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rise-my-angel · 2 days

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Heart of the Great Wolf

Stoking the Flames

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

Length: 23.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, discussions of abusive relationships, implied past sexual abuse, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, mentions of anal, breeding kink

Notes: Enjoy the calm while it lasts, because part 5 is going to be a whammy of juicy whiplashing content. Previous Modern! AU Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Your eyes shined brightly, something both almost a wonder and yet in something a bit emotional as you looked it over. Hand running gently down along the soft material as your eyes tracked it all the way down to the ground. The designs on it were a faint grey along the white colour, but they were there and intertwined along the arms and front of the skirt to create a gentle abstract look. There was a bit of lace along the arms as well but not so see through that you’d be able to notice much skin, more to give it a sheer look.

You hadn’t laid eyes on it in months, you hadn’t even expected to see it again. After the call that Ramsay had cancelled the dinner on you even despite that being the rescheduled one, you had give up on needing it. A fancy restaurant in Torrhen’s Square, and Ramsay had sent you out to a specific store to acquire a specific dress he wanted you to wear to the date. You had come close to buying it, a short, thin strapped red dress that was tight and showed off far more cleavage then you’d ever willingly choose alone. Waiting for the attendant to come back with your size, Jon had muttered to you that he’d be right back.

He had taken you there, not wanting you to take public transportation that far into the city alone. But you had waited alone for the dress, your mind solely on another. The one you in the present were gazing over. You had spotted it the moment you walked in, on a rack surrounded by other assorted things which appeared mostly vintage, but you were not told to get it, so you ignored it no matter how much it caught your eye. Before the attendant even came back, Jon had brought it over to you and nearly shoved you into the dressing room to try it on without listening to you protest.

He was right, you didn’t know how he knew but it had been beautiful. It had gone unspoken between you both, that Jon was very clearly trying to hold himself back from just telling you he’d buy it for you, standing begrudgingly quiet at the checkout counter. Then Ramsay cancelled, twice. And you knew such a dress wasn’t going to be needed for anything else, you didn’t do fancy events, it was supposed to be special. You had put it in the bottom of a box to donate, not wanting to look at it again and you thought no more of it when you dropped said box off one afternoon.

Yet now, you stood in Jons room, your eyes running all over the beautiful dress you thought you’d never be able to wear, all because Jon saw it in the donate pile, and rescued it. So you could wear it one day in the future like he thought you deserved.

Turning to look back at him, Jon was leaning back against his desk. Fiddling with his phone, he was clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t watching you adamantly. But his peeking grey eyes were wide as they caught yours, the expression trying to hide away that he was somewhat anxious about what you were to say about him keeping it for you. But your voice softened those worries in an instant, gentle as it was he could still hear from across the room. “You kept it this whole time just for me?”

Jon’s response however, just made your expression fall flat as his grew into a grin. “I don’t think it’d suit me.” Your head tilted before turning to look back at it, the beginning sound of Jon approaching before you felt two hands sit along your waist. Putting his chest against your back, he let his hands run smoothly up and down to your hip and back. Your hand busy running along the skirt of the dress which you could reach as he leaned down to mutter into your ear. “It looked beautiful on you, I didn’t want that to be for nothing.” Pausing before his voice ran a little rougher, while attempting to sound as if he wasn’t feeling so. “Even if it meant only showing you I kept it for you, because I thought maybe Ramsay would’ve done something nice for you once.”

Biting down on your tongue, something in you felt both distant at the name, but warm through your veins at the insinuation. Feeling Jons lips suddenly press down against your neck, you somewhat leaned back into his touch, only for Jon to interrupt himself, muttering muffled against you that he needed more room not less. Finally bringing a smile back out onto your lips with a small shake of your head. “I wasn’t trying to-”

His chuckle vibrated against your back, sinking into your skin and reaching your heart making it feel light at the sound. Interrupting you, Jon smartly switched back to the topic at the forefront of his mind. “You don’t have to wear it. I just wanted you to know you could, if you want.”

A hand left the dress, reaching to grasp gently at one of his hands only for Jon to grasp it in his larger one. Wrapping it around your front to keep you pressed against him, the side of his head rested gentle against yours as he looked down at your thought filled expression. “You don’t think it would be too much?”

Again he chuckled, pulling you closer it possible as he dropped his head back to kiss just under your ear to rasp into it. “It’s a wedding, darling. If there’s one place you’re allowed to wear a gown like this.”

Naturally, you had been hesitant to agree to go in the first place. You didn’t truly know the bride nor groom, but it was Sam’s brother getting married. Dickon apparently had told his brother to give him the names of people from the North he wanted to invite, and whatever partner’s they may wish to bring. Sam naturally knew out of anyone only two people would go with him all the way back to Horn Hill for such an event. Gilly agreed right away, excited to see where Sam grew up, and Jon didn’t hesitate to go.

Knowing Sam and his father had a not so good past as it was put gently to you. Jon hadn’t thought twice to mention to Sam that you’d be his plus one, before he had even brought it up to you at all. It made sense in his head, bringing you with him until he told you, and that nervous look came about your face suddenly.

Plans had all been made, but one thing remained. You had needed something to wear, and you had nothing appropriate for a wedding. That was when Jon opened the side of his closet that you rarely ever saw, normally where his Nights Watch attire was kept and you saw a familiar, long, white gown draped against the floor even from where it hung.

Starting to mutter that you didn’t have to wear it, you took the reigns and was the one to cut Jon off first that time. “I want too.” Trying to catch your eye from behind you, you choose to quickly let slip and turn in Jons arms. Not moving anywhere from him, but your hands now braced on his own arms close to where he had swapped to holding by your waist. “At least if I wear it for this, I’ll have a chance to wear it beside the one person who actually wanted me to get it.”

His brows narrowed. Your own face fell just slightly, as Jon picked up on you realizing the sudden switch in the emotions between you. You hadn’t meant it to come out that way, but it did and Jon had you way too close between him and his closet to escape his questions now. “What does that mean?” Shaking your head, you opened your mouth to a lie that Jon cut off before it even left your lips. “Why wouldn’t he have wanted you to get the dress you liked?” Your silence unfortunately, spoke that answer for you as Jon was smart enough to put it together. “You told me the dress you were looking at was just a style Ramsay had mentioned before.” Your continued silence only made it worse as you looked to the side away from him, Jon leaning down to try and catch your gaze more to his increasingly frustrated one as he more sternly muttered your name.

Fingers flexing meekly against where you held at his arms, your voice attempted to play it off as it meaning nothing, despite knowing the real answer was going to make him mad. “Ramsay sent me to that store on purpose.” Jon only waited for you to say the real answer you weren’t yet saying. “I was supposed to get the red dress specifically. For the date.” The manner which you awkwardly muttered the rest of it weighed a thousand pounds between you both. “So I could finally wear something that might make him want to actually...go to bed with me.”

You were both well aware that you had phrased it much more diplomatically then what Ramsay would’ve really said and you could see that anger flaring up in Jons eyes. Tone dropped there was an edge behind it, yet his hands held you no tighter. “Make him want to-” Cutting himself off, Jons head dropped for a moment as his eyes closed. Inhaling through his nose, you knew he was trying to keep it down for your sake here and now when he looked back up at you. One hand drifting from your waist to cup your cheek. “You shouldn’t be dressing a certain way so your own boyfriend will want to fuck you.”

Swallowing roughly, it seemed Jon had no issue jumping right to the more direct path of what you were speaking around. It wasn’t meant as a defence for him, and Jon knew that, but you so easily reverted back to someone a bit less confident in what you both had, defaulting to saying something just to appease Jon. “It wasn’t like that, it was only something he said once or twice. We did things anyways, he didn’t mean it.”

Head jolting back a little, Jon took the moment to look you over more seriously. Turning you by his hold at your cheek to meet his eyes, much wider but a more sad softness within them then you would’ve otherwise expected. His thumb ran along the skin of your cheek he could find each passing moment. “That has nothing to do with why he said it. He fucked you because you let him, you didn’t have to do anything to get him to do that. He told you to dress like that, to buy that dress in particular, because he wanted to prove to you and himself, that you’d always do whatever he said.”

“I only-”

Swapping to cup both of your cheeks, Jon turned your head up at an angle you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “Darling, you don’t have to defend him, you know that.” Nodding ever so slightly in his hold, Jon sighed at the motion. Pressing his lips to your forehead before resting his against yours, your arms now gently grasping at his waist, the only sound in the air between you was his gentle rasp. “You don’t have to wear the dress, we can go out right now and spend however long it takes to find you one you like-”

Shaking your head as much as you could in his touch, your eyes were a bit brighter then before. “No, I want to wear it. You kept it for me.” Sighing deeply again, Jon pulled back to seek your eyes out only to find genuinity within them. That time, you leaned up yourself.

Meeting you in the middle, whenever it was a kiss you initiated, it never was anything more then something sweet and chaste. Wrapping an arm around your lower back, Jon pulled you close so one of your hands was forced high up against his torso. His other hand tilting your head at the perfect angle for him, despite you being the one to start. You went in with something innocent but Jon deepened the kiss within mere seconds.

His lips soft against yours, he always took the lead. His kiss guided you no matter who started it, pulling you along to let him enjoy you the way he needed. Which could be endless. It was still new to you, even after three months together, it was still a matter of getting used too. The way which Jon truly, deeply loved to kiss you. Some nights, Jon would hover over you in bed with the intention of sinking deep inside of you, but could get so preoccupied in your kiss that an hour could pass and he made no further move to escalate things.

Ramsay and Karl Tanner had only ever kissed you enough to keep up the appearance that they were trying. Kiss you to greet you once or twice in a day, but sometimes those weren’t even to your lips, a press to your cheek felt sweet at the time when you thought it was normal for men not to enjoy kissing the way you wanted to try more of. But now, with Jon? It was obvious how much they were both trying to trick you into thinking it was normal to never give you attention, that it was how relationships worked in the real world and you were just too sheltered as a child to have learned that lesson.

Yet, each breath of air as you stood there, was stolen by Jon with such passion. He controlled your every act here, and yet it was not a trick of any sorts. He could kiss you until you were faint, and still trail his lips along your neck afterwards without ever stopping. Even now, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck, Jons hand on your cheek moved to your jaw. Better keeping you in place, kissing you again and again with no care to stop. The hand around your front slid to your hip, running smoothly over your pants with his palm before it somewhat begun to tease elsewhere.

Never yet committing, but you felt his fingertips toy with the idea of digging into your ass without committing. He had never taken you there, not truly. The first night you both properly begun to make up though, he had introduced you to the idea. That it wasn’t just for him, that he promised that if you were alright with it, he could make you feel good with that as well.

Even now as he kissed you without moving indecently, you felt a flush crawl through your body at the thought. Jon had taken you in every other way that night. Tasting between your legs until he pulled tears from your eyes at how much he purposely left you overstimulated. How finally, finally, he let you get on your knees. The feeling of his hand at your jaw now reminding you of the controlling way he gripped your hair, how he ran his fingers through the soft stands even though he had you pressed right up against the coarse hair around his cock as he spilled down your throat. Then, you were alright enough to take him properly after. You weren’t even sure how much you came at that point, your mind a bit of a fog as Jon dictated the whole night. But then he wasn’t yet done.

Waiting until you could stand on two feet, Jon guided you to his dresser, the mirror sitting against it showing what a mess you were. Covered in marks and bruises from his lips and teeth, bruises along your hips where he grabbed you and the lewd, undeniable sight of traces of his seed left between your legs. Guiding you to relax against the wooden surface, Jon gently lulled you into it.

