now up in the sky and the snow settled allowing you to see clearly again. The terrain had gotten more jagged the higher we climbed up the mountain. Piles of snow covered the already icy terrain, making it even harder to walk up the mountain. Had I’d known that I’d be brought back in time I would have packed my snowshoes. My feet felt numb and damp from the cold weather and the nonstop walking.

Tormund led the group with Jon and I behind him. Gendry was by Jon’s side close by. Behind us were the Hound and Beric, another Wildling scout, and all the way in the back Jorah and Thoros who were busy talking amongst themselves.

“Say we get what we came here for,” Jon glanced at me. “How are we supposed to get back to Eastwatch?”

“I’ll call Viserion and he’ll fly us back.”

“He’ll hear you this far?”

“I’ve instructed him to stay close. You may not be able to see him, but he’s a lot closer than you’d think."

“Shouldn’t he be here with us so he can protect us?”

I thought for a moment before I replied. “The Night King can raise beings from the dead. You’ve seen what he can do with people and bears.” I turned to look at him. “Imagine what he could do with a dragon.” Jon stops for a moment but then nods, finally understanding why I was so protective of Viserion.

I didn’t need to imagine like Jon, I knew exactly how the Night King raised Viserion and used him to burn down the Wall. I’ve already gotten rid of most of Euron’s fleet, lowering the chances of Rhaegal’s death, but the Night King was who I was the most worried about. If he could get his hands on a dragon then the destruction he would cause would be catastrophic.

Out in the distance, we could hear the sound of metal clinking. Tormund motions for everyone to stop and carefully walks forwards and peers over the edge of the cliff. He turns and motions for Jon and I to come see. A line of wights marched forwards led by a White Walker.

“Where's the rest of them?” Jon asks no one in particular.

“If we wait long enough we’ll find out.” Tormund says. The three of us walked back to the group once the undead were out of sight.

“There’s a line of the undead marching to somewhere,” Tormund said to the group.

“We need a plan, a good one.” I said. “Any ideas?” Everyone glanced at each other, waiting for someone to pipe up, but no one did.

I let out a breath, “alright, huddle up. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

––

The undead marched in a line into a hilly area. The White Walker at the front of the line stopped hearing a crackling causing the other wights behind him to halt. It looks forwards and steps ahead, spotting a small burning fire. It cautiously walks towards it, assessing his surroundings. But before it could turn back, everyone sprung up from hiding, ambushing the wights.

Jon takes on the White Walker while the rest of us fight the wights who relentlessly attack even after they’ve been cut down. Every time one of us cuts them down, they keep getting back up. As planned, Jon slays the White Walker, plunging Longclaw into his abdomen. It violently shakes and collapses into ice, causing the rest of the wights, except for one, to crumble to the ground. We huddled around the remaining wight, looking for an opportunity to grab onto it.

Huffing, Tormund throws his axe down and punches the wight square in its mouth, knocking it down. Sandor jumps onto it as it screeches and writhes under the Hound while Beric, Thoros, and Gendry hold down its limbs.

“Gag it!” Sandor yells.

I reached into my pocket, quickly pulling out a makeshift gag and stuffing it into his mouth just in time, cutting its loud screeching. Sandor puts a bag around its head and ties it with rope while the rest of the men put chains around him and put it into the cage we brought.

But it wasn’t quick enough. A low rumbling could be heard in the distance. Jon turns back, all of us knowing what that meant.

“Call him!” Jon yells.

I looked up to the sky, silently praying Viserion was nearby. “Come to me, now!”

It’s silent for a moment, apart from the light rumbling, but then we can hear the sound of wings flapping and Viserion roaring out in the distance.

“He’s too far! Run!” Jon screams, panicked. He turns and makes a run for it, all of us following after him. The rumbling grows louder and as the undead closes in on us.

We ran into a clearing, a rock in the middle of it with the wights hot on our trail. The ground cracks as we run and climb onto the huge rock. There’s a scream behind us and I turn to see a wildling scout being grabbed by a wight, but when he falls to the ground the frozen lake gives way and the wildling and weight fall through.

Everyone watched in horror as the army of the undead circled around us. The ice on top of the lake broke away, leaving us encircled by a line of broken ice and frigid water. The undead stood at the edge of the water, not daring to go any further, unless they wanted to drown and die. Their hollow eyes locked onto us watching our every move.

“Where’s the dragon!” Someone shouts.

I looked up, wondering the same thing.

My heart beat loudly and my throat closed up. There were more wights surrounding us and if we stayed any longer the Night King would be here. I turned to face the others, who were clearly disheveled and panicking themselves. Jon stares off where the wights stood, almost anticipating an attack.

Where the fuck was Viserion?

As if he heard me, there's a loud roar overhead and then fire rains down from the sky and burns the wights. Everyone's head snaps up as Viserion flies by, torching the undead and turning them into ash.

“Move! Make way!” I flailed my arms around, motioning everyone to step back and create a clearing for Viserion to land. He lands onto the rock and everyone climbs up. I sat at the front with Jon, Tormund, Jorah and Gendry made sure the cage was properly secured while Beric and Sandor carefully helped the injured Thoros up onto the dragon.

Swiftly, Visierion flies up and back towards Eastwatch. I looked down, watching the undead burn when something caught my eye. I squinted and spotted the Night King.

In his hand was an ice spear and I felt my heart drop. My hands tightened around Viserion’s spikes. I turned back to the men behind me who were holding onto dear life.

“Hold on tight! Do not let go!”

They hunker down, some readjusting their grip. I look down again and see the Night King preparing his aim at us.

“Evade, Viserion. Do not let him touch you.”

Viserion dives down, burning as much as he could. He circles around and faces the Night King, who throws the spear towards us. Quickly, Viserion dodges, pivoting left and rains fire from where the attack came before retreating fully.

I glanced back, but couldn’t see the Night King anywhere.

––

When we arrived back at Eastwatch, night had fallen. The ship had been waiting for us, ready for immediate departure. Jorah and Sandor dragged the cage with the wight aboard while Jon said his goodbyes to Tormund.

“Let’s go.” He turns to me.

I shook my head. “You go, I still have something to do.”

Jon, gobsmacked, shakes his head. “No, you saw what’s over that wall. You can’t go.”

“I have to.” I said. “And before you say anything, Daenerys knows that I’m doing this.”

“Fine.” He huffs. “I’ll go with you.”

“No you won't. You have to get back to Dany.”

“And you don't?"

“I do. Just after I’ve done this.”

He sighs, eyes darting back. “At least take Tormund with you.”

“You know I can’t-”

“Please.” He cuts me off. He frowns and I sighed.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Satisfied, he backs down. “Good.”

“Now go. You have a Dragon Queen waiting for you.” I lightly shoved him back towards the ship. He shakes his head but boards the ship. Tormund and I stood there watching as the ship finally sailed off.

––

The sun had just risen when Tormund and I met again in the hall. We each had a bowl of hot stew in front of us.

“Alright, tell me the plan.” Tormund says, shoving a spoonful of the stew into his mouth.

I drank some of the ale we’d been given. “I need to find a cave.”

“There are a lot of caves.”

“I know that.” I crossed my arms on top of the table. “This one is about east of the Fist of the First Men and west of the headwaters of the Antler River. There should be a huge Weirwood tree on top of it in a huge clearing.”

He stops eating, staring at me. “There’s something in the caves.”

I nod. “Something very valuable.”

“Is it a dragon egg?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Then what?”

“I’ll show you when I have it. So, can you help me?”

He keeps his intense eye contact with me while slowly bringing a spoonful of the stew to his mouth. He loudly slurped, dragging it on longer than he should have.

“Aye.”

–––

“There,” Tormund's hand stuck out, pointing down at a small clearing in a forest below us. “If you land there then we’ll only have to walk a distance.”

I nod and Viserion ascends down, carefully landing. We get off and Tormund rummages in his pack, pulling out an unlit torch. He raises it up to Viserion, waiting. I furrowed my brows, wondering what he was doing when it dawned on me.

Knowing as well, Viserion looks back to me and I nod. He turns back and lets out just enough fire to light the torch without burning the Wildlings hand.

Ecstatic, Tormund looks back at me, like a child. “Look!” I had to stop myself from laughing how easily entertained he was.

Is this what the man who first created fire looked like?

I turned back to Viserion. “Stay vigilant for the undead. And stay close, I may need you.” He purrs, understands and flies away.

“Why isn’t he coming?”

“Too much attention.”

“What if we see White Walkers?”

“What? Tormund Giantsbane can’t take care of a few White Walkers?”

He puffs his chest, holding onto the torch tighter. “Of course I can!”

“Then let's go,” I said.

We started walking through the dense forest, Tormund leading the way. The land was rugged and snowy, like most of the terrain beyond the Wall. My eyes scanned ahead in case any White Walkers or wights tried to attack us. We walked for hours before finally coming across it.

There was a clearing in the forest. A jagged hill in the middle with boulders around it. At the top was a giant Weirwood tree. Its branches fanned far out and high, its red leaves glowing in the sun. The trunk of the three was thick, a testament to how old it was. Its roots spread all over, some even exposed and covered in layers of snow. At the base of the hill, behind the boulders was a secret entrance. It looked as if it was blown open and then covered in rocks.

“Well we’re fucked.” Tormund says. “What the fuck even happened here?”

“White Walkers.” I replied, looking for an alternative entrance. “They ravaged the place.”

“Looks like they did more than ravage.”

I looked around for an alternative way in, pushing back rocks and the snow around the hill, but couldn’t find anything.

“Right there,” Tormund points to a small opening, just enough for one person to pass through. It was on the other side of the hill, behind a large boulder.

“You’ll have to stay out here.” I reached for the torch, but he pulled it away.

“You don’t know what’s in there.”

“Yes I do.” A few dead bodies and what I came here for the first place.

“You just said White Walkers were here. They could be inside right now.”

“And if they are, then I’ll kill them with my dagger.”

“But-”

“Tormund,” I firmly squeezed his arm. “I need you to stand guard and watch for any threat.” He stops talking and puffs up again, nodding. He hands me the torch and pulls out his axe.

I carefully slipped through the entrance, holding the torch out in front of me. Was it wrong for me to play into Tormund’s almost himbo mindset to get him to stay out? Sure. But, he didn’t seem to mind that much, happy to play on as the ‘big strong guy.��

Vines and three roots covered every inch of the place, even the ceiling. The passageway was narrow but opened up the deeper you went. I spotted a corpse of a man on the heavier side hunched over by a wall, which I assumed led to the other entrance. A little ways ahead, a direwolf with a white belly and a light brown fur coat lay lifeless too. The passageway opened into a large room, covered in three roots coming from up above. Bits of sunlight shone through the walls and ceiling. It was like being inside of a huge tree.

In the middle of the room a cluster of roots stood tall, reaching from the ceiling to the floor. Its wild tendrils mimicked the Iron Throne, and at the center was a frail, dead body of a man. He was entwined into the roots, having been there for a very long time, his nails long and jagged, arms and fingers boney, his silver white hair falling out.

This was it.

I searched the room, high and low, looking for what I came for. It wasn’t until I turned to look around the man did I spot it, covered in its black and red scabbard with faded gold detailing. I set the torch down, getting on my hands and knees to dig it out of the mess of tree roots. Finally free, I was able to fully admire it.

I pulled the blade out of its sheath, the almost metallic liquid looking steel shining back at me, even after all these years of not being used it still looked to be in somewhat pristine condition. Its crossguard was made up of gold and in the design of dragonwings with a bright red ruby at the center above the rainguard. Its grip was leather bound, clearly worn with a scale pattern on them, and the pommel was made of two pieces; a golden piece mimicking fire and a chunk of Valyrian steel molded into a dragon egg.

Quickly I sheathed the sword and grabbed the torch, making my way back. I walked briskly, feeling that something was off. As I approached the entrance I could hear grunting and an axe swinging before a thud. I hurried and got out, only to see Tormund on the ground, a wight on top of him while he tried to push it back.

I work fast to pull the sword out of its scabbard, running to where Tormund was. I lift the sword high and bring it down onto the wight, killing it instantly. Panting, he pushes the wight off of him and back onto his feet, grabbing his axe.

“Took you long enough.” He gets ready for another quip, but stops when he sees what’s in my hand.

“What is that?”

“Dark Sister.”

––

“You’re not going to take a ship?” I shook my head at Tormund. “It’ll take too long.”

“And on Dragon?”

“Long, but still faster than a ship.”

Viserion growls behind us, eager to leave and get back to his mother and two brothers.

“I’ll see you again.” I say.

“Stay safe, dragon women.” He sticks his hand out and we shake, holding onto each other forearms.

“You as well.”

I quickly mount Viserion, and take to the sky. The cold wind blew past me and I sighed, finally able to go home.

––

Night had fallen by the time I had arrived back to Dragonstone. The moon lit my way from the cliff sides to the castle. Viserion quickly went to find his brothers, exhausted from flying in the North so much.

I found Daenerys in the throne room, staring out of the large floor to ceiling windows, deep in thought. The door closed softly behind me, catching her attention.

“You’re back. Was there any trouble?”

“Had a brief encounter, but other than that nothing else.”

She saw me covering the sword behind me. “What is that?”

“It’s yours.” I stepped closer, grabbing her hand and leading her up to the throne. “Nearly half a century ago, your family lost one of its ancestral swords. And it wasn’t until hundreds of years later was it found again by explorers.”

“I don’t understand.”

I stood her in front of the throne, stepping back. “Brynden Rivers, bastard son of Aegon the Unworthy. In 233, he traveled to the wall with the sword and later became Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but then he vanished while he was ranging beyond the wall, taking the sword with him.”

I pulled the sword from behind me, taking it out of its scabbard and presented it to her. The moonlight pouring into the throne room glistened against the blade. The gold detailing, despite its rust, stood out against the Valyrian steel detailing. And the bright ruby that already stood out, glowed a deep red.

“Dark Sister,” Daenerys said, breathless.

Carefully, she reached out, letting her fingers glide across the swirling steel. She finally grasped the slim handle, feeling the weight of the sword. Her eyes lingered on it before shifting towards me.

“That’s why you went.”

“Partially, but yes.” I replied. “Bit by bit, we’re going to restore your family back to its former glory. Starting with this sword.”

––

Everyone stood in the open courtyard, eagerly waiting for the “demonstration.”

Daenerys stood on the steps, Missandei, Tyrion, Varys, and I at her sides. Grey Worm and a few Unsullied stood close to them, ready for a sudden attack. Jon and his men stood in the middle of the courtyard, a box at their feet.

“You said you wanted proof of the undead,” Jon looked at Daenerys. He motioned for Jorah to open the lid of the box, reaching in and pulling off the burlap sack. Sandor kicked the box and out fell a chained skeleton in rags. Everyone watched, intently, as the wight slowly woke up and let out a shrill. It tried to run and attack, but couldn’t as the chains kept him close to the box.

Daenerys’ face drops, the full weight of the situation clear to her. This was more than a fight for the throne now, it was about life and death. Having seen enough she motions for Jon to cage the wight again. It screams when the Hound punches it in its face before being bound and caged again and then dragged away.

“All of you risked your life to bring the world proof of the undead.” Daenerys steps down the steps. She looks up at Jon. “We’re going to destroy the Night King and his army, together. You have my word.”

There’s a weight lifted off of everyone, relieved that Daenerys had agreed to join sides with Jon.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jon tilts his head down and to everyone's surprise sinks down to one knee. Daenerys’ eyes widened, more surprised than anyone else. “I swear my allegiance to you, Daenerys Targaryen.”

“What about those that swore allegiance to you?”

“They’ll all come to see you for who you really are.” Jon replied.

Daenerys squares her shoulders. “Rise, Jon Snow, Lord of Winterfell.” He stands and Daenerys takes his hands in hers, and the two share an intimate moment.

Eventually, someone (me) loudly cleared their throat, pulling them back to reality. Awkwardly, they let go of each other, stepping back as if they’d been caught by their parents.

“Let’s discuss this further in the painted chamber,” Daenerys says. She turns and walks down the hall.

Daenerys sat at the head of the table with Missandei and I at her sides. Tyrion and Varys sat down as well, while Grey Worm and Jorah stood behind Dany at attention. Jon sat on the other end with Ser Davos at his side and his men behind him.

“What is the progress on our armistice with Cersei?” Daenerys asks.

“Cersei has agreed to it, surprisingly.” Tyrion replied.

“That was easy.” Davos says.

“She thinks we’re surrendering.” I turned to Tyrion. “Where are we meeting?”

“The old Dragonpit on Visenya's Hill. We’ll bring 300 Unsullied with us, half will be our escorts, the other half will stay by our ships. We’ll also be bringing 50 Dothraki with us.” He replied.

“We did say that we’d bring a small army to King's Landing.” I nodded towards Daenerys. I looked back at Grey Worm. “How were the upgrades to the Unsullied’s armor?”

“They have worked well. The armor is durable and the weapons are light and sharp. The enemy fell easily to us.” Grey Worm, nods, appreciative.

“Good.” Daenerys says, bringing the attention back to her. “You all will arrive first with our gift while Y/n and I will arrive on Dragonback.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. Daenerys turned to me, confused.

“But-”

I shake my head again. “Nope. You need to assert your dominance on Cersei. Only you and Drogon will arrive together while I arrive with the rest. And, try to make it dramatic.”

Daenerys smiled, “I’ll do my best.” She turned back to the others, more serious now. “What is the progress on our travel to Winterfell?”

“They’re fairing well, Your Grace.” Varys replied. “The servants have started packing all necessary items.”

“What about food?”

“We’ve got plenty now that Highgarden is ours.”

“And for the dragons?” I ask.

“We’ve filled as much as we can, but I’m afraid it’s not much. Perhaps the dragons can hunt while they’re North?”

“We’re going as guests to the North and you’re suggesting that we slaughter their livestock?” I raised a brow. “The Northerners are already suspicious of other Westerosi, imagine what they’d think if a Targaryen brought her foreign army and three dragons to eat all their food, they’d never support us then. It doesn’t matter that we’re going to defend all of humanity along with them, the North will remember this. We’re going to defend the North and make nice with them.”

Varys closes his mouth, looking towards Daenerys, who nodded at what I’d been saying. “I apologize, My Lady, Your Grace. It seems I may have misjudged.”

I sighed through my nose, averting my gaze to Tyrion. “What about the villages on the island?”

“The villages on Dragonstone?”

I nod. “Ask them if we can take a few sheep from their herds, don’t say it’s an order, but as a sign of good luck or support towards Daenerys and her cause.”

“Why would they do that?” Daenerys asks.

“The Targaryens and the villagers have had a close relationship for many years. Some villagers are descendants of Targaryen bastards while others families used to tend to the dragons that have lived here. And second, you’re their Lord, anything you say they’ll do, within reason of course.”

Daenerys seems to go over my words before nodding. “Alright,” she turned to Tyrion, “you have your orders.”

“We should also send ravens to Highgarden, Sunspear, and Pyke. We’re going to need all hands on deck if we’re going to go against the Night King and his army.” I say.

Daenerys nods. “The meeting is in a few days and we’re set for Winterfell in a few weeks, we can not make any mistakes. This is more than a fight for the Iron Throne, this a fight for the Realm.”

––––––

“Around eight-thousands Unsullied, nearly fifty-thousand Dothraki, one hundred Ironborn ships, two-thousand men from the Reach, and fifteen-hundred Dornish. That’s what, sixty one-thousand five hundred men?” I read aloud,

“And Cersei?” Daenerys asks, back to me and facing the window.

I sighed, looking down at the paper. “Around twenty-thousand Lannister soldiers, four-thousand in the City’s Watch, one hundred and fifty Ironborn ships, and if she’s lucky, which I doubt, twenty-thousand soldiers from the Golden Company. Making the grand total, forty four-thousand with the Company and twenty four-thousand without.”

“She’s out numbers either way.”

“She is, but that doesn’t mean she’s that less of a threat. Cersei’s forces may be smaller than yours, but she’s strategic and resourceful which is why when we’re in King’s Landing it’s important to keep your head on a swivel, you can’t underestimate her.”

“Head on a swivel?” She turns, frowning. “Is this another one of your ‘figures of speech’?”

“Yes, something like that.” I smiled. “But I’m being serious, Dany. Keep your eyes open for anything. It could be a remark or a gesture, you are our number one priority.”

She nods, sitting down next to me. “What about Jon?”

“His numbers?”

“Yes.”

I turned over the paper, “ten-thousand men from Northern houses, three-thousand Wildlings, and four-thousand Knights of the Vale.”

“Which means seventeen-thousand in total.” She adds up. “Making my total forces seventy eight-thousand five hundred soldiers. How many would I lose after fighting the Night King?”

