#kit harington one shot

[dream-this-nightmare-over]

Kit Harington imagine

If you like this, or if you dont, check out my other stories on wattpad (you might find something you like)!!!

Rest of my imagines/one shots you can find in my wattpad book Imagines that is being filled continuously by new stories.

Enjoy!

When we know what to do in new situations, it's time to admit to ourselves how old we have become.

 It was all new to her, and old at the same time, worn out as if she had witnessed a moment more than once. Which was not far from the truth with a few modifications. The music roared, people moving in pools of color that formed on the floor under splashes of neon lights from the ceiling. Everything was chaotic, mixed, in motion. Even the drink in the glass echoed with tremors along her fist, tightly wrapped around the crystal. She could see lips talking, trying to get her attention, but she could only make out their movements, not the tone. Her eardrums vibrated from the rhythm of the sound that permeated every creature that found itself in the disco tonight.

She drank the liquid to the last drop, then left glass on empty table, moving through the pile of bodies.  A few weeks ago on the amount she had ingested, she would already be intoxicated and would not know where she was going. But, she learned, it's easy to learn the bad. Like an ugly gift wrapped in a ribbon with a bow on top. It is hard to resist it, and it is not polite to show displeasure to the one who gives the gift. But is there such a thing as ugly gift?

The girl with the painful expression on her face hung over her shoulder to rest as she walked past her. She starts to wince, but instead of a sudden movement, takes a hard breath. There was no air, the heat began to choke her, but she still wrapped her arm around the girl's arm, other around the girl's hip. The last thing she would want is for the poor thing to fall at her feet. Everyone would talk about it for days. Although outwardly friendly smiling, stiffness caused by the proximity of the stranger did not leave her.

"I got you." She whispered, knowing the girl wouldn't hear her.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Just to take off these shoes. They are killing me. "

They say that drunk people feel more strongly about other people's mood swings, and that this is one of the reasons that leads to an outburst of sincerity with which they scatter around while in that state. Her usual sinking into that delirium was shrouded in oblivion that made her never know if the rumor had anything to do with the truth. The girl was showing symptoms of a rumor, which made her even more uncomfortable. She tries to relax but the heat makes it impossible for her well-drunk body and mind. There were times when she would fight but tonight she has no strength and neither sees the need to look for energy she will not find.

For a moment the girl disappeared from view in the dark, and she already thought she could breathe, but she felt someone's mane on the leaf, dragging itself along the denim of her trousers. "There it is. I'm free. "

An unknown girl stood up, waving her high-heeled shoes hanging from her fingers.

"Can you go on your own?" She asked. She probably hadn't even heard her, and even if she had, alcohol had ruined her entire memory. She received a kiss on the cheek with the greetings "see you! enjoy!" and leaning to the side under the weight of the girl when she pulled her in hug. She disappeared into the electrified crowd without saying her name. She wipes both the lipstick and the kiss from her skin, doubting whether she should have said goodbye or not.

She was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of panic. She pushed her body through shoulders, looking for a way out, but from the torsos rising above her tiny figure, she didn't get a chance to see anything. The air is too thick, unknown faces surrounded her, she squeezed. She is surrounded, there is no way out, she can't find him. She can't call anyone, call on her cell phone because it's too loud and no one would hear her calls for help. She felt a rush of blood in her face,  hair sticking to neck.  Y/N clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and began to count.

1 ...... inhale.

2... ..exhale.

3... ..repeat.

4 ...... inhale

5 ..................The swirl is interrupted by a crack of glass that shattered somewhere, causing a deep giggle to break. 

Through the shadows of helplessness that paralyzed her, a familiar face emerged, and she grabbed onto the last straw of salvation. She's saved! She better hurry while he's still there! 

She sneaks under someone's arm, not having time to get around boulder, always much bigger than her. The lights made it even harder to move, but she felt she was close. At the other end of the room, two people blocked her way, their backs turned. She tries to get around them several times, climbing on her toes to catch the source of the murmur from which the fracture originated."I'm sorry." 

She finally pushed her way to the desired destination, leaving emotionless faces behind. Had she acted a little more violently she would probably have caused an argument and a fight. And she didn't want that. Intoxicated minds are unpredictable. They are like a match that will ignite at any moment at any stimulus.Reach for the counter in the crack  created by moving the man to the side. She took it before the character decided to return, not wasting a moment to catch her breath, she began to speak, which in the noise was more reminiscent of howling. 

"Hey you! There you are! "She approached him to draw his attention to herself, but he had already turned his head, he had already noticed her. For a few moments he just stares at her in wonder.

"Oh, look who showed up." He growled furiously, visibly drunk. His eyes flashed in the dim light, his pupils absent and empty. She wasn't sure he recognized her at all.

"I'm going home. Do you want me to take you? "She didn't prepare for the possibility that he was in such a deprived state, but she knew what she had to do. She won't leave him. Although they know each other, they weren't exactly friends. More a kind of wanderers who often find themselves in the same place at the same time.

"You look really good tonight." Now her attention is drawn to the drunken flirtation of the character in front of her who leaned over and whispered the words in her ear. He was still watching her as he took a sip from glass, not counting any more, but the waiter was counting, who was already pouring him the next one, grinning at the amount the man would have to pay. The only luck in the accident was in the fact that this was an organized party to which they were both invited so that each of their drinks was or will be paid for from the pocket of the organizers. 

Y/N covered the rim of the glass with palm. "He's had enough." She didn't have the strength to give in, much less to argue. With the sharpness that remained, the waiter nodded in understanding. Tonight everyone lacked energy. The real ones, not artificially acquired by alcohol. But sometimes that is the only other thing left for those who do not get drunk out of leisure but out of sheer necessity.

"Let's go home Kit. Come on. That's enough." She won't give up. She has to get him out of here. She can't go on the road alone.

After much persuasion, they managed to find a way out and stagger out onto the recently defrosted asphalt, which glistened under the parking lights. It looked like a floor, black, thick, scattered with bits of shiny pebbles, and the smallest of them fell into cracks in the concrete from which no one would be able to pull them out because they would melt with the first rays of dawn. 

The coldness of the steering wheel on which she leaned her head was a welcome refreshment. It cooled her forehead veins and penetrated its tongue through the thin skin to her skull. It was always her favorite part of going out late at night. The coldness of the seats, the foggy, cold windows, the coldness of the car we all experienced when we left them in the outdoor parking lot in the middle of the night. Relief from the boiling blood still fueled by the deafening atmosphere they had left. It was as if her blood flow eased, diluted, and everything else stopped. If only she could stay and live in a world where everything is still. Not for long. Just for a few days, weeks. Until the thoughts are cleared and the body and soul and brain agree on how to proceed. 

"You shouldn't drive." 

She almost forgot about her companion. His voice on the passenger seat was the only warmth in the car. She watched him as he began rummaging through the cabinets in search of candy. They are both like children. She with her head on the steering wheel, and he crooked in the seat, relentlessly looking for a box he won't find, but which he won't stop looking for until his eyes fall on something that will distract him from the candy to some other little thing.

She threw them away or ate them. Thomas didn't dare ride with her, but the candies of the candied fruit were quite safe for him. Open the window and spit. One taste less.

She watched him as pencils fell out of one of the drawers. He watched them in amazement with no intention of stopping them. They went too far to catch them.

What are you running away from? She wondered as she handed them to him, picking them up from the gearbox they'd rolled onto. Maybe he's not running from anything. Maybe he just drinks because he has money. Maybe she just didn't want to be the only sad person tonight.

"I'm less drunk than you, anyway." 

Someone spoke, saying the words to her lips, when she remembered that he had said something to her but that she had never answered him.

He studied those damn pens as a scientist holding a new discovery. With childish curiosity and steely attention, he didn't even catch her words."You have to buckle up." She reached for his belt and began pulling it over the her absent acquaintance. "Even if they catch us, they can't charge us two fines. Although even one would be enough for a normal person. "

His gaze did not leave her movements, pencils long forgotten. He tries to help her with his fingers by wrapping them around the belt slot, but pulls them back when he sees that she has already fastened it.

Her chest heaved. She was upset, and he didn't know what made her angry.

"We're not normal, there's nothing that's too much for us." Against tears can only go those other tears. Tears of laughter. Although the smile has been hard to find lately. Light tears ran down her cheeks.

"Let's go." And off they went.

The machine didn't seem to be controlled by her hands. The engine rumbled gently under the chassis, the road unwinding like a ribbon under tires. They slid through the traffic lights whose shadows played on their faces. They did not exchange a word. The car lights were distant spots, blurred by insomnia and fatigue. Everything was moving slowly within the windshield, somewhere far away from the two of them, as if it was not on the same road with them. No one stopped them, two drunks in the car, driving with impunity. Probably those who should have punished them are also locals somewhere, trying to forget that no one loves them. Why do we all care so much about being loved? And when we are, we look for flaws in the love that is given to us, pretending that it means nothing to us.

"He left, and he ate all my candies." She said suddenly, not addressing anyone in particular. Swallowing would be a better expression, she thought. Why did you have to go and make the world sadder than it already was?

He knew from the beginning that it would end that way. Dickhead was the moon, Y/N a star, and those two never meet in the same sky, he would tell her. His words were useless. If he had said it, she wouldn't have listened. No one ever has. 

"I'll buy you new ones as soon as I'm sober." He said, looking at her. She stared ahead, squeezing the steering wheel. It was dark but in the glow of the piece plate above the steering wheel he saw the bones of her wrists and the whitened skin stretched over them. The words came out of her insides. She felt a little better. Another taste less. She didn't get carried away by the thought that she wouldn't remember him until morning. Poison is hard to get rid of because it enters every pore, she knew. Knowledge sometimes kills even the last hope.

"Make sure they're extra sugary, I prefer them now."

The road emptied except for a few cars that were moving, it seemed to him, even slower than them. He wanted to get somewhere, to go somewhere, without a clear goal. Where she was leading him was a riddle he didn't want to figure out. The seat sank under his figure, the rattling of the freshener against the rearview mirror  the hum in his ears until he could hear only the soft sound of the rope tightening from one side to the other. The nights are beautiful, he concluded. The only time of day when the whole world leaves you alone and you leave it. When it is dark and when all obstacles are less visible, so it seems as if everything is possible. If he were the ruler of the world, the sun would not rise, nor the nor the problems it brings with itself. He amused himself with the thought of being alone, of disconnecting himself from the crowd that surrounded him as soon as he felt the tentacles with which they were trying to devour him.

"One day they like my hair, the next day they are disgusted. One day they say I'm right, others are already writing that I must not have brain when I can say such nonsense. After a while, it becomes tiring. " The words begin to fall out on their own before they can be stopped. 

His curls were caught in a halo of light, though disheveled and uncombed, beautiful. 

"Nothing's missing your hair," she tried to reassure him, looking back at the road after a brief glance. Not noticing, he looked through the window, biting his lower lip, stretched between his teeth. He shook his head as if something bothered him. "It's not a matter of hair. Nothing ever works. It seems to me that the more I try, the lower my success rate. "

"Then cut them." She added absently, not at all startled. Now comes that outpouring of sincerity associated with feelings. Every doubt as to the truth of the rumor had dried up, gone before the anticipation of the words to be uttered. Vomiting, if there's any luck. She decided that even if nothing embarrassing happened, she would never reveal to him what he was like tonight. His secret with her to the grave. How many secrets the underworld knows. Allow yourself to pull the corners of your lips up. One day one might decide to exchange with the living, above-ground world. She was sure who would do better.

"It will grow again," he replied quickly, too quickly, directing all his attention to the driver.

"You think too much." It was the only answer she could think of.It was getting harder to keep my eyes open and the yawn muffled. She yawns, filling her lungs with oxygen that never reaches them fast enough.

"I think so." His fingers played with the torn thread of his jacket. "Have you seen them?" Those children? "It takes her a moment to remember what he's talking about, which he generously, not very patiently, gives her. Who was she supposed to see? The only person she saw, though only when she closed her eyes, which she had been doing more often lately than keeping them open, was a boy with brown eyes and blond hair. And only because he never showed himself to her in plain real sight. not anymore. She didn't even want to look at anyone else. And when someone stepped in front of her gaze, she would look for him and his glow and his eyes and his smile on an unknown occasion incomparable to him. It was a sobriety bordering on eccentricity."Children from the Humanitarian?" She finally remembered his humanitarian work, which she had heard about on the radio some time ago.

"Those children are hungry, and I can't help them. I look at them and just smile at them and promise to do something and I don't believe in that possibility either. Man. it's so fucked." He went back to looking out the window. The curls danced against his face, untamed and free, just as she had always imagined. Like something too beautiful to ever be hers. Like a drink too strong for her tired body, like the last minute of a night fading with daylight."It's not your fault for the injustice."

"No, no one is to blame. But there is still more  and more of it every day. "He answered her more desperately than angrily. At one point, the sadness turns to anger, and when we realize that it is also useless, despair comes and liquid that blurs his real face, so we don't recognize him for a few hours. The rest of the ride passed in the silence and rattling of the air freshener when they turned into a bend or changed lanes.