The feeling strange and hurt a bit at first, but the more Jon rasped in your ear and the more his other hand ran across your clit to help, did it get easier. One, then two, by the time Jon managed to get you to cum one last time for him, he had just managed to fit three thick fingers deep into your ass before he was done. Carrying you back to bed, you had fallen asleep not long after to the gentle murmurings in your ear that you did so well for him.

But now, Jon didn’t take it that far, no matter how much your mind felt a bit guilty for drifting towards it. Once, twice, three times Jon had gone back to kiss you again when he was the one who pulled back first. Gently nudging your nose as you playfully did it right back, a small smile formed on his face. His hand returning back to your waist much more obviously. “It’ll be our first time at an event as a proper couple.”

The fluster showed through your small smile, only making Jons grow brighter against his handsome features. “We’ll only be gone a few days?”

Jon nodded, returning to let the hand at your haw begun to run through your hair again and again almost mindlessly. “We’ll get there in the afternoon, the wedding is that evening. I thought we could stay the next day, have a chance to sleep in, walk around the town, and take our time going home the next day.”

Your eyes narrowing playfully, Jon picked up on your tease right away. “This going to be your first wedding under the Seven, Snow?”

Jon only leaned in to press a kiss to your lips again with a smirk. “If I don’t burst into flames walking to a sept, it will be.” Jon had no care when he interrupted your laugh with a more firm kiss of his own. Unbeknownst to you, Jon certainly was having other thoughts about being with you at a wedding, and how much he was fighting with himself to keep those thoughts down.

Not that you’d know, but you helped a good degree in that matter at the least. The joke far too easy on your tongue as your brow raised playfully. “Suppose every tradition sounds strange to someone who prays to a tree.”

Jon didn’t hesitate to roll his eyes, grabbed you by the waist and all but hauling you in his arms across the room. Only to catch the attention of Ghost, who didn’t hesitate to run over to you both taking it as a sign to play. Part of you could only dread as the weather begun to grow colder and colder, how swiftly both wolves would take advantage and see how often they could all but knock you down into piles of snow.

“So what is the point of this again?”

Theon didn’t even need to take his eyes off the screen, wide to the point you were surprised there weren’t tears. “To get the fastest time.” Your face fell instantly, looking over to where you knew he could feel your stare as you asked why specifically. The subsequent smirk only told you that he had been vague on purpose. “Do you want the real answer or the mature answer?” Your silence told him everything. “Normally you do it to get the best time in the world, there’s a site dedicated to speed runs of games and it’s a lot of competition to be the best. The real answer is Arya said I couldn’t beat her time and if I’m going to prove her wrong I need to practice.”

Your eyes rolled as you let a smirk fall over your face, the lack of any shock that Arya was involved in any way. As you merely sat and watched, you looked over to the window on the other side of the room, the sky growing pitch black out. Telling yourself not to look at the time, it didn’t matter. He’d come home when he’d come home, you knew that. He told you that. But for some reason, you felt yourself constantly looking over to the window waiting for car lights to suddenly appear when they continued not too.

The couch you sat on always felt like it has so much room when you were by yourself, until any one of the three came along and sat next to you, feeling like the were so broad their shoulders needed a seat and a half. A sigh left Robb as he sat next to you, and you not at all aware of how as he let an arm reach along to rest against the back, how close he could come to toying with the loose strands of your hair secretly if he chose to do so.

He asked casually, you thought nothing of it or his tone, despite the slight head turn of Theon as he picked up on it, as Robb asked if Jon was going to be late again.

You nodded casually. “He said he’d rather work the overtime shift now then give up his off hours to make up for it when we get back.” You didn’t see any expression on his face, nor did you have reason to think there would be any. Asking where the wedding was, your eyes glanced over to his finally which appeared to look normal. Now missing how Theon did in fact turn his head to watch a few times with a suspicious look. “Horn Hill. It’s just a little south of Highgarden.”

“I’ve never been in the Reach.”

You only shrugged, a first hand knowledge of there and here and you knew which was better. “You aren’t missing much. It’s by the Sunset Sea which is nice, but it’s so close to Dorne that it’s unbearably hot in the summertime. Can’t imagine a Northerner would have much love for it.” Robb jesting that you got used to the opposite had you smirk a little. “Getting used to the cold is a lot easier then getting used to the heat. You get cold you just pile on layers, you overheat there’s only so many things you can do about it.”

The joke was nothing he had never said before to you, and you thought nothing of it once more, a playful grin in both his eyes and smile as Robb leaned more against the other edge of the couch gesturing down to you with a nod. “Think there’s a few things you could do about being too hot.”

The flustered smile came with an eye roll, moving to nudge at him with your leg, it pulled a warm laugh from him as you told him to shut up.

Your hair had grown out in the past few months, longer then it had been in years. A bit in a mess from being at the end of the day, it was easier. For strands to be gently toyed with and you didn’t notice. Robb too was subtle, able to let his eyes drift away from you right as you’d possibly catch him watching you. Only a few times did Theon be the one to meet his gaze when he’d turn away, but you didn’t spot that either.

Theon though, wasn’t the only one. By the time lights appeared in the window, clearly Jon had gotten home but by then you had been too preoccupied with Grey Wind practically asleep on your feet to be able to get up, and neither Robb or Theon were willing to disturb the grumpy direwolf to get him to move.

On the surface, everything seemed fine. Jon arrived home, already peeling off his heaviest layers you gave him a soft smile when he caught your eyes. But greeting everyone else, did Jons eyes stray slightly behind you and spot exactly what he thought he saw. Robb knew he was caught, but you hadn’t noticed. His hand staying in place for now, the strands still through his fingertips as Robb raised an eyebrow.

A challenge towards Jon to say something. Robb was doing nothing inappropriate that you’d be uncomfortable with, but it was the intention behind it that Jon was not alright with. An intention they both knew you were not aware of. It had only been a number of days since the incident at the main Stark house and both were well aware that Robb more then ever had been watching Jon around you.

Jon also was very well aware, that something not comfortable was sitting in Robb knowing that you were going to be hundreds of miles south with Jon alone for days. In his paranoia, anything could happen.

Not entertaining this in front of you or Theon, Jon only left for his room to change properly. Leaving in the morning, Jon could only smile that you had nearly everything packed both for you and him, not bothering to waste a second knowing neither of you would want to pack so much so early. It took him longer then it needed to, coming back out there. Sitting at his desk finally, Jon’s eyes kept switching from his computer screen to screenshotting something down on his phone adamantly, only to suddenly close the tab to a half way finished report the second he heard the door open. Phone closing and sitting flat on the table as he made quick moves to type.

Jons eyes only glanced up enough to spot that it was Robb, and for a brief moment the thought that it was you about to catch him made Jon forget for a second that Robb was on his tails just as much only with purpose. Closing the door behind him, there was quiet in the room as Jon let his brother take his time.

He could see from his side view that he was looking around the room. Jon wasn’t fooled to why. Once Robb knew exactly what this room looked like, and now, something implored him to check again. And it was obvious. You slept in here with Jon every night, this was as much your room now as it was his and it was clear. Jon had made distinctive effort to make sure you felt as comfortable as he did, a blend of you and him as your own bedroom was beginning to look more and more like the spare room Jon once used for his office space.

A deep sigh left him, “What?”

Robb leaned against the side of his desk, forcing Jon to suddenly turn looking up with unamused eyes as his brother kept a calm. Yet with a tone they both knew sounded far too much like a lecturing tone their father would so willingly give. “You know I wish I didn’t even have to ask you this.” Jon only muttered out ask him what, and found an instant regret in the answer. “Does she have anything to worry about on this trip?”

Slowly Jon pushed up from his chair. Robb standing straight to face him as Jon met his gaze, narrowed and throughout unamused. “Does she, or do you mean do you have something you think you want to worry about?”

Both brothers stared each other down, more then one thought running through both of their heads at what could be at play here, which angle each were going with. But Robb made it simple, going right for what he considered to be the biggest issue. “Going to a wedding alone with her, after what Rickon saw on your phone-”

As much as he could afford to raise his voice without drawing attention, Jon accomplished best he could. “Why do you have so little faith in me?” The question clearly took Robb off guard more then his did Jon, pressing forward with something more hurt in his distrust seeping through. “You’ve known me our whole lives, and suddenly you think I’m as bad for her as Ramsay was? I get your mad I ever put her in that position, but as soon as you hung up I made my way home. To make things right.” Your name coming from his mouth, but with far less weight of vitriol then before. “It was her I hurt, it was her I needed to make things up for, to earn her trust back. I don’t have anything to prove to you.”

Trying to move passed him, Robb stopped him. Grabbing Jon firmly by the arm, not needing to even pull him back as Jon himself pivoted to face him once more. Though there was something apprehensive in Robbs eyes as he kept his even tone still, “I’m don’t want you to prove anything to me, I’m only watching to make sure you don’t hurt her again, even on accident.”

Eyes narrowing in doubt, Jons head tilted just a bit as if exaggerating that feeling. “Are you?” Robb letting him go, Jon only paced somewhat as he ran a hand over his mouth before turning back to face him. Gesturing out to the hall beyond the closed door. “I hated protecting her, because it always meant that there was someone to protect her from. If I could’ve chosen between winning her heart by always rushing in to rescue her, or never having her but knowing she’s safe? I’d rather she never date, then have her that way.”

Robb opened his mouth, only to be cut off before he could get a word out.

Why Jon even said it, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know why it slipped out, what he had been thinking days ago, but it came out regardless. “You’ve had relationships before me. You had a lot of good relationships, I haven’t.” That time your name came out more with a forced strain attempting to cover up something akin to a crack in an insecurity long pushed away. “The only girl I’ve ever been with outside of her? You have no idea how desperate I was to get out of that. I trapped myself with someone who made me hate myself, but the morning after father told us she was coming back, I called her to tell her I’d pick her up in White Harbour. By the time I got there that night, I had finally found the courage to break up with Ygritte just because I knew seeing her again would be better even as friends then anything I was for years.”

It was obvious Robb was taken back, something hesitant in his eyes that was not expecting something so open about a time they all knew Jon rarely spoke of. “What did she-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Not for that conversation it certainly didn’t, Jon thought. Saying your name again he finally wrapped around to what he had spent a long time stewing over many nights ago. “She’s the first real chance I have at being with someone I love, and I’m hers. And I won’t let that go, just because you can’t trust me with the girl I’ve been in love with my whole life.”

Much the way Robb hung up the phone that night before Jon could get another word in, too did Jon open his door and make his way out into the main hall before Robb could speak. Whatever state he was leaving Robb in, Jon couldn’t focus on that. His brother had three days without either of you to think about what it is Jon said, and if he cared enough to do anything different about it before Jon had the patience to tackle it again.

Jon was fine admitting it was complete bias. But he thought it so many times in the long drive south that knew were he in the car with anyone else for that long he’d have prayed to the old gods for peace and quiet long before now.

But Jon loved driving places with you. You could drive, but Jon honestly couldn’t recall the last time he ever saw or heard of you doing so. You grew up on Dragonstone, a small island that had little space for main roads in the first place, then you spent your years on and off in Kings Landing. A larger city, but so cramped that anything you could’ve needed was always within walking distance.

The North though, was far too large. It alone was half of the country in terms of land. You could stand in Winterfell and look in any direction, and for hundreds of hundreds of miles it still would only land you further in the North. Having four younger siblings, Jon and Robb both got very used to driving them around and so when you would stay North, Jon was happy to include you in that. Even better then you came back from Kings Landing for good and moved there.