“Half at best. All of them at worst.” I stretched my back. “From what I remember, it’s estimated that he has almost two hundred-thousand in his army.”

Daenerys looks at me, bewildered, “How are we supposed to win if she says no? We'd be greatly outnumbered.”

I placed a hand over hers. “Well, for starters, we have three dragons, and once we’ve slain the Night King the rest of his army will fall. So the quicker we can shank him to death, the better our numbers.”

She sighs, squeezing my hand. “It seems all you’ve been doing as of late is comforting me when I should be comforting you. You’ve fought in battle after battle, yet you don’t seem all that affected.”

“It’s no big deal.” I gave her a small smile.

She studies my face, frowning. “What is it?”

I looked away, contemplating. “I had a dream the night before we’d arrived at Eastwatch. I doubt that it was a Dragondream, or it would have come true, or it was me remembering the future, but I dreamt about it.”

“What was it?”

I faced her fully, grabbing her hands. “Originally, Jon and his men were supposed to go to Eastwatch. Once they’d gotten the wight, they were surrounded by the Night King and his army. Jon had sent one of the men with him back to send you a raven of what was happening. You and all of your dragons arrived to rescue them, but while fleeing the Night King threw a spear at Viserion, killing him.” I felt Daenerys’ grip on my hand tighten. “The rest of you managed to escape, but then the Night King resurrected Viserion and turned him into a wight. After that, he used Viserion to melt down the wall and march south.”

Daenerys lets out a shaky breath. “But now he doesn’t have him, so he won’t be able to march south, right?”

I shrugged. “In theory, but we live in a world of dragons and the undead walking.” I sighed, rubbing my face. “The Wall and him are made of the same magic, his is just darker, I guess? His sole reason for being alive is to cause destruction and plunge the world into a long and bitter winter. He’ll find a way south, it may take him some time, but it will happen.”

She nodded, taking the information in as well as anyone would in her situation.

“Hey,” I said. “No frowning, come on. We have a big day coming, so no frowning, okay?”

She smiles, nodding. “Alight, no frowning.”

“So,” I smiled, my tone lighter. “How are you and Jon doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied quickly, turning away from me.

“Oh, yeah?” I laughed. “Then that little scene in the courtyard was nothing? The way you two looked into each other's eyes.” I leaned in, placing my chin on her shoulder, looking over at her. “They way you two affectionately held onto each other's hands.”

Her face turned red. “He was merely swearing his allegiance to me, nothing more.”

“Uh-huh. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you two fancy each other?”

“Jon likes me?” She quickly turns, trying her best to hide her smile.

I huffed. “For someone who has nothing going on with him, you sure do look happy that he’s attracted to you.”

She looked like she'd been caught with her hand down the cookie jar.

“Be honest, do you like him?”

She tried to hide her smile, looking down at her lap. “Yes.”

I smiled. “Finally, she admits it. I’m not against it,” I hummed. “You two would make a good couple, dare I say perfect.”

She gasped, face red. “Alright, enough. Go, shoo, leave me be.”

I laughed, getting up. “Fine, fine. But I’m not wrong. Maybe you should put some thought into it.”

a/n: i know i'm horrible for updating late (like always), but i was soo stressed from shopping and packing everything that i kinda forgot about it ngl. but who cares lol.

i've suddenly gotten a bit more motivated to write some of my other series so perhaps i'll upload that, but it all depends on if the motherlands network allows me to.

anyways, i'll be back with another chapter once i'm back home. see you all!

taglist: @wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat @evilunicorns4minions @honeycola-umbra

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snow-blower · 2 months ago

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And They Were Roommates

Summary: Kaelith Bolton thrives in her quiet, controlled life, and when she’s accepted into Westeros University, she prays to every god she knows that it will stay that way. Unfortunately, the gods are not on her side this time. The moment she steps into her new dorm, she's immediately surrounded by pure chaos... and three guys. A housing mix-up left her trapped in a dorm full of noise, mess, and absolutely no peace. She should’ve walked out right then and there. But, she didn’t. And that is probably her biggest regret.

A/N: Aka, a sitcom but in fic form.

TW: To be added soon.

Chapter Index -

Chapter I - The One With The Mix Up. TBP 25/04

Chapter II - Sacred Nights

#game of thrones #game of thrones oc #asoiaf #asoiaf oc #oc: kaelith bolton #jon snow #jon snow x oc #theon greyjoy #robb stark #theon greyjoy x oc #robb stark x oc #fanfic #college au #modern au #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones x oc #game of thrones x reader

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targaryenoceans · 6 months ago

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MY MASTERLIST,

by, targaryenoceans.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON,

GAME OF THRONES,

a/n, you can request things!! i still kinda new to writing on tumblr, as i write on wattpad.

#game of thrones #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon targaryen modern #spotify #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #robb stark #daemon targaryen #jacaerys targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targeryan #team black #team green

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luvinescent · 2 years ago

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Stealing Time

Pairing: Modern!Robb Stark x fem!Reader

Summary: Weddings should be an event full of joy and happiness for everyone involved. Especially for the bride and groom, who are the main focal point of it all. So, what is the reason for celebrations if they both have gone missing?

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v, dirty talk, etc.

Word count: 3933

Additional: M/H/N stands for Maid of Honors Name.

A soft melody of a strong quartet could be heard through the air like a soft breeze as more guests continued to arrive. The venue was decorated with fairy lights that cascaded down, a crystal chandelier in the middle of it all, creating an inviting and dreamy atmosphere. The celebratory music pulsated on the dance floor, enticing visitors to sway and swirl in a joyful celebration. The air was filled with laughter and lively discussions that mixed with the sound of glasses clinking as toasts were being offered in honor of the newlyweds.

The only problem was that neither one of them were present in the room.

Catelyn Stark, mother of the groom, stood scanning the room next to the wedding planner— a young girl who looked to be on the verge of pulling out her hair. Catelyn could hear the small anxious mutters of “we’re off schedule now” as the girl kept analyzing the clipboard she held in her hand. Excusing herself from the girl and her husband, Catelyn went towards the hallways connecting to the venue. She was stopped in her travels by a distant relative on her husbands’ side, smiling at the old man.

“Catelyn!” he greeted heartily. “Where is that boy of yours? I haven’t seen him or the new Mrs.”. He let out a great laugh, holding onto his rounded beer belly for support. Catelyn returned the laugh, nodding at his question, “I was just about to go get him. I’ll be right back”.

She turned around; the sound of her heels clicking on the shiny floor echoed, causing any guests in her path to quickly shift aside. Catelyn walked with a confident stance, her chin up, shoulders back, and a big smile covering her face. A smile that was very deceiving and Jon Snow knew this when she came faced with him.

“Where is your brother?”

He stared wide eyed at her, caught off guard by her presence and her question. His face was a ballet of nervousness, revealing the false confidence he was trying so hard to keep up. “I-I, uh… I don’t know...”, Jon shrugged his shoulder, wincing a little at the look she gave him. Catelyn smacked her lips, grabbing a hold of Jons ear, “Don’t lie to me. Where is Robb? The nerve of that boy! Disappearing at his own wedding, and you covering for him. I thought I raised you both better than this!”. The entire time, the bride’s maid of honor had stood next to Jon, witnessing him get a scolding from his mother, but Catelyn could care less about his embarrassment. Before Catelyn could continue her interrogation, she was stopped by the sound of a familiar voice within her distance. “Have you seen Y/N?”.

Turning around, Catelyn saw the mother of the bride asking a family member before she turned and saw her. “Oh, Cat!”, the mother rushed towards her, “Have you seen my daughter? I can’t find her anywhere”.

Putting back on that wide smile, Catelyn turned her head to Jon and the maid of honor. “What a coincidence. I can’t seem to find my son either.”

The two looked like deer’s caught in headlights. Both their words jumbled out fast, inaudible to the human ear. Thinking fast, M/H/N leaped into action, her words both a hasty attempt and holding a somewhat truth to them. “Y/N went to go change from her wedding gown to her reception dress”. Jon nodded vigorously in agreement at her explanation, “A-And Robb wanted to change his shoes”. M/H/N whipped her neck and gave Jon a glare, his add on not helping as Robb did not bring extra shoes. Y/N’s mother did not have time to question any of what they said—being brisked away to go greet a great aunt.

Catelyn stood in front of the two adults once again. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by their statements.

“Y/N went to go change?”

“Yes”, M/H/N said instantly.

“And Robb went to go change his shoes?”

“Yes”, now it was Jon.

“…and they went together?”

“…yes”, they both replied. Humming to herself, she continued observing them, knowing very well they were hiding something. “How long ago did they leave?”. They once again exchanged looks with one another, face flushed with embarrassment, “Uh, not that long ago…they’ll be here soon”. Catelyn’s skepticism deepened, her eyes darting from M/H/N awkward performance to Jon’s increasingly guilty expression. Letting out a sigh and rubbing her temples, she turned to return to the party, “Fine”.

With one hand tangled in his auburn curls, you panted against Robb’s lips, “mm you’re insane”. Robb chose to ignore your words, his lips choosing to instead attack your neck and his fingers gripping hard on your thigh— surely to leave bruises come morning. Craning your neck back for more easy access, you tried reasoning, “they’re probably looking for us now—“. You couldn’t even finish your sentence, his cock having thrusted into your walls so deep it left you gasping for air, “f-Fuck, Robb!”

He groaned against your neck, his hips moving in rhythm against yours, “Who cares what they’re doing when I get to have you like this to all to myself”. You almost bit your tongue when his hand slipped between the two of you, fingers rubbing at your sweet spot, “Fuck, I love it when you moan my name”.

It was almost close to an hour ago when your maid of honor took you to change out of your wedding dress into your reception dress. Coming out of the dressing room, you were met with both your newly brother-in-law and newly husband. While M/H/N and Jon engaged in some conversation about the band arriving soon, Robb and you took to wrapping each other up in arms. With a huge grin on his face, he planted small kisses all over your face, “My gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, wife”. Laughing at how his stubble tickled against your face, you laid your palm up against his cheek, “Aye, watch the makeup”, quickly giving him a kiss on the lips before pulling away and looking into his blue eyes, “but thank you my very handsome, good-looking, very very very attractive husband”. You two shared a moment of silence and intense gaze before you both broke out in giggles, capturing each other’s lips in one another, moving tendering and deeply. Pulling away, Robb stared down at you, both love in his eyes but also a hint of something else.

“You know you really do look gorgeous. You look equally as beautiful in this dress as you did in your wedding dress”. You thanked him once again but gave him a puzzled look when he said he had other opinions, however.

“And what other opinions are those?”, you said, smiling while waving at a cousin who just entered the building. Turning back to Robb, you noticed the way his eyes had slightly shifted in emotion; something more carnal behind them. Bending down his head towards your ear, he whispered softly, “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have you naked with my head between your thighs”. His voice brought chills up your spine as he blew a soft gust of air on your earlobe before going back to height. Biting your lip and playing with his tie, you titled your head to the side and chuckled softly “You would, huh?”. His only reply was a nod, watching your every move like hawk and gulping as your fingers started to trail along his neck now. Robb was being unfair; he knew just how much his words had an effect on you. But yours did too. Bringing him down by his tie, you’d thought best to return his teasing—fighting fire with fire.

Slowly, you leaned up, “…I want you inside of me. I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do right now”. You could hear his breath hitch behind his closed mouth. Both of you were once again stuck in an intense stare down, this time only desire and want in your gazes. You were quick to fix yourself up, distancing yourself a bit from Robb and plastering on an innocent smile as more guests arrived, “Hi. Thank you for coming”. You snickered to yourself; feeling Robbs eyes on your back as he hadn’t moved a single inch from his spot. Jon and M/H/N ended their conversation and turned to face you both, nodding their head in the direction of the main area, “Alright, let’s get going”.

You took one single step before Robb came up behind you, grabbing you by your forearm and pushing you towards his chest. “Actually”, he started, “Y/N told me her dress is bothering her”. M/H/N had stepped up, examining you from head to toe, “Oh, let me help— “. Robb had interrupted her by raising his hand and shaking his head, “No, it’s fine. I got it. Besides, we want to spend some quiet time together, don’t we babe?”. Looking up at him, you quickly assessed the situation and nodded along, “R-right, yeah. We’ll be right back. You guys go and have fun. Who cares about us anyways.”

Jon and M/H/N didn’t have time to argue back— the new couple running down the halls of the building, hand in hand with laughter being echoed throughout it. Jon tsked his tongue, shouting at his brother and sister-in-law who were still in view, “What do you mean who cares about you guys?! This is your wedding!”. They both turned to flip Jon off, turning the corner and disappearing to the next connecting hall. Sighing, Jon rubbed his face as M/H/N came to stand next to him in silence.

“You know there was nothing wrong with her dress”. “… Yeah”.

And that’s how you found yourself with Robb in some random office room in the building of your wedding reception. Robb’s patience was running low as he pushed you up against the wall and against the corner of what some seemed to be some bookshelf. Both your lips hungrily going at each other very frantically. A loud moan was swallowed by his mouth when his fingers went down, pushing your panties to the side and starting to play with your wet folds and opening. Wasting no time, you trailed your hands down towards his belt, quickly trying to undo it. Robb pulled away entirely from you, using the distance to unbutton a bit of his dress shirt and to take off his belt. Breathing heavily, you grabbed him back down by the neck for another kiss, biting his lip and sucking on his tongue. Pulling away, you raised an eyebrow at Robb with a smirk present on your face and his lips darkened and wet with saliva, “I’m almost positive this kind of tradition is reserved for tonight. You know, after the reception, not during”. Robb laughed slightly, pushing up against you and grabbing a hold of your thigh, wrapping your leg around his waist while the other stood for balance. His other hand was used to bunch up the fabric of your white party dress and to pull down one of its straps. “What can I say”, he bit along your neck, “you’re just so damn beautiful. So damn sexy. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold myself back when I saw you walking down that aisle”. His lips returned to yours. This kiss was messy with teeth almost clashing and tongues fighting. Both your hands were everywhere they could be felt; his on your thighs, ass, hips, breasts, and yours on his chest, neck, and back. Pulling away, Robb looked at you from head to toe and gave you a teasing smile, “And what’s all this?”. With both your body movements and clothes shifting, Robb had finally taken noticed of the white lace lingerie you had underneath the entire time of both your wedding dress and your reception dress. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a pointed look, “It was supposed to be for tonight. Way to ruin the surprise”. He pouted mockingly at you and let out a small chuckle, kissing your forehead before his previous lustful look returned, “We can keep it on for now. And for tonight, I’ll just pretend it’s my first time seeing it”.

The way he spoke and stared at you had sent something straight to your burning core and had made you shifted closer to him unconsciously. “Such a gentleman”, you spoke running a thumb along his bottom lip and started kissing him again. With his belt already undone, it only took a few seconds to push down his clothing layers just enough to free his cock. As a brief warning, sliding your panties to the side, he slid his tip through your wet folds for a couple seconds. The whine you let out was all he needed before he pushed entirely inside you. You gasped loudly and screwed your eyes shut as Robb gave you a few seconds to adjust to the sudden fullness. Shaking your head, you bit down on your lip, “Don't be gentle with me—I like it when you're rough”. Robb wasted no time, gripping your thigh and fucking deeply into you, “Ah, fuck”, he moaned out, “you feel so fucking good. My good girl. My fucking wife”. He moved his lips along your collarbone, groaning and biting down. “Mm, fuck” you muffled out as your pussy clenched around his hard cock with every thrust he made. Robb took a second to look down, watching the way you took him in and your sleek and arousal that coated him every time he reentered. He was in heaven. Looking back up, you stared at Robb whose pupils were dilated in rapture with a little sweat coating his forehead. You probably looked the same to him as well. Your standing leg was starting to lose balance, causing you to slightly shift. Robb was quick to grab a hold of you, causing the tip of his cock to hit your most sensitive spot and just what he was looking for. “Hmm!”, you moaned out, “fuck Robb, right there!”, you truly felt like you were seeing stars. He started to fuck into you even faster and harder, increasing his movements, your pussy clenching even more, indicating your release. Eyes rolling back, you let your head fall back against the wall as you let out a mixture of curse words, moans, and Robbs’ name. Your body filled with warmth and pleasure, trembling as Robb held onto you and continued trying to reach his own climax. His movements were starting to get sloppy; you knew he was reaching his dissolve soon. However, he had to stop his movements abruptly; the doorknob to the room shaking vigorously.

Despite having locked the door beforehand, it was Robb’s natural reflex to reach over and hold onto the knob. At the same time doing so, he had let out a groan, and you a squeak as he slightly pushed you with his body. You were caught off balance but were able to hold onto the corner of the bookshelf, giving Robb a glare while he raised his finger up to his lip.

“Is somebody in there?”

Both your eyes widened in mutual shock; mouths agape as you two exchanged a horrified glance. You both recognized that voice as Robb’s Aunt Lysa.

She started banging harshly on the door now, “I know that someone is in there. I can hear you! This is a private event! If the cops need to be called, I have no problem- “.

“It’s me Aunt Lysa”, Robb spoke out, slightly cringing. Your face was flushed red; both because of your current activities and because of shame. Looking down, Robb’s left hand still had your thigh wrapped around his waist and his cock still buried inside you.

“Robb?”, Lysa questioned, “Is that you? Your mother has been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing in there?”

Robb gave you a once-over before clearing his throat, “I’m just…changing”. Your grip on the shelf was losing itself, causing you to readjust and move — which caused you to slightly sink down onto Robb’s cock. He was quick to bite his lip to stop the moan coming from his mouth, almost drawing blood in the process. Robb knew you too well and covered your mouth with his hand, knowing you would do the same. The only probably was that he wasn’t as quick.

“Now, hold on,” Lysa loudly said from the other side of the door, “I can hear another person in there and it sounds like a woman. Robb Stark you may be my nephew but I swear to God if you’re doing what I think your doing - “

“It’s me Mrs. Arryn”, you finally spoke out too. There was a moment of silence from the other end before Lysa started speaking again, “Oh, Y/N. Of course… Your mother was also looking for you…”. There was some awkwardness to her tone as you tried your best to clean up the situation, “I’m just changing too. Robb’s helping me”. Another awkward silence passed, “Of course he is…”. You and Robb gave each other a side glance; it was clear she didn’t believe you two and knew what you two were really doing. “Well”, Lysa began, “I best let you two get back to uh…changing…oh, um, where are the bathrooms?”. Robb was the one to answer her question, “On the other side of the building”. With a quick thank you and goodbye, you could hear the distant sound of her heels from the other side before she was gone entirely.

Turning back to Robb, you slapped his chest, groaning into your hands, “Ughhhh, that was so embarrassing”. He only laughed, making you peek at him from the gaps of your fingers. “What are you laughing at? You heard her; our parents are looking for us, so we better go”. Robb’s only response was to kiss you sloppy, pushing back once more inside you. You gasped into his mouth, his tongue playing with yours. Robb then pulled out of you completely, making you whimper from the sudden emptiness. Grabbing you by the forearm, he dragged you towards the desk in the room, bending you over it, pushing your dress up and your panties down— exposing yourself fully to him. He caressed your ass before smacking it hard; making you huff, “Let them wait a few more minutes”, his fingers played along your glistening folds. Standing up behind you, he pushed himself back into you, thrusting in, and out, and in again. Each time rougher than the other as he stretched out your cunt. Grabbing ahold of your hair and arching your back for him, he spoke into your ear, “This is our special day, isn’t it?”. Your only answer was a loud moan, his fingers being placed in your mouth to suck on. “Besides, I’m not fully done with you”.

About twenty minutes later (some of which took up of M/H/N fixing your makeup and concealing your bite marks), you and Robb entered the main room holding arms. Guests were raising their glasses up to you in cheers— some already clearly starting to get tipsy. A close friend of yours came up to you both, hugging you and giving you your congrats while Robb shook hands with her boyfriend. Once they pulled away and moved aside, you both had clear sight across the room of the one person who was looking for you two the most: Catelyn Stark. To make matters worse, she was also conversing with her sister; both whispering and giving you two the side eye.

“Crap” both you and Robb said in unison, watching Catelyn with her wrath make her way towards you. Your sight was cut off by the wedding planner standing stressed and tired in front of you, “Okay, we can get back on schedule if we just follow with the original plan. Bride, it’s time for the father-daughter dance”. Your ears perked up at the familiar sound of the music you had chosen for this occasion and turned to see your dad already on the dance floor. Turning back to Robb, you gave him a sheepish smile, “Would you look at that… gotta go”. He was quick to grab a hold of your hand, “You can’t leave me. You vowed to be with me through anything”. Pulling your hand back, you raised both hands up in defense, “I had my fingers crossed when I said that”.