The house was dark and huge. And glass. Lots of glass, on all sides.She escorted him to the living room, after he had not gotten out of the car for a few minutes even though they had already arrived in front of the entrance. She didn't rush him. It was dark, quiet, interrupted by breathing that returned to both a somewhat normal routine.

They were sitting. She leaned her head against the window. It was no longer cold on the inside."You're home."

They were sitting.  He didn't answer her. The freshener stopped swaying as if signaling the end of the night. He didn't want it to end like that, so miserable, so mundane.

She had to open the door for him in person and help him up the stairs. "You're leaving the house unlocked?"

"I'd sleep more nights outside than in my bed if I didn't leave." 

He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, still holding her hand. Tonight she became a support for the drunk and tired, without any support for herself. "Yeah, you seem to have more luck than wit, in some things."

She stood in the middle of the room not knowing what to do with herself now that he let her go and staggered down the hall. She didn't know where to place her eyes. Everything was so clean and tidy and new. She didn't know what she expected from the inside. She didn't expect anything. She never imagined herself in a space like this. He's fine here, he thought. But he probably doesn't even know what he has, the sick part of her mind tunes in very quickly. He had never been sober enough to realize, she replied to herself. Sometimes it's easier to have imaginary conversations. No awkward questions, ambiguous phrases. We can follow word-for-word scenarios, which in the real world no one has ever learned.

Should I leave without saying goodbye or not? Maybe she should wait to make sure Kit's okay.

 She didn't move from where he had left her.

He stopped in the hallway. Something deep in his head bothered him. "You listened." Turning to the girl, he said. "And you weren't laughing." He continued as he leaned against the doorframe. "I hope to remember that tomorrow."

She didn't laugh. She remained frozen in her emotionless expression. "I'll make sure to remind you."

Thoughtfully, with a wrinkle between his eyebrows that hadn't been there before, he stared at the floor when he remembered. "If only you weren't right."

"About what?"

He remembered her every word when she told them to him that winter twilight. It was difficult for him to reconstruct them now because he saw them in his memory only partially in the haze of numbness.

"That we don't remember things we did while we're drunk, but that forgetting doesn't apply to those.. em... to those... .. because of which we drink. The ones we did before we got drunk. Which means that even that one- "he began to approach her awkwardly as he pointed with his index finger as the number one" -one, the only thing, drunkenness, is meaningless. "

He stood opposite her, so close she could feel the breath in her hair. When she finds the words she's sure are ones she's been looking for, she raises her head so that their gazes are on the same level."We can't run away from ourselves Kit. That is impossible. With or without alcohol. "

She didn't even finish, his lips were already on hers. Gently, gently, as only the desperate know. Slowly, slowly, as only those who are no longer in a hurry do. He parted her lips with his own. They were warm and suddenly full of blood. Where there is blood, there is life. He wanted to remember, to draw a mental map of her lips and all the emotions that filled him.  When he leaves, that he can still feel it all, all of her on his lips. When he sobers up that he still remembers her. Her lips are full of life, which must come to an end someday. They run out of air and separate, her cheeks still embraced by his smooth palms.

"If you were little bit older, I would make passionate, crazy love to you." he said, caressing her cheeks. He spoke to her briskly, at the same time softly and bluntly. He spoke the way he would speak sober if he didn't care who was listening, who was watching. If he was relaxed and naive, childishly distracted, with no worries on his mind.

She didn't know where to put her hands, so she put them in her coat pockets. She didn't want to leave a trace that might remind him of tonight's events. The nights are dark, so are the deeds. So that they can merge and disappear in the shadows of darkness.

"I'm leaving now. Take care."

She left him behind, in the creaking of the door and the sounds that signaled it has closed. She didn't want to leave him. She didn't even want to stay. She wasn't sure what she wanted. If only he wasn't right. Everything was really messed up.

He's fine, safe, and the steering wheel and windows are cold again like the rest of the car's interior. This time she rested her head on the seat. Tongues of cold crept through her exposed scalp, cooling the boiling blood again. Everything repeats itself. We are constantly looking for reruns of pieces that comfort us. But we forget that even those for whom we don't want to buy a ticket must also show up for the theater to survive.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the pencils in the passenger seat were neatly stacked next to each other. She didn't touch them, let them rest where they were. 

We are just children, she finally concludes, who want to be happy again.

[sweetaprilbutterfly]

Kit Harington in the theater

Pillars of the Community (2007)

War Horse (2008/2009)

Posh (2010)

Doctor Faustus (2016)

True West (2018/2019)

Henry V (2022)

In 2008 he won a part in War Horse at the National and when the Game of Thrones pilot was shot, he was preparing for Posh. (2008)

I had never read or seen the original play, and here the “difficult middle section” has been replaced by a contemporary retelling by Colin Teevan where Faustus is a modern stage magician in the vein of David Blaine or Copperfield. (2016)

Last appearance on stage in London was in 2016 in Doctor Faustus. "I got a lot from playing that role but often I felt very alone doing it and at times I knew I'd leapt into something where I was a little out of my depth. But in True West I share the stage with Johnny and I knew at once it would be fun to do." (2018)

His dream came true:

My ideal role in the future would be Henry V. That's the route I'd want to go. I've always been interested in straight theatre. (2009)

Where do you see yourself in 10 years’ time?

I’m greedy, I’d love to play Prince Hal in Henry IV parts one and two, then Henry V (2016)

Henry V is the part I've always dreamed of playing and the Donmar, a stage I could only have dreamt of the chance to perform him on. (2021)

[vadersaber]

I’ve actually been dreading this movie coming out because of the way people have been and are acting 🤦🏼‍♀️

People have been sexualising him so so much and the whole speculations about his sexuality and now they’re just basically fetishising him playing a gay character and the whole thing about the butt shot and disappointment of not seeing a sex scene… people are being so incredibly weird about everything. And I think you can definitely tell Pedro isn’t comfortable with all of this because he is not posting anything about this movie. (besides what he probably has to)

Obviously pure speculation but I’ve seen long term fans talk about how he’s not really posting on social media anymore… makes me sad to think he’s feeling like that instead of proud and happy.

I just don’t understand how grown ass people can be like this. I don’t even follow a lot of people on here anymore because some of the posts are just so uncomfortable. I get the Pedro subreddit recommended to me all the time (don’t judge me for Reddit, I’m just there for the skincare subs lmao) and Jesus.. how are they not embarrassed to be acting like this. Like whole ass adults with husbands lol

It makes me sad that I never got to experience the Pedro from before the last of us but I hope things calm down more for him and he just has a fun time filming the gladiator movie…

Unfortunately you're not the only one, and it really sucks that it feels this way instead of exciting.

Working with Almodóvar was a huge dream of Pedro's, and this is a huge opportunity for him, but some people are acting like his sex tape with Ethan Hawke just came out. These people get very defensive very quick like "oh so what I can't stare at his ass/I can't wish for sex scenes". THAT IS NOT THE PROBLEM. The roblem is the oversexualization that took such a wild turn in the past fee months. Y'all see Pedro as a sex object and say the most unhinged and nasty shit online. As you said, whole ass adults with jobs and maybe families behaving so... icky. And these people are making social platforms feel unsafe for a lot of users, too.

I know he'll have fun filming, and I hope he does, but I'm already dreading that too knowing how people treated Kit Harington years ago regarding his physique...

[westeroswisdom]

TWO trailers for House of the Dragon were released on Thursday.

Among other things, we get a quick peek at Cregan Stark.

^^^ That's Cregan (Tom Taylor) on the left talking with Jacaerys Velaryon (Harry Collett) whose ride up north on Vermax seems to have caused his hair to grow out quite a bit. Since they are apparently at The Wall, it's possible that Jace first landed at Winterfell where he was told that Cregan wasn't home; though it's also possible that they journeyed up to The Wall together for some business.

House of the Dragon showrunner and co-creator Ryan Condal now speaks with EW exclusively to unpack some of the big secrets from the footage. Season 2 picks up directly after the events of the season 1 finale, which saw Aegon, Rhaenyra's half-brother, crowned king of Westeros behind her back, even though she was the chosen successor of their father, the late king Viserys (Paddy Considine). "This is not a story of goodies and baddies, black hats and white hats," Condal says of the dueling Blacks and Greens. "It's a story of this family that's been rent open by this dispute over who is meant to wear the crown after Viserys passes. Some people think it's Rhaenyra, some people think it's Aegon, and then there are other people within who think, 'Why should it be one of the two of them? Maybe it should be somebody else. Maybe it should be me!' The fun of this Greek tragedy is seeing, when you introduce a power vacuum to a world like this, how all of these individuals react."  [ ... ] Hundreds of years before the age of Sean Bean's Eddard Stark and Kit Harington's Jon Snow, Cregan Stark is the Lord of Winterfell. Actor Tom Taylor (The Dark Tower, The Kid Who Would Be King) debuts in the Rhaenyra-themed trailer... well, from the back at least. In the season 1 finale, Rhaenyra's son Jacaerys Velaryon (Harry Collett) flew north to rally his mother's supporters. That will include a stop to meet with Lord Stark, and the footage shows Jace walking with Cregan along the top of the Wall. "He's very powerful," Condal says of the character. "Everybody's vying for his army. He's quite a bit younger than Ned Stark was, so it's interesting to see the Young Wolf, the young Stark lord, and how he carries himself in the world, and the burden that's on his shoulders being the Warden of the North. I'm excited for the audience to see and experience that."

Ryan Condal teases a significant battle.

There are various key battles that occur in the timeline of the Dance of the Dragons, but given Ser Criston's presence, a good guess would be the Battle of Rook's Rest. Of course, Condal will neither confirm nor deny any specific theories. "This season, we shot two of the largest sequences that certainly I've ever done as a maker of television, certainly that House of the Dragon has ever done," Condal teases. "I don't know that they're bigger necessarily than anything Game of Thrones has done, because they got pretty big in the end. But certainly we're going to see new things that you have not seen before within this world. There's some pretty epic stuff to come. It's just a couple months away, guys."

[vivilove-jonsa]

2022 end-of-year fic review ✨

thanks to the wonderful @chispas-and-broken-bindings for tagging me! I know I've dropped out on fic writing this past 11 months but I was tagged and want to play :)

what's your ao3 account?

Vivilove

2. how many words did you write in total in 2022?

roughly 55k on ao3 (all but 900 of that was in January)

roughly 335k in original works (from February through December)

3. how many fics did you publish in 2022 // multi-chapter vs. one-shots?

three total - 2 multi-chapter (one was updates to an ongoing story) v 1 one-shot which I totally blame Christopher Catesby Harington and his sequel news for!

4. what was your longest-fic // shortest fic?

The one I wrote the most words on in 2022 was You Give Me Goosebumps. Started in early January and had it finished by month's end and it clocked in around 44k words. The shortest was We'll Say Hello Again at 900 words (again, I blame Kit)

5. what was your most popular // least popular?

The Farmer's Wife has by far the most kudos, subs, comments and bookmarks. I guess the one shot was least popular but I really appreciated all the lovely folks who popped into the comments to say hello when I posted it <3

6. what fic didn't perform as well as you thought it would?

I was happy with the response to all of them.

7. what fic performed way better than you thought it would?

Honestly, it became hard for me to predict the fandom's reaction to my stuff by the time I decided I needed a change. I was satisfied by how these three fics performed. I do remember having the most fun with the commenters on Goosebumps trying to solve the mystery :)

8. what was your favorite fic you wrote in 2022?

Goosebumps was the most fun to write as fics go but I've loved the books I've written since then more.

9. what was your favorite fic that somebody else wrote in 2022?

Now, this is why I really wanted to do this!! I'm totally cheating and talking about multiple fics. Sue me. I'm not reading nearly as much fic anymore but I love an excuse to talk about the ones I adored. So, in no particular order, my faves from last year were:

Take me out and Lounge act by @cellsshapedlikestars I'm picking on her but I loved both of these and also help me out of the shape I'm in which finished in '22 as well :)

Reach out with both hands by @thewolvescalledmehome Oof, I always love her wounded Jon.

And finally, everything by @kittykatknits !! I am so, so happy she returned to posting Jonsa this past year but want to give a extra loud shoutout to Race Car Driver Jon and the Most Awesome Sansa Ever in He's Going the Distance !!

(I have a thing for Sports Jon apparently with race car, football and baseball fics listed.)

10. tag your friends so they can play as well!

Tagging @kittykatknits @cellsshapedlikestars @thewolvescalledmehome @winterrose527 and @woodswit and anyone else who wants to do this.

[fandomimaginestrash]

Plans - Kit Harington x Reader

A/N: It’s Christmas Eve! I can’t believe we have made it this far. Ficmas day 11 is brought to you by two requests that have been in my inbox for so, so long.  Prompt(s): A super cute kit Harrington imagine please :) love your writing by the way xx & hiii! I love your writing!! could you possibly write something for kit harington? maybe you comforting after he becomes upset about the ending of the show and you talk him through his sadness? thank you!!!