Finding a place close to Winterfell meant anytime you needed to go anywhere a bit too far to walk, Jon was more then happy to drive you. He was used to having you in the passenger seat. You never felt the need to fill the air with talking, you and Jon could enjoy the silence of the road. Sometimes Jon would play music but always low so that only in complete quiet with the windows up could you really hear it.

If it was in the North, Jon knew where and how to get there like the back of his hand, but here you proved his best driving companion for another reason. The south alone he was unfamiliar with, especially when you had gotten into The Reach. Meaning he relied on you for a lot of his navigation, but you were good at it. Quick and to the point, especially when passing on the edge of the much more populated High Garden.

Especially when he would be North of the wall, he had some truly terrible directions before. Both from his brothers garrisoned with him, and from some of the free folk who simply forgot that Jon hadn’t always known their lands as well as he did now.

By the time he had gotten you both to the hotel, you had joked about how Sam and Gilly got to stay in the Tarly’s fine estate while you both were in a small space with just two rooms. Dropping your overnight bag on the bed along with his, Jon only jested that there was also a balcony. You turned halfway back with a flat expression along with one raised brow, “Two rooms, and a very small balcony.” In correction.

Turning back to look at the view, Jon had come up behind you. One hand tenderly grasped your hip to almost steady you as he inevitably startled you, the other reached around to slide open the glass door. Just enough the warm breeze blew inside as Jon gently guided you to step out. Pressing you between him and the railing, Jon dropped his head to your ear with a rasp. “Fits the two of us just fine.”

Just to tease you further, Jon let a hand slip down from your hip as if toying with the idea of slipping under your skirt before you laughed his name in an embarrassed manner, grasping and pulling it back up only to be greeted by a warm laugh in your ear back. Pressing his lips to the skin just below, Jon let that hand now much more innocently wrap around your stomach, your hands reaching up to push back the sleeves of his shirt to grasp at his arm, leaning back into his touch.

“How much time do we have?”

Jon didn’t even need to see your face to know you rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a smirk. “Not enough for what you’re thinking.” Jon only replied you both would if you shared the shower with him, but you had him there too without skipping a beat. “If we share a shower here, we are bound to arrive late.”

Another laugh left him, and another kiss was left to your hair at the side of your head before turning you back into the room. “You unpack while I go first.” He answered your question before you had a chance to even think of it yourself. “So when you’re done I can help you get ready.”

It was an offer Jon knew you wouldn’t be able to resist, and that was fine with both of you. He had long since mastered the ability to do your hair for you. At first glance it would look very simple, but Jon had happily spent a long while behind you in front of the bathroom mirror, doing every small little braid for you, which all eventually entangled into a larger braid like design that you had once said was common for women in the Stormlands.

It gave him the chance to run his fingers through your hair for an extended period of time. It was how he became so good at braiding hair in the first place. When younger, you would stay over at the main house to watch movies late with he, Robb, and Theon. The later two always ended up falling asleep first, and you both would normally end up the only ones awake, finally able to watch a movie you both wanted. Normally a horror one that your own parents would’ve never let you watch at that age.

You would always end up sitting close to Jon even though you claimed you weren’t scared until one night you had enough of whatever it was. Suddenly turning into Jons side to all but hide from the screen, Jon even only twelve at the time felt warm at how much you trusted him to comfort you. So you both ended up having nights where you’d watch horror movies alone, since no one else had any interest in them. In his room when he still lived on the second floor, Jon would gather things so you both could sit back comfortably on the floor against his bed, since that angle it was easier for you to just sit back against him.

Much easier time turning to hide now that you knew it was alright to just admit sometimes the movies were scarier then you could handle. But, eventually Jon found a habit. Your hair so long back then always in his reach, and he eventually found himself trying to braid it. Even if just an excuse to be closer, and he ended up learning how to do it very well to the point that, much to Catelyns dismay, when his little sisters were still very young sometimes they just came to him asking him to braid their hair instead of their mother.

Now he did it mostly with you, and the past few months was truly striking gold for something Jon secretly always enjoyed to be close to you for. Though, Jon could admit he was less focused on the task at hand when he had helped you into the dress.

It was curse, a terrible idea keeping it. Jon remembered how beautiful it looked on you, but this was unfair. He had to have you out all night with all those other people, when he could barley keep his eyes off of you. The way it fit parts of you perfectly, but draped along so many others and down against the floor like a proper gown, you looked as if you had been born to exist in another period of time. Jon could imagine you in dresses just like this every day and never tire of it.

He had it easy, both he and Sam being in the Nights Watch meant formal events were normally told to be used as representative moments. Or as Mormont put it, “If you’re going to get so drunk you throw up on your uniform, don’t wear it in the first place.”

Though, it also meant Jon had a far less annoying time having to dress for events. It was downplayed for times like this, but it meant he could wear something he was generally already comfortable with and not wonder what he should be doing to fit in with other men. It also worked, his all black was suited perfectly with the white dress on you at his side.

Coming up to the wedding, everyone was still scattered outside by the time Jon parked. Only you didn’t move with him right away to leave, letting go of the handle to the door, Jon turned to you murmuring your name. He could see your hands toying with what you could reach of the skirt of your dress with something nervous in your eyes, as if you wanted to ask him to drive you back to the hotel instead of getting out. Reaching a hand over, he ran it over your cheek, tilting you to look at him while he leaned over to reach you better. “Talk to me.”

He could tell you bit down on your tongue, glancing out to the crowd from where your eyes could look from the side before gazing down instead of at him. The nerves prominent in your voice. “I told you it’s too much.” Asking what, he already knew the answer when you said it. “The dress. It’s way too much.”

Speaking from nothing but complete sincerity, Jon let his thumb run over your cheek as he tried to lean down to catch your eyes failing to meet his own still. “You look beautiful.” But the way you responded hurt, his heart heart at the sincerity which you said that it was alright if he wanted to tell you the truth. “The truth? What truth?”

That had you finally meeting his gaze, something nervous as it was frustrated that he hadn’t figured it out yet. “That you don’t have to keep lying about these things.” Jon didn’t even have a response to that, just something uncomfortable in his stomach as you elaborated. “Everything that happened with Daenerys wasn’t your fault, I know that. She tricked you into all of it, or forced you, I don’t know the right word, but you didn’t do anything on purpose to hurt me. So you can stop lying about things to try and make up for it, you didn’t do anything I need to forgive you for.”

Oh Jon did not have time to handle this, in the car, outside of a wedding. Swallowing it all down, Jon tilted you to look back up at him. His eyes bright but almost a bit devastated at how little he could voice the heartbreak in him all over again. “Darling, I don’t know what you think I’ve been doing, but this isn’t it. I wanted to make it up to you, because no matter what happened when I was gone, I still was the one who left when you needed me. And I’m not lying. I promise. You look beautiful, and I want everyone to see how beautiful my girl looks.”

You both knew there wasn’t much time for this, and Jon could see the insecurity bleed into guilt in your eyes for saying anything in the first place. But you nodded, suddenly pulling from his touch to collect yourself and nearly rush out of the car as if now that you brought it up, all you wished to do was avoid the conversation. Jon could only follow suit, trying to shake of the sudden weight in his own heart, knowing this was a bad time to try and understand what you just revealed to him, in front of all these people.

A hand reaching your lower back, Jon guided you through to the crowd where he had easily spotted Sam and Gilly. The former calling out to Jon, who knew the smile on his face was a little more forced then usual only hoping Sam didn’t notice. Gilly commenting right away that she thought you looked wonderful, Jon’s eyes flickered to you, the smile looking forced but not quite obvious that Gilly would’ve noticed as you replied. “Thank you, but really you look stunning.”

Nodding to Sam she had a gleeful smile, “His sister Talla helped me pick it out, otherwise I’d have no idea what to wear to something as fancy as this.”

As you found a bit of ease talking to Gilly, who was happy taking the reigns of a conversation, Jon turned to Sam hoping his own sudden unease was not noticeable, though knowing Sam, he’d pick up on it eventually. “Have you seen him yet?”

Both men knowing who Jon was referring too right away. “Earlier. He’s spent most of his time with Dickon, so, if I can get through the reception then without having to talk to him then this will be easier then I hoped it would.”

Sams relationship with his father wasn’t what Jon would call something to be envious of. The man for all he heard, sounded like a nightmare to grow up with should you be like Sam, and not live up to whatever high expectations he had. Sam had once joked that maybe he’d like Jon at least, only for them both to come to the somewhat amusing realization that considering Jon was not really highborn, then there went any chance of that.

In fact he thought, out of everyone in this little group only you would fit that bill. Jons eyes lingering on you, but with that worry he knew Sam was already noticing. Not hiding it as well as he wished he was, but it all just ambushed him so quickly. Hand somewhat running ever so slightly up and down your lower back, neither of you sure if to comfort you or him at that point.

By the time Jon wondered if you had finally come down a little, things seemed to ease up for him as well. As if your nerves heightened his own, and when they simmered so could he. Gilly looked over to the sept, as she asked “So how does it work down here? Getting married?”

Glancing first between Jon and Sam, Jon could only give a slight change to his face indicating that he didn’t know either. Mentioning at her questioning face, “I grew up in the North as well.” Sam asking didn’t they have a sept near Winterfell. “They do, but I’ve never been in it for that. My brothers and sisters were the ones that worshipped the old gods and the new, since their mother follows the Seven.”

A small look was shared between yourself and Sam, gaining Jons bemused attention. “You are in for a ceremony then.” His eyes narrowed at you, but you only held a smirk holding back what you were truly thinking. Not bothering to elaborate for him, Jon could only let his smirk out more openly. For once finding himself not caring about such closeness, Jon somewhat turned you by your upper arms, before sliding down to your waist to move you towards entering the sept finally. The smirk growing to a grin as you let out a gentle laughing protest of his name as his push.

Jon pretended not to notice Sam’s watchful eyes, not used to seeing Jon so open about being with you. In fact he knew it was the first time Sam had seen Jon spend time with you since you begun to date, this was almost brand new compared to Jons previous silent affections hiding away in his heart.

The sept in Horn Hill was much like what you said most average ones were like. Catching his curious glance, you clarified that in Kings Landing the Sept of Baelor was massive and immaculate. The statues of the Seven surrounding the main floor and reaching high to a ceiling that was taller then you knew how to describe.

Here the statues were more what he expected. Surrounding a half moon wall where the main area was modestly decorated. Banners around of the ancient sigil of the Tarly’s, a red painted huntsman yielding a bow and arrow against an array of green like grass. The septon stood at the main top with what Jon assumed was Sams father and brother. Dickon looked only a little like Sam, Jon supposed. But it felt like he was looking up to Randyll Tarly and saw nothing between the two of similarity.

In truth, the other sigil around was some he was not familiar with. More of the older houses of the Reach Jon wasn’t terribly familiar with, let alone the south in general. Though, he was here for Sam, so it didn’t truly matter. Looking down to you, he could see the hand near him was clutching the skirt of your dress a bit tightly, the nerves returning suddenly. Without much thought, Jon slipped the hand from at your back to grasping at the hand. Pulling it free enough from the fabric not to draw attention, as he slowly moved to encourage you to just let him hold your hand. Tugging you the slightest bit closer under the guise that it was more crowded in the sept then out there.