Seeing his pouted puppy look made you laugh, quickly blowing him a kiss, “I’m kidding. I love you”, turning to go dance with your father. Robb didn’t even have to turn around— already feeling his mother’s presence behind him. Wrapping arms with him, many passersby would see the scene as a mother coddling her son. But Catelyn was actually pinching Robb’s side, and hard. “You are so vulgar I swear. At your own wedding Robb, really? You couldn’t wait until after?”, she spoke through gritted teeth.

Robb winced a little at the pain, but his eyesight was also focused on you. Smiling and laughing with your father. “Why are you getting only me in trouble? Y/N was equally in on it”. Catelyn could only roll her eyes at her sons’ immature response, “Please, knowing you and knowing her it was probably all your doing”. Staring up at him to continue her scolding, she stopped momentarily at the look in her sons’ eyes. Following his line of vision, she was meet with you. A tender smile graced Catelyn lips. Nothing short of captivating was the way he gazed upon you. His unspoken proclamation of love seemed to go beyond words, and his eyes radiated an undying commitment. “Are you happy?”, she asked Robb. The song was coming close to the end. Robb turned to face his mother, a stern look on his face and nothing but seriousness was his tone, “Yes. I am”. From the corner of his eye, Robb could see your father leading you to him. Standing up higher, Catelyn gave him a quick peck on the forehead, “Good. That’s all I’ve ever wanted”. You and your father came face to face with the both of them, Catelyn giving you a peck on the cheek and your father handing you over to Robb, “She’s all yours’ son,” he patted his shoulder, “take care of her”.

Robb led you to the dance floor where the band had started to play a slower and more romantic song. Swaying to the tempo, you spoke up, “So, was she angry?”. Robb let out a small chuckle, smiling down at you. “She was,” he began, “but she said she’d forgive us if we gave her a grandchild”. Staring at him agape, you slapped his chest with a small gasp, “She did not say that!”. Now you both were laughing. The world around you two seemed to fade into a soft blur as you moved, lost in the embrace of your love. Resting your head against his chest, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I love you”, Robb spoke up, his hand tenderly placed on the small of your back. Sighing deeply, inhaling his scent and allowing yourself to bask in his warmth, both of you feeling safe in each other’s embrace, you let him know your feelings, “I love you too”.

Enjoying the moment's beauty, you both stayed in each other's arms as the music softly faded into the night. You both understood that this dance was only the start of an endless journey together.

#robb stark #game of thrones #robb stark imagine #robb stark oneshot #robb stark x reader #richard madden #robb stark fanfic #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #got imagines #robb stark fic #robb stark scenario #got x reader #got scenario #robb stark smut #modern!robb #modern!robb stark #modern!robb stark x reader

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rise-my-angel · 6 months ago

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Heart of the Great Wolf

A Snowy Wolf Pup

Paring: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 5.2k

Warnings: mild angst, reference to past abusive relationship, implied stalking, lots of fluff

Notes: Just a little flash forward holiday drabble for the modern!au, I'm sorry it's so short. Previous Main Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Catelyn wrapped her cardigan around her tighter as she descended the stairs. The morning was cold, and it seemed overnight as if a very light sprinkle of snow had turned into a heavy snowfall that now covered the property. As she had passed down the second floor, she knew her children would all still be fast asleep this early. It was rare southern holidays and northern holidays matched up, but there was one week in the peak of approaching winter that did it. And for a house which followed both faiths, it was a busy week with many late nights for her children.

Only noticing one specific bedroom door left slightly open and empty looking, she narrowed her brows as she realized now four people in the house were awake and yet there wasn’t a sound to indicate where they were. Though, already finding the kitchen having been in use, it was clear despite the early hour those four had been awake for some time. Not bothering to search far yet, she only begun preparing coffee when the front door opened.

Her eyes trailing over only to be greeted by Ned as he put something on the smaller table off to the side of the kitchen. A fond smile coming over her as she shook her head, “Every year I believe more and more you can sense when it snows in your sleep.” A deep chuckle left him, passing her by but not before leaving a kiss to the back of her head to grab a mug of his own. Bringing up your name she only asked in a casual manner, “Was she and the others already awake at whatever hour you woke up?”

Ned had a fond smile as he gestured his head somewhat to the other side of the house for her to take a look. Outside passed the glass door leading to the porch was even more heavy snow, but this one unlike the view from her bedroom window of the clear front year, the back was not so left pristine.

Four figures were outside, and from the looks of it, you all had been for some time now.

Kneeling down, your face was twisted into a playful frustration as you were in a fight of your life to keep the toy rope. Ghost was braced in front of you with a deep growl as he tried to pull back on the toy as you did the same against him. It had turned into a game of who would pull the other into the snow, and Ghost was happy to indulge. His fur made him look almost blending into the snow around you even as it continued to fall, save for his red eyes. You amusingly knew any else would feel fear at a direwolf growling as it tried to tear something from your grip, but you knew if you simply let go and gave up now, Ghost would stop and whine for you to keep playing.

It wasn’t the only sounds though. If you looked further down the backyard, you could see two mops of inky black curls, only one much shorter to the ground, as both attempted to make a snow castle.

Even now it never failed to astound you how quickly little Eddard had started to look exactly like his father. He had your green eyes, but everything else around him was so distinctly Jon and watching them side by side now was only ever more prominent. His hair was growing very quickly, quicker then you could recall Shireens hair at just a little over one year old. Just another thing he got from Jon, luckily. All of the best genes coming from his father.

Little Eddard had seen snow before, but only light flakes and sprinklings that typically covered thin across the grass in the morning and melted by the evening. This was the first time a true snowfall happened since he was born, and the moment he saw it as he woke up he wanted to go outside, and neither of you could bear to deny him that.

Jon had jested that he was only behaving long enough to eat breakfast because you were there, but even then the little one fidgeted in his highchair as his wide, bright eyes kept looking to the kitchen window where he could still see fat snowflakes falling down in droves.

Still barley able to walk, Jon had stayed close with him the moment you put him down onto the ground as he begun to excitedly crawl through the snow. Father and son now building a snow castle, you could somewhat hear Jons deep rasp even from here explaining that their home used to be a castle. Asking his son ideas on what it looked like. Never getting even slightly impatient as he got too excited and knocked down some of the towers trying to help. Jon could get him to giggle each time instead of little Eddard wanting to say sorry, “I don’t think that looked right either.” He would say whenever the wide look came on Eddards face as if to say sorry.

They hadn’t make significant progress for how long you both had been out here, but you were fine with that. Before now, you had just been sitting back and watching them as you ran your gloved hand over Ghosts fur before he too got rowdy. Running to the other side of the yard only to come back with rope in his mouth and you read his intent clearly. Not noticing the sound of the glass door sliding open and shut, or spotting as Ned leaned against the banister along the porch steps watching with a fondness at the sight.

Sensing Ghost gaining the upper hand, you tried to lean back a bit more better leverage. Only, a grand mistake was made, guessing incorrectly at how stable of a position you already were in and the moment Ghost tugged the rope once more, did it slide from your gloves grasp. The direwolf celebrating in victory didn’t even keep it, barking loudly and playfully before all but tackling you to the ground trying to lick your face. A laugh came over you, making breathing a struggle let alone getting the large, heavy canine off of you.

The commotion had grabbed Jon and little Eddards attention, Jon knowing Ghost was only playing grinned at the sight, but his son was one, and didn’t quite understand. His voice high pitched and worried sounding did your head turn to the side as did Ghosts at the sound of little Eddard shouting “Mama,”

Flopping more onto the ground, he immediately tried to crawl over as if to push the direwolf off you himself, but Jon had a better idea it seemed. Calling over, “Ghost, ease up.” Did the direwolf give you space again as you pushed up to pet him, muttering what a trouble maker he was. Only for little Eddard to shout again, frustrated at crawling was going to make it so far away. Quickly kneeling over to the not so far his son had gotten, Jon gently grabbed him and helped stand him up, Eddards face twisted upset as he pointed at you. His eyes screaming the message that said you needed help.

But Jon held him gently on his two feet, a warmth in his voice as he muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “How about you show your mother how much we’ve been practising, yeah?” Looking over at him with wide eyes, Jon pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling back. “You’ll make her so proud if you walk over to save her life.”

That did little Eddard in. Jon knew possibly more then you did, how much your son wanted to do things like a grown up to make you proud. You were proud no matter what, but he always wanted to do things for you much like Jon. His hand coming up to his mouth almost in a nervous habit as he looked between you and Jon at the distance he’d have to walk on those waddling little legs. But Jon nodded, not yet taking his hands away so he felt the support. You pushed up, not standing but more laying half way across the ground so you could stand up easily at any time, but upright that your son understood you wanted him to come to you.

Jon learned he was more eager to learn to walk if Jon was there to do the encouraging, and the prize for walking a certain distance was to walk over into your arms, but this was the longest he’d have to try yet to make it. Nodding at Jon, it was all up to him now to start walking. Jons eyes gazed up passed you, spotting his father watching from the porch before letting his gaze turn back to his son. One last whisper for now only him to hear, “Don’t be scared if you can’t walk the whole way, your mother will be proud that you even tried.”

Nodding back at him, did he finally start to move. He took his time, waddling along and the snow didn’t help much with quickness. But perhaps it did his balance, having to focus a lot more to wade through it then walk without obstacle. Pushing now more up to sit on your heels with your hands waiting on your thighs, you watched little Eddard as intently as he watched you. Not wanting to look at his feet but make it to you no matter what.

If you were to ask him, this was the most perilous adventure, the highest of stakes he had ever faced in his short life. It was perhaps a little over five feet of a distance, but he was so small it looked double that in distance. Jon stayed crouched as he watched you both, his eyes flickering up once more to glance at his own father watching. He could read the signs that he wanted to speak to Jon about something but was waiting until this moment played out. Sometimes it intimidated him, wondering if his father was judging his own skills as a father, but if he only focused back on you both then he could ignore it for if only right now.

Closer and closer little Eddard waddled over, clearly growing tired and your own view could tell he was getting upset that he might not make it. Looking up at Jon, he read you as if you had asked him outloud. A smile and a nod, you leaned forward a little bit, prompting him to speed up as you let your arms hold out to entice him. “Come on, sweet boy, just a few steps more.”

A sound came from him, both you and Jon knew it too well. If he fell now and didn’t get to you, he might cry. Your poor son, only twelve months old put so much pressure on himself to do things for you and make you proud even though all he really wanted was to cuddle in your arms. Watching him speed up, your eyes trailed how much his feet were dragging.

Moving the second you knew he was going to trip, you pushed yourself forward just enough so that little Eddard fell into your own arms. A loud gasp coming from you, and truly, barley having to exaggerate in the slightest as you picked him up. Standing upright, you held him in the air a bit from you in a celebration, giggling right away as his hands tried wacking at you wanting to be held closer. Pulling him into your arms, close, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he cuddled close right away. Shifting so you held him more by your side so you could run a free hand over his thick curls he asked with bright eyes, “Mama?” He never said many words at once, but you could read him perfectly, his bright eyes were actually asking you if he did it.

A soft smile came over you, pulling him back to kiss the top of his head again before pulling back, “Yes you did, sweet boy.” Spotting as Jon came over, a hand running over little Eddards curls he muttered that he would be right back, nodding behind you. Half turning to see Ned standing and watching, before turning back. “Take your time.”

Instantly you carried little Eddard over to the snow castle, sitting him down as Ghost came up to his other side while you knelt there, asking him questions about his work so far, which he happily babbled some words, and mostly nonsense about what was what.

Jon approaching the steps gave his father a look to ask what was it, only to feel a concern rise in him as he only nodded towards the house. “I’ll show you.” Both kicking snow off their boots before taking them off, as if sensing Catelyn ready to round the corner telling them not to get the floor dirty and wet again. It sat on the couch nearby, a small wrapped gift with a card on top. Unopened, as Ned specified it came that way. “I haven’t opened it yet, I thought it was best if you were here to see it too.”

That feeling increased, first picking up the card he read in silence. Knowing his face gave it away when Jon put it together, who had sent this. An anger rose in his body, warming his blood as he felt himself, muscles and jaw tense up. “How?” Looking over to Ned, “How can he be allowed to send this when-”

Cutting him off, Ned already knew what Jon was going to ask. “All the information was sent through his father, so on paper it doesn’t appear as if he sent it. And there was no restriction for him not being allowed to speak to her.”

Low and cutting an edge, Jon felt no need to hide how he felt about this. His father knew too well that anger. “So he cheats, and finds a way to send something to her. Why?” If Jon looked more to the side he’d be able to see you and his son with bright smiles as you guided his hands around working on the castle yourselves. Out of all the time, his son had just reached his first nameday too. If his jaw could break from the force which he was clenching it tightly, it would’ve.

Helped no further by his fathers answer. “I don’t think it’s meant for her. He knows she lives here now with us, and we wouldn’t let her get a gift from him this way. I think he meant it for you.” The unspoken was understood between them, it was meant as a mock, whatever this was in the gift. The card already was barley anything, a lament about missing you and how much you’ve changed since you last saw each other since there was no chance he had not heard the news a year after you gave birth.

Slowly putting the card down, his eyes darkening did Jon pull at the ribbon keeping the modestly wrapped gift sealed. Every step as he did so felt it took ages, trying to contain whatever it was he’d find only to not be impressed. In fact, Jon could feel himself shake at his audacity. Ned leaned over and he could hear his father exhale roughly, knowing he matched in emotion. The rage in Jon made him want to drive to the Dreadfort now and do what he should’ve done the day they all saw you with a black eye.

A tiny pair of shoes. That’s all it was. A card for you, a gift for your son and all of the audacity of Ramsay Bolton to mock Jon by reaching out to you this time of year. He didn’t touch nor pick them up in any way, staring at them before all but roughly slamming the lid back onto the box. Looking at his father, a darker look shining in his own, both quiet wolves understood that this better be Ramsay’s only trick otherwise it would get very difficult to hold Jon back. “Don’t show this to her.” Both knew he meant you. “I don’t care what you do with it, but I don’t want her knowing he sent this, any of this. It’ll only upset her.”

Picking it up, the timing was lucky beyond belief as Ned just walked out of sight when he heard it. A hand running over his mouth trying to bring himself back down, did Jon hear the sliding door open and close. He loved how you looked. Snow still fresh in your hair as you held your son in your arms, snow in his curls that matched Jons. Only little Eddard was snuggled close to you with an adoring look he was fully aware Jon gave you all the time. Clearing his throat, he hoped you wouldn’t pick up on any of the tension he tried to now shake off.

Forcing himself to move to you as you carefully stepped out of your own boots Jon approached looking at his son. “Too cold, pup?” His son shook his head adamantly with a more serious, stern look on his face. “No?”

Little Eddard looked over at you, “Mama cold.” Your eyes closed for a moment as you huffed out a bemused sigh. Looking back with a playfully narrow eyed look, you muttered that you were fine staying out there as long as he wished, but little Eddard was not having it. “No.” Turning to look at Jon, and you must have known your word would lose against both of you. “Daddy. Mama cold.”

Looking you over, there was a shiver about you that begged to warm up, running a hand along your neck to cup your cheek, his hand inside from the warmth seeped into your cold skin as you leaned somewhat into his touch. Stepping close, Jon tilted your head better to look up at him, watching your eyes yet flutter closed as he leaned in. Letting his nose gently trace down the bridge of yours as he rasped, “You feel cold.” Opening your mouth to protest, Jon grinned. Sliding the hand on your cheek around to behind your neck, he pulled you forward more to press his lips to your forehead before resting his against yours. “Sorry, darling. You’ve been outvoted.”

Sighing deeply, you looked between them. “Honestly you two baby me,” turning specifically to little Eddard with a grin, “More then I baby you.” Leaning in very close it made him try to back away with a giggle before you matched Jons actions to you but to the baby, kissing his forehead. “Come on, let’s get you changed to something warm instead of this.”

Sometimes Jon had an urge to tell you that you should put him down and let him crawl when at least you both were here on the carpeted part of the house, but he struggled too. Telling you to put him down felt mean, it felt controlling even though he had heard Ned and Catelyn tell you that. But little Eddard snuggling into your arms, it felt unfair to deprive him of being so close to his mother, something Jon knew he never had. But too, it was the sight for him. The love of his life carrying the son you created together in your arms, it was something Jon would never get tired of, and he knew it.

You has gotten little Eddard changed into warmer clothes by the time he joined you both upstairs. Kneeling in front of the bed where you had him sitting, you were running a towel over his curls to dry them. “You can say you enjoy the cold all you like, until the day you get sick being out there for so long.”

Little Eddard shook his head, you simply working around him moving on you without bothering to gently tell him to sit still for you. Hearing his footsteps approach, you half turned to look up at him in time for Jon to sit gently on the bed beside his son, picking him up and sitting him cozy in his lap now as he looked down at him. Your own position not having changed, Jons eyes narrowed at you playfully. “What?”

Glancing to his hair and back, you knew the snow had much like in his sons curls, had begun to melt. Instead of saying a word, you pushed yourself upward, sighing as you climb behind both of them on the bed, kneeling being Jon as you didn’t bother saying a word as you gently ran the towel over him as well before water dripped all over the sheets.

A small giggle could be heard from in front of Jon, as well as is voice low and playful, “Whats so funny?” Little Eddard didn’t respond from what you could hear, but a giggle did get let out and almost a sort of yell to make him stop, Jon no doubt tickling him for laughing at him. As you leaned back on your heels, folding the towel before you bothered moving to get up, Jon turned halfway to look at you. “He gets this from you.”

About to gently place it on the side table, you turned back with your mouth partially open. Half blindly tossing it now as you moved back, your voice slightly raised as he could surely detect. “From me? If I’m not mistaken, I’m the one who when we were children, you kept referring to as a goody two shoes.” Only muttering with a smirk that he changed his mind, you mockingly huffed. Attempting to move up off the bed, only for Jon to move quicker.

Picking up the baby in one hand, holding him high on his chest as his other snatched at the edge of your sweater and yanked. Pulling you back into his lap with you giving out a small yelp, before landing in his warmth, and your son giggling endlessly. Instead of addressing Jon, you turned to the little one. Cupping both his cheeks gently you kissed his forehead and nose, muttering lowly but with a playful smile, “I think this is proof where you get being so silly from after all.” Pressing one more kiss to each of his cheeks as he giggled. Grabbing gently at your hair so you wouldn’t back away.

Jon didn’t bother trying to stop him, instead he only shifted on the bed enough so that you could rest against him more comfortably as he moved little Eddard to be more carried by you. The baby’s very small hand now clutching your loose hair as he held it close to his mouth, something he had done since nearly the first few days we was born. A sort of soothing act Maester Luwin had said it was, like one would clutch a stuffed animal or toy, but with something much closer to his mother.

Holding him closer, Eddard snuggled more into your shoulder. Jon ran his hand gentle through inky black locks that so closely resembled his, as the thought turned to words slipping from your mouth quietly before you could stop him. “At least he looks like you.” Jon hummed a question, your own head leaning back slightly into his, feeling Jon almost nuzzle into your hair as his son snuggled his face more into your neck and shoulder, all the action of the morning catching up to his small stature. “Eddard. At least if he’s like me, he looks just like you.”

Sighing into your hair, Jon pressed his lips to where they merely sat, as his other hand ran up and down your waist. “What does that mean? At least he looks like me?”

You didn’t say it with malice, nor insecurity or judgment, but perhaps to Jon you should’ve known he’d have taken it as such. “I’m glad. I’d rather he look like you any day then me.” Holding your waist a bit tighter, Jons voice was low, and a bit on edge as if needing to jump to your own defence as he muttered that there was nothing wrong with the baby looking like you.

It wasn’t easy, still shaking off those feelings that you’ve changed since giving birth to him. The feeling as if Jon just may look at others and wonder when you’d start looking more like then again. He never expressed the thought, but it permeated for weeks when you first came home from the hospital what a mess you must look in comparison. Sometimes now it flared up, and Jon was always on the defence whenever you might even trickle into such a train of thought again.

But, you knew he wouldn’t suspect what you meant, nor did you want to explain it plainly for his own ego. You simply said it, because looking down at your son, it was so clear. “It’s like a part of you is still here, even when you have to be away for so long.” Jon went quiet, and you knew him having to still work so many days away at a time in some instances was difficult on him. “He looks just like you, and no matter what you claim, he acts just like you. Even if you’re away, he still has me and I still have him, and in a way it’s like you never really left.”

He said nothing, nor did you expect him too. He wasn’t a man of easy words when emotions ran deep and by the long, shaking exhale he let out, there was some rawness in how he felt about that. Not that you meant anything specific by it, but when you had spent the better part of the morning looking at both of them together, it was hard to keep your mind off of how you may have gifted him a child he always wanted, but he gifted you something too. A way to never truly feel alone without him anymore.