From the moment filming wrapped and Kit dropped his bag at the door, nothing had been the same. Kit had hardly said three words to you, it had been a week and you couldn’t take any more silence. “Hey, babe, come on you’ve got to talk to me.” He grumbled in response. “Please, please tell me what I can do.” “Nothing,” he finally replied, “there’s nothing you can do.” “Okay,” you nodded reluctantly, “let me know if you change your mind.” You smiled at him, but in your heart you knew it was a false smile. He smiled at you.

This went on for a few more days. You knew he was upset, but there was nothing you could say or do the help if he didn’t let you in. “Okay, I’m off” you called to him as you put on your shoes. You had finally managed to get a day where you and both of your best friends had a day off. The girls day you had been planning for months as finally happening. There was no answer from Kit, so as you opened the door, you thought it would only be right to try once more. “Bye babe, see you later!” You paused to listen. There was no answer, so you started heading out of the door. “Wait!” You heard from the other end of the hall. “Please don’t go.” His voice was much softer this time. You turned around to see him stood in the doorway at the end of the hall, wearing nodding bottoms and a loose fitting t-shirt. He was barefoot and wrapped in your favourite blanket. “I know it isn’t fair of me to ask you not to go,” he sniffed, “and I know you’ve been planning this for months, and I know I’ve shut you out recently, but I really need you right now.” His eyes were red and puffy. You stared at him for a moment, it had been so long since you had seen your friends and Kit was right, he had been shutting you out recently. The two of you stared at each other from opposite ends of the hallway. You could see the hurt and the anguish in his eyes, and he could see how the decision he was asking you to make was taring you apart.

“Okay,” you said eventually, “I’ll stay.” He breathed a sigh of relief and started marching towards you. As soon as he was in front of you, he wrapped his arms around you, sunk his head into your shoulder and let out a sob. “Thank you.” You enveloped him in your arms. Holding him tight, running one hand up and down his back whilst the other tangled in his hair. “Why don’t you go back to bed,” you suggested, “I’ll cook you up some breakfast and bring you a coffee, then we can talk.” He nodded in agreement. “I can’t believe you’re giving up on your plans for me.” He looked at you guiltily. “Some people are worth giving things up for.”

[divine17]

↳ AS YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN (PART I) | MASTERLIST

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Request: A very long & detailed fic request by @witch-of-letters!

Warnings: Fem!Baratheon!Reader, timeline is slightly modified but not in a major way, first time I’ve ever written for Jon Snow so it’s a little awkward, reader is the trueborn daughter of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, kissing/making out, slight infidelity, light groping, mostly not proofread!

Word Count: 5,663

A/N: ok ok ok you guys know i hate writing super long fics because of how hard it can be to read and how long it takes to read it ... but i think this series is going to be a bit long in general. so i’ve decided to break it into little “sections”. you’ll see. anyway. i think it’s a little easier to digest this way. these 5.6k words are broken up into 3 different little parts within this one part. so yeah. let me know if it’s better or worse this way!! but thank you, i love all of you, sorry for this long a/n. ok bye

WINTERFELL, AGE THIRTEEN

“Princess... Wake up. C’mon, I want to show you something.” 

Your eyes fluttered open to see Jon Snow himself hovered over your sleeping form, his hand gently shaking your shoulder. He spoke in a hushed voice, just above a whisper, so not to wake anyone up. Gods, he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he were caught in your bedroom so late at night. The Stark bastard and the eldest princess, due to be queen someday? Seven hells. The two of you weren’t but thirteen, either. It would look like something else entirely, he was sure. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that, Snow?” You grimaced, sitting up. Several small candles rested on your bedside, providing just enough light for you to see the boy’s face beside you. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to show you something.” Jon stood up from your bed to reveal the dark black cloak and furs he held close to his chest. He wore his own, a thick cloak and just enough furs to keep him warm at this time of night. You stood from the bed, looking down at your body. A long, pure white cotton nightgown, your sleeves loose on your arms. “Here, take these. They’re mine. I, um... I don’t know where you keep your Northern clothing.”

You smiled lightly as he handed you the cloak, unfolding it. It was big, and heavy. He helped you wrap it around you, tying it securely into place before doing the same with the warm furs he held. You rushed to the closet, grabbing your pair of boots. Once you’d slipped them on, you took his hand, letting him open the heavy wooden door and lead you through the halls of the castle.

The two of you quickly reached the exit, holding your breaths as you left the stone walls, happy to have not been caught. Jon’s horse waited just outside. With a slight nod and no words, he climbed atop the creature before lifting you up to sit behind him. Your arms wrapped around his waist, your face nuzzled into his warmth. 

“Where are we going?” You whispered. He shook his head.

“Just wait.”

You sighed in a slightly annoyed state, not content with his answer. Oh well. To be completely honest, you were just happy to have him so close to you. Ever since the first day you’d gotten here, in Winterfell, you’d been fascinated with the bastard boy. You didn’t care about his status, or lack thereof, like you were supposed to. Instead, you were enthralled with him. He was handsome, standing much taller than you. His dark hair was long and curly, a small scruff growing on his face. His deep brown eyes were marvelous, unlike any you’d seen before in the South, down in your native home of King’s Landing. And he was kind, loyal, and generous, much like the rest of the Starks. He shared his home with you without trouble and the two of you had rekindled your once-strong friendship together in just the few days you’d been here. Truly, you thought maybe you loved Jon, but you shook it off, ignored the butterflies in your stomach whenever he smiled at you. You couldn’t, your parents wouldn’t dare to dream of letting you do such a thing as marry him. Your mother wasn’t happy with the fact that you even talked to him, let alone anything else. 

Your handmaidens had noticed the quick looks you gave each other in the halls and sweet words you exchanged with one another in passing. They’d made sure to tell you that nothing would ever come of it. You were the daughter of Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm. Lord of Storm's End Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. You shouldn’t even associate yourself with someone as low as a bastard, they’d told you. You’re so much better suited for his trueborn brother, Robb, the future Lord of House Stark. But you didn’t listen to them. You never did. They only ever mimicked whatever your mother said, they didn’t truly care, and they certainly didn’t have your best interests in mind. To hells with their opinions. 

But, on the other hand... At thirteen years old, you should be promised to a prince, a lord, a highborn. Somewhere, your future husband was waiting. You hated the thought of it, marrying a stranger you didn’t know and didn’t love, not even a tiny bit. But that was how it was supposed to go, you’d been told for all your life.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the horse came to a halt. Jon looked back at you, making sure you were still awake. “We’re here, Princess.” 

He climbed down before lifting you off of the horse, careful to not hurt you as he sat your feet down on the soft, muddy ground. You didn’t even correct him when he called you by your title. You hated when people, especially ones you knew, called you that. But for some reason, you really couldn’t bring yourself to care all that much with Jon. It sounded nice when it came from his lips, sweetened.

He held his hand out for you to take, a small, lit torch in the other. Hesitantly, you followed him and the light he held. He led you down a winding path through the trees and leaves and freezing air until the two of you reached a little babbling brook. Moss covered rocks and a rushing stream, it looked beautiful in the nighttime darkness. The scene seemed hard to find, hidden behind many, many layers of thick Northern trees and snowy leaves. 

“It’s beautiful, Jon.” You said lightly, looking up at him as he stood behind you. A thin smile crossed his lips. Something was on his mind. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” He said, dropping his gaze to the water below you. He planted the torch deep into the soft mud beneath your feet, the warmth and light casting over the two of you. “It’s nothing.” 

“Do you really think, even for a moment, that I cannot tell when you’re worried about something? I know you better than most-”

You were cut off by the feeling of his soft, freezing lips pressed to yours, the cold air melting away as his gloved hand came to hold your waist, pulling you closer into him. He felt electric against you, a new sensation that you had never felt before. Hell, you’d never even felt anything like it before... But you couldn’t say you didn’t want more. 

After a moment, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and in a certain state of shock at what had just happened. Suddenly, you felt cold, the Northern wind nipping back at your cheeks. You stood before Jon, unsure of what to do other than simply stare at him in disbelief.

“What was that?” You asked. That question merely scratched the surface of what you wanted to ask the dark-haired boy in front of you, but somehow... Somehow you felt you couldn’t. Those three words were seemingly all your mouth would produce for you, your head drawing a blank for more. 

His cheeks flushed pink. “I believe I’ve just kissed you.”

You nodded at him, unsure of what else to say. He was blunt, and almost embarrassed over his actions. You turned on your heel, looking at the rest of what lay before you in the dark forest. You heard Jon pull the torch from the dirt with a small grunt, following closely behind you as you began to walk forward, simply taking in the beauty. After a moment, you turned back around to face him. 

“That was my first kiss.”

“Mine too.”

JUST OUTSIDE OF WINTERFELL, AGE SIXTEEN

It was a special feeling, you know. Having the gates of Winterfell itself held open, waiting for your arrival and nothing else. It was something the Stark family did for very, very few people. And you considered yourself lucky to be one of them.

First to pass through the iron gates of the town were the bannermen mounted on their strong horses, carrying golden and red Lannister banners and the yellow and black Baratheon ones alike. The small group of soldiers and guards, maybe thirty good men hand-picked by your uncles Jaime and Tyrion, that you were sent with came next. They trotted up the hill to the walls of the city, seemingly with a certain slowness and lag. But you simply watched as they rode into the stone archway of the Courtyard, anxious and nervous as you approached. 

Your heartbeat grew quicker and your hands began to shake as you rode closer and closer... To see Jon and Robb after so many years. Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon, Catelyn and Eddard... Gods, last time you saw Rickon he wasn’t but two years old, a wee babe still suckling on his mum’s teat. But now, three years had passed. He was five, Bran was eleven, Sansa and Arya 14 and 12 respectively. Ned always joked with your parents that Jon and Robb and you must be triplets separated at birth, with how close in age you happened to be. Now at seventeen years old, Robb was the eldest of the three of you, Jon following closely behind, and you the youngest by a mere three months. 

Upon your long-awaited entrance, the entirety of the Courtyard bent their knees in respect of you. The Princess of the Seven Kingdoms was now in their city, and to stay, for good this time. It had been a while since any real Royalty rode past their gates. They were rather excited to see you again, even, and especially, the smallfolk. During your last visit here, when you were fourteen, you had a tendency to make conversation with them like they were your equals. To their absolute shock, you seemed genuinely interested in the blacksmith’s work in the forge and never turned down the chance to help out the cooks and maids in the kitchens, and never minded to help feed the animals in the mornings. So it was safe to say that they prayed for your quick return, and were beyond excited to see you. You were revered by them. 

The Stark family felt the same way, all of them. Sansa and Arya were glad to see another girl for once, even if they liked you in different ways. With Sansa, you’d embroider pretty things onto cloth and eat lemon cakes and talk about your lives in completely different parts of Westeros, gossiping about whatever you could. But with Arya, you’d spend time in the Courtyard teaching the younger girl to shoot a bow and arrow, which you were stunningly good at, climb the buildings to watch the town bustle around you... Sneak off and get into heaps of trouble. But her parents never minded. In fact, Ned and Cat were glad to see her playing with someone like her, even if Catelyn hated that you were getting into trouble together. 

You looked at the scene around you once more. It had to be three or four hundred people, at least. And they all knelt beneath you, their heads dropped in respect, as per the tradition. Your eyes scanned over the family, taking everything in. They had all changed so much in just the three years you’d been gone... But it still felt the same. You smiled when Robb raised his head up slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of you. His bright blue eyes certainly remained the same. 

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” You couldn’t help but grin as you dismounted your horse, stepping down onto the ground below. You gestured for them to stand as you walked towards the Starks. Ned hesitantly, very hesitantly, began to stand to his feet, and everyone else soon followed. 

“I’ve missed you, Y/N.” He said lightly, opening his arms as you ran towards him. He took you into a tight hug against his cold chest, so much so that you felt as if you could barely breathe, but you didn’t mind. Next, you hugged Catelyn. You saw a slight tear in her eye as you reached for her. Then came Rickon. He had grown so much! He stood beside his mother, tall and proud for a child of his age. You leaned down to look at him, meeting his level. 

“Hello, Princess!” He said excitedly. You laughed.

“You don’t have to call me that, bub. Y/N will do just fine, I think.”

“But mummy told me to. She said it’s... I don’t remember.” 

“That’s okay.” You stood to your feet, looking at the rest of the children. They stood beside their father in order from eldest to youngest, with the exception of Rickon by his mum’s hip. And Jon stood behind them all, head hung in shame. The bastard, not to make eye contact with you unless you wanted him to. It was terrible, truly. Your heart ached for him.

“You’ve grown.” Robb jokingly remarked, staring you over. He couldn’t find the right words to say as he looked at you... Truth be told, he always did have a rather massive crush on you, even (especially) when the two of you were children. He could vividly recall the first time he’d ever met you. Not but eight or so years old, your parents had come to Winterfell for the first time in your life. Neither of you even knew what for at the time. But as soon as you stepped out of that red carriage, your mother’s hand in yours... Robb fell in love. He was convinced that you were the most gorgeous thing he’d seen in all of his short little life. He remembered telling his father that night that he loved you, to which Ned simply laughed, telling him he should try to marry her someday. Both Prince Robb Stark and Lady Y/N Stark had a nice ring to it, the child thought, whichever one it may be when the two of you wed. 