The ceremony was something. Keeping you close, Jon couldn’t help but let his mind wander nearly the entire time. There was a lot of talking. Mostly by the septon, but he felt as if he talked endlessly and Jon couldn’t help but feel it was all for the spectacle of ceremony. He hadn’t seen many, but the Northern weddings were much more simple, more quiet and certainly didn’t require someone else to conduct it for them.

Jon could just stand at the Weirwood in his own home, with his family and do it himself. Little was even spoken between the man and his bride if anything at all. Some swore their sacred vows out loud before kneeling before the heart tree to pray, some said nothing knowing that their prayers and promises here were enough and needn’t be spoken for the sake of everyone else.

It didn’t escape Jon that in this imagine created in his head, he could see you. Not even dissimilar to what you looked like now. A bit warmer of a dress of course. Here the men draped their bride in a cloak of their family sigils, but in the North, it was not as formal of a design. Coming from ancient times when in place of the outer clothes they wore now, cloaks made with a fur around the shoulders were what kept people warm. The man would wear it standing there, and the bride would come out to be given his fur to keep warm.

Jon knew that his family had well kept furs from years beyond counting for that very purpose, not that he had a chance to use it as such. His father had married Catelyn in her home of Riverrun, far from his own home. It had been during a time of political strife for the country. His father and your own father and uncle were all heavily involved in the situation in those days but no one seemed to like talking about it. But Jon couldn’t imagine having a marriage in a place like this.

He felt out of place, uncomfortable almost. He wanted you out in fresh air in his home, in the place he fell in love with you. He’d sneak you away before the reception was even over, a smaller guest house seldom used would be the perfect place. Keep you to himself for a while, and slowly take you apart before keeping you in his bed as long as you could handle. Which Jon knew was dangerous to think in public, but he certainly was learning how much you could handle. How much he was teaching you to handle.

Inhaling deeply, Jon willed himself to keep his mind calm. Keep that thought from coming so close to the forefront when he had a night to get through before he got you alone. He could think about it then, not now, not in front of other people.

Jon begun to think you perhaps were a bit less invested then you pretended to be. Eyes forward, but you slowly begun to fidget your hand in his, before Jon picked up right away what you needed. Gently toying with your fingers, tracing over what he could reach. Glancing down to you, he caught your eyes a bit brighter then before, no doubt realizing your mind treading into a bit of boredom was noticed.

He didn’t know most of these people, so Jon let himself not care. Pulling you closer into his side, you were able to turn a bit to rest your head more by his neck, the brush of his curls dancing along your own skin in return. The rest of the ceremony felt odd, even once it picked up. Standing beside each other, holding hands lightly did the septon tie a cloth around them before undoing it just as fast and again all he could think was how preformative it was.

Only for it to be topped, by a loud deceleration by Dickon, “With this kiss, I confess my love.”

Jon couldn’t imagine a world in which his father would’ve ever agreed to something that exaggerated for the sake of it. Turning to you, your eyes were still brighter then before like you could shake things off as you held a tone towards him of knowing. “So, was it as exhilarating as you thought it would be?”

Looking down with narrow eyes, Jon only muttered as he pulled you close again into his side. “You southerners talk too much.” Over the crowd it mostly blended in, but so close to his ear Jon could only smile as he heard you laugh freely.

Leaning into him more, you let a hand reach over to grasp at the belt across his person, “The rest is easy. Food, drink..dancing.” Jon only jesting that he couldn’t wait to see what you southerners considered to be dancing.

By the time he did, Jon whispered it into your ear directly. “If my father danced like this at his wedding, would your uncle have a video of it?” Whispering that you could ask, a mischievous look in your eye knowing how dangerous that would be in the wrong hands, and how tempting it would be to accidentally gift that footage to one of his younger siblings. “Is every dance like this?”

Shaking your head, you held a laugh still in your voice. “No, eventually they run out of tradition far before they run out of wine, and then people can enjoy themselves like normal.”

It came out before Jon could stop it. Leaning more to your ear, a whispered rasp making you shiver even without his touch. “I don’t think the way I want to enjoy you is what they have in mind.” Looking up with wide eyes and a flustered look Jon only smiled. Pulling your head close to leave a kiss to your hair mumbling to fluster you even further. “Bedding Ceremonies probably aren’t as exciting as what we already do.”

Hissing his name, Jon shifted to let one hand drape along the back of your chair, his hand on the other side freely running along your arm as his other finished what was left of his wine. You instead nearly hid in yours as you muttered for him only, “Anyone could be listening.”

That time he didn’t even hide his voice, just leaning down to you a bit knowing if someone heard, then they heard. “If there’s one place it’s appropriate to talk about taking the woman you love to bed.” The roll in your eyes was not at all meaningful, mostly a diversion of the feeling in your chest no doubt before people noticed Jon was making you feel worked up. But Jon let his hand run smooth along your arm, letting his head turn to rest more against your hair before his lips pressed a kiss there as you both watched the final of traditional dances begin.

Your voice was gentle when you spoke again. “Gilly’s doing rather well.” Both looking to where on the dance floor with other family and important guests were, Sam and Gilly both had joined the dances, Jon commenting he was surprised she knows how to when you shrugged a shoulder. “She had been practising nearly every night to make sure she didn’t embarrass herself.”

He tried to hold it in, he really did. But he lasted about ten seconds before it slipped out. “Is that why you’re not out there?” Your face fell as you glared up at him, Jon barley holding back a grin. “I understand, you don’t want to embarrass yourself. It’s been years why would you remember any of it?”

You stuck to a glare in silence for as long as it took to turn back with a huff and a shake of your head. “I’d have gotten up and danced with someone to prove you wrong, if you weren’t right.” That time Jon laughed, only he pulled you along with him as he did so. Your face twisting into something much more soft then before. “Listen, about earlier-”

Shaking his head, Jon pulled his arm from across your chair to cup the side of your face as he turned to you. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not mad.” Letting his thumb run across your cheek, his face twisted somewhat. “When did you start thinking that way? That I was only doing all this as an act?” Trying to stutter that you didn’t say that, Jon caught you in the lie. “Thats what you meant.”

Letting his hand slip more down to run along your neck, the sensation gave a shiver through you as if awakening you enough again to find your voice. “Margaery said something about it. That Dany was trying to manipulate you to get back at me, that everything I saw or heard she wanted me to hear.. not because it was happening organically.” Jon would’ve interjected, but he could see you had one more point being held onto. “That and.. Arya had said that if you couldn’t get her to take responsibility, then you would.”

Inhaling through his nose, Jon took a moment as his eyes closed to consider that he knew Arya meant well, but likely didn’t know how to phrase things that wouldn’t give you the wrong ideas. Looking back, Jon let his hand toy with the edges of your dress mindlessly. “I didn’t tell you any of that, because I knew it wouldn’t make you feel better. All I cared about was proving I never wanted to hurt you, and I’d never do it again.”

Glancing to the side as if checking no one was listening, you nodded gently. “You didn’t need to prove anything, I wasn’t upset because I didn’t trust you.”

Leaning a bit closer, he let the hand toying with the edge of your dress drift back more to your jaw as his thumb ran along your cheek. “And if I did anything, I’d want you to be upset about it. I’d want you to not trust me for betraying you like that. You’re allowed to blame me for things, sometimes.”

Looking back around once more, you shook your head as if trying to dismiss the conversation. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this here.” Jons brows narrowed just the slightest picking up on your avoidance, but he let it go just for now.

The music finally having changed to something a little more normal, but on the slow side, Jon stood with a hand outstretched to you. That time you were the one who looked to him in a question, but he only nodded his head to the side where the dancing was to implore you. “When was the last time I got to dance with you for anything?”

A shy smile came over you as you accepted his offer. “Were we even teenagers?”

With a surprising amount of grace, Jon took your hand and all but spun you onto the dance floor before grasping both you by your other hand and pulling you into him. The timing worked well, the song only quiet and slow as Jon let one hand leave yours to run down your waist closer to your hip to keep you steady but close. The now free hand of yours ran to sit flat high on his chest, movements slow.

Jon could tell you were a bit flustered. Not used to something quite as openly romantic as this, but the thought only made him smile, catching your attention. “The Winter Harvest when you were twelve. That was the last time I danced with you.” Asking nothing but with curiosity why you both stopped then, Jons answer came with his hand at your hip pulling you just he bit closer as he leaned more down to you. “I was fourteen, my feelings for you were starting to get serious, and every other boy around me was only dancing with girls they were dating. I didn’t want you to think the wrong thing.”

A small smile came over you, nearly forcing one onto Jons in response. “Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Closing enough of the gap that you could nudge your nose with his. “Wouldn’t want you to think what? That I love you?” Not giving you the chance to look away, Jon captured your lips with his. Nothing urgent, but a chaste kiss with just enough of a passion put into it that your eyes were still fluttering open by the time Jon pulled back to look at you. Waiting until you met his grey ones, he let them flicker down not just to your lips again but what he could see before returning. “I don’t want you to worry about what happened. We’re moving passed it, I want to just look forward to whatever comes for us next. I’ll always be sorry for leaving you like that, but looking back on it now isn’t making you feel better.”

Hardly noticing anyone around you, your voice came out gentle with a small nod. “I’m not sure Robb thinks the same.” His brows narrowed but allowed you to elaborate. “You told me a while ago not to worry about it, but I know something’s wrong. He’s angry, I thought it was at me but sometimes he seems fine, other times I don’t know. But I do know sometimes he’s angry with you.”

If he gave anything away, Jon had done a good job of hiding it. Face twisting just a little as if only in response to new information, he repeated exactly what he had said before albeit with a new weight hiding behind the realization. “He just cares about you.”

“Why does caring about what happened mean he’s still angry with you?”

Shifting the hand on your hip, Jon cupped the back of your head. Pulling your front more into his chest as he swiftly adjusted positions to still look like you both fit in. Rasping low in your ear, Jon knew at least this way you couldn’t see his troubled expression. “He cares about you, I hurt you and he doesn’t want to see that happen again. He’s just holding me accountable-” Being cut off you looked up enough to mutter that you’d talk to him but Jon just soothed you right back into his front. “Let me handle Robb, right now, I want you to enjoy yourself.”

A small huff left you which mimicked a laugh, as your head turned up without pulling away, trying to nuzzle a bit more into his front.”I always enjoy myself when I’m with you.” Heart filling in his chest, Jon sighed deeply as he let his lips press a kiss to the side of your head. His eyes catching only for a moment, Sam. A look in his eye trying to convey what almost appeared to be pride, only for him to shake his head nearly indeterminable to Sam, before drifting his gaze away to you once more.

In truth Jon was starting to wonder if bringing you here was a scheme by Sam, just as an opportunity to watch Jon in a relationship he’s actually happy in. Sam more then once when this first started, told him he couldn’t be happier for him, and since he hadn’t actually seen you and Jon, only before when you were still just friends. Jons obvious affection for you that so blatantly breached the appropriate bounds of friendship, and the painful number of times he had to hold that back from someone else seeing it.

But now, nothing was keeping him back and considering how Sam both invited him to this but also seemed to be going out of his way to keep himself and Gilly from interrupting you both, he started to suspect that this was all just a long con to watch Jon with the girl he’s pined over all his life.

The music clearing up a bit, Jon wasn’t even sure how long you both had been there. Having you warm in his arms was more then he could’ve ever asked for, the way you nuzzled into his front as if hiding from the rest of the wedding to live in the small bubble only consisting of you both.

Turning to look as chatter begun to buzz about, Jon didn’t move you from his hold even as Sam and Gilly both approached. You tried to stand up properly, but Jon ran his hand down your hair a bit firmer as if to keep you right where you were, your hands slinking up more towards his shoulders to hold against him better as he did so.