You weren’t sure how long you both sat there. Eddard not quite asleep, but his eyes drooping and drifting off as if relaxed too much to care about anything else. And with Jons warmth behind you, it made the urge to get up no faster. But, eventually one by one doors opened and voices filled the hallway outside Jons room before directing downstairs.

Leaning back into him, Jon pressed a kiss down to your neck, almost hiding against you on the other side of your neck and shoulder as Eddard, without even realizing. The sounds of breakfast downstairs starting, as meal times always made the echo in the Stark house loud, Jon muttered, “Do you want to join them? You didn’t have much earlier.”

You thought about it, and if he was suggesting it you knew Jon also could likely be hungry but you instead pulled back to run your hand over little Eddards curls. “What about you, sweet boy? Do you want to join everyone for breakfast?” Shaking his head no, you heard and felt Jon chuckle. A smile came over you, pushing your sons curls from out of his face more. “How about we get you something to eat in the kitchen, just the three of us?” He nodded at that.

You both knew why. When at proper meals, he hated being in the highchair. Only one of you could pay attention to him at a time, and you’d take turns so the other could eat and it never felt like a meal between you three that way. Whereas in the kitchen, you and Jon were much more liberal about where he could eat, and many times, he’d sit on your lap and eat as you would reach around his food to pick at yours.

Jons grip dropped to your waist, prompting you to stand up as he helped you so your hold on the baby didn’t jostle. Pausing, he looked at his son still grasping your hair. “Your mother won’t be able to eat if you’re holding onto her the whole time?” Shaking his head, as if your son was saying no he didn’t want to let go, but Jon knew. Walking to the other side of the room where his crib was, you turned to watch with a smile.

You knew exactly what he picked, and no matter how much he had now, toys or otherwise, it was still little Eddards favourite. His first toy. Jon gently cupped the side of his sons head, running a thumb over his cheek as he leaned to meet his eyes, holding up the small toy wolf plush in his other hand. “What about if your mother carries you, and you carry him? Will you let go of her hair then?”

Eddard slowly nodded, and even more slowly let your hair free as he grabbed at the wolf plush and pulled it very close to his chest, almost hiding his face in it comfortingly. Jon kissed the top of his head, before tilting your chin up to him. His thumb lightly brushed over your bottom lip before he met your lips in a kiss.

Sighing out right away, Jon captured the breath and didn’t release your kiss just yet. Instead, until you held no more breath to give, did he let go. Nothing but a slow, and chaste kiss that yet somehow left your lips tingling a bit, your eyes fluttered open far after Jons eyes opened to watch you. The words slipping from your lips without any hesitation. “I love you.”

Jon kissed you once more, muttering against them as his hot breath traced over your skin. “I love you too, darling.” Not another word was needed as he guided you both out of the hall and down the stairs.

Guiding you to the kitchen, Jon just barley could see the table everyone was sat around. Only catching Robbs curious eyes with a shake of his head to answer the silent question if he was joining. Only when Robb noticed little Eddard snuggled into your front did he nod with a smile. He knew too well not to interrupt his nephew when he was this warm and snuggling against you.

You stood in the back out of Jons way for a bit, his insistence to let him handle it as you muttered to the baby. “You did so well this morning, how far you walked? I’m so proud of you.” Snuggling closer, you pressed a kiss to the curls atop his head. Your eyes closed as you rested your head a little more comfortingly against him. He had come so far even at just a little over one.

Looking back to Jon, your own gaze softened. You had mulled over what gift to get him for the holidays for months, but in that moment you were fairly certain what you’d get him. What Jon would truly want more then anything else. You didn’t have it here and now, but you knew it would be a gift enough tonight after the baby was long asleep if you suggested it.

The question of whether or not it was too soon to start trying for a little girl.

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

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erisweekofficial · 10 months ago

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Fanfic

One Year Later (OC x Eris) by @afandomangel 👑

Until I see you again (OC x Eris) by @mika-no-sekai-blog

Protection (Eris x Reader) by @littlest-w01f 👑

All’s well that ends well to end up with you (Eris x Reader) by @daycourtofficial 👑

yea, though i walk (Azris) by @brunetterebel010 👑

What Could Have Been (Eris x Elain) by @nocasdatsgay

Suffering his Scent (Azris) by @neciebee 👑

Falling For You (Eris x Reader) by @bubybubsters

Hold Me While You Wait (Eris x OC) by @fieldofdaisiies

Bedroom manners (Eris x Reader) by @lady-of-tearshed 👑

Pinky Promise (Eris x Reader) by @pit-and-the-pen👑

Still Beautiful Things by @climbthemountain2020 👑

Pull Me in Deeper Ch 17 (Eris x OC) by @zenkindoflove 👑

Ensnaring Marks (Eris x Reader) by @surielstea 👑

A Bond of Song & Flames Ch 1 (Eris x OC) by @sadiegirl2021 👑

Under the Weeping Beech (Azris) by @chunkypossum

Waiting for You (Eris x Reader) by @mcuamerica 👑

Day 1 - Bonds | Bargains by @clockwork-ashes 👑

A Wound So Deep (Azris) by @acourtofladydeath

An Unconventional Bargain by @hellcat8908 👑

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows Ch 22 (Azris) by @jules-writes-stories 👑

Of Our Own Devices (Eris x Reader) by @illyrianbitch 👑

Gone Through Enough (Eris x Reader) by @thelov3lybookworm

The Uncertainty of Spring (Eris x OC) by @daycourtofficial 👑

Tomorrow Can Wait (Azris) by @myromanempiree 👑

By Turns by @jon-snows-man-bun 👑

Roots In My Dreamland (Eris x OC) by @lucienarcheron

Always An Angel, Never A God (Eris x OC) by @chairofchaos 👑

Your Scars on My Pulse (Azris) by @shadowsandlint 👑

To Dust or To Gold Ch 2 (Neris) by @queercontrarian

An Exchange in Etiquette (Eris x Reader) by @qwimblenorrisstan 👑

Into the Dark (Eris x Reader) by @prythianpages 👑

Lady Luck (Eris x OC) by @ginandtobacco 👑

Bond (Azris) by @thomasisaslut 👑

Being Seen (Eris x Elain) by @vague-shadows 👑

The Crushing Burden of Those Before Us (Eris x Reader) by @dee-writes-smut 👑

A Page From Another's Book (Eris x Reader) by @readychilledwine

Autumn Leaves (Eris x Reader) by @mirandasidefics

Fanart

Eris' bond with Autumn by @elleybug 👑

Eris x Alexius comissioned by @luciensdefenseattorney (commissioned by @zenkindoflove)

Neris Art by @rosesncarnations

Worried Eris by its.miriart (commissioned by @secret-third-thing)

Eris and his mate by @/artbyellat (on instagram)

Azris Art by @lucychanart (commissioned by: @moonpatroclus & @cauldronblssd

Eris Week, Day 1: Bonds (Azris) by @the-darkestminds 👑

Misc.

day one : bonds ( m o t h e r ) by @spore-loser 👑

Eris Week Moodboard by @fieldofdaisiies

Chopin by @chairofchaos 👑

Vanserra brothers in a modern AU by @wishfulimaginings 👑

Thank you for all your contributions! It’s incredible and almost unbelievable how many stories and creative ideas you’ve brought to life on just the first day!

There was a bit of confusions about the crowns- so sorry for that. If it's your first eris week, let us know! If we missed giving you a 👑, please let us know so we can add it to the masterlist. We'll make sure that all masterlists are up to date before the full event masterlist is released 🧡

(divider by @tsunami-of-tears)

#eris headcanons #eris vanserra #eris acotar #erisweek2024 #acotar #pro eris vanserra #high lord eris #autumn court #autumn court heir #eris

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rheanyraaaa · 15 days ago

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Final Whistle

pairing: robb stark x reader (f)

- modern au, footballer! oneshot

a/n: was popular oneshot idea! also super long my bad lol

smut & 18+

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

The concrete walls vibrated with the thunder of sixty thousand voices. Above them all, the Kings Landing Arena glowed like a gilded cage, its crimson banners rippling like blood in water. The air smelled of sweat and expensive cologne, of adrenaline and something sharper fear.

You crossed your legs in the VIP box, the slit in your custom Winterfell Wolves couture dress, parting just enough to reveal a glimpse of golden skin. The fabric deep blue, liquid silk clung to every curve, the plunging neckline secured by a thin chain that glinted under the stadium lights. Your hair, those perfect honeyed curls, tumbled over one shoulder, catching the flash of cameras like a halo.

The commentators whispered your name as the zoom lens found you.

“There she is Robb Stark's good luck charm. Word is he plays better when she's watching."

The gold cuffs at your wrists catching the light. The press loved that about you the way you never gave them what they wanted.

Down in the tunnel, Robb stood apart from his team, his back pressed against the wall like it was the only thing holding him up. The captain's armband cut into his bicep, the golden 9 stark against the black of his jersey.

His phone buzzed in his palm.

Your face lit up the screen, you cuddled up to him, sound asleep with his jersey on, the message below it was simple:

"Win and you’ll get that blowjob you so wanted.”

His thumb hovered over the screen, for a heartbeat, the mask slipped his jaw tightened, his chest rising in a sharp, unsteady breath and his smirk twitched. Then he locked the phone, shoved it into his pocket, and rolled his shoulders like he was shaking off a ghost.

Jon Snow clapped him on the back. *"Ready?"*

Robb didn't answer.

The tunnel mouth yawned ahead, a rectangle of blinding light and screaming noise. Somewhere in that chaos, Joffrey Baratheon was smirking, the Lions' gold jerseys gleaming under the lights.

Robb cracked his knuckles, and stepped into the storm.

In the VIP box, you finally smiled. The camera caught it, the slow, knowing curve of your lips as you watched him walk onto the pitch. The commentators missed what you saw: the way his gaze flicked up, just once, to where you sat. Like you were the only thing worth looking at.

Somewhere in the stands, a fan whispered: "That's not just his girlfriend. That's his fucking queen."

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

The roar of the crowd turned sickly sweet as gold-and-crimson confetti rained down, the first goal struck by Kings Landing Lions.

Joffrey Baratheon smirked as he celebrated in front of the Wolves’ supporters, arms spread wide like some conquering prince. The stadium speakers blared the Lions’ anthem, the bass vibrating through your chest as you gripped the railing of the VIP box, knuckles bleaching white.

"Fucking hell," you muttered under your breath.

Down on the pitch, Robb wiped sweat from his brow, jaw set. He didn’t look at the scoreboard. Didn’t react to the taunts from the Lions’ bench. Just snatched the ball from the net and jogged back to the center circle, his expression unreadable.

That tightness in his shoulders wasn’t frustration it was fury, it then happened in the 58th minute.

Robb had the ball at his feet, weaving through defenders like a shadow, when, Jaime Lannister came in from the side.

The tackle was brutal.

A flash of studs, a grunt of pain and then Robb was on the ground, his knee twisting awkwardly beneath him. The stadium gasped. The Wolves’ bench erupted, Jon Snow already halfway onto the pitch before the ref waved him back.

Your stomach dropped.

For one horrible second, Robb didn’t move, then slowly he pushed himself up, his face a mask of controlled pain. The physio rushed over, but Robb waved him off, rolling his ankle experimentally before nodding.

He was staying in.

The camera cut to you, lips pressed into a thin line, fingers gripping your necklace like a lifeline, Robb then spat on the grass, adjusted his armband, and got back into position.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

Robb Stark is unshakable, tactical. Lethal. Captain to the bone.

He doesn’t rattle. Doesn’t whine at the ref. Doesn’t beg for cards or dramatize fouls.

But you can see it the subtle shifts no one else catches.

The way his shoulders roll just a little tighter with every whistle.

The way he presses the base of his palm into that bruised knee between plays, just enough pressure to keep himself moving.

The sweat cutting down his jawline like a blade.

His mouth drawn in that hard, haunted line you know so well.

You’ve seen it before in the tunnel after bad losses, in the quiet moments before big ones.

This isn’t just a game for him. It’s atonement.

And right now, he’s bleeding resolve.

But he won’t break.

He wipes his face with the back of his arm, shakes the sweat out of his hair, and comes back swinging.

Like a man on fire. He’s everywhere at once commanding midfield, pulling defenders out of shape, shouting directions in clipped, urgent tones. His presence expands, magnetic, inescapable. Even the commentators can’t stop talking about him.

“Robb Stark, showing every inch of his captaincy tonight—”

“—he’s dragging this squad back into it with his teeth if he has to—”

And then finally the payoff. The Wolves surge forward. A beautiful through ball down the left wing. A feint, a cross. The stadium holds its breath.

Corner kick.

This is it.

Robb jogs up into the box. No expression. No celebration. His eyes are locked on the ball like it insulted him personally.

You stand, hand clutching the railing, nails digging into your palm.

The whistle blows.

The kick is perfect, soaring, arcing like a prayer and Robb is already moving, muscles coiled like a spring, tearing up through the air with everything he has left.

His head meets the ball like thunder.

A crack in the air.

The net ripples.

GOAL.

The Wolves’ end of the stadium explodes, a tsunami of screams, flares, blue smoke, fists in the air, limbs crashing into each other.

He did it.

Robb Stark just won the Champions League Final.

The team devours him, arms wrapping around him, hands grabbing his head, his back, his shirt. Everyone’s screaming, jumping, losing their minds.

But you’re watching him. Only him.

And even surrounded by chaos, you see it.

That flicker. That small, secret glance toward your box.

His eyes lock with yours for a heartbeat dark, wild, almost disbelieving.

Like he needs you to ground him, just for a second. Like he doesn’t trust the win is real until he sees it on your face.

And you smile, big, honest, uncontrolled.

Your man just became a legend.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

Winterfell Wolves are Champions of Westeros.

The pitch is a fever dream, blue smoke still hanging in the air, players screaming, kissing their badges, falling to their knees. Cameras flash like lightning, confetti sticks to sweat-slick skin. Staff and substitutes flood the field, open bottles burst like fireworks, glittering arcs of champagne raining down.

But Robb Stark isn’t celebrating.

He’s searching.

Not for the trophy. Not for the camera. Not even for his teammates.

He’s looking for you.

His chest rises and falls like he just ran a marathon. Hair soaked. Jersey half ripped. Medal around his neck, forgotten. You can see it in his eyes the desperation, the fire, the singular focus.

And then you’re there.

In the tunnel, just past the press cordon, still breathless, heart hammering like a war drum beneath your blazer. His eyes land on you and everything stops.

The noise. The chaos. The world.

You don’t even get the full sentence out just:

“You did it—”

He’s on you.

One arm around your waist, the other fisting your jacket, mouth crashing into yours like the match never ended. The kiss is messy, hungry, full of teeth and breath and everything he’s held back for months.

“I didn’t want the trophy,” he growls into your ear between kisses, voice wrecked, low, barely holding together.

“I wanted to get to you.”

You gasp, hands tangled in his damp shirt, trying to anchor yourself. He’s vibrating not from nerves, but from the high of it. From the release. From the unbearable weight finally crashing off his shoulders.

He kisses down your jaw, your neck, open-mouthed and desperate, like you’re oxygen and he’s been drowning since kickoff.

“Robb—someone could see—”

He exhales against your throat, mouth dragging along your collarbone.

“Let them.”

Then he grabs your hand strong, fast and pulls you deeper into the underbelly of the stadium, past equipment crates and concrete walls, down a darkened corridor lit only by flickering floodlights and adrenaline. He slams the door shut behind you.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

The door shuts with a deep, metallic thud, echoing through the concrete like a war drum.

You’re already against the wall not pushed, not forced, but claimed. Robb cages you in with one arm beside your head, the other gripping your hip like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

His mouth is still on you not rushed now, but deeper, slower. Like he’s memorizing you with his lips. You taste sweat and champagne on his tongue, the sharp edge of adrenaline still pulsing off his skin.

You tug his shirt up, dragging your fingers across the ridges of his abdomen he’s still warm from the pitch, muscles taut under your hands, his heart beating wild against your palm.

“You didn’t answer me,” you whisper between gasps.

“You won. Was it everything you wanted?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you really look at you. Eyes stormy, blown wide, pupils dark with want and something deeper.

“No,” he rasps. “Not even close.”

“This is what I wanted.”

He leans in again slower now, reverent. Mouth brushing over your jaw, then your throat, then the hollow of your collarbone. His fingers slide under your blazer, pushing it off your shoulders, his breath ragged against your skin.

Your hands move on instinct undoing his belt, tugging at his waistband, driven by the need to give him relief, to give him a moment of peace in the only language he lets himself feel.

“You deserve everything,” you whisper. “Every goal, every headline. But right now—”

You fall to your knees.

His breath catches. His fingers curl tight in your hair.

The medal around his neck swings gently forward, catching the flicker of the overhead light. He looks down at you flushed, wrecked, and already trembling again, but for you now.

“God,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You smile, slow and wicked, and whisper

“That’s the point.”

Your hands work him free, slow but deliberate, and he hisses through his teeth, head tipping back against the wall, medal glinting against his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Don’t tease.”

You glance up, lips barely brushing him, and murmur,

“I’m not. I’m celebrating.”

Then you take him into your mouth and Robb Stark forgets the stadium, the crowd, the cup. There’s only you.

His grip in your hair tightens just slightly, not cruel just claiming.

“Look at you… on your knees like you belong there.”

“No one else gets this. No one sees you like I do.”

“You do this for me. Only me.”

He watches your every movement like he’s engraving it into memory,“You’re mine. My good girl. That pretty mouth, it’s mine. That body, mine.”

“Say it. Say who you belong to.”

You glance up, breathless and he groans, guttural, overwhelmed.

“You drive me fucking insane… and I like it.”

“You were made for me. Every inch. Every sound.”

And then, under his breath, so dark and low it feels like a vow,“They can cheer for me out there. They can want me. But you own me.” His hand is in your hair, jaw clenched so hard it could snap, and his eyes are on you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to earth

He’s barely holding on now, voice breaking with want “Only you. Always you. I’d give it all up if you told me to.”

Then through gritted teeth, wrecked, “Say it back. Say you’re mine before I lose my fucking mind.”

Your fingers clutch at his jersey, knuckles white, your voice breaking as you try to speak around the heat building in your throat, in your chest, in every nerve ending.

“I’m yours,” you gasp, barely holding together. “I’m so yours, Robb—fuck—” You breath, and speak onto his dick.

Your lips are swollen, eyes glassy, and he stares down at you like you’ve just unmade him.

“Say it again.”

You moan, almost a sob, wrecked and raw and dizzy for him, “I’m yours. No one else. Always yours—please—”

It shatters something in him.

He growls, low and feral, gripping your jaw with one hand while his other fists the wall behind you, like if he doesn’t anchor himself he’ll fall apart. His hips stutter, rhythm starting to collapse with the intensity of it. “That’s it. That’s my girl.” As he fucks your mouth.

His breath stutters as he reaches the edge, muscles tightening, voice rough with need and relief. When he finally comes undone, it’s fierce and shuddering , warm and messy, you swallow some of it and he wipes his cock on your cheeks leaving some bits of cum there as a way to own you.

You blink, startled for a split second, then glance down at the warmth, a shy, small smile tugging at your lips.

Meeting his eyes again, wide and innocent, you wipe your cheeks with your fingers, your gaze flickering up to him.

He swallows hard, voice thick with awe and possessiveness, “Look at you… all mine, even when you’re this… cute.”

His fingers brush your cheek gently, tracing the trail, and you can’t help the little laugh that escapes you all soft and breathless, utterly his.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

tags!:

@maryrouge @juliecsil @inkandarsenic @jkke44

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #asoiaf #robb stark imagines #robb stark x y/n #fanfic #modern au #game of thrones #hard smut #smut

36 notes · View notes

spicy30 · 4 months ago

Text

A Northern Rocket

Pairing: Jon Snow x Fem!Figureskater!reader

No modern AU

CW: Death

Rating: 16+

Add-ons: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, small Robb x reader if your squint

Not proof read

WC: 5.4k (Sum light)

Jon doesn’t know when exactly he first started visiting you. Well more like stalking you. (But that's an ugly word so he’ll just call it watching) Like clockwork Jon Snow walks past through the Wolfswood to Long Lake to watch you. He knows naught your name, nor where you are from, but he knows your face, he knows your eyes, he knows your movements (how impossibly you bend) and he knows you glide above the water like no one he’s ever seen before.

Jon Snow can only watch as your body portrays a story he wishes to watch over and over again. How you glide backwards without ever looking behind you. His eyes watch from behind a tree (and he knows he shouldn’t watch a lady dressed as scantily as you are, but Jon doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because he is looking at you dancing in ways he’s never seen anyone dance before and it is beautiful.) and up you go spinning in the air before landing, though you fall. How do you even fall gracefully? Everything about you is so unbelievably beautiful.