Little did he know, Jon felt the same way. And truthfully, you felt that way about Jon, too. Even at such a young age, you knew it after your first encounter with him.

Later that evening, the day you arrived for the first time, the boys convinced you to come down to the brook with them. The same one that, nearly half-ten years later, you would share your first kiss with Jon Snow at. The boys wanted to swim, so they began to take their layers off, untying their tunics and boots so as to not get them wet. But you simply jumped right in, dress and all, not a care in the world. Completely unbothered, you swam the night away in what they both reckoned was a rather expensive red and gold silk number. Safe to say your mother was not happy when you finally found your way back to the castle that night. 

That was the night that Jon promised himself that he would marry you one day. Bastard or not. He would wed the Princess. 

“And so have you.” 

Robb grinned as you embraced him, taking it all in. You were finally back. And now, you were to be his wife. When you turned fourteen, little did you know, your parents began looking at potential husbands for you. The must have gone through a hundred boys, both Princes and highborns alike, before Robert finally decided that you could wed one of Ned Stark’s sons. You always did get on well with Robb, he thought. And you loved the North, too, and his family. Your mother wasn’t fond of the idea at all, with her hatred of House Stark. But eventually, she came to the realization that she couldn’t fight Robert on it. And so then it was, said and done. You were promised to Robb Stark, and were set to go live with the Stark family as a ward of their great house until the two of you wed, on your own time. Then, Ned, or your own father, King Robert, would bestow upon the two of you a small hold somewhere in the North, where the two of you would be Lord and Lady Stark. Or perhaps you’d be as your mother and still use your maiden name. Lady Y/N Baratheon, Lady Y/N Stark... You hadn’t yet decided.

Initially, you hadn’t liked the idea of marrying Robb. After all, you’d known him damn close to your entire life. It just seemed odd... Not to mention the fact that you were in love with his bastard brother, with no real romantic feelings towards Robb himself. But after a while, and a lot of sleepless nights and careful thinking, you agreed. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And maybe, just maybe, you’d eventually learn to love him too, just as you loved Jon. 

Slowly, and one-by-one, you finished greeting each of the remaining Stark children, Arya, Sansa, Rickon, and a small nod and smile to the bastard Snow. It wasn’t long after that Cat asked little Sansa to show you to your quarters. A small bedroom in a higher part of Castle Winterfell, you had your very own stoked fireplace. A large bed and a small chest of drawers, too, of course. 

Soon, you had dismissed Sansa with the promise of tea later in the Courtyard and quickly began to unpack your belongings. You were sent with new clothes that were better fit for the North, thankfully. A dark, heavy cloak lined with the nicest furs your parents could find in the South, a few pairs of pants and a few simple tops and tunics, coats and pelts. And, of course, countless silk dresses. Some were simple summer dresses, light, airy colors better fit for King’s Landing. The others were beautiful numbers meant for special occasions, the type your mother wore every day. A sea of silks, red, black, gold, and green alike remained in the boxes below you with no intention to be properly put away. 

You dug out a pair of pants and a top, desperate to get out of the elegant dress you’d worn for quite a while now. Dark, blood red with golden and black intricate detailing sewn into the sleeves, quite a bit of the embroidery representing your heritage as a Baratheon and a Lannister. It amused you to think that soon, that dress would be thrown away and another would be made in it’s place, except with All three of the great houses depicted. You could see it now... 

You began to unlace the corset ties of your bodice with the help of the tall mirror in the corner of the room. A small knock on the wooden door echoed through the stone-walled room as you undressed, causing you to turn to the origin of the sound with a quickness. Your hand held the back of your dress shut as you mentally readied yourself for company.

“Come in.” You said simply. The door began to open, slowly, to reveal just who you wanted to see- Jon Snow himself. You smiled lightly upon seeing him. “Forgive me, but you’ve just interrupted me undressing.” 

You laughed lightly, but a bright pink blush spread across his cheeks. He was unsure of what to say, stumbling over his muttered words in uncertainty, before he finally found something useful. “Would, um... Would you like some help with that, m’lady?”

He took a step closer, gesturing to your unfinished work. You nodded slightly, turning back to face the mirror. He quickly moved to stand behind you, his hands coming to meet the ribbons of the corset. He carefully loosened each one, slowly and surely, with a certain easiness and uncertainty behind his shaking hands. You couldn’t help but smile at him. It was clear that he had never done this before. But after a moment, he had found a rhythm, and it wasn’t long before he had finished. You turned back towards him, looking over his face for a moment.

Jon Snow, a bastard of the North, yes, but he was handsome unlike anyone else you had ever seen in the South. Or anywhere, for that matter. He was tall, with a pair of dark brown eyes and fair skin and rosy pink cheeks. Thick, curly almost-black hair to match. He was a true Northman through and through. Your gaze fell to his body, silently studying him. He was trim and muscular, a nice frame. And his hands... His hands were rough and calloused from so many years of holding a sword, but you couldn’t help but think about how he touched you. So gentle and soft and sweet, careful not to hurt or taint you.

He cleared his throat. “I just came to tell you that we’re going up North. They caught the deserter, and he has been sentenced to beheading. Father wants us to come with him to carry out the execution.” 

You nodded slightly. “And when will you return?”

Jon shrugged, falling silent. The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a moment until you, against your better judgement, took a step closer to the boy. Your hand rose to cup his soft, scruffy cheek... And thoughtlessly, you began to pull him down to meet your lips. He let them brush over yours for a moment before he realized what was happening. Then, he pulled away quickly, opening the space between the two of you.

“Y/N...” He sighed. He found it difficult to find the right words... Gods, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. To be able to have your lips pressed against yours, your hands sweetly cupping his cheeks, your warm body pressed against his own. To have his hands sliding down your waist, holding you tight. Jon wanted nothing more than that. But he couldn’t have it, he couldn’t have you. And deep down, you knew it too.

“Jon, I’m sorry...” You stepped away from him, embarrassment flooding over you.

“No, no. It’s not your fault.” He stated. Jon spoke with sadness and hesitance. If you wrote to your parents about this, about him reprimanding you, no matter the reason... Well, he was sure your mother would have his head on a pike outside the gates of the Capital within days. But he had to say it. “It’s just... We can’t do this. Not here, not right now. You’re betrothed to Robb, you don’t want me. I’m but a bastard. He’s going to make you a true Stark, and we shouldn’t, we can’t, start something we can’t finish, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He turned towards the door, his hand reaching towards the knob. “We’ll be back before sundown.” Jon gave you a slight nod as he began to open the door, but you turned away from him. Tears pricked your eyes but you tried to blink them away. You needn’t cry over this, over your own stupid decision. You shouldn’t have tried to kiss him, you thought. It had been three years since you’d kissed. Of course the love wasn’t there anymore. You were a fool to do that... You shouldn’t have done that.

“I’m sorry it has to be like this.”

FEAST HALL OF WINTERFELL, AGE SIXTEEN

You tried to busy yourself after your close encounter with Jon. Truly, you did. You quickly wiped away the hot tears that pooled in your eyes and finished dressing yourself into the much more comfortable attire, taking a moment to let your hair down completely and regain your composure from before. Then, you went down to the kitchens and talked with the kitchen maids for a while, helping to prepare tonight’s feast to celebrate your own arrival (and soon, your parent’s arrival, but that didn’t much matter at the moment). When that didn’t seem to take your mind off of the subject, you went to Sansa and embroidered pretty flowers onto plain white cloth. A mindless, thoughtless task for you, usually. You were able to do it perfectly while chatting away with the younger girl. But that didn’t seem to work either. Eventually, you decided to return to your quarters to sulk for a while. That... That worked best.

It felt like forever before the men finally returned home. Led by Ned himself, Robb trailed closely behind him on a pristine white horse. Rickon and Bran shared a chestnut colored horse that fell behind their older brother, but before the few men that made up the end of the concession. Jon rode at the very back.

It wasn’t long until everyone was piled into the feast hall, hot food on their plates. Your fork rested idly in the meal beneath you as you looked over the smallfolk below. You had the privilege of sitting at the top table with the rest of the Stark family. Robb to your left, Arya to your right. Ned sat at the head of the table and Cat right beside him, as always. The other three children sat around the bunch of you.

The only thing missing seemed to be Jon.

You hadn’t expected him to eat at the top table with the rest of you tonight. Not with Catelyn’s staunch hatred of the boy. She truly did hate him, or at least it looked to be that way. When you had asked her why he wasn’t even in the feast hall at all, she laughed, telling you some utter lie about not wanting to offend you by having him in your presence. You were a Royal, after all. That was disappointing, to say the least. Yet, you were sort of relieved to not have to look him in the eye after what had happened earlier. His brother, on the other hand... 

You were snapped away from your thoughts by the sound of Ned’s laughter, loudly echoing through the hall. He stood from his seat, ale mug in hand to give a toast. While everyone’s eyes were on the Lord, he took the opportunity to let his hand sneak underneath the table and come to rest on your thigh, subtly gaining your attention. 

“Y/N?” He whispered lightly, leaning closer to you. You gave him a quizzical look. “I have a gift for you. May I come to your room, after everyone’s gone to bed?”

You laughed, a small smile playing on your lips.  “A gift?”

“You’ll love it, I promise you.”

The rest of supper went smoothly enough. Everyone was a little drunk but very happy, bellies full of good food and wine. It didn’t take long for the Lord and Lady to begin to put the younger children to sleep before going to their own room themselves, the rest of Winterfell following their example. You’d gone to your bedroom the first chance you’d gotten, claiming tiredness from the last stretch of the journey you’d made to Winterfell that day.

Nervously, you paced the floor of your room. Your mind raced with thoughts. What could Robb have for you? You tried to think of potential gifts, things he might have thought you’d like. But yet, you couldn’t think of anything. Truly, your mind was blank. 

It seemed like forever before the boy finally found you. Robb didn’t knock, so as to not alert anyone. He was sneaking into the princess’ bedroom rather late at night. It wouldn’t much matter to his father if the two of you were betrothed to be married or not, Ned would shame him for the implication either way. 

“Y/N,” He said lightly, opening the door to let himself in. “close your eyes.”

With your back turned to him, you shook your head before closing your eyes. Of course he would do this, make it dramatic. That was simply the boy’s style, always had been, but you didn’t mind. In fact, if you were to be completely honest, you liked the build up, the anticipation. You could say that very thing for a lot of things.

His heavy footsteps seemed to echo throughout the small, quiet room. The only other sound was the logs within the fire crackling lightly, and... Whimpering?

“Turn around.”

You turned around, shocked to see what he held in his arms. A small, fat little direwolf puppy. He smiled slightly, handing you the delicate creature. You couldn’t help but grin. It was so terribly cute, you already loved it.

“You’re going to be a Stark soon enough, I figured it was fitting... What will you name her?” 

You glanced up at him. “By that logic, maybe I should gift you a lion. Or would you prefer a stag? Because I can go both ways.” 

“You know what? I’m not completely opposed to having a pet lion.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment as you looked over the creature. She had rather large paws and a long snout with big, sharp teeth, signature marks of a direwolf. She was beautiful, too. Her fur was a deep, gorgeous greyish-blue color, so much so that she almost looked a sort of purple in this light. Her eyes were a shade of piercing bright blue. They reminded you of the lovely sea of blue that the hold overlooked back in Casterly Rock. 

“Her name will be Dawn.” You decided, giving her a sure nod. It fit her well. 

“A beautiful name for a beautiful pup...” He trailed off. You sat the little wolf down onto the floor, as she had began to grow anxious in your arms. You didn’t blame her. 

“How did you find a direwolf pup? I thought they were extinct down here, south of the Wall?” You asked, taking a step closer to the boy. He was taller than Jon, leading you to look up at him slightly.

“On our way back from beheading the deserter, we took the longer route on the road that winds through the forest. In the road lay a dead stag. Then, we heard the little cries. Then we found the pups, seven of them. One for each of the Stark children, and you. The first wife of any of us.” He laughed lightly, a certain nervousness growing behind his voice. “The wolf had killed the stag, but she had died too, protecting her pups.”

You smiled, a slight worried laugh escaping you as you’d realized. “That sounds symbolic, you know... Not a good omen, perhaps.”

He leaned foward to meet you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. You looked up at him. Tall, dark and handsome. Neatly kept dark brown hair fell in loose waves and his short beard, just longer than what you’d consider to still be stubble, gracing his jawline. Just a bit taller than Jon, and they looked nothing alike. He was a gorgeous man, though.

His lips pressed to yours as his hand began to travel up your waist, your back arching into his chest as his opposite hand... Well, it fell down slightly, resting just above your arse. Robb knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t afraid to show you, to let it be known to you. And truly, you didn’t mind one bit. The kiss between the two of you was fiery, passionate. But it lacked something... You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Though you smiled brightly as the brunette boy pulled away, a love-drunk little smirk on his lips. 

“There’s one more thing I want to give you before I go.” He reached into the pockets of his cloak, pulling out a small wooden box, which he handed to you. A small stag was carved into the top, and your initial on the inside when you lifted the lid. It contained a simple silver band. You picked it up carefully, examining it. That’s when you noticed the text inscribed inside the band. To my little doe, it said. 