If there was one thing from the event Jon knew Gilly would remember, it was what came next. Someone, what Jon could only assume was a friend or cousin of Dickon begun riling up everyone and Jon instantly knew what was coming next. Glancing at Sam with a knowing, you watched as well but with a bit more of a modest interest whereas Gilly begun looking rather confused, and soon almost a mixture of horrified and baffled.

Many of the women ferrying Dickon off, clothes slowly coming with it as laughter was shared, and even more of a sight, did many of the men pick up the poor bride, doing the exact same but with the amusement, laughter and music far more lively as they were ferried off, before Gilly muttered, “What was that?”

You were the one to answer, a more knowing tone as if a dread of yours in the future, as if Jon would ever allow that. “The bedding ceremony. Men take the bride and women bring the groom as they, you know,”

“Bed each other?”

An amused look in your eyes, you nodded but it did nothing to help alleviate the feeling. Jon taking over, failing to keep a grin off his face at the whole ordeal. “It’s tradition. Centuries ago, the only way to know if the bride and groom consummated their marriage was-”

Gilly’s voice raised almost comically horrified. “To watch?”

Sam tried to assure her, but it was no less helpful when he was as amused as Jon was. “I’m sure to you, it seems rather strange but every bride goes through it.” Again her voice emphasized the word every, and Jon couldn’t stop the grin at how unhelpful any of this was to make it make sense to someone like her. “It’s less important now, mostly it was also to ensure that the bride was a virgin on her wedding night, but since that’s not really important anymore,” Jons face twisted downward into a warning as Sam all but nodded at Jon and yourself to make a silent point. “It’s mostly just for fun.”

Each word with it’s own pause after it to make her point, “That does not sound fun.”

You could only mutter flatly leaning still into Jons front that you agreed. He didn’t mean to say it, let alone in front of Sam and Gilly as well, but it came out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Don’t worry, I’d prefer not to break a mans jaw when it’s our turn.”

You took it as flustered but playful as you normally did, not really responding verbally but a wide eyed smile smothered onto your face as you hissed his name, but Jon couldn’t help but grin right back as he let his hand at your hip pinch you just the slightest. Pushing you into him with a disapproving glare that held as much meaning as none towards him.

He ignored the way Sam and Gilly were looking at you both, and too he ignored the way that truly, Jon wasn’t actually joking. Being at a wedding with you, now of all times felt dangerous. Especially considering the unspoken intent behind the tradition they just watched. It wasn’t just consummating a marriage that was the concern, it too was to ensure, at least many centuries ago, that any child born to the woman was legitimate to the new husband.

That was the absolute last thing Jon needed to focus on at that moment, more thoughts of you and anything close to you being pregnant. He swore internally, he was going to throttle Tormund the next time he saw him for putting this in his head.

It was far later into the night then Jon intended to keep you out, but once the four of you had sat down to share a drink, it ended up being a few more. Jon could handle it fine, Sam wasn’t looking great, and certainly Gilly wasn’t either. How much she ever drank he’d be shocked by the answer if it was more then barley any.

You though, Jon knew better. You seemed fine, keeping up with how cognizant Jon was of everything but all it took was a look deeper into your eyes and he could see the slight glaze of a buzz. His hand gripped the mug in his hand so tight that were it made of glass, it would have smashed to bits. He barley had anything influencing him, but just on the verge of enough that he remembered the last time you both drank together.

And what happened in the car on the drive home. His grey eyes grew darker as he suddenly struggled to keep his eyes off of you. His thoughts consumed with what he wanted to do, and just like last time, having to fight passed a dress was so much easier then pants. He could sink inside you without a second thought.

It was growing, the burning impatience in him. The last time too he took you in his car, Jon knew what came the morning after, or what should’ve. He was going to wake you up with his mouth that morning, taste you until you woke up coming for him before fucking you into the bed. But he got called in before he could even taste you once, and then everything else spiralled after that.

Not this time, tomorrow was free of any need and Jon was not going to waste any time when he woke up. Part of him wondered if it would be easier to have you sleep bare for him, or if truly, you wearing clothes was going to even be an issue in the first place. Judging by how hot his blood ran, he doubted you’d be wearing anything within a few seconds of locking the door to your hotel.

At the rate Jon was feeling, he was truly beginning to doubt whether or not he would survive the drive back to the hotel. There weren’t many secluded roads between here and there as far as he knew, but his blood boiled thinking about sinking you down on his length in his front seat while you were dressed like this.

More then once as the night drew into a close did Sam ask if Jon was alright to drive, and more then once Jon assured him he was. It had been enough time since his last drink that most of the alcohol had made it’s swift path out of his system, and as Jon gestured to Gilly who was leaning so much against Sam she was practically asleep, Jon jested “Is she going to be alright?”

Looking over in his own amusement of her, Sam smiled. “We’re only going a short ride to the house, I’m sure she can survive by then.” Nodding over to where you were politely saying goodbye to Sams sister and mother, he added “She doesn’t even look drunk?”

Turning somewhat to catch your gaze, Jon only smiled with his own bemused glint in his eye, though what has hidden behind it still raged within his blood. Turning back, Jon swallowed that all down though, for as long as he could try. “She’s good at hiding it. Take care of of Gilly.” A half hug the two could share with the girl in question trying to drunkenly hug Jon back as well before Jon left them to their devices and made his way over to you.

Finally standing alone, Jon gently grasped your hips, leaning down so his curls brushed against your neck as he murmured in your ear. “Let me take you back to the hotel.” Somewhat trying to turn to look at him, Jon instead prevented you by leaning down further to press a kiss to the skin just under your ear. “I’m tired of sharing you.” Only muttering that you’ve barley left his side all night, Jon only rasped with a bit more of a grin. “Barley is still too much.”

You were much more composed then some of the others around as he led to the car. Mostly steady save for Jon having to guide you a bit more down the steps, he was trying to assess just how drunk you were, but even in your eyes you still could look at him clear as day. Driving out was easy, it was not a long way back to the hotel but each time Jon glanced at you did something further in his blood take over.

A pressing need to drag you onto his lap, but there was no real place to stop anywhere along the way. Even worse, you were quiet and none the wiser to the burning inside him. Looking out the window with a gentle ease from a night you didn’t expect to enjoy, but the dress on you still so tempting. It didn’t even show off anything really, not in that sense. Long sleeves, draping along the floor like a gown, it wasn’t tight and didn’t overly show off your plush curves, but somehow it made it more tempting for him.

As if underneath such a beautiful and innocent dress, was something only Jon was privy to. It was a body that was more beautiful then he could rationalize made any sense, you were as if designed just to tempt him and that only made his cock grow hard under his clothes. Hands tighter on the steering wheel, he risked another glance at a red light. Your eyes met his, and your voice soft and gentle only made the feeling grow more and more. “Thank you.” Muttering for what, your eyes were almost more tempting then anything else, with nothing but a feeling Jon knew was love deep in their depths. “For bringing me. I don’t normally like weddings, but being with you was more fun then I thought.”

Jons smile despite everything underneath it, was as soft as he looked back to the road as the light turned green. “Good, because you’re the only person from now on I’m bringing to any wedding.” Did that have a second intention behind it? Perhaps, but Jon knew you were too innocent to pick up on it, which only made it worse. Only made the need for you worse, how he could sit there and think of absolutely anything about you, and you’d never know.

It was a bit deplorable, that train of thought. How deeply Jon could fall into the depravity of something obscenely perverse and you’d be none the wiser that he was even capable of thinking such things. “You planning on going to a lot of weddings, Snow?”

Jon however, only smirked. “Just enough to see you dressed up like this more often.”

That time you didn’t even try to meet his flickering gaze. Something modest yet shy in his compliments and something much more obvious brewing. There was no doubt that you were beginning to put the dots together, at least some of them. How Jon had been the one to suggest the dress, encourage you to put it on, how much he wanted to buy it for you but held himself back.

How long the feelings between you had been so painfully close to boiling over, and Jon knew you still didn’t know the half of it.

Managing to make it to the hotel, Jon felt his insides almost burning too hot as he led you with a hand on your lower back into the building. The elevator doors closing before you both, Jons eyes tore down what he could see of your frame from beside you. How you were likely planning to get into the room, get out of your dress and have a shower to refresh yourself, not knowing what he had in mind.

The guilt was close in his heart as Jons eyes flickered up to where he knew the security cameras naturally were placed and his hand at his side tensed. Telling himself to just not do anything, eyes were clearly on you and he didn’t need to get you both into trouble before you even had one night here yet. How you were so utterly tempting, his hand on your lower back curling just enough to slightly catch the skirt of your dress between a few fingers as if tempted to yank it up and shove you against the wall here and now.

It was almost a painful wait. Each passing second until the doors opened, and then still Jon had to make it every step towards the door. You had even said something but his mind didn’t catch it, too distracted the moment your voice spoke out as to how he wanted that sound to be higher pitched, more needing, and begging his name like he knew he could make you.

Jaw clenched, his face twisted into something that to an outsider looked almost angry or frustrated but the moment you asked him gently to just prompt his attention to you, “Jon?” He only shook his head, nudging you forward the few remaining steps towards the door. First the key card, then moving you inside, it was as if Jon was ticking things off the list before he could get to what he wanted.

By the time he had finally locked the door, you already strayed too far from him. Sitting at the edge of the bed, you were carefully taking your shoes off. Swallowing, Jon roughly muttered your name. Head peeking up as you sat your shoes down carefully, Jon outstretched a hand taking a few steps inside the room further.

Pushing up to your feet, you gently grasped his and the tenderness which you did so and looked at him assumed Jon had better intentions then he truly did. Suddenly before you could say anything, did Jon tighten his grip on your hand as he first yanked you to him. Only a gasp had the time to leave you before Jon grabbed both your hips, turned you on the spot. More roughly then he intended too, Jons impatience took over as he suddenly pushed you against the wall. Crowding over you, Jon didn’t give you a chance to even gasp before he leaned down and roughly pressed his lips to yours.

Hands tight on your hips, he nearly pushed you into the wall further and further as if worried you’d tried to run from him, only to lose himself in a groan as you reached your hands up. Winding around the back of his neck before sinking into the thick curls loose around him. Whatever softness he should’ve begun with didn’t exist.

Deepening the kiss almost right away, Jon had your head at an angle where he was hovered over you enough that you had nowhere to go if not his lips. Again and again Jon kissed you, some trying to be loving, others letting his teeth bite and nibble down on your bottom lip with a growl forming in his chest. Dragging one hand up to grasp at your jaw, Jon barley could turn your head up before he let it slide behind your neck. Grasping at the hair he could find, Jon kept you pressed to his kiss as his own blood burned at the sudden pulling of your fingers at his curls.

Pushing you further into the wall, Jon had no relief. There were too many layers, but then he would have to part himself from your kiss, and he simply wasn’t ready. Each breath you gave, was taken without any mercy. You could barley get tiny sounds out of you, Jon stole all of them. Hand almost massaging through the soft strands of your hair, his lips were soft against yours but guided every movement.

A rougher bite to your bottom lip contrasted the softness, a gasp barley coming from you in such a perfect sounding pitch in his ear. Using that opportunity, Jon gently slid his tongue into your mouth. Brushing up against yours to such an addicting taste. Whatever you had during the dinner was gone, and just the remaining hint of a sweet wine graced his senses along with something so unique to you that he could only describe as a drug.