Jon watches as slide across the ice before you finally stop. He watches as you hit the ice in frustration. Your hair covering your surely distraught face. Then he watches you get up before gliding away once more to the middle of the lake.

For the past weeks Jon has watched you fail attempting to spin in the air. Over and over again, why do you put yourself through this? Jon doesn’t know.

He knows it’s wrong to simply look at you and you have no idea you’re being watched, but Jon means no harm by it. He just wants to look at you as you bend your body in impossible way, he wants to look at you as you spin, as you dance to music that seems to only play in your head (and sometimes when Jon watches enough, he feels as he can see your story and hear the music you dance to.) Jon Snow really means you no harm, he simply wishes to watch you.

Once more he watches you tie your hair back before taking your stance. Your arms outstretched, your eyes sharp as you look left. He wonders if you’ve ever seen him. He hopes you have, he hopes you know he is there and a small part of him even hopes you wish to perform for him. (But Jon knows that you would not dance for him if you knew. You would not dance for a bastard.)

Then you start once more. You skate over the lake, and he watches you take your leg and bring it to the back of your head and you spin like nothing he’s ever seen before. He likes watching you spin the most. The way your dress twirls around you, the way you almost seem divine in the way you spin. He watches as your face portrays anguish as you continue to dance, every part of your body perfectly tuned with your dance.

“Who's that?” Jon nearly jumps out of his own skin hearing a familiar voice behind him. He fights the urge to give a disappointed sigh.

Turning around Jon ushers Robb behind the tree. He loves Robb. Robb, despite what Lady Catelyn would like to think, is his brother, his best friend, but Robb is also true born and Robb is to be Lord Stark, Warden of North and Lord of Winterfell. For once, Jon would like to have this one thing for himself, because he knows that while you will not dance for him, a bastard, you will certainly dance for Robb, a Lord and trueborn.

Just then Jon looks back to you and watches as you put your hands behind your back and spin once more, though your leg is outstretched and it almost looks like an illusion the way you move, and you keep spinning down to the ground until it’s touching the ice once more before bringing your leg up and over your head and once more you spin with blinding speed.

You continue to dance and Jon only stares and nearly forgets Robb has found out his little secret, that is until Robb stands and goes to step out from the tree. Jon quickly grabs him, pulling him back.

“What are you doing!?” Jon hissed out while Robb lifted a brown.

“Asking for her name. You did not tell me.” Robb answered like it was the most obvious answer in the world. Jon rolled his eyes internally. Of course, Robb was Robb Stark, not Snow. What did he have to fear? No fear of rejection in this one.

“What is she doing? I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s…breathtaking.” Once more Jon rolled his eyes, though this time outright. As if he didn’t already know that. “You are a greedy man Jon. How could you not tell me you were sneaking out here to watch this lovely maiden.” It was clear Robb was joking, but to Jon, Robb was the greedy one. Can’t he just let him have this one thing!? Let him have you!?

“Woah!” Robb was left awe struck and Jon jerked his head around and saw you land on one foot with your hands out and a big smile on your face.

No, this wasn’t fair at all. It was Jon who had spent these last weeks watching you try over and over again only to fall, but yet Robb had come once, one time and he had seen you achieve this spin you have been working so hard to. Robb had seen it and not Jon. Your first time ever achieving it and he can only watch as your chest heaves up and down a big grin on your face as you look at the sky and your arms outstretched.

Jon looks back towards Robb but his gaze is solely on you and Jon cringes on the inside. He knows the look. It is the look Jon gives you.

Robb is his brother. Jon pushes the ugly feeling down. Robb is his brother. (But Jon cannot. This isn’t fair. Jon found you first, Jon was there for everything but now Robb is here. Yes, Jon wanted to be selfish just this once.)

His ears catch a gasp and Jon turns his head to see your face contort into one of shock as Robb steps out behind the tree walking towards the frozen lake.

No. No you are not supposed to see Robb first, you were supposed to see him first. Jon quickly steps out after Robb and once more he cringes on the inside as your eyes dart between the two brothers.

Time stills if only for a moment as Jon meets your eyes, still as sharp and intense as ever. Jon’s ears perk up as they hear Robb step forward. It scares you, like a curious doe and people have stepped too close. He watches you turn and glide away to the far end of the lake where you have left your stuff. Jon looks over to Robb with an unamused face as he hears Robb shout for you.

“Wonderfull, clap for yourself, you’ve scared her.” Jon mumbled out turning around wondering when the next time he would see, or if there would even be a next time.

“No it was you and that ugly scowl on your face.” Robb shot back as both boys made their way back to Winterfell. “Do you think she is a noble woman?” Robb hummed out as they both stepped over a root.

Jon shrugged as he began to sulk. Everything was ruined. He had pictured your meeting with him many times in his head. He’d catch your eye and Jon would look away pretending he didn’t see you and over time again and again until you came to him and you would tell him your name and Jon would simply tell you he is Jon. (Not Jon Snow, not yet at least) and he would get to know you and maybe you’d even teach him to glide above the water as you did. Over time, you’d both fall in love and then Jon would tell his name. Tell you that he is a Snow but you wouldn’t care because you already love him and then…maybe live happily ever after.

But now, now Robb was here and everything has been ruined.

Later that night as everyone sat around the table eating, Jon picked at his food. Today has been one of the rare days where his father did not invite a guard and his family to share dinner. It was a nice dinner, Lady Stark speaking with Sansa about her newest dress, Arya teasing Bran about his poor shot, little Rickon being fed by a maid as he cooed and played with his food, Lord Stark simply eating as he watched his family and Robb who looked deep in thought.

“There is House Bolton and House Umber near Long Lake, do they have any daughters?” Jon felt his heart drop as he heard Robb’s question.

Lord Stark raised a brow and Lady Stark gave an exasperated smile.

“You already seek a wife Robb?” Sansa asked and Arya let out an ‘ooh’ and Bran started laughing and Robb shook his head.

“Jon and I saw a woman on the Long Lake. She glided above the water.” Robb spoke and Jon's shoulders deflated as Lord Stark looked over to Jon.

“Is that where you’ve been hiding these past few weeks?” Jon furrows his brow at his father's accusation.

“I have not been hiding. I was simply watching her. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She is—”

“It is unseemly for you to look upon a maiden in such a way.” Lady Catelyn cut him off, though Jon knows what she meant. It is unseemly for a bastard to look upon a maiden in such a way lustfully or not, because bastards are monstrous by nature.

“Yes, Lady Stark,” Jon mumbles, his gaze fixed on the table. It’s too bad he doesn’t notice the sympathetic look from Arya, nor the disapproving glance his father shoots Catelyn. Catelyn, however, simply averts her eyes, continuing to eat in silence.

“What's her name, Jon?” Lord Stark’s voice cuts through the tension, pulling Jon’s attention toward him. A flush of heat rises from Jon’s neck to his face.

“I… I do not know, Lord Stark,” Jon mutters, his fingers idly picking at the skin along his nails, a nervous habit.

“You’ve watched her for over a fortnight, and yet you do not know her name?” Lord Stark’s voice carries a note of disbelief, and Jon feels himself shrink slightly in his seat.

“She... she glides in the middle of the lake,” Jon stammers, his words coming out in a rush, “I cannot walk on ice without making a fool of myself. And besides, Robb scared her off.”

The rest of the night was spent with Robb insisting it wasn’t his fault.

…

It would take a fortnight for Jon to work up the courage to go back to Long Lake. Though while Robb was in his lessons preparing him to be Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North, Jon Snow would have his alone time.

And though Jon thinks of himself like a shadow in the halls of Winterfell, there is one pair of eyes he can never escape. But Jon is not completely wrong. Jon Snow does cast a shadow. He casts a big shadow to those greys eyes who sees him as his little sister who too would sneak away from the walls of Winterfell. So while Eddard Stark can call out to Lyanna Jon, he decides to simply let them go.

Watches them run away and chase whatever holds their attention for the time being. Let them enjoy the life that will one day be taken from them.

The Wolfswood stretches endlessly before Jon, the trees casting long, skeletal shadows in the afternoon light. He moves through them with purpose, his breath misting in the cold air. Each step is deliberate, careful. He wonders if you have returned—if you have been here all along, dancing over the ice while he stayed away, too afraid to ruin what little he had.

When he reaches the edge of Long Lake, his chest tightens. The ice is smooth, reflecting the gray sky above, but it is empty.

Jon exhales, hands curling into fists at his sides. Perhaps you’re never coming back. Perhaps you were only passing through, and he had been fooling himself into believing you belonged to this place, to this moment in time that had felt like his alone.

He swallows the disappointment and turns, but then—

The faintest sound, the whisper of something scratching on ice.

Jon’s head snaps back to the lake, and there you are.

Spinning.

Then you stop and turn your gauze towards his direction. He freezes. There you stand in the middle of the lake and Jon stands on land. There's a slight tilt in your head and what does Jon do?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. His mind is blank.

What should he do? He doesn’t know. He only knows that moving feels impossible, that even breathing feels too loud with your gaze fixed on him.

Then, finally, you move.

Slowly, deliberately, you resume skating—not dancing, not leaping, just gliding, your sharp eyes never leaving him. There is something unnerving about it, about being the one watched instead of watching.

The North is cold. The air here is colder still, crisp and biting, the kind that settles into bones and refuses to leave. And yet, Jon feels warm. Too warm. His breath is heavy in his chest, his pulse a steady drum in his ears. You are amused, surely. He sees it in the slight, knowing curve of your lips. You are toying with him.

His gaze drops, and for the first time, he truly sees the shoes you wear.

He frowns.

Blades.

Thin, glinting steel attached to the soles of your boots. A strange sort of awe twists inside him. He doesn’t know why it never occurred to him before, why he had simply assumed you moved across the ice by some other means. But now it makes sense—your leaps, your falls, the near-impossible way you spin.

No wonder you always fell. No wonder you had to try again and again. Landing on one foot while balancing on blades, on ice, no less…

Jon swallows, watching as you glide closer, effortlessly balanced on something that should be impossible.

He doesn’t know what to say.

But somehow, he has the feeling you already know that.

You stop a few feet away, spinning lightly before coming to a halt.

There you stand—tall, poised, balancing effortlessly on blades and ice.

Jon opens his mouth, then closes it again. Words feel too heavy on his tongue, too clumsy for this moment. Instead, he watches as you tilt your head, a single curl falling loose to frame your face.

Behind you, the world is stark and white, the frozen lake stretching endlessly beneath the soft descent of snow. The contrast is striking—you, standing alone against the vast winter landscape, a figure of quiet defiance and grace.

How perfectly it suited you.

How perfectly Snow suited you.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The world around you is still, the only sound is the faint whisper of the wind and the distant rustling of trees. Snowflakes drift lazily through the air, settling in your hair, catching in your lashes. Jon wonders if you feel the cold, or if you’ve grown so accustomed to it that it no longer touches you.

Then, you move again—not with the sweeping grandeur of your jumps, nor the sharp intensity of your spins, but something smaller, softer. You shift your weight, gliding just a fraction closer, and Jon swears he forgets how to breathe.

Up close, he can see more than just the way you move. He sees the faint flush on your cheeks, the sharp focus in your eyes, the slight quirk of your heart shaped lips as if you're amused by his silence.

“You’ve been watching me,” you finally say. Your voice is light, yet it carries, wrapping around him like the wind.

Jon stiffens. He should deny it. He should look away, should find some excuse, should be anywhere but standing here like a boy caught doing something he shouldn’t.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he meets your gaze, steady and unwavering. “Aye,” he admits, his voice quieter than he intends.

You don’t seem surprised. If anything, your smile deepens, just a little. You glance past him, towards the tree line, as if searching for someone else.

“Where’s the other one?” you ask.

Jon doesn’t have to ask who you mean. His jaw tightens. “Busy.”

You hum, considering him, and then—before he can say another word—you push off, skating backward, watching him the entire time. Snowflakes swirl between you, and Jon remains rooted in place, unsure if he should follow or let you go.

Then, just as he thinks you’ll disappear into the falling snow, you call out—

“Come back tomorrow.”

And just like that, you turn, gliding away across the ice, leaving Jon standing there, heart pounding against his ribs.

Jon stays frozen long after you’ve disappeared into the trees, your parting words echoing in his mind. Come back tomorrow.

The wind howls around him, biting through his cloak, but he barely feels it. His pulse drums in his ears, and he doesn’t know if it’s from the cold or something else entirely.

For weeks, he had watched you from afar, believing that was all he would ever have. And yet, in mere moments, you had closed the distance, faced him directly, spoken to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Come back tomorrow.

Jon doesn’t even remember walking back to Winterfell. His thoughts are elsewhere—on the way your eyes had lingered on his, on the way you had smiled, on the effortless way you moved across the ice as if you were born to it.

By the time he reaches the castle gates, the light is fading. The torches have been lit, casting long shadows across the courtyard. He slips inside unnoticed, moving through the halls like a ghost, lost in his own head.

At dinner, he barely speaks. He hardly hears Robb’s teasing, Arya’s complaints, or Sansa’s chatter about her sewing lessons. When his father asks if something is wrong, Jon only shakes his head and mumbles something about training. Lady Stark spares him only a glance before returning to her meal.

The night passes in a blur. Sleep does not come easy. When he closes his eyes, all he can see is the frozen lake, the falling snow, and the way you had stood there—tall, poised, waiting for him.

Come back tomorrow.

Jon does.

Before the sun has fully risen, before anyone else is stirring, he pulls on his cloak and slips out of Winterfell, moving swiftly through the quiet woods. The cold is sharper this morning, the frost thicker on the ground, but he barely notices.

When he reaches the lake, his breath catches.

You are already there.

You move across the ice in slow, deliberate circles, your arms outstretched, your head tilted back as if embracing the cold. Snow dusts the ice like scattered diamonds, and with the sun beginning to rise, it paints the world in soft gold and silver.

Jon doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching.

This time, you don’t pretend not to notice him.

You slow, turning toward him, and your lips curve into that same amused smile from yesterday.

“You came.”

Jon swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He nods, stepping forward.

“You asked me to.”

You tilt your head, considering, then gesture toward the lake. “Will you come closer?”

Jon hesitates, glancing down at his boots, at the edge of the ice where solid ground meets something more uncertain.

You watch him, waiting. Then, with a teasing lilt to your voice, you add, “Or are you afraid?”

Jon scowls before he can stop himself, and you laugh, light and airy. It is the first time he has heard you laugh, and something in his chest tightens.

Come closer.

Jon takes a step forward.

There is a light coat of snow near the edges and his shoes find it easy to walk in. Slowly he keeps walking towards you all the while you stay still watching him. Jon can feel your gauze and all he can do is hope and pray he does not slip and make a fool of himself. Suddenly you’re right in front of him and Jon hopes you cannot see every imperfection he has deemed he has.

Your eyes are big and seemingly full of wonder, as if you are in awe of him. How could you be? How could you be when he is only a Snow? How could you be when you have seen his brother? How could you be when you are simply you? A woman who seems to do the impossible.

Your hair is pulled back once more, as it was yesterday and the day before that. Though in a different style, your face is on full display for his eyes to feast on. The color of your eyes catches the sun perfectly and makes them shine like something he cannot name. For the color of your eyes so beautiful that words yet do not exist to describe them.

You are enamoring.

Jon takes another step forward, and now he stands where the ice is bare, untouched by snow.

You extend your hand toward him—toward Snow. He hesitates only for a moment before taking it. Your fingers are nimble, cool against the heat of his palm, yet there is a quiet strength in the way you hold him.

With effortless grace, you glide backward, pulling him ever so slightly forward. You are taller than him atop your blades, your presence somehow even more commanding. Jon was never the tallest, never the strongest. He can only assume his mother wasn’t either, for his father stands only a little taller than him.

And yet, in this moment, he has never felt smaller.

Jon swallows, trying not to focus on how his boots feel clumsy against the ice, how his grip on your hand tightens instinctively, afraid of slipping, of falling—of ruining this moment.

You seem to notice. There’s a flicker of something in your eyes, something teasing yet patient, and then—without a word—you pull him forward again. Jon stumbles slightly, his footing unsteady, but you steady him with the slightest shift of your wrist.

“It’s alright,” you say, your voice soft, light as the snow falling around you.

Jon clenches his jaw, willing himself not to make a fool of himself in front of you. But he cannot help but marvel at how effortlessly you move, as if the ice itself bends to your will.

He exhales through his nose, steadying himself. “How do you do it?”

Your lips curl at the edges, amusement dancing in your gaze. “Years of practice.”

Jon huffs, something between frustration and admiration. “I can barely walk on this, and you—you dance, and you leap, and twirl, all on blades nonetheless.”

“I could teach you.” You say it so simply, as if the offer costs you nothing. As if you do not realize what those words do to him.

Jon stares at you, his heart suddenly loud in his chest. You, here, offering him a piece of the impossible. Offering him time.

He should refuse. He should walk away before he embarrasses himself further.

Instead, he nods.

You pull him close as you continue gliding backwards ever so softly. “You do not have skates, I can make you some…if you’d like?” Your voice is a whisper as if you’re telling him a secret.

“Balancing on blades?” Jon chuckles out.

“Spinning, leaping, and dancing on blades.” Jon hears you before he feels you let go and skate backwards with such speed before turning forward and he watches you jump into the air spinning do fast he cannot count the times you have spun in the air before landing on a single blade your hands extended outwards like an eagle taking flight and your leg up as you skate on one blade, then just as before you’re infront of him spinning and as your hands reach other heard head he simply becomes dizzy watching you before you spot with a grin on your face.

Jon shakes his head, still in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do that.”

You laugh, the sound warm despite the cold. “Probably not,” you admit, amusement dancing in your eyes. “I’ve been at it since I was a girl.”

“What is it like?” Jon asks as you continue gliding around him, your movements smooth and effortless. His head follows you cautiously, careful not to turn too fast lest he lose his balance.

“What is what like? Skating?” Your voice drifts from behind him, and he turns to face you.

“Flying in the air.” He imagines it must feel liberating—like a bird taking its first flight, or the rush of galloping on horseback with the cold wind slicing against his face. But your answer is not what he expects.

“Suffocating.”

Jon furrows his brow.

“It is fast. The faster you go, the harder it is to breathe. There is a pressure on your chest when you jump and spin at such speeds.”

How peculiar. He has never moved so fast that he couldn’t breathe, yet you speak of it so casually. His gaze drifts over you—slim, yet strong, the outline of your muscles taut beneath your form-fitting attire. Your body, sculpted by years of discipline, seems perfectly attuned to your art.

“When I jump, I focus on staying in the circle.” You carve a small circle into the ice with your blade, the sound crisp in the cold air. “I jump from here and try to land within another circle in my mind. I think of keeping my shoulder in front of me so I do not fall. A hundred thoughts flash through my mind in less than a second.”

Jon watches you, entranced, as if witnessing an entirely different world unfold—one where flight is not freedom, but a relentless battle against gravity itself.

“In the air, keeping my hands tucked to my chest takes immense strength—it’s the only way to resist the pull of the world.” Your voice is steady, measured, as if reciting a truth etched into your bones. “When you spin, even on the ground, your arms feel like dead weight, as if the earth is trying to tear you apart. But the moment you fight against that pull and tuck them in, the faster you spin.”

Jon listens intently as you illustrate your art in careful detail. Then, with effortless grace, you extend your arms and begin to turn. The movement is fluid at first, slow—until you draw your arms inward. Before his eyes, your spin tightens, speed increasing in an instant, the wind from your motion barely perceptible yet undeniable. And just as suddenly, you push off, gliding a short distance before coming to a full stop.

“It’s hard to stop once you start,” you continue, breathless but composed. “Even more so in the air. And then comes the landing. You move at such speeds and then, suddenly—”

“Like a horse stopping too fast, throwing you from the saddle,” Jon murmurs.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Yes. I’ve fallen more times than I can count.”

Jon knows. He’s watched you fall over and over again—seen the frustration etched into your features, the quiet determination in your eyes. And Robb… Robb had seen you succeed.

A week passed with Jon standing atop the frozen lake, watching as you skated around him, guiding him through the smallest details of your craft. A week before the question, the one that had burned within him since the first time he saw you dance, finally slipped from his lips.

“Why do you dance?”

You held his hand, leading him back onto solid ground, though he watched you carefully, half-expecting you to stumble. If you moved with such certainty on ice, why would you falter on land? (You would not.)

You didn’t answer right away. Jon blinked, about to apologize, but you shook your head.