You found yourself at a loss for words as you looked over it. No one had ever done something like this for you. Not Jon Snow, not a single one of your previous flings or lovers (of which you didn’t have many, but the point still stands). It was thoughtful and sweet of your betrothed. “This is beautiful, Robb...” 

“You can have something nicer, made from jewels or gold, once we’re wed, if you wish. I know that’s what you’re used to, being King’s daughter and all. I doubt this holds a candle to what you’ve seen before, a ring on your mum’s finger...” 

His words begun to trail off when you placed your hand to his cheek, bringing a halt to his rambling and nervous words. You pressed another kiss to his plump pink lips, this time fully taking him in. He tasted of sweet rum, his warm skin providing a certain aura to this kiss. This was something you could get used to, you’d admit. You slipped the ring into his open hand, pulling away just slightly from him. A silent nod of approval for him to place it onto you.

Robb held your hand in his, gently and carefully sliding the ring onto your wedding finger before placing another sweet and chaste kiss to your lips. This... You certainly weren’t opposed to this, if this is what the rest of your life was made to be filled with. But yet, as he began to turn and leave after the two of you said your goodbyes... You stared at the small direwolf puppy beneath you. The silver ring you now wore. Make no mistake, you loved these things he had given you, but there was something missing, you thought. Something you weren’t sure of.

And that night, as you laid in your cold bed with little Dawn beside you, silently wishing you’d had someone to keep warm with you... You still longed for the bastard.

[bellarkeselection]

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Robb Stark- requests open.

Queen Stark - Robb and the reader return home after defeating the Lannisters. A royal ceremony is held for the pair, wearing golden crowns and a proposal is revealed.

Frey Wolf - Robb actually marries a Frey girl. The pair wait to have their wedding night until she's ready. Set where he wins the war of five kings

Dany's daughter - request from @lydiastarkofwinterfell Robb falls for the only daughter of Daenerys but her daughter lies about who she really is. Robb comes back from a mission and confesses his love and finds out the truth. (First Robb request).

United in Love - Y/n Lannister and Robb just happen to fall in love despite their families hating each other

We'll Rule Winterfell Now - Request from @woah-is-this-real-life Maybe Robb and his wife returning to winterfell for the first time after the end of the war. They got married in the camp during the war.

Our Little Catelyn - Request from TheBaseballBabe on Wattpad Robb and his wife are announcing to the family that they are expecting. The family is so excited for them when they welcome a beautiful baby girl that they name Catelyn after his mom.

Soulmated Stark - Request from @groovy-lady Robb Stark x fem!Reader (from a lesser House that House Stark is liege lord to) Matching Tattoo Soulmate fic. Robb and Reader are greatly encouraged to marry by the rest of the Stark family

Jaime Lannister- requests open.

Lion Luck - Y/n Stark flees Winterfell that Ramsey rules. Sansa her older sister sends her off to find Tyrion, but she bumps into his brother. Unknown to her he's been sent by Tyrion to protect her.

Wolf Sword - The oldest daughter of Ned Stark has been married to Jaime for 5 years. The pair spar with swords before riding with King Robert Baratheon to Winterfell. Hoping her family will welcome her home. (Changed this into a series instead of a just one shot)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Gentle Matching - Request from @makeshift-prime (Fluff with Jaime). Jaime is sent to bring Myrcella home. But during a feast he meets the reader Oberyn's sister, and Myrcella plays matchmaker.

Beautiful Rock - Jaime decides to bring his wife Y/n Tyrell to the Rock after he helped Tyrion escape his execution. Freeing his innocent love from the horror that is his twin sister.

Dragon Twins - Request from @phoneixgirl23 on Wattpad. Jaime Lannister x Targaryen reader. Reader is Jon's twin sister who was given her own dragon and has twins with Jaime, her husband.

Ice Wife (series) - Request from @deepprincesstraveler Jaime Lannister x Stark Reader that has ice powers like Elsa from Frozen. The two have an arranged marriage.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Fiery Wolf - Request from @TillyG584 on Wattpad. Jaime feels a burning connection with the oldest Stark girl during the feast at Winterfell for King Robert's visit. The reader secretly has fire powers.

Fairy Accident - Request from @Babygurle36 on Wattpad. Margaery's younger sister is married to Jaime and he finds out about her fairy powers by accident.

Romantic Castle - @phoneixgirl23 on Wattpad came up with this idea. Jaime and reader spend the night together when he's free from being Lord of the Rock. Finding out his wife has powers and is unsure how to react.

Lannister intentions - Request from ReaderCrazy2 on Wattpad. Jaime does everything he can to make an innocent reader his. Y/n Stark knows he's the bad guy.

Kingslayer Prisoner - Y/n Tully is held Jaime's prisoner when he wants Riverrun but he underestimates her skills with a sword. He just might've regretted becoming a member of the Kingsgaurd

Part 2

Part 3

Rights to Swords - Request from @tashitash Dialogue prompt: “you had no right to use it without asking.” (Jaime says it )

Never a Damsel in Distress - Request from @makeshift-prime Could it please be about Jamie finding the lost reader in the gardens at kings landing and ending up becoming their friend, Cersei sees this and orders to have the reader killed. Jamie finds this out and goes to save them, but the reader didn't need to be saved and defended themselves.

My Tully Lover - Y/n Tully can't help but start a secret love affair with Jaime Lannister while she is supposed to be working her way towards a husband

You’re Better Than Any Proper Lady - Reader is a servant and Jamie is I love with her and they are together secretly but everyone knows because they have 2 children and cersie hates reader because she took Jamie from her and Jamie defends reader every chance he gets

Tyrion Lannister- requests open

Marriage Trade - Tywin announces Tyrion is to wed Sansa. But what happens when her older sister Y/n steps up to bear the Lannister name. Tyrion slighty disagrees at the possibility of losing his love.

Part 1

Part 2

Library Love - Request from @makeshift-prime Reader is a librarian and bonds over her love for books with Tyrion. The pair start out as friends but become something more while hiding from his father.

Dragon Bonding - @fluffymadamina helped me with this idea. Tyrion and the reader decide to free the dragons. Afterwards the pair slowly bond as the dragons slowly trust them. Tyrion and the reader end up admitting their feelings and kiss.

Lannister Maiden - Tyrion has a secret relationship with a handmaiden and Jaime helps keep them hidden by acting like he's the one quartering Y/n.

No Typical Lord - Request from @my-current-fandom-is Y/n Tyrell is looking for isn't like the typical man of Westeros. She meets Tyrion during the financial planning of her sister's wedding.

Witching Stark - Request from @deepprincesstraveler Tyrion Lannister x Stark reader with magic powers like Hope Mikaelson from TVD

Ned's Daughter - Request from @whateverthecostner Reader being Ned Stark's oldest daughter and goes with him to King's Landing. I would love to see Tyrion's reaction to the curvy stark girl and maybe her reaction to the charming, intelligent Lannister.

Lioness Cold - Request from @supermystic29 A one short where his wife is sick and he takes care of her till she's better.

Lioness Cold pt 2 - request from @tyrionsprincess30 Tyrion comes back from the north and he finds out the y/n has got worse then when he left

Wife in Need - Request from @supermystic29 Can you do a Tyrion one shot where he comes back from being away finding his wife is upset because she found out her family was killed. And she has not moved from her room at all and he trys to help her.

Scared She Lion - Request from darkanglel_28 on Wattpad. Reader is Tyrion's wife and is pregnant. She's afraid to tell him so she talks with her sister Sansa.

All Hail Royals - request from @tyrionsprincess29 Tyrion and the reader are crowned after the war us over

Lannister Heir - Request from @tyrionsprincess29 His wife is having their baby, he watches over the baby as she is geting some sleep from the brith and names their son.

Wife's Safety Keepers - request from @tyrionsprincess29 Tyrion's wife is sent North to be protected by his brother and Sansa but he panics.

Misunderstanding - request from @tyrionsprincess29 the reader thinks she is to marry Joffrey so she has a panic attack but Tyrion tells her the truth.

Nameday Suprise - Request from @tyrionsprincess30 His wife is away visiting her former home and isn't sure if she'll be back in time for his nameday. So Jaime and Sansa manage to bring her back.

Peace Proposal - request from @tyrionsprincess30 Tyrion goes to meet with the dragon queen to make peace but the only way that can happen is if he marrys the princess of dragons

Peace Proposal pt2 - Tyrion marries the dragon princess

For Once I Didn't Know - request from @supernaturalgirl30 tyrion short where he here's y/n singing to there baby as its time for bed . And he was shocked because he didnt know she could sing

Standing up to The Queen - Request from kgiven on Wattpad. Could you please do one where tyrion falls in love with the reader after she stands up to cersei for insulting him. after they elope and live happily as a strong team

We're The Others Dream - request from @supernaturalgirl30 Hey i was wondering if you could do a tyrion one short. Where y/n was feeling that tyrion was rethinking on marrying her but he talks her down. And that hes deeply in love with her no matter what

You Were My Choice - request from @supernaturalgirl30 Can you do a tyrion short where y/n and meet in winterfell after he found out he was to marry her and he talks to her about how he will be a good husband. And he finds out that she was the one that requested she marry him ?

The Best Marriage Switch - Y/n and tyrion are married and go north to tell her family abd have a Argument because she was supposed to marry the king but she tells her bother that tyrion asked if he could marry her instead cuz he was worried about y/n life

Traitor to the Stark’s - tyrion lannister short were there just newly wed and y/n bother is makeing a Speech about how his y/n is a trader to the family for agreeing to marry Tyrion

Jon Snow- requests open

Knight Freedom - Y/n Lannister is held captive by Ramsey after her father Tywin sent her North to marry a northern house until Jon saves her after winning the Battle of the Bastards.

Kind Lannister - Request from @utherisanass on Wattpad. Jon thanks the reader for helping return Bran home before tomorrow's battle against the Night King.

Wild Love - Request from @stellarosedutton Reader is a wilding and secretly dating Jon. She gives birth on a trip to see her brother and Ygritte

Crow Snow - request by @lydiastarkofwinterfell The wildling reader stumbles on Jon while hunting.

Tag List - just ask if you want to be added

@makeshift-prime @rosie-posie08 @kittykylax (Robb Only) @lover-of-books-and-tea

[dream-this-nightmare-over]

Kit Harington imagine part 2

If you like this, or if you dont, check out my other stories on wattpad (you might find something you like)!!!

Rest of my imagines/one shots you can find in my wattpad book Imagines that is being filled continuously by new stories.

Enjoy!

Friend from seven seas away and seven summers ago visited to return my pin and remind me why our love will never die

He came one day in january or was it december

I dont know. I dont count my mistakes anymore

He came with cold bite northern clutch

He came to wish me merry christmas

But we both knew he was carrying velvet box that became part of his every pocket

He still looks for me in crowds and next to him when lonliness hits, he upturned entire garden and smashed all mirrors in home that is more sanctuary than paradise, but still he hasnt found origin nor end of his anger carved in plaster of fustration peeling layers funny how once it finds soil you can never get to the bottom of it despite being the host. You feed your insanity because it keeps you from losing it all together, madness is not product; its perpetuer that gave name to reaction of defying to succumb to ilogic in matrix, bear the name of enemy trick to outcast the unwanted in system more easily. Am i being too harsh? Who would love me with mindset that sees fire under snow, enemies in parents, friends in taken, home in forest, liberation in thunder, imagination as only religion that can deliver, rhymes as confessions of unspoken sacred poem why you cant see vials are not only way to bleed the person and leave a heart dry cooled off skeletonial construction a churred hull nothing can grow from no one to call it a home. I am exiled from my own heart. ( i listened to others too much and wrote not enough lock picks to get me out of prison my mind fortified around who i am. who are we? Slimy grey liquer they pick apart under microscope or etheral reflection of stars? I have to be more than this materalisation of doomed for failure)

He had big fireplace. We used to sit there on thick plush carpet pondering over meaning of it all. Him drinking, me watching his throat move with every gulp, high on sadness. Mind you, i didnt know david yet, nor his metaphorical perfection eclipsed my every romance thought. Kit was everything i wasnt, yet my stream of conscious always met his; i watched him with adoration that comes when you are exposed to art for the first time. I went to museums before, but I was never allowed this close. Sometimes we would be joined by other fallen fellows. And we would drink for all the lovers who will never return affection for pain of loving them in silence. No one ever cared for my heart enough to show me love can be burden divided. Meeting them, showed me happy endings live on screen and in pages that dont spill in reality that is same losing sanity game for most people. Only reason there wasnt shortage of bandages, was because we were all liars, inheriteted strategies, hiding the wound smilling while bleeding, sooner die than let someoe see. But he saw me.

My best friend alex was dead for some time when my first friend came to our northern town. It was seventeenth day of christmas, harbour cafe bars were adorned in fairy lights, carols were mixing with generic mandatory christmas pop songs down the street, cinamon and clover drifting from patiseries on corners, ships and gullys christms trees wraped at bottom with blanket of frozen sea that will keep them stuck here in this fairytale wilderness till spring awakens with yawn that will run cracks along sleeping hardened earth and everybody will throw away their coats elsewhere in the world but not here, here cold lives with us, in cracks on pavement and drinks served with mittens.