Your hands inadvertently tugged again, only to cause Jon to try and fail to ground into your hips. But his mind raged, he’d have to part, and he didn’t know if he could yet. Over and over with a gentleness did Jon taste inside of your mouth, his tongue heavy against yours making you powerless against him, your nails digging further into his locks as his grip on your hip begun already to leave hints of bruises in the shape of his hand.

Barley convincing himself to pull back, the saliva between you snapped as he opened his eyes to yours still sealed shut. Your lips more plush as they no doubt tingled like his from the force, and parted as if trying to catch your breath and yet bracing yourself for not knowing when Jon would take that away once more. It was right away, but much shorter. Urgent and pulled back with another hissing bite before he spared no second dragging his teeth down to your neck.

The hand on the back of your head, tilted you to the side as it then ran down your frame to join at your other hip. Jon hardly allowed himself time to press his lips or brush his tongue along the sensitive skin before he sunk his teeth down into it like a wolf subduing it’s prey. And it worked.

Gasping his name, you held more tightly against him as he bit until it left marks and the sucked the skin to leave a bruise that he barley offered you condolence with a kiss after for the roughness. Every single inch he did it to down to your shoulder, pressing a single kiss to what he could access before returning to your lips.

That time he was more soft and less demanding, but his hands had ulterior motives. Bunching up the skirt of your dress in his hands, Jon only pulled back from you enough to yank the dress up off your body. He didn’t care one bit what happened to it now, tossing it to the side before he ran his eyes down the length of your body.

Instead of the roughness the same though, Jon knelt down. His hands smoothing out against your hips before grasping each side of your underwear. His eyes seeking yours, bright and wide as if waiting for you to nod, as if you’d give any other answer by now. Slowly, Jon pulled them down your legs, patiently lifting one foot of the ground, then back down to the other. One hand ran up, palm smooth against your bare leg as the other didn’t even care if you saw.

Shoving the already damp fabric into his back pocket.

Lips finding your upper thighs, Jon gently prompted you to widen your stance, as a shaky breath from you hit his ears. Like a song in the air, the nerves in you as he did this when truly you should’ve been used to it by now. Closer and closer to the warmth between your legs he got before the thought hit him, looking up to you with a bright gaze, his voice rasped low in contrast. “Had anyone ever done this to you before?”

Your brows raised in surprise at the question, your voice a bit stammering as you tried to come off as more composed then your breathless tone spoke of. “I uhm, I mean you’ve done it many times now..”

Interrupting you, Jon smoothed his palms up and down your hips and thighs to his ease reach, his brows narrowed. Tone more curious and soft trying to convince you it was an innocent question. “I mean before me. You told me that you thought men didn’t like to, but did anyone ever even offer? Did you ever ask?”

Jons head fell forward, pressing against your mound as his eyes closed at how shyly you shook your head no. You were so much more innocent in mind compared to him. The moment Jon first learned about this, he had envisioned you. He was a teenage boy, you had been staying in his house even and still he couldn’t help himself. The older he got the worse the want got. He’d desperately look for videos and find none that were close. The women never looked enough like you to pretend, and if they did, the men never looked like him and it would shatter the illusion of being able to picture it as you both against his own bed.

His voice was a rough rasp as it came out, “So you assumed I was only offering to be nice, when you’d never even knew what it felt like?” Why the next question came out he wasn’t sure, but something deep within him needed to know. “Did you ever want me to?” Your eyes grew wide, and your lips parted in something stunned but you said nothing. He knew he had you. “Darling, before we were together, did you ever imagine me tasting you just like this?” The fact that you nodded was nothing short of a miracle, but it only pulled a growl as Jons forehead rested against you again.

Muttering in a rougher tone full of an emotion he would describe as angry. “Everything they made you do for them, to them, and they never even bothered teaching you what it felt like?” You tried to mutter his name, but Jon changed his mind. Suddenly rising up to his full height, his figure fully dressed felt so much broader and taller against you now completely bare. Leaning down to catch your eyes directly onto his, his curls creating a curtain around you both so there was little to distract you from him as he asked it. “Do you remember when I said I would get off thinking about you?”

Your hands held gentle at his waist, your eyes nervous but with a trusting that made his heart feel so heavy at being directed towards him as he continued.

“I need to know. What were you thinking about?” One hand changed to run smoothly down your hair by the side of your head, slightly stopping to tilt your gaze up to his. “When you called my name out in the apartment, what were you thinking about that made you feel that way?”

If Jon could place a bet on how hard your heart was beating at that moment, he was sure he’d win all the gold he could imagine on being right. Your hands twitched against his sides, but you didn’t move. Regardless, Jon could see by the heavier rise and fall of your chest that too were you breathing harder as you said it, an innocent little lie for your own embarrassments sake. “It just slipped out.” Tilting his head somewhat to indicate he didn’t believe you, you looked away as you found a more truthful little lie instead. “I was just trying to tune him out, and thinking about you in general was more comforting.”

That would’ve been heartbreakingly sweet if Jon believed that was the full truth. “Darling.”

Your eyes only closed for a moment, before sighing deeply. Looking back up at him, your fingers twitched and fidgeted more and more out of the pure nerves at telling him the truth, no matter how little he’d ever judge you for it. “I heard...I thought I heard something..from your room.” Head leaning down to try and catch your eye, you bit your lip before forcing it out. “Something like a groan..and it..it reminded me of what I thought you’d sound like when you..”

Freezing for a moment before the ice shattered and burned fire though him Jon felt his cock throb behind all his layers as he put it together. He had gotten off to the sound of your voice, and must have not been as quiet at one point as he thought. Groaning loud enough you heard through the walls. His voice distant as the grey in his eyes dimmer darker and darker. “And that made you cum?” Your eyes closed with something nervous inside you as you nodded your head, only for Jon to tilt your head back up to him indicating you needed to look at him properly. “My hand was around my cock listening to the voice notes you sent me, and my groan made you cum that easily?” You only nodded shyly, and once, but it had an immediate reaction.

Grasping you by the back of your head again, Jon pulled you to meet his lips. Deep and rough right away, refusing to let you part as he pulled you from the wall and turned you into the room. Only breaking apart as Jon all put pushed you to sit on the edge of the bed.

Instead of going to you, Jon stepped back. Your palms braced at your sides digging into the sheets as you watched, pressing your thighs together as if he didn’t desperately want to see how wet you were between them. But in a silence with black eyes did Jon start pulling everything off of him. Hardly looking away if he didn’t have too, your chest rising and falling quickly at the slowly uncovered skin of his body.

He barley even considered how it looked from the height you sat at. Pulling his final bottom layers off, only to expose how hard his cock had been. Heavy and thick your eyes were drawn right too it as Jon forced the groan in his chest down. “Don’t look at me like that.” Your eyes shooting up to his dark and needing but disapproving ones in question. “I want to taste you, don’t look at me like you want the opposite.”

Breathless but genuine, you made it so much worse. “I do though.”

Jaw clenched, Jons eyes closed as long as it took to force those thoughts back down, no matter how much you could see how worked up it made him. “Don’t.” Suddenly kneeling down before you, Jon pushed your knees apart. The brief sight of your hands digging into the sheets with something nervous, but his eyes pierced through yours with a roughness to match.

Ever so forward he shuffled, enough that one hand could leave your knees, skipping up to your side, only to gently cup your breast, his thumb right away brushing against the small bud as a gasp left you, muscles tensing a bit as he leaned up more to you, from his now lower position. Firmer he grasped and more pressure he ran this thumb over your nipple, but so much softer did you become in the touch, muscles tensing again before relaxing. Your eyes fluttering closed right as Jon ran his nose down the length of yours, nudging slightly as he rasped, his other hand pushing open your other leg by the inner thigh more. “Jon-”

Interrupting, Jon couldn’t take much more of this and cut you off before you could suggest anything else. “Lay back for me, right here.” Waiting until you nodded, Jon helped you lay back so your legs say over the edge and your hips were just a the right position to move you has he would wish. Only leaning up over the bed slightly, Jon cupped your cheek before bringing you to his lips. The kiss much more gentle but lingering, and even so he went back twice more when he himself was the one attempting to part ways.

Never picking up the pace, his lips sought a path down your neck. Reaching the valley of your breasts, Jon kissed down it as suddenly both hands roughly grasped at you, your back arching with a gasp released from your lips, but he didn’t linger. Not then. Staying with his hands groping you over and over as he felt your muscles tense already before the stretch became to inconvenient for him, back now kneeling on the ground before you.

Both hands pulled you more over the edge by your hips, his eyes catching your hands trying to grasp at the sheets and biting down against your lip. Down your stomach, Jon didn’t once let his lips leave your skin, a trail of saliva following his kiss no doubt cool in the open air, but he did not skip to where his feast awaited yet.

Instead, letting them trail down your hips and your thighs, pulling your leg wider to allow him to kiss his way half until gently pulling your leg up, resting it over his shoulder before swapping sides to do the same. Both thighs over his broad shoulders, he could feel the edges of your foot’s heel tracing along his back and looking up your hands dug deeper into the sheets.

Finally though, allowing his eyes to close, Jon had one need in mind and no longer the patience to draw it out. Hands tight on your hips to keep you pressed into the bed, Jon closed the gap keeping him from you.

He always tried to start slowly, gentle. His tongue making tiny, gentle swiping licks along your clit had you gasp right away, back arching if not for his hands pressing you down without much ability to move without his permission. Slowly he moved his tongue along the sensitive bundle, little patterns he knew got to you and with how quickly he felt your thighs around him tense, he knew you were more worked up already then you led on.

For everything any advice would try to give a man and make him an expert at such a task, Jon knew it was all useless. He didn’t need anything special or outrageous to work you up for him, simple, slow, simply not being predictable worked best with you. One pattern until you were drawing closer ever more to an orgasm, before Jon would change.

Each time he heard a little whine erupt from your chest, a beautiful little noise and never followed up with asking him or begging him for anything. You just lay there, and trusted Jons judgment. From small licks to much more sloppy work, Jon interrupted himself to suddenly suck at your clit, the cry then was perfect. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes to see how you looked, he couldn’t distract his focus.

Teeth barley scraping before returning to almost as if a kiss, soaking you as much as he knew that you were about to soak his mouth the moment he strayed downward to where you were truly offering the purest of tastes. But not yet, he needed to work you up to it. You came so painfully fast whenever he tasted you, and Jon needed to teach you to let him savour it. He knew how easily he could overstimulate you, but the taste was nothing you understood, he needed you to learn how to let him have you this way.

To ease you into handling more and more, to teach you how to keep up with Jons desperate, clawing appetite for everything your body could gift to him. Drawing you nearer and nearer, his focus on your clit was nearly stinging by then, but you couldn’t stop him. His strength compared to yours was something else entirely, and until you begged for him to stop, Jon would keep you here.

There was no one around, no one to interrupt. And nowhere to go in the morning that would needlessly take him from you. One would think Jon got as much pleasure running his tongue along your clit as you gained from it, but truly, he did. The small, breathless sounds trying to hide in your chest made Jons cock throb. He was so painfully hard, and yet currents of pleasure would run through his veins and attacking each nerve every time he felt you come close.

Making you feel goodoo was genuinely, without any exaggeration, something that Jon adored doing. It was something he could always give you, and it wasn’t the sort of gift that other people could so easily offer. And until Jon, no one else did offer it. No one cared about you enough, but the way your thighs tensed and your feet dug until the muscles of his back, Jon held back a grunt in his chest. If he was to be completely honest with himself, any man who didn’t enjoy being between a womans legs like this was pathetic.