“No one has ever asked me that before,” you admitted. “My father only watched—never questioning if I enjoyed it. My mother simply expected me to. But why do I do it?” You exhaled, gaze distant, as if searching for an answer you had never needed to put into words. “I am afraid I have none that would satisfy you. I dance because it is what my body knows. Because, in those moments, my body takes over my mind—carrying me beyond thought, beyond reason—allowing me to perform the impossible. I want to perform what no one else can do. To be the best at what I do. The greatest there ever was and ever will be.” Jon watched as a small smile tugged at your lips, a flicker of something both fierce and unshakable in your eyes.

“Though I suppose that sounds a bit conceited, does it not?”

Jon didn’t answer right away. Conceited? No, that wasn’t the word that came to mind. He had seen lords puff out their chests, knights boast of their victories, men who claimed greatness without ever proving it. You were nothing like them.

He studied you—your steady breath, the quiet fire in your gaze, the way your fingers flexed at your sides as if aching to move again, to carve patterns into the ice beneath your feet. There was no arrogance in your words, only certainty.

“It does not,” Jon finally said. “Not if it is true.”

You tilted your head, as if surprised by his response, then let out a soft chuckle. “You believe I can be the greatest?”

Jon hesitated, then nodded. “I have watched you. The way you move—it is not just skill, it’s…” He struggled for the right words. “It is like you were meant for it. Like the ice listens to you. No one can move as you do.”

He heard you give out a small sigh before looking over to the lake that started it all. “It is not a common art, even in the North.” You then turned to him and Jon met your gauze. “And what about you Jon?”

What does Jon Snow want? To be Jon Stark. To be able to marry anyone of his choosing and be able to provide the luxuries of a Lord as he has grown up with. He does not know. “I could not say to my lady.” He looks up to you and he watches your smile soften and for a moment, there was nothing but the quiet between you, the distant howl of the wind across the lake. Jon finds himself being pulled to you. He imagines the way you pull him towards you as both sit on a log is the way the world pulls you when you spin.

Jon can only focus on your lips that have been slightly reddened by the cold. “Come.” He hears you whisper and his eyes meet you though you seem more focused on the half of his face. “One more time.” You eyes meet Jons as you both stand keeping the same proximity even as you tower slightly over him.

Your hands become entangled with his as you pull him towards the ice, towards the lake. He gave a small smile as he followed, keeping his hand entangled in yours. The cold was biting at his skin as he stepped forward. He knew by now he would never keep up with you, but he didn’t mind. Not really.

Because watching you dance, even in the dim winter light, was akin to magic.

It was a shame Jon was too entranced by you to hear that other worldly sound that came from the ice of the lake. It was such a shame he allowed you take him so far out into the lake. It was such a shame that as he kissed you, his first kiss, was marked with you pushing him away and watching your horror stricken face as he slid backwards as the ice cracked beneath you and you dropped under.

You dropped under the ice and never taught him to glide above the water as you did, and you never made him his own pair of bladed shoes. (Or so he thought.)

Notes: This was originally going to be a lot longer and she was going to live and more fluff while she was recovering from hypothermia but it's late and I'm tired. I wanted to put out something since 'Moderness of 1400s' won't be updated for another week (at best) bc I have exams 🙂‍↔️ and I gotta lock in so I wanted to give y'all something.

Also whats the rarity of Jon Snow fics? I've been starving recently!

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

Gen Masterlist

#game of thrones x y/n #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #reader insert #fem reader #x reader #jon snow #got #robb stark x reader #spicepost

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dipperscavern · 9 months ago

Note

Do you have suggestions for longer fics? I’m lookin to get into some deep fics and stay up late reading! Any character from asoiaf or got!

absolutely!!

a golden cage, by @eldrith

a jacaerys velaryon x reader fic, still ongoing & currently standing at three parts, very lore heavy!! the writing is heavenly though, eldrith never disappoints, and she also has some other stand alone jace & cregan works :3

he that dares, by @sehaedazokla

a cregan stark x tyrell!reader fic, still ongoing & currently standing at 5 parts, i haven’t had the chance to read all of it yet but from the glimpses i’ve seen it’s sooo interesting — they also have some other stand alone stark works!

heart of the great wolf, by @rise-my-angel

a jon snow x reader slowburn & previous robb stark x reader (you’ll see what i mean), this big boy is still ongoing and currently standing at a whopping 70 parts (holy shit) (go mimi), very much lore centered and a mix of show + book material! also has a modern!au spin off, and a nsfw alphabet for both robb and jon (if i’m not mistaken

flames of deceit, by @cregan-starks

an aemond targaryen & cregan stark x oc (it’s complicated), still ongoing (i believe?) and currently standing at one part (tori i’m going to beat you) (affectionately), i usually don’t read x ocs but visenya is so funny and it’s set up so well i couldn’t help myself

& quite literally everything on @swordgrace — click and scroll my lovely <3

#dippys asks #got fic recs #hotd fic recs #hope this helps #hope this HELPS 💜#dipsters recs !

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axelsagewrites · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, could I request a love triangle with both Theon and Jon set in modern days? Fratboy!Theon (he's unsufurable and such dork! I can so imagine reader disliking him but he's cute when he wants to!) and Emo!Jon (he just gives off emo boy energy!!). Lots of teasing and rivalry (maybe? But definitely not needed) and maybe f!reader hooking up with both but separately.

Jon Snow/Theon Greyjoy*Hook ups

Pairing: jon x reader, theon x reader, past!jon x Ygritte

Word count: 3980

Warnings: secret hooking up, multiple partners, p in v sex, f! receiving oral, hickeys, praise, slight sub jon, cocky theon, smut 18+

Masterlist here

when you left for college, you were determined to break out of your shell. the first day was of course the toughest but luckily for you the dark-haired quiet kid beside you seemed equally on edge. you and Jon formed an instant friendship in freshman English and soon managed to develop a proper friendship group.

Jons half-brother Robb was also a freshman, so he was an obvious addition to the group. plus, you managed to make friends with a girl called Ygritte in your Ancient Histories class and whenever you all hung out, she would bring her friend Tormund along. the five of you were a close group all throughout freshman year and Jon and Ygritte even started dating at the end of freshman year.

you refused to admit to any of them that you were secretly a tiny bit completely and utterly jealous. you managed to keep your feelings at bay over the summer break but when you came back in your second year it was hard not to get angry seeing how happy they were. you knew it was neither of their faults, but you tried to keep it at bay and took the opportunity to expand your friendship group.

this was easy enough by tagging along wherever Robb went. he was such a sweetheart despite being such a party animal. he had been nicknamed across campus as the young wolf because of his string of girlfriends who all seemed to thank him when they got dumped. he was oddly charismatic when you thought of him, and Jon being related.

Jon was far shyer than Robb with his head often in a book or jotting lyrics and poems down in a notebook. he never left his dorm without headphones and majority of his music was all pre 2005 emo kid bangers. don’t get me wrong, you loved his music, but it was an acquired taste for sure. Ygritte however hadn’t acquired it, so it made it all the more frustrating for you when she never listened to the sweet songs, he sent her.

but you refused to let it keep you down so here you were at a Blackfyre Frat party standing with Robb who was introducing you to yet another friend of his. As he was telling Danerys that you were also into Taylor Swift you felt an arm suddenly grab over your shoulder and your neck snapped to the side to see its owner.

He had his other arm wrapped over Robbs shoulder and a beer bottle in hand, “and this is Theon,” Robb laughed as you shrugged him off as he kissed Robbs cheek, “aka a pain in my ass,”

“Thought you liked when I was in your ass,” Theon gasped as he finally removed himself from the young wolf. at times you had questioned if Robb was bi but now did not seem the time to ask as Theon held his hand out for you to shake, “And who do I owe the pleasure?”

you shook his hand lightly, trying your best not to grimace at the beer stench on his breath. you told him your name and quickly took your hand back, “I think im gonna get a drink,” you said, your eyes shooting to Dany who decided she also needed one. thank god for girls you thought.

“Cmon princess I don’t bite,” Theon joked but waved you and Dany off to slip into the crowds.

“He’s something alright,” you joked as you filled your cup with extra strong-smelling punch.

Dany laughed as she refilled her own drink, “He’s not as bad as he seems,” she said making your eyebrows scrunch in shock, “Nah seriously. its just this impression he puts on, I guess. I don’t really get it but alone he’s far more chill,”

“Please don’t leave me alone with him,” you said as you attempted to drink what tasted like straight vodka, “I don’t need him spilling beer down me,” you joked as you and Dany re-entered the crowd of people to dance.

you found your eyes wondering over to Theon a few times in the night. any time he caught you he sent a cheeky wink, and you rolled your eyes before turning to blush. maybe it was the alcohol or whatever issues high school had left you with, but Theon was kind of hot.

not in the Jon mysterious sensitive way but in the cocky I don’t give a fuck way. he was wearing his fraternity t-shirt which after Robb spilled his drink down revealed a surprisingly well toned body underneath. Dany seemed to notice your glances as she winked at you before demanding Robb and Theon come dance.

as Theon walked over you decided fuck it. Jon was taken and you were a woman with needs and even if he was a bit annoying Theon wad fit as fuck. you didn’t protest when they joined you to dance or run away when Theon would bump into you or spin you around the dance floor despite the music defiantly not being the spinning sort.

however eventually it was all becoming a bit too loud and a bit too fast. that plus the vodka was getting to you so without much warning you decided to duck out the dance floor and make your way to the kitchen where you stumbled upon Joffrey Lannister practically on top of Margaery Tyrell. you dipped your head as you headed for the back door and decided to just chill on the back steps for a few.

“You good bro?” you heard Theon’s concerned voice, but you didn’t need to turn as he moved to sit beside you on the step. he tried to hand you a cup, but you just looked at him in silent questioning, “Just water. promise,” he said reaching out his pinkie for you to link with your own.

you laughed as you made a pinkie promise with a near stranger before taking the cup, “Thanks man,” you said before almost downing the cup, “Sorry it just felt like really loud all of a sudden,”

“That’s cool,” Theon shrugged with a genuine smile that made your own lips curl up, “I just wanted to make sure nothing had happened. I know things like this aren’t always the easiest but its good you came,” he said as he knocked his knee into yours, “Even if you’re a terrible dancer,” he teased making you laugh and tease him right back.

you ended up sitting out there for the next hour before Dany eventually found you, wondering if you’d died or something. this was now your queue to leave since even Robb was too far gone to continue this night. “I’m gonna go get him into my bed then ill be back down to walk yous two home,” Theon said as Robb was slumped over his shoulder.

“Oh, you don’t have to- “you tried to say.

Theon cut you off, “Don’t worry love I’ll be two tics,” he said before he started to take Robb up the stairs, “Cmon buddy use those feet of yours,” you heard him mumble as you and Dany laughed at the state of Robb.

“See told you he’s not that bad,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

you rolled your eyes at the blonde as you finished your drink, “Yeah, yeah. we’ll see,” and see you did. Theon had asked for your insta when you got to the dorms and somewhat shockingly to you didn’t try make a pass at you before he left. maybe he wasn’t that bad after all?

“Ugh that guy,” Jon groaned as you walked to class together, “I hate when Robb brings him round, he’s just so weird,”

“Some would say the same thing about you my goth little friend,” you said, poking at his arm making him swat it away.

“Not a goth,” he said, grabbing your hand to stop your attacks which for a moment almost made you blush, “Besides he always calls me an emo,” he said making you look at him like he said 2 + 2 = 5, “I’m not an emo. I just happen to have perfect taste,” all you did was snort as you finally reached English and took your seats.

for the month or so you spent a surprising amount of time dm-ing Theon. it started with him sending a couple memes to you having long conversations deep into the night about complete random topics. you also started actually going to parties once or twice a week with Theon and Robb much to Jons protest.

every time you told him he was welcome to come but he refused. instead, he would tell you all the reasons Theon annoyed him, and you could do better. it was ironic your old crush telling you to move on. the best thing was that you could finally see him and Ygritte around without wanting to vomit all over the place.

however, in a strange turn of events it was as soon as you got over Jon, or at least you thought, that he and Ygritte started having issues. Jon always refused to tell you what it was they fought about but you knew something was off. by now though you hung around with Dany, Theon, and Robb more than Ygritte, so you didn’t want to push. you and Jon still hung out as well of course but it was almost as if he was starting to ice you out.

you had talked to Theon about this on multiple occasions with him telling you that he was just being overly emo about things. you always defended Jon, but it was nice to know you weren’t crazy. then one night you got a text from Jon.

-she dumped me

this led to you and Jon locking yourself away in his dorm for a week as you helped him get over the breakup then a week of you dragging Jon out the dorms to see sunlight. you insisted he go out and enjoyed himself after allowing him to wallow for a time and soon a new friendship group was born.

you, Robb, Theon, Jon, and Dany hung out together at least three times a week, often all going to frat parties or drunken nights out. yes, even Jon would tag along to these parties, and you could tell he was enjoying it deep down. however, no matter what the two boys were always nipping at the other heels.

Theon would make fun of Jons clothes then Jon would quip back at his hair. when Jon poked fun at Theon’s grades Theon would make fun of Jons music taste. it was funny at times, frustrating at others, but overall, this was the most social Jon had been in months, so you weren’t going to complain.

something you hadn’t told Jon though, and had insisted that Theon couldn’t tell him either, was that you had secretly been hooking up with the Greyjoy without any of your friends knowing. he would text you late at night or you’d snap him when you were stressed. yes yes, the classic booty call things, you knew you were a cliché. but gods the sex was good.

you’d gotten a text from Theon that night and it didn’t take you long to get to his frat and sneak in through the backdoor. you slipped into Theon’s rooms unnoticed but as the door shut behind you you felt Theon press his chest into yours, “What took so long doll?” he grinned, his lips moving to kiss your jaw.

you laughed at the boy as your fingers travelled up to his hair, “Please you like when I keep you waiting,” you teased as you tugged lightly on his hair. you felt his lips move further down your neck, kissing softly at first but soon you felt him sucking gently on your skin, “You better not leave a mark,” you groaned, hating how you enjoyed it.

“I’ll think about it princess,” Theon said as his arms wrapped around your waist before tugging you over to the bed and pushing you down onto his sheets. he grabbed his collar, pulling his shirt over his head in a routine you had both practised down to perfection as you slipped your own top off.

Theon crawled over your body, his hands groping at your thighs and hips as his lips kissed the valley of your breasts. you moaned lightly as you felt him squeeze your hips and his hard on pressing into your thigh. “Now who’s making me wait,” you teased as you pulled Theon’s face up to yours, latching your lips together.

you knew each other’s rhythms, what they liked and where, his tongue slipped in with ease as your hands gripped his shoulders. meanwhile his were trailing up your body, squeezing your tits as he settled his legs between yours, grinding into you. you had of course changed into a cute little skirt when you saw the text so as your legs wrapped around his hips it left little to the imagination.

Theon hand slipped between your bodies, unbuttoning his jeans with ease and slipping them and his boxers off without even breaking your lips. you moaned lightly when his fingers rubbed your clit over your panties and your kiss grew deeper when he began to push them to the side. Theon only broke the kiss to quickly slip a condom on, something you had always insisted on and he had never complained about.

you felt him line his tip up with your hole, pushing it in slowly at first, “You like that?” he mumbled against your lips with that cocky smirk. god it shouldn’t be that hot to be a prick. your legs tightened around his waist, pushing Theon deeper in which he gladly complied as he sunk his length fully in, “Fuck,” he groaned, his thrusts attempting to set a steady pace.

his hand found your clit again, rubbing circles over it as your hands scratched gently down his back making him shiver. Theon’s lips fell from yours, moving to gently kiss down your jaw and neck before his head fell into your shoulder, his breathing growing heavy as you knew he was close to the edge.

with a final thrust you felt his body tighten for a moment before sinking into yours. you paused for a moment, letting Theon catch his breath. he pulled away for a moment, discarding the condom and kneeling over your thighs before he looked back down at you with a cocky grin, “Your turn now,” he said, and you laughed as he made his way down south.

by the end of the night, you were both hot and sweaty and both in a pair of Theon’s sweatpants. you were able to slip out and back to yours for a quick change of clothes before class the next morning though Jon shot you a questioning look when you had to practically run to class.

as the lecturer droned on and on you saw your phone light up and when you looked you saw a text from Jon. you unlocked your phone under the table, glancing over to see Jon was doing the same, as you opened the message.

-u wanna do something tonight?

-ye sure. want me to text everyone else?

you sent back and when you glanced at Jon you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. a few moments later another message came.

-was thinking it could be a just us thing. like old times

you didn’t even realise you were smiling when you saw the message, but Jon did. and gods did it make his legs go weak especially when you text back.

-great idea. movie night?

-only if u don’t hog the snacks

-no promises

after a long day of classes, a movie night was just what you needed especially since you knew it wasn’t hard to get Jon to let you pick the movie. when you arrived at his dorm, he was setting up a projector his dad had got him and you noticed his roommate, Tormund was out. “Did you kick Tormund to the curb for me?” you joked when you walked in through the open door.

Jon grinned as he stopped fiddling with his laptop cables and the projector lit up the room, “He didn’t mind,” he said as he took the bag of snacks out of your hand, adding them to the pile he had set up on his bed. “You ready for the ultimate movie experience?”

“Always,” you grinned as you jumped down onto his bed, kicking off your shoes and making yourself comfy. you didn’t catch the way Jon smiled at you as he watched this or how when he shut the door, he locked it also.

Jon flicked off the lights before returning to the bed, sitting beside you as he brought up Netflix on his laptop. before you could even start your spiel about how legally blonde the best film was and why you just had to watch it, he was handing you the laptop. you’d thought your crush had died but when you felt his fingers brush yours as you took the laptop you were grateful for the dimmed lighting to hide your blush.

Jon watched the movie without complaint, which honestly shocked you, especially when he even offered you some of his pringles. now that was odd. you were so into the movie you didn’t even realise you were leaning onto his shoulder till you felt his arm move to rest around your waist. when you glanced at Jon he cleared his throat, a blush spreading across his cheeks making you smile before you turned your attention back to Elle strutting her stuff.

by the end credits your body was fully rested against Jons, your snacks were gone, and his head was leant on top of yours. “See, told you it was a masterpiece,” you teased.

Jon chuckled lightly as you moved your head off his shoulder, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move his arm, “It was something alright,”

“Theres a second one,”

“Eh I think one movie was enough for tonight,” Jon said as he closed Netflix with his spare hand. the room was still pretty dark but the light from the projector lit it up just enough to notice the cute smile toying on his lips.

“So whatcha wanna do then?” you said, moving to face him without realising how close your faces were, “You can’t kick me out already. its only nine,” you said but Jon didn’t say anything back.

you just smiled, waiting for him to say something and wondering if you had accidentally broken the boy somehow when Jon suddenly leaned forward. he kissed you. like actually kissed you. on the mouth. it only lasted for a second and you were too stunned to react as he pulled back, “I’m sorry- “Jon tried to say, moving his arm but you cut him off by grabbing his jaw lightly making him face you.

Jon grew silent again as you studied his face for a moment before leaning in. this kiss was far softer than before and this time Jon didn’t run away. his lips moved against yours gently at first, almost as if you were made of glass, but with added courage now Jon grew bolder, his hand squeezing your waist gently.

you took your queue, if not maybe surprising Jon a little, as you moved to straddle his lap. however, it only took a moment for him to catch up as his hands moved to rest gently on your hips. “You can touch me you know,” you mumbled into the kiss, “I won’t break,” you teased as your own hands trailed down his chest.

much to your surprise since he always wore baggy black clothes, but you could feel how toned he was through his shirt. you couldn’t resist slipping your hands under his t-shirt, gently tracing your hands up his skin making him shiver.

you were breathless, pulling away for air but Jon wasn’t done. his lips soon fell to your neck, kissing down your skin gently as his fingers traced the hem of your waistband of your sweats. you moaned lightly when you felt him sucking soft hickeys across your collarbones but this time you didn’t mind the marks.

Jon seemed encouraged by your noises as his hands slipped under the fabric of your sweats as you felt his groan against your skin when he realised you were wearing something lacy. you bit your lip gently as he trailed hickeys down your chest, his hands squeezing your hips and ass. you decided to be bolder, if that was possible, and grind down onto his lap.

you could fell his boner through the fabric and heard Jons soft moans as you continued your movements. “Please,” he moaned against your skin, “I want you,” he begged.