He wonders if thats all thats left of me, if i took it little to literelly, to settle in place and make it home, lose yourself so they like you or go where they are like you.

I never told him about alex. He heard i moved on replaced our love with new friends, and i still dont know if i broke his heart when he told me to move on and i didnt fight for him to stay, he told me to be happy to find another crowd and i let him go like he didnt teach me meaning of patient love.

He was wrong. I didnt become cold. It claimed me before we parted ways. But my past is now under frozen slates of harbour and i would do everything so spring never comes; my past is burried in grave in forest that still sings hymes to my crimes; my past is more me than i am me today. I am ruthless wind he leaves windows open when blowing, because he likes the sound of things shattering, it muffles the wails of his heart that lies in pieces; i am words my father is horrified to hear and in his ignorance that he graces me with calls them bullshit, while i pour my heart out of every truth because lies have pulled the rope too tight around my throat around my mind around my heart i am running in circles so i write write write get it all out hoping one day words will get me out of my head and into sunlight that wont hurt; i am my enemy and i hate both of them.

He was in jacket and his curls were wild and untamed. We met in the middle of the street, greeting with usual teasing like no time has passed at all. Even then i knew time didnt steer him right into my path by pure coincadance. I was mad, you see. My mind tortured by reality it didnt recognize as authority over its wandering nature that seized every moment to escape in carefully created daydream retreat that had its foundations planted on drive home from party where boy with curls another kid that didnt believe anymore in happy endings, got so wasted that he never again remembered how he changed my life with just one conversation.

He had his demons. And i was getting familiar with knowledge they come in various shapes, and that no one escapes their acquantace; he tried to drown them. I never fully understood depth of misery that can carve a home in every surface underneath skin, settle there and dig further into essence of your being, with every hit more desperate to get to the heart where child hides, until alex died and i was left with his and mine demons and they were one and the same; where kit was my tragic counterpart whose sadness and anger matched mine if not in level of poisoning yet, in lonliness we exiled ourselves when we realised we are becoming poison ourselves; alex was romantic notion life can get better if you surround yourself with people who are in sync with your heart, who know not to leave you alone when you withdraw.

Kit knew when i needed silence; but alex knew i needed life too.

He said i left my pin at his place all those years ago and that he thought i should have it back. Or he just needed excuse to see me. He could've gone further north and see polar lights if he needed to feel me.

"i am not going up there again. Besides, you arent spirit yet."

Yet, i bet i haunt his dreams neverthless.

I turn my attention to golden pin i started turning over in my hand, inspecting siides like its not memento i used to keep on a bedside cupboard for years, just so I don't have to meet his teddy bear gaze. I cant afford to go back there. Cheap prop replica from some book series popular while i was still in school. More than a fandom triffle.

Relic of hope.

He carries shadow in his pockets, i have then too many to tell when one leaves me. Is love I stomped out under northern lights, somewhere out there or still in us?

He closed my fingers over it with his and held them there then pulled me in bearhug. He still smells like home.

We walked around town, christmas market and tivoli lights, shoulders brushing, pin heavy in pocket of my coat, Christmas carols and cinnamon in air, I don't remember he ever came to visit me back in day when I was just designated driver and he was the cool kid who befriended me.

II.

"Can i stay with you?" I whisper.

"Always" cookies are brittle i can hear him chewing on bite. Box between us is almost empty. I can see blades of grass underneath plastic bottom.

"I-" I have no where else to go.

"I know."

Ofc he does.

Past remembers its scars.

Your pain recognizes mine

"I left all my words with you"

"I came to remind you that words arent expendable goods."

Now he is talking funny. Like we arent living in the same world. "Words arent goods. No one wants to trade with them anymore."

"You call yourself ruthless. Be imposer, make them obey new rules."

"Its too late for revolutions"

"Its never too late for new ideas"

"I dont want to wait till I am one step from grave to make my name; i want to enjoy my fame. I want to enjoy life, is that too much human asks for on only planet it can survive?"

"Maybe there is reason why no other bio system wants us"

"Do you think they are so inhospitable because we lived on all those places already and ruined them like we are doing to earth, but cant remember for some reason?"

He turns all the way on his side to look at me. We are laying in patch of meadow left behind alex's old house now empty but for couple of bird nests under roof and broken windows, shards of remaining glass like jaws standing on guard clinging on frame warning signs little too late.

yesterday there were six teeth in downstair frame now there are four, three on porch where there were five two nights ago, none left in doors. I count every change knowing damn well nothing will change. But birds built a nest, badger was on windowsill couple of days ago, and branches started to enter thtough upstairs bedroom window that used to be his sister's.

Will his family ever call again? Will they ever know it ruined me to lose him? Will i ever grow bigger than my pain, or kit's tangable grief for my tragedies i make myself go through just to feel something, for who i used to be and who i have become, grief i feel is treathning to spill but he keeps it to himself for my sake, because there is box in his pocket that i cursed, coffin will rot, diamonds are forever, i should have known before i created his burden; will his grief be echo i will never outrun, only partner in crime, whisper mocking my shadow even in darkest places, forever would take to dismantle the pity behind the mask and they would still bring it up in eulogy to kill me one last time; Is grief only kind of tree that will ever surrand me in any forest i run to; i want to pin him to ground catch him off guard hit him until i beat that pity out of his warm brownies and melted choclated chip eyes that were never supposed to be found by prophectic lies my demons spread around, they were never supposed to locate that corner of my mind, my sadness was never supposed to grow bigger than his, he was the one who was supposed to save me when tide got too rough pull me out bring me back with his breath in my lungs, not show up from nowhere one ordinary winter afternoon after no call for years, ghost of christmas except this is the season i love the most, and he came to take away my fairy lights too early, he showed up like some king of north in black tight jeans and black jacket and black curls glistening on icy sun that puts jewels in his eyes, to tell me he is cutting the tie, all wrapped in his sad puppy smirk a charm i ripped away ftom my bracelet and now he is paying me back for thinking i can just kill part of myself without holding a funeral and writing an eulogy worth a dime or two or seven, no one will understsnd i want to tell him no one was there but he thrusts my pin in my hand and choice of words takes me back when he made love to me in one of alternative endings i created by sheer power of will to banish his pieces scatter our sin so he can never again haunt me in all his glory, dreams devoid of his warmth, imposed detachment, and did i save my sanity? I found new faces to finish me, argubly they took up where he leff off, for he loved me too much to ruin me when there was still enough hope i could become something more; all the names that took his place at table, gave me fairytales and adventures he never belived in, respite i needed, my indulgment was my ruination for i lost the grip on anything real, to run away from sorrowful conversations, to dance at parties and be crowned as kings and queens of town of my dreams, but he put himself back together to remind me everything needs to be immortalised in reality if i wish to stay hidden in my mind.

"Your mind is gold pot. Exploit the depths and wonders of your mine. "

"i am trying. Is that why you came? To guilt trip me?"

Of course he lays claim on my royalties. He created me, my madness, this frantic writing that never meets ending, all the ideas and pieces of conversations burried in piles of notes that mount to nothing because my mind is wounded animal running from society on too many places in same time, standing in front of his doors walking away letting myself in after he leaves i lay on carpet he changed nothing room is cold memories are charred coal in fireplace i just want his skin on mine as close as it gets i dont want to be myself make me forget i am real.

"I dont know where you are going with this" crow flew over us, it didn't even screech and I wondered what we look like to her; two bodies sprawled in grass, admiring sky, two skeletons with beating heart and tummies full of cookies and gummy bears, two humans: too big of a bite or not worth the bother?

"You got rusted"

He never misses the beat. "You havent used me in a while"

"There were others"

"You need to stop. This convo has run its course"

"I cant. i promised myself i will finish this tonight"

"Who am i if i dont write?"

He echoes my thoughts then settles with arm under his head staring back at stars above that dont care if we make it or die in sleepy towns working dead end jobs just to get money that will never be enough to pay for a new life somewhere far away where dreams lead the way.

Sky got painted over and stars vanished from outline.

"I am scared kit."

"We all are, kid"

"You wanted to shag me. I am not kid"

"I wanted to marry you too"

"They are all kids, those boys i imagine to help myself fall asleep. They never know me"

"Do you know yourself?"

"Does anyone?"

"Pondering over existential questions is surely not going to clear the picture"

I lost my best friend, kit! I want to scream in his stupid smug face. I want to know why! Not everyrhing is about you having superiror insight to backstage of all the revelations just so you can call quits on all your emotions you dont want to face and call them all bs because you are just as immuture as me and you wish happy endings exist but you prefer to live in pain because you are afraid of change and everyone is loser to you if they care because you kit, you are afraid to love and let yourself feel smth unless you know you can win!

Hello, i am your mirror. Glad we got here finally.

Car ride candies left on seat liquor in veins neon road you kissed me dont you remember we caught a taste of happy ending for passing second devoured by time, am I selfish for calling you out or you are for coming back around just when I thought I was getting better?

"I am scared there will come a day when you wont come right away"

"Past never forgets"

"But humans do"

"I am not real, y/n"

"I am talking about myself"

"Your dreams are entangled with thought of me; i have showed you how it can be, you cant forget what makes your soul alive"

I play with pin in my hand, caress the outlines, ridges and edges, my fingers remember the pattern the hope the comfort

But i dont feel the spark

World is as it is

Empty without my friend

"Here you can have it", i hold the golden thing in air between us. I see top of trees through tarnished circlet, i see myself flying away carried by the winds that tell me of my friend's last words, i see releasing those in my head, i see saving everyone left, i see peace clearer than ever.

"It kept me safe, now is your turn"

Save me i think the world is slipping from underneath me

Why does everything new feels like end of world, tell me i can bring myself with me wherever i go tell me i dont have to leave myself behind tell me its one thing that never changes tell me i can carry myself along until i become the most free version of myself tell me my life is not over yet tell me i am not dead just because things change tell me its just a start tell me i will get out eventually tell me you will be there on both sides.

He takes my head between his palms like he always did, and places a kiss on my forehead, and as i am falling into him for the last time, i find it funny how body remembers what heart had to kill to stop thinking about, shooting all the stars from the sky to put what it wants the most on the furthest shelf away from itself, my beautiful love will my heart when it hears yours finally know answer to why when the path is right, it gets twisted and complicated why then monsters wake up and forest gets dark?

He holds me and we stay that way while world is crying out its last but we know too much by now to help and prolong its death; let it go to sleep, let us be at peace, with new dawn maybe some better world will be born. (in which i will be more than dissapointment)

He knows i cant hurt him, he knew it will take me this long to write it all down, he knows he can come back anytime, he knows my mind is too far gone for anyone to find me....so he lets me go at last.

When the first drop of rain hits his lips, he says "amen (go in peace)."

[florencwrites]

ignoring is bliss 〚technoblade〛

in which [reader] struggles with her lover's inconsequent affection, and a good talk is unfortunately inevitable; the silent treatment has never worked well with techno.

"I don't know what you want me to say." His back had still been turned towards me at this point, the rake heavy in my hands as I tried using it to steady myself in the muddy stable. He kept loading dirty plucks of hay onto his pitchfork, the thinly lined buttoned shirt he was wearing easily letting his back muscles shine through.

I stood silently behind him, deliberating my words thoroughly. I hated when he acted like this, I absolutely despised him. He was one of the smartest men I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, however, the second things went sideways conversation-wise he always played it painfully personally. He would start correcting my grammar or suggest synonyms for otherwise satisfactory sentences. "I don't either."

"I guess that marks the end of this conversation." He turned around to dump his gathered muck in the makeshift wheelbarrow Phil had built us. His face was hard, his brows furrowed and his features lax. He seemed indifferent, his attitude scaring me to pieces.

"Tech, please." I tried, putting one of my hands up to gesture for him to stop walking. He was now barely lifting the barrow from the ground, ready to head off to the dump. He huffed, his eyes meeting the floor as he put the wagon down. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly.

He ducked to grip his hands around the handles again, lifting it from the ground. His knuckles were white where they held onto the leather-covered grips. "Speak up."

"I want to have a conversation with you, okay? Stop acting so fucking stuck up and talk to me." His shoulder brushed past mine as he exited the stables, my voice was high in emotions, definitely on the verge of breaking with desperation.

He snorted. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say when you've calmed down."

-

"He won't talk to me, Phil." I groaned almost obnoxiously loud, taking a sip of water to wash down both my dinner and my agitation. "You know how he gets."

"All pissy? Tell me about it." He chuckled softly, his forearm shielding his bowl from my sight. He shoveled another spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. Phil and I had never been extraordinarily close, he reckoned Techno and me to be undeserving of each other. A terrible pair. And perhaps we were, at times like this I couldn't help but doubt whether or not we truly were the destined lovers we often thought ourselves to be. "I'll bring him some food later."

I laughed at him, a father at heart. A father to anyone but his actual sons, really. A playful grin on my lips, "You're an enabler, Phil."