Tighter his hands gripped you, and more he yanked you down the bed to hang over it’s edge so Jon could shift at what angle he teased you at. Once then twice he felt your end nearing, and both times just as you were about to part your lips and beg his name, did Jon leave you, letting his lips and teeth sink high into your thighs, the same bruising, indenting work he gave to your neck but where no one but Jon would see.

One orgasm denied one side, then another the other, part of Jon felt a wave flow through him of something burning at the image. He didn’t know how he’d ask you for that, if not wanting to accidentally kill you of embarrassment. Nor did he truly trust no one to see the photo if he did take it. But the image was there, bruising your inner thighs with his mouth, and the additional image of maybe pulling out of you just once to cover you with his seed, and take a picture of it.

Maybe he’d do it last, so that too would perhaps some still be inside you enough it was clear he had taken you time and time again more then one way. You’d feel terribly embarrassed letting him do that, but even if he didn’t have it in him to take a picture of the sight, he’d want to do it anyways. If, Jon thought, he was strong enough to be able to pull out of you in time.

Which was another issue all together, even telling himself he’d be willing to cum anywhere but deep inside you. Finally, as he sucked roughly at your clit to the point he felt your hand toy with raking through his curls, did Jon sink lower.

Shift your hips up more, Jon finally could sink down into your cunt. You were utterly soaked. His eyes opening just enough to see what you offered him, before smothering his growl against you. The vibrations making you cry out more and more, but Jon finally could run his tongue flat along your folds and seek the heavy taste of purely you.

Jon didn’t even register how freely and unbecoming of him did he groan against you, your taste better then any food or drink he’s had and you offered it up to him for free. He had to do nothing to convince you to spread your legs for him, and Jon was greedy to have it. His facial hair scratched raw against your new marks, your hand digging into his hair that time.

A rush of need coursing through him as you pulled at the strands. Jons eyes opened, nothing but black staring up at your frame, splayed out as he never stopped his mouth or tongue. Watching you with a darkness as he drank from your cunt, eyes rolling into the back of his head he closed them again and dragged his tongue along inside of you.

Soaking everything up, and even there he could feel you clenching around him so close. Sliding one hand along your hip, did Jon roughly grasp the meat of your ass, almost pushing you to his mouth more, his tongue running along you with nothing but a need to get as much taste as possible. Not even focused on bringing you to an orgasm, Jon growled and groaned more each time he sunk deep and was graced with more of your taste.

He could almost not hear your beautiful high pitched begs, the senses not tethered to his taste and touch alone almost were muffled as if underwater. “Jon, please..”

Barley willing to detach from your cunt, Jon just barley managed to hiss out in what was likely barley a comforting tone. “I’ve got you, darling.” His eyes fluttered open enough without ever leaving his tasting of you to see you nod, head nearly thrown back as it fell back to the bed, your hand no longer tight in his hair but holding on to him for all you had.

His mouth soaked you as much as you soaked him, drinking every bit of wetness you offered to him, and Jon leaving only the traces of his saliva to echo the greed to held in it’s place. The bruising around your thighs still making your feet dig deeper into his back instinctively as his coarse facial hair scratched at the raw skin, a sick blend of pain and pleasure that he loved keeping you on the edge of.

But Jon was tied, you were so close. He could sense you were so close and if you came, you’d gift him something perfect to drink of you, but then he’d have to let you finish. And Jon wasn’t sure he wanted to let you do that just yet. Maybe later, maybe not tonight.

So he bided his time, dragging you along that edge into the darkness but never letting you fall, just the tease that the fall existed without giving it to you. His tongue flat along your folds ran back to your clit just to tease before returning back to the source.

Inching you closer and closer and just as your head threw itself back with a cry of his name, did Jon take it all from you. So cruel and sudden too. All but throwing your thighs from his shoulders as he tore himself from your cunt. The moment your eyes opened trying to call his name in a painful confusion of being taken from, Jon leaned over the bed back to you.

One hand pressing into the sheets, the other Jon cupped your cheek, turning you to look at him. Your lips parted like his, but bitten at as opposed to his shining with the remains of your taste. Your hand grasped at his wrist as the other held at his side but Jon lowered to your lips. Roughly capturing you in a kiss, he didn’t spare time to use his advantage to slip his tongue into your mouth. Running it along your own, sharing the pure taste you never gave another man but him in the same way he ran his tongue inside of you.

A muffled cry moaned into his mouth and Jon wrapped his other arm around your back, pressing you high to his chest as he shared your taste, never giving you air to breathe with his tongue selfishly deep in your mouth as he pleased.

A desperate whine left you, and only then did Jon part from your lips. Hooded, black eyes staring down at yours still not even yet fluttering open as you tried to kiss him again. Only briefly did Jon oblige, instead choosing to part ways before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Resting his to yours, he tried best he could to slip the hand at your cheek behind your head, somewhat running down the length of your hair as he waited until he knew the sudden sting would’ve eased.

Pulling back, Jon climbed up onto the bed, motioning you at the hips to help let him push you to lay back against them fully. “Come on.” Your hair splayed out against the pillows, Jon pulled each of your legs to hitch up against his hips, spread again wide for him as his cock brushed between your legs, a stuttered cry leaving you, only to be gently simmered by a chaste kiss as he leaned down.

Not moving, his cock teased resting heavy and hard against you, only to refuse to part from your kiss either. Softer then before, your arms wrapped around him. So close pressed to his chest Jon could swear he could feel your heart pounding.

Letting one hand slip down, Jon barley needed to even move before he was at the perfect angle. Before you even could grasp how close he was to doing so, Jon murmured your name as he ran his nose along yours before pressing his lips back to you. At the same instance, Jons cock sunk deep inside of you. Tight and soaking warm around his length, but you held such little resistance. You fit his cock perfectly, and Jon knew.

He didn’t need to ask to know, that no man who had felt this before him had it this perfect. You were made to fit his thick cock, not anyone elses. It was a wonder any man had ever made you cum before him, certainly not with this act alone. It was impossible. You were born to be filled by Jon. And he knew, you were born for him alone. No one else could slide this deep, hear you gasp their name so innocently despite how well you were taking his cock. No one else truly knew what it was like to feel the grasping of your hands in his hair begging his name with a desperate ask you didn’t even understand.

But he did. And it was a slow answer. Gentle he was sliding out, leaving almost nothing left before his kiss almost acted as something soothing. A promise not to worry, and obliging greatly as he slid back as deep as you could take him. Dragging along such a sensitive wall as you already clenched around him, Jon knew he had to be careful.

You’d cum so easily at this point, and he had to control himself. He needed to keep you from it, and he knew you’d try to listen if he told you so. Barley pulling from your lips, again Jons length slid almost completely from your warmth before filling you again, and a painfully slow pace he did it without ever thinking he’d pick it up. Rasping against your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, keeping you there with a hand cupping the hair at the back of your head, his other holding your thigh high against his hip to keep you wide open for him. “Need you to do something for me,”

Barley having managed to mutter his own words out, your hands grasped at his shoulders and into his curls as you couldn’t even get that much out. Moving as much as you could along with him, you nodded as words failed to leave you that were anything but cries of need.

Jon felt the weak desire overcome him, capturing you in another short but roughly urgent kiss before rasping against them with a command that was as strained as it was serious. “If you’re close, I need you to tell me and I need you to hold back, alright?” Jon couldn’t keep his mind straight at how you didn’t ask why, didn’t protest, just begged out in a whisper that you promised him and he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Leaving your hair, Jon reached the same hand up. Grasping roughly at the headboard above you, as his other hand all yanked your thigh up higher, letting him sink even deeper. It wasn’t any faster, but Jon found the strength in him to use the leverage, pulling slowly almost out of you before much more roughly did he pound back deeply. The sounds obscene, but yet here he could find it in himself not to care.

One after the other, did his hips slap against yours, the sound echoing in the room as the not so sturdy bed compared to his at home, freely banged against the wall sat behind it. Slam after slam, only it too was accompanied by growls and guttural grunts leaving Jon as each time made his blood boil. You were so tight around him, but so utterly soaked that were you not keeping his cock in a vice, he might have slipped out. But you clenched around him as if afraid of him leaving you.

Forehead pressed against yours before keeping that composure was too much. Falling just so slightly into your neck, Jon found no care in tearing right into the marks he had made earlier, gasps leaving you as your nails scratched into his scalp and a growl responded. His teeth marking you up more as he kept the slow but pounding pace that you could only make beautiful tiny sounds over and over compared to the more unhinged sounds leaving him as if a predator.

The faintest of voices left you, “I can’t, Jon please..I-”

He could read you begging to say you were sorry, only for Jon to ease up. Trusting you to keep your legs high and wide for him, Jon let his hand around your thigh go to cup your cheek. Pulling you to meet his lips as he slowed back down to nothing more then a grinding with no roughness to be found. His curls growing damp as your hair too was, sweat forming between you both from how warm and close he kept you, but Jon craved it all more. Muttering again them so you felt his every word against your lips still, Jon would interrupt himself to kiss you before continuing multiple times. “Just for tonight, darling. I know it’s a lot.”

Nodding, your arms wrapped desperately around him. Another kiss both deep yet needing, Jon pulled you to hide in his neck. Never picking back up, but the strain in the muscles of the arm against the headboard meant that it was so much easier to give such shallow thrusts so deep inside of you. He knew you could barley even move against him this slow, but it wasn’t about that. Jon didn’t need you to do as much work as him here, he didn’t want you too.

As long as you let him inside you, that was all he needed, he’d do everything else. Including breathe through gritted teeth in your ear, biting down against it as well trying to keep the thoughts at bay but he couldn’t stop. The wedding was one thing, the texts were another, his plans for the next day acted either as the best or worst encouragement of those thoughts. And it was rougher thrusts his cock slid so deep that he struggled to not say it.

He wanted to, he shouldn’t, and he couldn’t. Not here and now but the want to say it was painful to hold back. But he was going slow with you, he wanted to be careful with you. He never wanted to hurt you again, and yet this might make you think he was attempting to trap you with him. In a sense, maybe it was that. Maybe he did want to trap you with him, but out of fear. A fear that he’d lose the best thing in his life, the one thing he could love who loved him back.

Pulling back, Jon guided your lips to his once again as he let his thrusts pick up once more. The thought hit him and it was inevitable. You were clenching so tightly around him, he couldn’t hold back, but as long as he kept your kiss, he wouldn’t say it.

Biting down on your bottom lip, the moment you parted your lips for him did Jon glide his tongue along yours. Picking up the pace suddenly, Jon felt himself nearly snarling into the kiss as you clenched around him, whined into his mouth but never disobeyed, never let yourself finish despite knowing Jon was determined to find his end inside of you. The headboard again banged against the wall, your skin slapped loudly against his too as he could hear how soaking wet you were each time his cock pounded so deeply, each time he went faster.

Tearing from your lips, Jon hid his face in your hair, a deep groan finding him as he begged himself not to say it. You clenched so tightly around him for a moment Jon thought you couldn’t hold on any longer, but you somehow obeyed and it was that which ended his resolve one way or another. A rasping husk of a voice growling your name into your ear did Jons muscles tense, the hand on the headboard flying back down to grasp at your leg and keep you wide open for him.

Each rough thrust was followed by thick spurts of his seed spilling inside of you, deep as he could manage and your nails clawed into his shoulders and back to not let the feeling bring you along with him. Instead, Jons seed poured and poured, thick and warm never leaving you.