“All you had to do was ask,” you teased as you pried yourself from his grip. the way Jon watched with awe as you stripped your t-shirt off made you want him ever more. “Take that off,” you said, pointing to his own top to which he happily complied.

you turned away for a moment, slipping your sweats down your legs to give Jon a proper show since he was determined to enjoy it. you heard him curse under his breath as you kicked away the fabric and when you turned around, he was finally tugging his jeans off leaving him in just his boxers. “Fuck,” Jon mumbled, his eyes glued to your frame for several moments before finally flickering to your eyes, “You’re perfect,”

you giggled a little, so unlike yourself, as you leaned down to kiss Jon again. it was slow and deep with your hands in his hair. you expected to be the one leading things, but Jons hand found its way to your hips and soon you were laying on the bed under neath Jon who was trailing open mouth kisses down your body, praising it all the way down.

your breathing hitched when he pressed a kiss to your clothed clit, your hand instinctually reaching for his hair as he slid your panties down your legs. within moments he was kissing your cunt soft as he moved your legs over his shoulders. you moaned when you felt his tongue against your clit, applying more and more pressure as he went till, he found your sweet spot.

you didn’t care how loud your moan was when you felt his fingers teasing your hole. you bit your lip as he slowly slipped them in, stretching you out before he began to gently curl his fingers. you could feel your orgasm already approaching as Jon began to suck on your clit gently making your legs instinctively wrap around his head.

it only seemed to spur him on more and it wasn’t long till you felt your orgasm threatening to spill. “Don’t stop,�� you whined, your hand gripping his hair for dear life, “Fuck,” you gasped as your body tightened and your orgasm crashed down like a tsunami.

you could feel your legs twitch, but Jon wasn’t stopping. his seemingly magic tongue kept going till he was sure you were fully finished and when he pulled away, his face wet with your juices, he placed a soft kiss to your thigh. “You are amazing,” he said, kissing up your body with each word.

you were panting for air but still wanting more and Jon had no intentions of stopping there. by the end of the night, you had come five times, weren’t sure if you’d ever walk again, and you were both naked and sweaty under his sheets. you didn’t know how you’d explain these hickeys to Theon next time you saw him but god where they worth it.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics

212 notes · View notes

venusbyline · 5 months ago

Text

𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺/𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑰𝑨𝑭 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ☙

❥ about me • main masterlist • wips

I only wrote for character x female/afab!reader, characters x female/afab!OCs, and some specific ships.

I write for female characters and sapphic ships too.

: ̗̀➛ REQUESTS: closed.

❥ ASOIAF Random Headcanons (masterlist)

𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐉𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

❥ nothing yet

𝐉𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰

❥ Perverted Half-brother (headcanon, smut, dark, modern AU) - dark!Jon Snow x Stark!reader

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐓𝐲𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥

❥ nothing yet

𝐍𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

❥ nothing yet

𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐛 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

❥ nothing yet

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

❥ nothing yet

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐣𝐨𝐲

❥ nothing yet

𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 & 𝐉𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰

❥ nothing yet

𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 & 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐓𝐲𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥 & 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

❥ nothing yet

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 & 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 & 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 & 𝐉𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰

❥ nothing yet

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 & 𝐉𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰

❥ nothing yet

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 & 𝐉𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐣𝐨𝐲

❥ nothing yet

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐣𝐨𝐲

❥ nothing yet

𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 & 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 & 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 & 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 & 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

❥ nothing yet

74 notes · View notes

k4marina · 6 months ago

Text

— vii. Eastwatch || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: the arrival of an old friend marks the beginning of a cold and eventful journey north

warnings: language, night king, game of thrones cannon events, spoilers to the episode Eastwatch, pretty tame chapter ngl

all dialogue in italics are in Valyrian

a/n: note with an update at the end pls read.

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!

series masterlist || next part

game of thrones x fem!modern!reader

8k word count

[gif found on pinterest]

Weeks had gone by since the attempted sacking on Highgarden and both Tyrion and the Unsullied had returned from Casterly Rock after successfully securing both regions of the west. The entire castle was bustling, Jon and his men mined and prepared the Dragonglass, forging it into weapons and to transport it to Winterfell for when the time was right. Daenerys was busy planning ahead for her battles against Cersei and now the Night King as well.

During the last few weeks I’d been extra careful of whose eyes were on me, considering that there’s a high chance they’re one of Varys’ spies. The young girl, Alana, had periodically come back to do Varys’ dirty work while giving Dany and I information. Like I had suspected, the young girl's parents were killed by Stannis for refusing to take him as their Lord and as Robert for their King.

Regardless, it was clear that Varys wasn’t to be trusted (which I already knew) and that he had eyes and ears everywhere, even on those closest to Daenerys.

I walked around the outside of the castle, taking in the fresh air while clearing my head. Who knew planning for a war that you already knew everything about was so hard. I paused, catching the dragons flying around in the sky. My gaze traveled downwards, spotting Daenerys, Jon, a Dothraki guard, and another man.

Is it time? I carefully made my way to where they stood. He did show up to Dragonstone after the Sack of Highgarden.

Daenerys and I briefly made eye contact as the man bent the knee to her.

“Your Grace,” he slowly stood. Despite only seeing the back of his head and back, I could tell exactly who this was. His voice was deep, a light gravel to it. His hair, a mix of ginger, blonde, and gray.

“Jon Snow, this is Ser Jorah Mormont, an old friend.”

“I served with your father,” Jon said. “He was a great man.”

Jon and Jorah nod, acknowledging both of their prowess.

“And this,” Daenerys motions towards me. “Is Y/n Vellarys. She’s been a trusted advisor of mine and a very close friend.”

Jorah turns, spotting me. He doesn’t bother masking his confusion and shock, thinking that I’d be someone else. I watch him look over my hair, clothes, and the sword on my hip. It’s only when I subtly raise a brow does he snap out of it.

“My Lady, it’s an honor to meet you.” He bows his head.

“You look strong.” Says Daenerys. “You found a cure?”

Jorah bows his head, bashfully at the small compliment. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. I return to your service, my queen. If you’ll have me.”

“It would be my honor.” Daenerys smiles.

My eyes roamed down his exposed arm, wrapped in bandages, but overall looking good.

“It seems that Sam has done a fine job.” I commented.

“Sam?” Jon repeats, asking, my Sam?

“He was the one who healed Ser Jorah. Isn’t that right?”

Jorah slowly nods. “How did you know that?”

“I just do,” I shrug, nonchalantly.

“Does that mean that Sam is still at the Citadel?” Jon asks.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Jorah and I respond at the same time, the former looking at me confused again.

“He was there when Ser Jorah left, but by now he’s left the Citadel.” I explained. “A raven from Winterfell has to have arrived by now, which means he’s preparing for his departure for Winterfell.”

“Oh,” I caught myself before I forgot. “Speaking of ravens, one has arrived for you, Jon Snow.”

“Then we should converse further by the table then.” Daenerys steps forward, and everyone follows suit.

I walked beside her to her left while Jorah was a little back and to my right while Jon was to the left of him, behind me.

“You don’t seem surprised that he’s here.” Daenerys says, loud enough for me to hear.

“Not at all. If anything I was waiting for his arrival.”

“What do you know?”

“After you sent him away he traveled to the Citadel. There, he was given the diagnosis that he’d only have a few months left, but he met Samwell Tarly who found a cure and saved him.”

“Samwell Tarly? As in the son Randyl Tarly sent to the wall?”

I nod. “He and Jon are very close friends, brothers even. And, he was the first man to kill a White Walker at the Fist of the First Men.”

“How do you think he’ll feel once he knows the truth?”

“As any son would. But I’m sure if you are clear with what happened he won’t be as.. distraught.”

––

Daenerys and I sat side by side while Varys sat further down. Tyrion and Jorah stood near Daenerys and Jon and Davos stood by the end of the table. Everyone watched as the King in the North read over the raven for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead.” Jon sighed, relieved.

“I’m happy for you. You don’t look happy.” Daenerys points out.

Jon shook his head. “Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch. If they make it past the wall-”

“The Wall has kept them out for thousands of years.” Varys says as if he’s correct. “Presumably-”

“They’ve never traveled down this far.” My eyes glanced down at the table where Eastwatch was marked. “And if the Night King can raise the dead for his army then a wall of ice made of magic is nothing.”

Jon clenches his jaw, looking up at Daenerys. “I need to go home.”

Daenerys furrowed her brows. “You said you don’t have enough men.”

“We’ll fight with the men we have.” Jon sighs. “Unless you’ll join us.”

“And give the country to Cersei? As soon as I march away she marches in.” She shook her head.

“If it’s the West you worry about, we have men protecting it. You can call upon Dickon Tarly to defend Highgarden and Casterly Rock.” I say.

“Cersei thinks the Army of the Dead is nothing but a story made up by wet nurses to frighten children. What if we prove her wrong?” Tyrion suggests.

Jon shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll come see the dead at my invitation.”

Tyrion walks around the table, closer to Jon. “So bring the dead to her.”

“I thought that was what we are trying to avoid.” Daenerys frowns.

“We don’t have to bring the whole army. Only one soldier.” I nod.

Davos turns to Jon. “Is that possible?”

Jon thinks back. “The first White I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from Beyond the Wall.”

“Bring one of these things down to King’s Landing and show her the truth.” Tyrion says.

Varys shakes his head. “Anything you bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience and is somehow convinced not to murder us the moment we step foot in the capital.”

Tyrion purses his lips into a line. “The only person she listens to is Jamie. He may listen to me.”

“And how would you get into King’s Landing?” Daenerys asks.

The room falls silent and everyone looks to Ser Davos. “I can smuggle you in, but if the Goldcloaks were to recognize you, I’m warning you, I’m not a fighter.”

Tyrion nods his head, understanding.

“Well, it will all be for nothing if we don’t have one of these dead men.” I said.

“Fair point. How do you propose to find one?” Varys asks Jon.

Jon pauses and stares at the ground, but Jorah answers before him. He turns to Daenerys, “with the queen’s permission I’ll go north and take one.” Daenerys turns to him, surprised. Jorah continued. “You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you.”

Jon nodded. “The free folk will help us. They know the real north better than anyone.”

“They won’t follow Ser Jorah.” Davos reminded Jon.

“They won’t have to.” Jon replied.

“You can’t lead a raid beyond the wall.” Davos shakes his head. “You’re not in the Night’s Watch anymore. You’re King in the North.”

“I’m the only one here whose fought them. I’m the only one here who knows them.” Jon double downed.

“I’ll go as well.” I nodded towards Jon.

Daenerys shook her head. “I haven’t given permission to leave.” She gives Jon and I a pointed look. “To either of you.”

Jon straightened his back. “With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission. I am a king. And I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now I'm asking you to trust in a stranger because it's our best chance.”

Daenerys pauses, everyone looking her way. She looks down in thought for a moment before looking up at Jons pleading eyes, nodding.

“Alright.”

––

“You’re insane.”

Daenerys paces back and forth while I sit in my chair, watching.

“No I’m not.”

She stops, turning to glare at me. “You want to go North and fight an Army of the Dead. That is insanity.”

“So does Jon and his men, does that mean he’s insane as well?”

“That’s different.”

“How?” I huffed. “It’s exactly the same.”

“No it’s not.” She shakes her head. “This conversation is over. You are forbidden to go.”

“Are you saying that as my queen or my sister?”

She purses her lips, sighing out of her nose. “Why do you want to go so badly?”

“There’s something I’m looking for.”

“In a vast tundra?” She raises a brow.

“Yes.” I sighed, standing up and walking to her, grabbing her hands. “Trust me. I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t think it was important. Besides, those boys won’t last long in the North without me.”

She looks down at our hands, nodding.

–––

I stood by the docks, watching as Tyrion stepped onto a small smuggler boat. Davos reached over to untie the mooring line.

“Be careful, the both of you.” I remind them. “And Ser Davos,” he looks up at me, “don’t waste your time wandering around and go straight to the Street of Steel. He’ll be there.”

He frowns, confused, but understands what I’m saying. “I will, My Lady.”

He pushes the boat away and begins to row. I look up to see the sun getting closer to the horizon. By the time they reach the shores of King’s Landing it will be nightfall. I watched them go, before turning back and spotting Jon not too far away, giving orders to his men preparing for their departure for Eastwatch.

“All’s well?”

Jon turned around. “We should be ready to leave by the time Tyrion and Davos return.”

We fell silent andI could tell by the look on his face that he’s itching to say something to me.

“Out with it, Snow.”

He looks down, debating, and then back up. “How do you know?”

“Know what?”

“All of these things. When I first told Daenerys about the Army of the Dead everyone except for you looked shocked, as if you’d already known. You knew about Ser Jorah and Sam, as if you were there yourself.” He shakes his head. “How?”

“I can’t tell you how I know things, but know this; I won’t lie to or betray you and Daenerys. Just trust me and listen to what I have to say and all will be fine.”

He stares at me for a moment and then nods his head, accepting my answer for now but it was clear there was still more on his mind.

“Keep your chin up, things are going to progress fast and we all need to be in shape.”

He nods, “thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. We’re all fighting a war against a common enemy.”

“Yet Daenerys seems to be more concerned with Cersei.”

“She does care. If she didn’t you wouldn’t be standing here.” I said. “But you have to understand that all her life, all that she’s wanted is to come back home. And while Dragonstone is her family's home, so is King’s landing. She’s the last of her house and the people responsible for that are sitting on her family's throne. You can’t blame the girl for having her priorities in line.”

–––

Once Tyrion and Davos had returned Jon and I were ready for our departure. I stood by the steps, watching Davos and a young looking man speaking to one another. His hair was short, but jet black and he carried a hammer.

“You can back out, if you want.” Daenerys came to stand beside me.

“We both know that I can’t do that.”

“Will you at least tell me what’s so important that you have to go?”

“A sword.”

“A sword?” She frowned.

I nodded. “It’s really pretty, too.”

Daenerys gives me a funny look, but doesn’t say much after that. We both descended down the steps and onto the beach. There were two landing boats on the beach, surrounded by two groups of men. A large sailboat was anchored in the water. Tyrion and Jorah talked among themselves as we approached them.

“We should be better at saying farewell by now.” Daenerys says.

“Your Grace, I-” Jorah’s expression flatters.

Daenerys reaches over and takes Jorah by his hands while Jon, Davos, and the black haired man come out of the cave and to us. Jorah bends the knee and kisses Daenerys’ hand as a goodbye. He stands and turns back to the boat, readying it. Davos and the young man both get into the boat. Jon turns to Daenerys, a soft look in both of their eyes.

“If I don’t return at least you won’t have to deal with the King in the North anymore.” He joked.

Daenerys smiled. “But I’ve grown used to him.”

He returns the smile. “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace.”

They share one last look before Jon walks off to the head of the boat. Daenerys watches him, almost longingly and I try my best not to smile. I loudly cleared my throat, catching her attention.

“Ahem!” She turns to me. “I wish you good fortune as well, Your Grace.” I teased. Daenerys’ face turns red and she looks away.

“Enough,” she lightly swats her hand against my arm. “You be safe. Now, go and hurry back.”

I laughed, and nodded. I gave her a formal bow and turned back, making my way to the boat. I sat down next to Davos who left a seat for me.

“Heave!” Jon commands.

The men push the boat into the sea and step on, rowing to where the ship was anchored down. I looked back at Daenerys and Tyrion on the beach, giving them a small wave. A loud roar caught my eye. I glanced atop one of the castle turrets where Viserion stood. He lets out another cry before taking off into the sky.

“He will be joining us?” Ser Davos asks.

“Of course.”

How else would we be leaving the North?

–––

The boat was filled with men to the point it smelt like them; dirty and musty. I stood on the upper deck, watching as Dragonstone got smaller and smaller.

“Already feeling sea sick?”

I looked to my left as Ser Davos approached me. I shake my head. “Not yet. I was just thinking.”

“Mind sharing, My Lady? I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

“It’s weird.” I said. “Being away from Dragonstone for this long.”

“Ah,” he nods. “First time being far away from home.”

“It is. It’s fine, though, I’ll get over it. I saw that you got what you were looking for in King’s Landing.”

He nods. “I did. Thank you, for the advice. But, if I may, how did you know?”

I smiled. “I just do. It’s funny, I said the same thing to Jon when you had left with Tyrion. I’m surprised you were able to hide Robert Baratheon's bastard so well.”

“We hid him in plain sight.”

“And it worked in your favor. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I have to say, I thought that Cersei would have found him by now. The boy was right there.”

“She’s dumb.” I said, dismissively. “Did Jon and him already meet?”

“They did. They were reminiscing over their fathers.”

I hummed. “The honorable Ned Stark and the Usurper.”

“I take it you’re not a fan.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” I shook my head. Everyone praised Robert as if he was some hero, even in the future people still thought of him as some sort of “alpha” and disregarded his actions after taking the throne.

“You won’t hold that against him, will you?”

I frowned. “Who? Gendry?” I shook my head. “His fathers sins aren't his to suffer. And if we’ve learned anything about the children of questionable men, it’s that we shouldn’t judge them so quickly.”

The sun dips below the horizon and the stars start to come alive.”It’s getting late. I’ll be in my cabin.”

Davos bows his head as I turn back and walk below deck. It was my first time in a boat, let alone made of this time period. It creaked and moaned and I swore the further down I went I could hear the water. The hall, or rather walk way was narrow, big enough for two people to sideways cross each other. The doors to the other rooms were filled with men talking.

At the far right was a closed door with the Stark sigil. I knocked once, hearing a muffled “come in.”

Jon stood by a large desk, papers thrown around. I closed the door behind me and stood across from him at the table. I looked down at the map he was glaring at. Circles were drawn on the map, all north of the wall.

“Is this where they’ve been?”

“Aye.” Jon sighs, crossing his arms. “They’re moving fast and we don’t have enough men-”

“We do. We have a gaggle of them.”

“But-”

“No but’s. We’re going to defeat the Army of the Dead and then we’re going to deal with Cersei and then Daenerys is going to ascend the throne and everyone will live happily ever after.”

Jon frowned. “How are you so sure? What if we lose? What if Cersei wins?”

“Because I have to be sure. I have to believe that all will turn out fine. The more I think about the what if’s the easier it is for me to lose sight. And neither can you. We’re going beyond the wall, into White Walker territory and I need to make sure you’re fit to lead us. Are you?”

“I am.”

“Good.” I smiled. “Besides, a certain dragon queen is waiting for your return.” I said in a lighter tone, teasing him.

Jon visibly blushed, looking down at the map. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” I say, not convinced. “Honestly, what are your thoughts on her?”

I could see heat creep up his exposed neck. He clears his throat, “she’s beautiful.”

“That she is.”

“And charming. Ahem, and kind.” Jon smiles to himself. “She’s witty, and has a child-like wonder. She’s also brave, not just because of the dragons, but because of what she’s gone through. She’s resilient and a true leader, everyone holds her in such high regards not because of her birthright but because of her character and morals.”

“If I knew any better I’d say that Jon Snow has grown to fancy our queen.” I laughed at his face turning red again. “That’s enough fun for now, I guess. I’ll leave you to do your duties.”

Jon smilies, shaking his head as I take my leave. The hall is a lot quieter now, mostly because everyone was in the mess, eating their dinner before some settled into the night or prepared for night duty. A door in front on the left swung open and out stepped Gendry. He makes eye contact with me, but quickly looks away and rushes past me. He makes it a few steps before I stop him.

“Stop.”

His footsteps flatter. I turned around, his back to me. “You’re not going to greet me properly?”

I could see his shoulder tense, but he turned around, bowing his head, still not making eye contact.

“Apologies M’lady. I mean no disrespect.”

I hum. “What’s your name?”

“Clovis,” he responds quickly. I almost laugh at the name.

“Clovis,” I repeat. “Clo-vis. You don’t look like a Clovis.” I stepped closer. “More like a Gendry.”

His head snaps up, shocked. He looked as if he’d been caught with his pants down. “How?”

“Doesn't matter. I wanted to see you for myself.” My eyes roamed across my face. It was clear as day he was a Baratheon. The jet black hair and the clear blue eyes. How Cersei's goons didn’t find him was beyond me. “You sure are a Barathron. Just a little leaner, but I’m sure with a little work you’ll beef up.”

“I’ve got muscles.” He argued.

“Are you sure?”

He flexed his arm at his side to show me his muscles. They were there, but considering that Baratheon men were built like brick walls, it was nothing.

“That?” I shook my head. “I’ve seen little girls with bigger biceps than that.”

He glared at me, hot headed. “What do you know about muscles? You sit on Dragon all day.”

“No I don’t actually, it’s very uncomfortable to do that. But I can show you mine, they’re very impressive. Even the Dothraki are impressed.”

Gendry looked like he was about to blow a fuse and I couldn’t stop the smile on my face. Quickly, he caught on to what I was doing.

“You’re messing with me.” He huffed.

“Guilty.” I grinned. “I couldn’t help it.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d be so.. friendly.”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“Well, considering our alliances.”

“To Jon?”

“No. My father.”

“You’re fathers actions aren’t yours, I have no reason to hold any hostility towards you. Anyhow, it’s late and we have a long journey ahead of us. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, M'lady.”