-

That night I crawled into an empty bed. One I hadn't even doubted would be just that; empty. He was weak like that, he'd do anything to avoid conflict. Whether that was because he was afraid of what his blinding rage fits would conjure, or whether he was just an impotent coward. Someone who didn't know how to act around uncertainty and immorality and thus resorted to blaming everything on his treacherous temper.

The sheets still smelled of him, I held them to my nose.

There was no reason for us to fight, I hadn't meant to start one. I simply wanted him to realize how different he acted towards me when surrounded by any crowd. He acted so distant it made me doubt not only us, but myself. My heart ached anytime he pulled his hand away from where I tried leaving him a subtle touch. My skin crawled when he no longer referred to me by the mild, but unmissably warm names he had for me.

However, nothing would ever hurt me as much as meeting his eyes in a room of our friends and seeing the love seep from his irises. Physically witnessing his affection turn into nothing short of mere acquaintance.

Everyone knew us. There was no reason for him to act so cold, so distant. Though, I also recognized that perhaps there was an underlying reason. One I simply hadn't thought of, or perhaps one that I couldn't ever imagine. One that he had retained from his troublesome past.

The thing is, it hurt me to think he didn't trust me enough with his reasoning. That he didn't want to tell me about his thoughts. I'd been extremely careful and meticulous with any information he'd granted me, I was sure to never let what he told me change my opinion of him. I vowed to never look at him any different.

So, why could he not promise me the same?

-

There was no point in pushing myself from my sheets the next morning. I knew how long his episodes usually lasted, I wouldn't even have to try talking to him for at least two more days. Normally, I'd try, though. I'd sit in the grass right next to where he was working outside, just talking to him about anything and everything I could think of. Back then I thought for his silence to mean confusion, I thought his swirling mind simply needed a break. That a distraction would do him good.

I sat in the barely-molten grass for hours, never getting a reply.

His smell was constricting my airways slowly, every inhale making it harder and harder to breathe. What if Phil was right, what if he truly didn't love me, or not anymore at least? What if it was all an act to have a warm body to fall asleep next to, to have an extra set of hands around the cottage.

I kicked at the sheets, desperate to get them away from me, to get them from clinging to my sweaty body. I only tangled my legs further into the mess. The bed creaked loudly against the wooden floor of the attic, a gust of wind running through a small gap in the roof.

I shot up, finally being able to rid my body of the sheets. I huffed a few times, the annoyance getting the better of me. I slung my legs over the side of the bed, now just sitting on the wooden frame, letting my eyes wander over the walls. The pictures of us that were tightly tacked to the planks, photos of our favorite pets and our best of friends. Photos of us with Phil and Tommy, and even a stray photo of me and Wilbur, back when we were kids.

My gaze found its way towards the singular window behind our bed, the only one of two walls that weren't entirely slanted. His red robe stood out like a sore thumb in the feeble blanket of slushy snow that had been slowly accumulating over the course of the night. Summer was officially over once again, and the cold would soon make it so we could no longer afford to sleep alone.

He rarely wore his robe outside of special occasions, he usually would simply opt for one of his brown ones. One was trimmed with a thick deer fur, the leather on it sure to keep all frost out. The other one was his summer one, the more dirty one of the two. It was always stained with blood, since it would also be the one he went hunting with. He disliked hunting in the winter, the harsh winds and easily discernible prints made it no fun, according to him. He stacked up during the summer, drying his meats to allow them to be kept safe for months, if not years.

But now he was wearing his red robe, lined with the finest of polar bear fur. The one that had the special compartments for his potions, and the one I had sown a totem into. For good luck. He rarely wore it for any occasion but war.

He pushed himself from the ground, turning around swiftly; the velocity making his cape whisk dramatically up in the wind. His eyes seemed fixated on the ground until they unwarrantedly shot up to the window I was sitting at. Any other day, I would've averted my gaze. Not now. He knew I was staring, and he was allowed to know so. I held my eyes on him until his feet carried him out of sight, into the house. I sighed softly, I felt entirely forlorn without him, without his caring hands and loving eyes. I let myself fall back into the bed, cuddling the sheets once again as I curled away from the entrance. I reckoned he would have to change out of his robe soon, and I didn't want to face him when he did.

-

I heard the front door slam, and as predicted the rungs of the many ladders soon creaked in his hold. The worn, practically ancient, trapdoor was pushed ajar behind me. I couldn't be bothered to turn to meet his eyes. However, instead of quietly changing out of his clothes, I felt the bed dip. He sat on the side of it, much alike to how I had found myself just minutes before.

"I don't like feeling weak." His voice was rougher than usual, it kept its usual monotone aura, but for some reason, it felt more emotional than ever before. He cleared his throat as if to try and mask it, to no avail, "I don't love you any less."

I shifted in the bed, though, he quickly stopped me, "Don't look at me, that just makes it harder."

I obliged. He let out a trembling sigh, taking his sweet time to deliberate his next words, "Sometimes we are outside together and I'm afraid that when they see how much I care about you, they will realize that you make me weak." I stared at the wall, still curled into the blankets. I wanted nothing more than to hold his face, look at him as he spoke. Instead, I had to make do with the pictures of his face plastered on the wood. His pointy, flappy ears and peaked nose. The two sharp-looking fangs set in the corners of his lips, ones that seemed to disappear when he smiled. He didn't like smiling for pictures, I didn't have a single one of the two of us together where he smiled. The only ones that showed his beautiful pearly whites were the ones that had me behind the camera, something I only then realized might've not been a coincidence.

"It scares me to think they could hurt you for loving me, that's why I don't like holding your hand in town." I shot a quick look over my shoulder, his back was slouched over, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He wasn't crying, he simply seemed lost."I never realized that what scares me even more is the idea of you not loving me at all."

I slowly crept from under the sheets as his words fell silent. I crawled over towards where he was sat, near the foot-end of the bed. I took one of his hands from where he had rested his face on it and pulled it out of the way.

I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling my body into his. I draped my legs over his lap as I held him. His built arms felt tender against my exposed back, however, he held me tight. He squeezed softly as another quivering breath escaped his lips. We sat in embrace for a while.

"That's all I asked for, Tech." I smiled into his neck. "I just wanted to talk, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Shut up." He playfully tried pushing me away from his torso, underestimating the power of my cling. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Betrayal

Request: Hey can you please do Jon x reader where he cheats on her with Daenerys and ignoring the reader the whole time and is very cold towards her and going to Danny all the time but regrets it and feels very bad after the battle in the feast when he sees her (reader is able to control fire water earth air ice light and thunder and weather and is immune to it like Dany is to fire and dany is very jealous of her and doesn’t like her much due to her dragons taking liking to reader) please. Requested by anon.

Hey can you please do a Jon x angel reader who is his wife and she finds out Jon slept with dany before he even come to winterfell and the reader is hurt and talks to god about what she did wrong to have him slept with another woman . Dany doesn’t like the reader because she heard how Powerful she is and is very kind reader tells Jon alone she knows what he did and she leaves him guilty and the feast Jon and the reader sort things out and kiss dany sees and doesn’t like it the rest is up to you. Requested by anon.

Hey can you do one shot where Jon x wife reader who is pregnant and she finds out Jon slept with dany and admit he loves her which leaves her heart broken but she gives birth in the middle of the battle and in the feast Jon is looking at them regretful and dany notice which she doesn’t like reader ignores Jon but he tries to talk with her she lets him hold their son but Jon wraps his arm around her waist to bring her closer please. Requested by anon.

A/N: these are similar requests, so I decided to make it a one shot. I tried to put all the aspects in it.

Warnings: Cheating, angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 1280.

“We need to talk, Jon” you entered the great hall after the other lords and ladies left.

“Not now, Y/n. Can’t you see I’m busy?” He didn’t even bother to look at you.

“You’re always busy. You barely come to our chambers nowadays. What is wrong?”.

“Nothing is wrong. Stop asking!” He sighed.

“Why are you pushing me away?”.

“Because I don’t love you anymore” the words came out of his mouth accidentally.

“Oh! It’s her, isn’t it? That silver haired queen” his words felt like daggers in your heart.

“What are you talking about?” He pretended not to know.

“Have you slept with her?”.

“I-“.

“Just answer the bloody question, Jon!” You were on the verge of breaking down.

“Alright. I did! There, are you happy now?”

“Of course not. Why would you do this to me?”.

“I- I don’t have an answer for that. I- I’m sorry”.

“You don’t even mean it” you left the room crying.

You had just found out you’re pregnant and wanted to surprise him but ended up being surprised by him instead. And not the kind of happy surprise.

In a hurry and without thinking, you packed whatever things you had that you could carry and left Winterfell. You had Nowhere else to go but North. You knew Tormund would help you. He was one of the few people you trusted.

—-

“Is the weather always like this in Winterfell?” Daenerys asked.

“No. It’s usually just cold. I think this is Y/n’s doing” Jon replied.

“Y/n? What does she have to do with it?”.

“Sh- she’s an angel and she can control the weather”.

“And you’re telling me this now! She could’ve frozen you to death when you told her”.

“No, she wouldn’t do that. She has a pure heart. Not once, did she do an evil deed or even have an evil thought”.

“You speak of her as if you still love her”.

“I do. She’s my wife, Dany”.

“What about me?”.

“I care about you”.

“They’re here, your grace” one of the guards informed them of the Night King’s arrival.

Meanwhile, you were giving birth to Jon’s son.

“Is that what you’ve been doing, boy?” Tormund asked Jon as they fought some wights.

“Good to see you too. Where have you been?”.

“Taking care of your wife. You are clearly unable to or won’t. While she gives birth to your son, you go fuck around with that queen. Is it because she’s a queen, huh?”.

“What are you talking about? Y/n is not pregnant”.

“Yes, she is. You fool! She was going to tell you the day you confessed your crimes. She didn’t tell you after that because she didn’t want to force you to stay with her and feel obliged to take care of your child” Tormund informed him.

“Where is she now? And who’s taking care of her?”.

“She’s in good hands. Don’t worry about her. Maybe if you survive, I’ll take you to her. Only if you promise to never hurt again”.

—-

“We’re losing the war” Jon yelled.

Good men were dying and the Night King wasted no time in bringing them back.

Daenerys was fighting on Drogon, while Jon was on Rhaegal when he fell and a bunch of wights gathered around him, ready to take him down.

Suddenly, a bright light descended from the sky and made them all explode.

“Y/n?” He was still unable to see but he knew it was you.

“I’m not in full power. We have to leave now!”.

Before Arya managed to kill the Night King, you were able to surround the castle with fire. The rest of the war, you focused all your power on preventing him from making it snow harder. By the time Arya defeated him, your power was depleted and you almost died.

Jon carried you inside to your old chambers and lit the fire.

He waited by your side until you woke up “I’m sorry. I mean it this time” he put his hand on top of yours but you removed your hand immediately.

“I must go”.

“You can’t. You barely survived. I want to see him. I want to see our child”.

“Tormund told you, huh?... you don’t deserve to”.

“Please, Y/n!”.

“That’s why I must leave”.

“In the morning. You must rest now. Gather your strength”.

—-

After you brought your son to Winterfell, you went outside to enjoy the victory you had. While you were walking, everyone greeted you. You were popular amongst the people. After all, you were their healer and a queen that put her people before anything else.

You arrived at a place that seemed so quiet. No one was there until you heard a noise. You turned around and saw Drogon and Rhaegal injured and resting.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you. Easy now!” You placed your hand on Drogon’s head and he relaxed with your touch. You touched Rhaegal’s torn wing and healed it completely.

After that, you played with them until Daenerys arrived with Jon.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

You turned to face her. Seeing Jon by her side still hurt you but you managed to seem strong in front of them.

“I was just playing with them. Rhaegal’s wing was torn and I healed him”.

“Who gave you per-“.

“Dany” Jon stopped her.

“Well, then… I suppose I should thank you”.

You nodded and walked back to your chambers.

—-

“Can I hold him?” Jon asked permission as he entered the room.

“He’s your son after all” you wanted to hand him over but instead Jon just held your waist.

“Jon, stop it” you pushed his hands away.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intension” he apologized.

“Apology accepted” you handed him your son.

“He’s so beautiful and calm. Takes after you”.

“I suppose” you watched as Jon tried to play with the little one. It only made you love him more.

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you. For all the harm I’ve caused. Please forgive me”.

“I will consider it”.

“I do love you, you know”.

“Do you? That’s not what you told me a few months ago”.

“I didn’t mean it, but I had to push you away somehow”.

“Is that your justification for your indiscretions?”.

“No. What I did was not right. I know that. And after I slept with her, I couldn’t look at you. I was ashamed of what I’ve done”.

“Is that why you’re still by her side?”.

“She helped us win the war. Without her dragons and the soldiers she brought with her, we wouldn’t even stand a chance”.

“You forget, it was Arya who defeated the Night King. By the time I came, you were losing. She didn’t help you win the war. You don’t owe her anything, Jon”.

“But I owe you”.

“I was just doing what’s right”.

“Is that so? You could’ve let me die and it wouldn’t have been wrong but you didn’t. Which gives me hope. I won’t give up on us”.

“It takes time to heal”.

“I know. I will be waiting for you, no matter how long it takes. I just hope you give me another chance”.