I turned back and headed for my own room, pleased with the progress I’d made with the young Baratheon. Originally, in the future and after the whole Burning of Kings Landing, Gendry takes the Stormlands as its next Lord. He grows into a formidable man and becomes a fair and just man while bettering the lives of the people in his domain.

If Daenerys takes the throne this time, he’d be a good person to have around as an ally. Not only do the Baratheons have a long history with the Targaryens, having them close would also show that we’d put a collar on the house that led a rebellion against the Targaryens.

–––

Viserion screeches above head, fire erupting out of his mouth and raining onto the army of White Walkers, turning them into ash. The fire melts the frozen lake causing the charging Wights to fall and drown in the freezing lake water. Up on a hill, a White Walker calmly unsheathes a spear made of ice from his undead mount and hands it to the Night King who strides forward.

The men on the snowy ground continued to fight off the undead as Viserion circled above, looking for a place to land and let everyone climb aboard him. The Night King approaches the edge of the hill, an unsettling calm to him and readies the spear in his undead hands, his eyes trailing Viserion.

With a swift throw, the spear cuts through the air and pierces through the green and gold scaled dragon, a flame erupting where the spear hits him. A pained screech rips through the air and everyone goes to cover their ears. Blood pours out as the dragon falls to his death, crashing into the frozen lake. The ice shatters and the dragon sinks down to the bottom of the frozen lake, lifeless.

Everything goes eerily silent and the Night King mounts his horse and trots down to the lake while the wights labored together, a few jumping into the lake with large metal chains. They work hard to wrap the chains around the dead dragon's neck. The rest of the White Walkers pulled the chains, slowly dragging the dragon up. The ice breaks as Viserion’s head is pulled up. The undead continue to pull until the lifeless dragon is completely out of the water and clear the way for the Night King. He approaches his corpse, his glowing blue eyes locked onto Viserion’s form. Wordlessly, he reaches forwards and touches the dragon's head and Viserion’s eyes snap open, icy blue as a White Walker.

My eyes snap open, my body covered in a cold sweat. My chests heaved, my lungs screaming for air. I could hear my heartbeat loud in my ears as I pulled the sheets back and out of bed. My throat felt dry and I staggered to the table in the middle of the room, pouring myself a glass of water, downing it in seconds. I took a moment to myself, letting my pounding heartbeat slow down and for the room to stop spinning. My hands trembled as I set the glass back down and I sighed, walking over to the window.

All these days on the sea must have started to finally take a toll on me.

I glanced up to the stars and moon shining bright. Even with the window in between, I could still feel the chilly air of the night, the smell of the sea lingering in the air. I let my eyes travel down from the stars and to the horizon..

Out in the distance I could see land and the edge of the seven hundred foot wall of ice.

––

After nearly a week of sailing up through the Narrow Sea we’d docked on the beach of Eastwatch in the early hours of the day, just as the sun rose. Everyone disembarked the ship, and I couldn’t be anymore grateful that I was finally on the ground. Everyone collected their things, as I looked up at the old castle on top of a large rocky hill.

We were dressed in thick furs and multiple layers as much as we could be. I wore a black long sleeve wool dress with a thick outer cloak. A leather belt with a circular clasp with the Targaryen sigil was hung around my hips, my sword at my side and a heavy black furred cloak with a hood was on my shoulders. My forearms were wrapped in leather for added protection and to secure the thick black gloves.

I shuddered out a breath, watching it come out as fog and dissipate into the cold air. We trekked up the stone steps and into the castle. The men of the Night's Watch glanced at me warily wondering what a woman, nonetheless a silver haired woman, was doing at the Wall.

We entered the great hall, where a group of men were already there waiting. A tall wildling man stood by the fire, watching as we entered. He wore mostly furs, a leather belt hanging around his waist, and had wild ginger hair and overgrown beard.

“Crow!” He grinned happily. His voice easily bounced off of the walls and he opened his arms wide open, giving Jon a large bear hug. He shakes hands with Ser Davos and turns his attention towards the rest of us. His eyes land on me.

“You’ve brought the dragon queen?” He sounded impressed, glancing at me. “She’s small.”

“Wrong person.” I said.

“This is Y/n Vellarys, Queen Daenerys’ trust advisor, she’s here to help us.” Jon said.

“Advisors? We need warriors, Crow, not advice.”

“Tormund-”

“I can assure you I’m here to fight.” I said. “And if it’s any comfort, I’ve brought a dragon.”

Tormund pauses and turns to Jon. “I like her.”

Jon shakes his head and moves everyone to sit at one of the tables. We reiterated the plan to Tormund, who seemed to be listening quite intently.

Once done he turned to Ser Davos. “Isn’t it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?”

I stifled a laugh, completely taken aback.

Davos sighs, “I’ve been failing at that job as of late.”

“How many queens are there now?”

“Two,” Jon replied.

“And you need to convince the one with the dragons or the one who fucks her brother?”

I silently laughed at how he remembered Daenerys and Cersei. Jorah, besides me, smiles my way, very amused himself.

“Both.” Jon replied.

“Well, the one with the dragons believes you.” I corrected. “It’s the one who fucks her brother we have to convice.”

Tormund nods. “How many men did you bring?”

Jon glanced around the table. “Not enough.”

“The big women?” Tormund asks, expectantly.

Jon smiles, but shakes his head to Tormund's disappointment.

“We were hoping some of your men could help.” Jorah says.

“Why? You have a dragon. She said so.” He points to me.

“I did, but it’s a big risk. If the Night King see’s him, he’ll come charging towards us with his army. We can only use the dragon when necessary, otherwise none of us make it out alive.” I explained.

“I’ll be staying behind.” Davos says. “I’m a liability out there as you well know.”

Tormund nodded, “you are.” He turned to Jon. “You really want to go out there again?”

Jon nods, sure of himself.

“You're not the only ones.”

––

We were led down, deep beneath the castle into its underground dungeons. Tormund led us down the rows of cells. “My scouts found them a mile south of the wall. Said they were on their way here.”

He stopped in front of a cell and we all peered in, spotting three men. Two stood out to me, one with the eye patch and the other with a burn scar on the side of his face. They looked familiar, reminding me of the description of a small group of men that traveled with Jon and his men Beyond the Wall.

“You're the Brotherhood Without Banners.” I realized, raising my brows.

Jon gazed over to the man with the scars. “You’re the Hound. I saw you once at Winterfell.”

The Hound, Sandor Clegane, pulls a blanket tight around himself, shielding himself from the cold, and sits up from the table he was laying on.

“They want to go beyond the wall too.” Tormund said.

“We don't want to go beyond the wall, we have to.” The one with the eyepatch says. “Our lord told us the great war is coming.”

Gendry shakes his head. “Don’t trust them. Don’t trust any of them.” Everyone turns to him as he walks up and presses his face to the bars of the cell, glaring at the three in the cell. “The last thing their Lord told them to do was sell me to a Red Witch to be murdered.”

Melisandre. She must have a thing for Baratheons. First Stannis then his nephew.

“Thoros?” Jorah finally spoke, stepping closer to get a better look at the man he’d been staring at for the last minute. One of the men, Thoros, sits up from a dark corner and glances at Jorah. “I hardly recognize you,” Jorah says to him.

“Ser Jorah Mormont.” The man recalled, a mix of relief and surprise in his voice. Tormund turns and angrily looks at Jorah.

“They won’t give me anything to drink down here. I haven’t been feeling like myself.” Thoros says.

Jorah didn’t have the opportunity to respond as Tormund finally piped up. “You’re a fucking Mormont? Like the last Lord Commander?”

“He was my father.” Jorah nods, a slight edge to his voice.

“He hunted us like animals.”

“You returned the favor, as I recall.” Jorah quipped back.

“Here we all are at the edge of the world at the same moment heading in the same direction for the same reason.” The man with the eyepatch interrupted.

“Our reasons aren’t your reasons.” Davos quickly adds.

“It doesn’t matter what we think our reasons are.” The man stood up and walked towards the bars of the cell. “There's a greater purpose at work and we serve it together whether we know it or not. We may take the steps but the Lord of Light-”

The man's preaching is interrupted by an annoyed Hound. “For fucks sake, will you shut your hole.” He turns to look at Jon and cuts straight to the point. “Are we coming with you or not?”

“Don’t you want to know what we’re doing?” Jorah asks.

“Is it worse than sitting in a freezing cell waiting to die?” Thoros said.

Jon glanced at me, debating. I subtly nodded, agreeing with him. “He’s right.” I said aloud. “We’re all on the same side.”

Gendry frowned. “How can we be?”

“We’re all breathing.” Jon replied.

Tormund hands the keys to the cell to Jon and he opens the doors, letting the men out. The four of them step out, stretching their limbs and grunted in satisfaction. They were escorted up to the castle courtyard where some of the Night's Watch men were preparing the new Dragonglass weapons. Jon and Tormund led them to the main hall to warm them up and feed them while the others dispersed around the castle. I stood off to the side, watching everyone work, and leaned around the stone baluster.

I took a moment to myself and thought back to the dream I’d had the night before. At first I chalked it up to my imagination going loose. It made sense, after all, all the stress of the past few weeks could make anyone have the most imaginative dreams. But this wasn’t that; it was too clear, too vivid to just be a dream. There was the other possibility of it being a dragon dream, but I’d brushed that off just as soon as I’d thought it. If I was a dreamer, and that was a big if, there would have been signs and patterns, but there weren’t.

Which only meant the dream was one thing; a warning.

From who? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the Gods, or maybe it’s my subconscious warning me what would happen if I let Viserion wander too far, leading to the Night King claim him for himself and shift the tides of this war for a second time.

Regardless, one thing was clear; the Night King can not get his hands on Viserion. If he does, we run the risk of going down the same path that’s written in history books.

A hand reached out to grasp my left shoulder. “M’lady?”

I snapped my head to the left to a confused Gendry. He slightly fornwed and gave me a once over to see if I was hurt.

“Are you alright? I’d been calling you for a moment, but you didn’t respond.”

“What? No, I’m fine.” I shake my head, straightening my back. “Sorry, I was just thinking. What’s going on?”

“His Grace has summoned everyone to the map room so we can all further discuss our plan.”

“Alright, lead the way.”

He gives me one last glance before turning to the left and silently leading me to where the others were. He held the thick wooden door open for me and I gave him a silent thanks. The inside of the room looked damp and dreary, the candlelight adding to its ambiance. Everyone stood around an old wooden table with a map of the wall and whatever was known north of the wall. I stood in between Jon and Davos. Tormund stood on Jon’s left with a few Wilding men besides him. Jorah and the Brotherhood stood besides Davos. Gendry closes the door behind him and comes around to stand in between the Hound and the Wildling men.

“Last we saw the Night King was at Hardhome where he laid waste to Mance Rayder's camp.” Jon drops a stone marker at Storrold’s Point. “It’s best to assume that they’ve traveled down the peninsula and are roaming through the Haunted Forest.”

“We should travel around the edge of the forest perimeter,” I ran my finger down the edge of the treeline. “We have a better chance at catching anything by this route. Besides, If we go any deeper into the forest then extraction will be too difficult.”

Tormund reached over and poked around the map. “This is the best path we can take, then. It’s clear, we’ll have the high ground, and it's by the forest.”

“How do we catch one?” Gendry asks.

“We have to gag it for starters,” I explained. “If it screams it can alert the others and then we’ll be fucked.”

Jon nods, “we can tie it with chains and toss him into a crate that one of us can carry on our back.”

There’s a few grunts of agreement around the table and the conversation shifts to supplies and to what we’ll take. We planned enough for at least a week's ration and planned ahead where we’d spend the night if needed. By the time we’d finished our planning, night had fallen and I had opted to retire to my room for the night with my dinner.

After an early morning breakfast everyone was ready to leave. We made our way down to the ranger gates that led into the true North. I had my sword fastened to my side as well as a new Dragonglass dagger. I looked at the raiding party made up of Jon and I, Tormund, Gendry, Jorah, Thoros, Sandor, Beric, and a small group of Wildling scouts. The gates open to the true north, a blizzard raging over the tundra. Jon looks back, glancing at everyone. We hold each other's gaze for a brief moment before he nods and he begins to march into the wild.

––

We marched in the blizzard for what felt like hours, my face feeling as if it was covered in a layer of ice. We trekked through a frozen valley of jagged rocks at the base of a steep snow covered mountain. Everyone carefully climbed up, making sure each step was planted firmly. I let out a labored breath after a difficult step.

“Are you all right?” Jon asks me.

I nodded, “nothing I can’t handle.”

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Why did you leave Viserion behind?”

“Historically, dragons have never done well this far north. There have been plenty of times when rides have tried to bring their dragons north of the wall, but they’ve all refused.”

“And you think Viserion won’t come north?”

I shake my head. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again. “No, I just don’t want to expose him too much to whatever is up north. He may be my dragon, but he’s Daenerys’ son and the last thing I want to do is go back to Dragonstone and tell her her son is dead.”

Jon only nods, understanding.

“Ever been north before?” Tormund suddenly asks, leaning down towards me.

I had, plenty of time at ski resorts and winter camping trips. I’d even traveled beyond the Wall to the Fist of the First men and other places. It wasn’t as restricted as it was nowadays, but still a desolate tundra if you stray too far north.

“No.” I replied.

“Beautiful, eh?” Tormund smiles. “I can breathe again. Down south the air smells like pig shit.”

“You’ve never been down south.” Jon corrects him from my right.

Tormund scoffs and plainly states, “I’ve been to Winterfell.” Jon huffed, shaking his head.

We continued up north and climbed a steep mountain. The view at the top was breathtaking, quite literally due to the high altitude. The snow sparkles and glistens in the sunlight almost blinding me. A few trees were scattered about and some lakes had frozen over, a thick layer of ice and snow on the top. Off into the distance you could see the treeline of the forest.

“How do you live up here?” I asked Tormund.

“More importantly, how do you stop your balls from freezing over?” Gendry asks from behind us.

“You have to keep moving. That’s the secret.” Tormund says. “Walking is good, fighting is better, fucking is best.”

“There's not a woman within 100 miles of here.” Jon comments.

Tormund turned to Jon and then back to Gendry and I. “We have to make due with what we’ve got.” He hints. Gendry, surprised and slightly weirded out, backs off. I shake my head, realizing that Tormund was mostly joking, or at least I think he was.

Tormund turned back at Jon. “This one is maybe not so smart.”

“Davos says he is a strong fighter.”

“Good,” the Wildling nods. “That’s more important than being smart. Smart people don’t come up here looking for the dead. So, you met this Dragon Queen, huh? And?”

“She’ll only fight beside us if I bend the knee.”

"You spent too much time with the free folk and now you don't like kneeling.” Tormund says. “Mance Rayder was a great man, a proud man. The king beyond the wall never bent the knee. How many of his people died for his pride?”

Jon doesn’t respond, only nodding and thought over Tormunds words. I didn’t say a word and just glanced between the two. It seemed that if I couldn’t get Jon to agree to bending the knee then I may be able to use Tormund in some way. A gust of wind blew past us causing me to shiver. I wrapped my arms around myself. Despite the thick clothes and multiple layers I was wearing, the cold still found a way to seep through. No doubt if I was flying with Viserion I’d be warm.

“So you have a dragon?” Tormund asks out of the blue.

“I do.”

“How? You're small and dragons are supposed to be big. If I were a dragon I’d want someone big, not small.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t pick him, he picked me.”

“Dragons can pick?”

“They can. The dragons get to decide who they want to bond with. If they want you, they make it known, and if they don't then they really make it known.”

“How long do you bond?”

“Until either the dragon or I die.”

“Is yours big?”

“It is. It’s also the eldest of the three dragons that Daenerys has.”

“You said that the dragon is yours.”

“Yes, I’ve bonded with it, but ultimately, he’s Daenerys’ son.”

“She gave birth to dragons?” He asks with a mixture of confusion and interest.

“No, it’s like a figure of speech. She had three dragon eggs turned to stone. When her husband died she took them and sat with them in the funeral pyre. When the fire died down the eggs had hatched and she was called ‘Mother of Dragons’ because she brought stone eggs back to life. I may have bonded with one of her dragons, but he still listens to her and protects her with his brothers.”

“Like a son?”

“Like a son.”

He stays silent for a while, but speaks up again.

“I want a dragon.”

––

We continued walking for a few more hours, taking breaks whenever necessary for either food or water. The trek was getting a bit easier now that the terrain was starting to level out. I'd migrated somewhere behind the pack, wanting to go at a more steady pace and a clear path so that snow wouldn’t clog my shoes again.

“You seem to be taking this journey well, My Lady.” Joarh says, stepping in line with me.

“I’m trying. The most walking I do is around the castle.”

He stays silent for a moment. “How did you manage to serve Her Grace?”

Well, I was brought back in time and bent the knee and pledged to get her the throne with my knowledge of future events.

“I bent the knee.” I say. “And swore to get her the Iron Throne. The rest was up to her.”

“That’s it?”

“Well I guess it also helped that my ancestor was Gaemon the Glorious’ mother.”

“What?”

I nod, reaching into my neckline and fishing out my necklace. It sparkled in the sunlight as I held it up. “Vellarys of Old Valyria, but we’re currently in Volantis, y’know after the whole doom thing.”

Seemingly satisfied (for now), Jorah nods and the conversation ends there. The raid party comes to a halt and Sandor looks off to the distance. There's a steep mountain that looks like it climbed up into the clouds.

“That’s what I saw in the fire.” He points to the mountain. “A mountain like an arrowhead.”

“Are you sure?” Thoros asks.

Sandor nods, “we’re getting close.”

Everyone starts walking again, now towards the base of the mountain. The weather had significantly worsened over the hours, snow blowing past us, making it hard to see past a few feet ahead.

The wind blew around us, wailing in our ears and the clouds covered the sky giving everything a muddled blue haze. A wildling scout was sent ahead to lead the way, armed with a spear. Jon, Tormund, and I were at the front of the group when Tormund saw the scout’s feet flatter. He places a hand on Jon’s shoulder, his other hand motioning everyone behind him to stop marching.

“Look!”

We all tried to look through the whirling snow, squinting our eyes. Up ahead, a shadowy figure emerged. It was hard to make out what it was.

“A bear,” Sandor realizes.

“Big fucker,” Tormund comments.

“Do bears have blue eyes?” Gendry asks wearily. Everyone looked further at the bear, now seeing its glowing blue eyes.

“No.” I replied aloud.

The bear begins to charge towards us and the terrified scout who began running back towards the rest of the group. Everyone draws their swords, holding it out in front of themselves, ready. Despite the scout's best, the bear lunges forwards and catches the scout and tackles him towards the ground and into the snow. Everyone runs to where the bear had dragged the scout, only to find a patch of bloody snow and his spear. A bear grunts in the distance and everyone searches for it, turning their backs towards each other in a tight circle.

The wind howls and the snow makes visibility almost impossible, but everyone keeps their position, eyes alert for the bear. I stood in between Jorah and Tormund, watching ahead when a bear screams and leaps from the snow behind us, tearing into another scout with its teeth. Tormund lunges forward to attack but the bear knocks him aside. Sandor runs to check on him while Beric and Thoros ignite their swords and advance to the bear. The bear mulls another scout, throwing his corpse aside with a gruntled roar. Beric dodges the corpse and plunges his flaming sword into the bear, who catches fire. The flaming bear roars and moves erratically and locks his eyes on Sandor who hesitates, his steps flattering.

The bear launches towards him but Thoros throws himself in between the two and the bear jumps on top of him trying to eat his face. Thoros braces his flaming sword in the bear's mouth, using all his strength to push the bear back. Out of nowhere, Tormund swings his axe into the bear, only for him to be thrown aside, again. Taking it as an opening, I lunged and drove my dragonglass dagger into the bear’s neck, finally killing it.

The bear falls onto Thoros and Jorah and Beric pull it away and help Thoros onto his feet. Beric extinguishes his sword in the snow and I turn to where Jon and Tormund stood by the dead scout, looking down and following the bear's paw prints with their eyes.

“We’re getting close.” Jon said.

a/n: happy new year to you all!! i hope this year is a thousand times better than the last for all of you :) tbh i had planned for this part to come out on the first, but then i remembered who i was and decided to wait a bit.

hopefully, you all enjoy this chapter. lmk your thoughts on the dynamic between the MC and a certain ginger haired wildling man ;)

ALSO, i with bad news. i will be gone for all of febuary to the first week of march. i will be traveling out of the country (usa) and won't be able to update. so to make sure you're all fed, i'll be uploading another chapter before i leave and when i'm back in march i'll give you two more again.

i was thinking that while i was gone why don't you guy leave me any questions? sorta like a Q&A for this series. you can send them as asks or through my dm's or comment them, idc, i'll do it if you guys want.

anyways, happy new years, and enjoy the chapter :)

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat @evilunicorns4minions

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