“I will. But this is your last chance and I’m doing this for our son”.

“Thank you” he kissed your forehead and together with your son, you arrived at the feast.

Daenerys was glaring at you but there was nothing she could do. She knew whom Jon’s heart belongs to and she couldn’t wage war on you. After all, you saved them all and healed her dragons.

Tags: @simonsbluee @marvel-addict-95 @capsheadquaters @bucky-blogs

[thedeviltohisangel]

To Carry On For You//1//Is It Easier To Stay?

Callia stood silently and watched her sister lightly touch the hilt of a melted sword. She didn’t seem anything like the woman who had rode Drogon mere hours ago. But she also wasn’t the girl she had first met all those years ago either. Daenerys wasn’t the same person. Neither was Callia.

“Is it like you always pictured?” she asked as she took soft, careful steps towards Dany. Callia had seen the Iron Throne many times before. It was no longer special to her. Just another pile of metal. She didn’t understand why so much blood had been spilt for it over the years. Doesn’t think she ever will.

“Viserys explained to me that it was made of a thousand swords as the Lords surrendered to Aegon the Conqueror. I couldn’t imagine what a thousand swords looked like. I couldn’t count to twenty.” Callia smiled. She had thought a lot about what a younger Daenerys would look like.

If they would have looked more similar then or now. If she was more Lannister than Targaryen after her years in the South.

“Now you know.”

“Now I know,” she whispered back as she finally turned from the throne to face her sister. Callia stood still as Dany slowly walked down the steps and stood directly in front of her. “I couldn’t have done it without you by my side. Without our strength as sisters, it would have never been done. I thank you for that.”

“You are my family. I would do anything for you.” It was true. Callia may not have known of her younger sister for very long, known her physically even less, but the fire that ran through both their veins burned at the same temperature. It had been easy to know she was meant to be with Daenerys. Easy to know she was meant to protect her. Protect her even from herself.

“I wish to name you my heir, once all is said and done. You are my flesh and blood. You have stood by me in the most trying of times. You will be Queen, your children will grow to be the same. And assuming Jon will be their father-”

“The Targaryen lineage will be strong. Thank you, sister.” Dany moved to embrace her and Callia met her in kind, relishing in the final moments of warmth she would receive from her sister. “I did it because I love you.” It was an answer to the question she knew Dany would ask. Maybe it would be the last thought she ever had. Why.

----

Callia caught her sister before she hit the floor, cradling her close and keeping her grip tight so in her final moments she would know she was not alone. Callia did it to prevent the madness from spreading further. To prevent the decay of her sister’s legacy any further. She was a hero. A Queen. A dragon. A liberator. That was how she deserved to be remembered.

She did it to protect Jon. She knew of the turmoil that had lived behind his eyes during the battle. Knew he would never be able to rest if there was a possibility of her doing it again. Callia knew what Jon thought he had to do. She also knew it would kill him to do it. So she did it herself. Her sister deserved to die in the arms of someone she truly loved. Who truly loved her. Who knew of the fire in her blood and the kindness of her heart. In the arms of someone who could forgive her wrongs.

“Callia? What happened? What did you do?”

“What had to be done.” She didn’t bother to wipe the tears from her face as Jon entered the throne room. Let him see what this pointless war had made her. Let him see that beneath the mane of the lion and the fire of the dragon she was still only human.

“I-” Whatever comfort he might have offered her or sentiment that rested on the tip of his tongue, was interrupted by the arrival of Drogon. He screeched and roared and cried into the sky. His mother was dead.

Jon walked to her side tentatively, not wishing to disturb the grieving creature that was nudging the body of Daenerys. “What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

“I must go with her. To Dragonstone. Where I will give her a proper funeral, heal Drogon and reunite him with Kenna.”

“All of this time that we have fought to be together, we finally have the chance and you wish to leave again?” There was a sad smile on her face when she turned to face him.

“I swear by the gods, the old and the new, that we are meant to be together, Jon Snow. We will find each other in the time and place where it is destined.”

“Destined for us to be free.” It was all they had ever wanted. All they had ever hoped for. To be free. It was what they whispered about in bed. Spoke about by the fire. Called to each other before they left to battle.

“Yes,” Callia spoke with tears in her eyes as she noticed the orange light beginning to form in the back of Drogon’s throat, “open land and air. Us and our wolves and dragons and little wildings that have your curls and my eyes.” She knew the saying went that fire could never kill a dragon, her and Jon’s Targaryen blood making them dragons, but she wasn’t sure if that theory had ever been tested by the fire of a dragon. If even that wouldn’t burn them.

She made sure to look into his eyes as the heat began to build. If this were to be her last moments, she wanted that gentle look in his eyes to be the last thing she ever saw.

“Where we will be free.”

----

Callia watched from Drogon’s back as the melted steel ran down the steps that had once lead to the Iron Throne. To think this chair had cost so many lives, corrupted so many souls, was now just reduced to a grey sludge was astounding. What had it all meant anyways?

“I will find you when it is safe. I promise.” Her hand rested on Jon’s cheek as he looked up at her sadly. “Take care of my wolves for me.”

“Your wolves?”

“I rescued all of them, didn’t I?”

“Aye. You did.” He knew she would make a great mother. She already was to her dragon and direwolves. Jon smiled so brightly whenever he thought of her with a baby. His baby. He had started to consider her as his family long ago but it would be wonderful to add to it. Of course he would have to marry her first.

“I love you, Jon Snow.”

“I love you, Callia.” He kissed her knuckles tenderly before she took off on the back of Drogon into the sky, Daenerys lovingly in his grasp.

----

Jon was the only one for the Unsullied to blame for the death and disappearance of their Queen. He took the blame entirely. It protected Callia from ever being sought after though he was entirely positive that she would have protected herself and then some from anyone who came looking.

He thought about her the entire time he was in his cell. Wondered if she had found somewhere peaceful and beautiful for them to spend the rest of their days. Wondered if she would ever get tired of waiting for him.

When he heard that Bran had reached the compromise of sending him back to the Night’s Watch, he was torn. It was better than being beheaded. But it wasn’t the freedom he had promised Callia they’d find. He’d be sworn to taking no wife. No children. Two things he had sworn to her he would do.

It was difficult to say goodbye to his siblings. His pack. But they were all going into the ventures they were meant to be in. Sansa as Queen. Arya as an explorer. Bran as overseer. Jon could rest easier at night knowing they were all happy and accounted for. If only Ned and Catlyn could see them. If only Rickon and Robb could join them. Jon wonders, if they did it all over again, if Ned would still accept the position as Hand. If he would leave for King’s Landing. It certainly started a chain of events none of them could have ever seen coming. But it had also brought him to where he was now. He had lived. He had loved. Maybe he wouldn’t have if things hadn’t happened the way they had.

It felt odd to return to The Wall but not entirely wrong. The North was in his blood, in his soul. He had turned into a man here and for that he would forever be grateful. Jon was also a warrior. In battle but also in life more generally. It was in the North that he had found his place. Had found somewhere where the fight felt worthwhile. He could be happy here. He knew he could be.

Jon smiled to himself as he rode out into the forest with Tormund and the Wildlings. He was unsure if he would return to The Wall behind him. Part of him believed his place, his true freedom, was in the direction he was currently headed. He watched with confusion as Ghost sprinted ahead, away from the travelling party.

“Ghost?” Perhaps he smelled something tasty or was scoping out a potential threat. Jon signalled to Tormund that he was going to follow, urging his horse along quicker to try and close the gap that the wolf had formed. “Come on, boy, what’re you up to?” He followed Ghost into a clearing and wanted to give his own gleeful yelp when he saw the sight in front of him.

There stood Callia with her own dragon, Kenna, and the five direwolves. His family.

“I told you I’d find you,” she teased with a laugh as Jon eagerly came down from his horse and jogged to her. She crashed into him and felt completely full as his lips landed on hers.

“After you left-”

“I know. I know.” She spoke quietly as she carded her fingers through his hair and drank him in with her eyes. “But there is plenty space in the North for us to be free. For us to be us.” Jon smiled as her words sunk into him.

“You mean you’ll be Princess Snow?”

“Queen Snow,” she corrected with a glint to her eye.

“Come then. We must continue our march to freedom.”

[westeroswisdom]

Winter may be coming – but there's no forecast for Snow.

In November, Harington was a guest at London Comic Con Winter. According to one fan on Twitter -- jem met kit -- he talked a bit about the Jon Snow show. "Kit has said the snow show is on ice and he cant (sic) currently seeing it going anywhere and it’s not happening right now, but he’s open to it in the future but not right now," Jem wrote. "He says it was talked through but currently it’s not happening but maybe in the future," she added later. Now, it's true that this is an unconfirmed report; we don't have video from the event of Harington saying this, nor was it covered by a journalistic outlet on the scene. But Jem does have pictures of herself posing with Harington around the time of the con, so I see no reason we can't at least talk about it. Plus, I think the report has the ring of truth. I know a lot of fans are eager to see their favorite Game of Thrones characters onscreen again, but HBO has been very cautious about how often it visits the spinoff well. It even shot a pilot for a Game of Thrones prequel called Blood Moon that it ended up canceling because the decision-makers didn't think it was good enough. Game of Thrones was a big success and HBO wants to milk that, but they have high standards. They're not just going to make a spinoff because they can. [ ... ] So HBO wants to make sure that any Game of Thrones spinoff it puts out meets a high standard of quality, and it doesn't want to make too many lest it dilute the Game of Thrones brand like Marvel has done with its gaggle of superhero TV shows. In this context, it makes sense why HBO may want to stop with the two Game of Thrones spinoff shows it already has.

I still think the best sequel would be Arya's Voyages. 🙂

[kitsn0w]

jon snow meme | one episode ♦︎ 6x09

battle of the bastards (dir. miguel sapochnik)

[half-lightl]

so the emmys really slept on andy lincoln right up until his last episode uh

[fandomimaginestrash]

Date Night - Kit Harington x Reader

Prompt: Kit Harington imagine where he comes home from a long day of filming GOT and catches the reader dancing to the 1975 in the kitchen.

Requested by the lovely @mythesunflowerintherocksworld

Typically, Friday nights were date nights. Even though you and Kit had been together for forever, this is one thing that had never changed. Of course, sometimes Kit’s filming schedule postponed your plans, but the two of you always worked something out.

One particular Friday night, you were cooking a romantic meal for the two of you whilst waiting for Kit to get home. You had the whole thing planned out. A huge spread of all of your favourite foods, candles, flowers on the dining table - the works. Whilst cooking, you liked to sing to your hearts content to the empty house. Tonight was no different. Your playlist consisted of all your favourite bands and you weren’t ashamed to sing your heart out and dance around.

You had everything timed perfectly so that as soon as your boyfriend walked through the door, the meal was ready to be dished up and taken to the table. Of course you had a back up plan to keep the food warm just in case he was late.

As you pulled the roasted potatoes out of the oven, your playlist changed. One of your favourite songs began playing and you couldn’t help but burst out into song. “TOOTIMETOOTIMETOTIME” by The 1975 was one of those songs where once it started playing, you just couldn’t help yourself. Forgetting you had the hot dish fresh from the oven in your hands, you almost dropped it in excitement. Singing along and jumping up and down, it wasn’t until you span around in the most dramatic way possible that you saw Kit lurking in the doorway.

“Don’t stop on my account!” He laughed.

“Come here,” you said, putting the dish down on the side and grabbing his hand “dance with me.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

When he didn’t move, you changed your tactics. “I only called her one time,” you sang raising one finger in front of your face and taking a step towards him. “Maybe it was two times,” you raised another finger and took another step. You saw the smile start to emerge on his face and couldn’t help but reflect it on your own face. “Don’t think it was three times,” you shook your head raising a third finger and taking another step closer to him. “Can’t be more than four times,” you raised a fourth finger and took your final step towards him, at this point you were inches away from him. “Think we need to rewind,” you laughed taking a huge step back from him, avoiding his hand which was outstretched to pull you in.

Laughter filled the kitchen as you moved back towards him. The two of you danced around and sang like lunatics until the beeping of the oven signalling that the rest of the food was ready snapped you out of your haze, although you weer too comfortable in his arms to even think about moving.

“We should probably turn that beeping off” he whispered, looking down at you with nothing but love in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you matched his tone “i’m starving anyway.”

He laughed at your comment.

Delegating nicely, you co-plated the food and put everything on the table. Sitting down opposite him, you couldn’t help but smile.

“What are you looking at?” He teased.

“Just you,” you sighed “how the hell….” You stopped mid sentence and furrowed your brow at him.

“What?” He asked, “what is it, have I got something on my face?”

“Actually yeah, you have,” you laughed, licking your thumb and wiping his cheek. “How the hell did you get all the way home without realising you had mud on your face?” Your sidesplitting laughter echoed through the house.

“Hey, I’ve been working hard!” He retorted.

“What, rolling around in the mud with your best pals?” You teased.

He glared at you, trying to look hurt but the smile on his face gave him away as he joins your fit of laughter.

“How did I get so damn lucky?” He asked, sighing contentedly, happy to be home with the one person he could always count on. You.