Jon didn’t bother pulling out of you, instead, grasping you carefully did Jon move you up with him as he sat back on this knees, keeping you perched close in his lap. Your hands grasped at his shoulders with a cry leaving you, but he ran his hand down your sweat filled hair murmuring your name with a strain. Your eyes were bright as if needing to shed tears at the feeling of having to hold back, but Jon knew you’d never disobey him. He had you and you trusted that.

Cupping the back of your head Jon moved you to meet his kiss once more. Slowly his other hand moved you up and down. Your brows furrowed now trying to keep up, but Jon left your hair and pulled back. Lips parted and swollen like yours, he looked at what little of you he could see keeping you pressed so painfully close.

Both hands at your hips, and he didn’t keep the slow pace again. If the sound of skin smacking against each other was obvious before it was even moreso now. Bouncing you roughly, and none to kind of a speed up and down his cock. You let him fill you so deeply this way, hands grasping from your hips to both capture your ass tightly as he managed the same leverage only now you moved with him. Hiding in his neck again your lips were sweet and kind against his neck just needing to feel him more in some way as he did you.

Maybe Robb was right, maybe Jon was treading down a dangerous path but he couldn’t conceive a reason to think it was to be done out of malice. It was love, a love he’s always felt for you and now knew you long since felt it back and he wasn’t going to waste it. He was determined to keep it, and Jon just had to be careful not to allow such thoughts like the darkness in his chest give any including his brother a reason to think Jon would hurt you, in one way or another.

Twice more Jon spilled inside of you, both times never once letting you leave his cock as he bounced you roughly the entire time. And one more when he tipped you back down against the bed, and the last was found in a slow grind as his lips refused to leave yours. And never once did you falter in his orders to not cum yourself. He’d make up for it, but right now, he needed that control.

If he controlled this, maybe Jon wouldn’t lose it, and control in the one way he was still trying to keep out of his mind. It didn’t help when you fell asleep in his arms, his cock still deep and half hard inside of you with your front tucked into his chest.

You didn’t have to worry, Jon wouldn’t do that to you. But it didn’t stop him from desperately wanting too, and it seemed, Robb knew and distrusted that want in Jon no matter how little you sensed it

Hardly any time was spent between getting your stuff all into the house, and Jon leaving again. Kissing your hair as he passed you by muttering he would be back in an hour, you didn’t have a clue where he went, but being gone for nearly three days you assumed he had things pile up to handle, and didn’t think much more of it. Instead, you carefully begun putting everything away.

Sam had spent the second day showing yourself, Jon, and Gilly around Horn Hill. It was a nice break, truly. The Reach was warmer then the North even on it’s warmest days up here, and it was with a nice breeze as rivers ran throughout the town as it did many in that area in general. Part of you had worried you’d make things awkward at first. You’d spent time with the three of them before, but never as someone who was dating Jon, and in some manner you convinced yourself much like you did a few nights ago at the Stark house, that meant you now were only intruding on his time.

Instead it was fun, a time to forget everything that happened up here and just feel a bit like a person again. Being able to have lunch out on a patio of whatever bistro it was Gilly picked out, enjoying the sun and no pressure of anything on your mind. Today had mostly been driving back, but that was fine with you. It still was time with Jon you treasured, but now you faced everything once again.

Still you did not know what the issue was, what was between the brothers and suddenly you felt a sweeping around you of guilt that you were indeed at the centre of it. Robb appeared at the door, not being noticed as your back was facing him putting the remainder first of Jons things away. If he did greet you, you assumed it would be warm and welcoming back as usual, yet it wasn’t at all.

Nor did the question make sense to you. “Did anything happen?”

Turning with half a startle, your brow raised in question and your tone stretched the words in a slight pedantic manner. “We watched two people get married?” Not grasping why his own face twisted downward, Robb pushed up off the frame he leaned against of the door and walked in a bit more casually. Trying to drop a tone you now both knew was there, leaving you to close Jons drawers to put his bag away in the closet as you spoke. “I didn’t get extremely drunk if that’s what you were alluding too.”

Now hauling your own bag up onto the bed, you begun unpacking your stuff as Robb was now the one who was confused, or more accurately, he now shared your confusion. “That’s not- you’re allowed to get drunk at a wedding.” Muttering to yourself a bit childishly you only mentioned that you didn’t know what else he was expecting to happen. And not to your knowledge, but Robb stood a bit hesitant now to bring it up when you didn’t even guess what he had meant, or that you were supposed to be paying attention to something to mean in the first place.

“We have a fun time, Robb. Nothing to worry about.”

Trying to placate him, but not noting his narrowed eyes before covering them up as he walked beside you, grabbing at some of your things and putting them where he seemed to guess correctly their new spot would be in Jons room. Tone even, but a bit stilted as if holding back the frustration he walked in with. “Jon didn’t do anything?” It was a pure jest, the quick manner you joked in asking if he what, ran away with you to elope, but when you met his gaze Robb only tilted his head asking you to be serious.

Glancing away with a bit of nerves, you stammered in trying to maintain an air of normalcy that felt like it didn’t exist half the time with Robb anymore. “I don’t know what you’re worried happened, or even why, but nothing happened. We went to a wedding, we spent the day with friends, we drove home.” Meeting his gaze again with something bright yet soft hoping to get that through his curly haired head, “There’s nothing to worry about. Or to even think you would need to be worried. I didn’t get too drunk or anything.”

Head jolting back a little, Robb gave you a questioning look. “Why do you keep-”

You didn’t mean to raise your voice, it came out that way on an instant as you dropped the clothes in your hand to look at him. “Because you’ve been mad at him, or me or both of us ever since you picked me up from the bar that night.” Trying to run a gentle hand comfortingly down your hair as he insisted he wasn’t mad at you, you flinched away with something stinging behind your unpleasantly warming face. “If you’re not mad at me, you’re mad at Jon because of me. I’m sorry I got so drunk you had to pick me up, and I’m sorry you had to put up with me when everything with Daenerys was happening, but I don’t want you taking it out on Jon. He didn’t do anything wrong, and whatever you think he did he made up for it.”

It slipped out, you could tell it slipped out when his eyes closed with an exhaustive look on his face the moment the words were out there. “By what? Just fucking you more now, then you were afraid he was fucking her?”

Silence sat between you in the room. That warmth turned something unpleasant now felt even worse and the sting in your eyes felt as if you were about to let tears form. Instead your face steeled in it’s expression, snatching what was in Robbs hands and turning away from him as he called your name. “You can leave.” Once again, you felt the genuinity in his voice trying to apologize for what he clearly said in an unnecessary malice, but that didn’t make you feel any better. There was little chance Robb didn’t sense the waver in your voice as if trying to smother back any tears. “I don’t need you making me feel guilty for-”

It was too awkward for you to say, but you both knew what you meant. You didn’t need Robb of all people, someone who both deeply cared about you but you deeply cared for, making you feel ashamed for having a healthy sex life with your own boyfriend. You didn’t want to make this problem between them any worse then you already were. A hand ran over your back and you hated that Robb was so good at being instantly comforting as he said your name.

But you shrugged it off, now both of you fully aware you were trying not to cry. “I don’t understand what I did to cause all these problems, but if me being here is making it worse-” Robb tried getting you to face him, but you pulled from his touch, roughly jumping back into your point. “Just tell me if it would be better if I moved out.”

Robb didn’t say a word, nor did you see his heartbroken expression that you had taken his ire towards Jon so much more personally then he ever imagined you would. Maybe it was easy for you to blame yourself for what happened with Jon if you so quickly jumped to the conclusion that you were the issue between him and his brother. But none of that registered in your mind.

Though, he chose the better route, changing his mind as he tried to speak before cutting himself off. “I don’t want you to move out, love. Jon and I are dealing with something and I’m so sorry you feel like I’ve been taking it out on you.” Your eyes flickered to the side, not one to say things he didn’t mean in such a warm tone, you nodded. “I don’t want you to be upset, I went all the way to White Harbour to get fresh seafood so I could add them to dinner. Since you were coming home today.”

A small smile left you, and a little shrug at your shoulder with a far less enthusiastic but still meaning tone in a playfulness. “You went all the way out there?” Robb nodded, as if you could see if, but still you sensed it. “Why?”

That time you didn’t flinch when he ran a hand along your upper back. “You’ve made dinner nearly every night the past few weeks, I wanted to do something nice for you back.” Muttering a quiet thank you, Robb knew at least when to let a situation simmer out. “I’ll leave you be. Do you know when Jons back?” Guessing in about an hour, you finally looked at him, but your not so well hidden rattled expression was met by a more apologetic one from Robb as your face asked why. “So I can time it, I’m not trying to leave him out of things.”

He tried to reassure you, you’d give him that, but of what you still didn’t really know. You could only guess but you nodded as he left you be. Barley home for less then an hour and already you caused a problem.

Trying to go back to putting your things away, it was as if your hands were stuck as they finally went to handle the dress. Looking it over, your mind was caught on a memory. The way Jons face looked as you paid for it at the counter, how much even then you knew he looked as if he were desperate to let him buy it for you despite the fancy price tag. He had more money then you, he and his family always did, but you didn’t want to feel as if you were trying to get more from him then you already had at that point.

But it was something held back that now you knew was something much more soft and affectionate in him wanting to do something for you out of those feelings, but not wanting to step on your toes or be obvious about it. It felt similar as you looked to the now half closed door Robb left from. Like he was holding something back from you, but this time, you couldn’t grasp what that could be, or why you had caused him to take it out on Jon of all people.

By the time you were finished, did Ghost come trotting into the room nearly knocking you over to greet you. Which was just who you needed, picking up quickly that you seemed upset, you sat up on the bed as Ghost joined. Laying his head in your lap as you scratched along his ears before slowly letting your eyes droop.

You fell asleep without even realizing it, only to awake to a warm hand running through your hair and a gentle rasp to lull you awake in the most peaceful sounding manner your dreamless mind could’ve come up with, Ghost still cuddled into you as he chose to nap along with you. “Robb has dinner ready.” Before you had the chance to push up on your palms, Jon ran his hand more smoothly along the side of your head with a firmer touch as it prompting you not to rush. “Do you want me to bring you a plate here?”

Peeking up at him, part of your mind recalled the way Robb tried assuring you that everything was fine, in a manner of speaking and that it wasn’t your fault, but nor did you want to test that. If it wasn't your fault, their rift wouldn’t have started with a night you were the problem. And Jon bringing you food Robb went out of his way to make for you, while staying in the quiet and calm of Jons room sounded more comforting while you were still upset, you didn’t think it would help.

Instead you shook your head as Ghost too perked up to jump off the bed with you. “If you let me stay here, I’ll just fall right back asleep.” Grabbing both your hands to help you up, before letting go to guide you by your waist down onto both feet, Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead that lingered, muttering that coming home to you and Ghost napping together almost made him feel bad enough he didn’t want to wake you in the first place. Your smile was soft as he pulled you into his side, supporting you until you shook off the sleep the way Ghost could in seconds as he shook his head and fur out before darting out the door. “Did you get whatever you needed done?”

Jon nodded, a warm hand still running up and down your arm as he led you out, firmly enough you felt his touch even through the thicker sweater you wore. His voice rasped low in your ear as if still easing you out of sleep. “Had to drop something off is all, I’m still yours for the evening.”

It came out in tone as a joke, but it was said with a smile softer speaking then just that. “Hopefully for more then just the evening I hope. Or did seeing people get married make you think twice about us?”

Jon slid his hand down from your arm to your waist, a light pinch pulling a louder laughing protest from you, and a handsome but lovingly mischievous smile from you. At least you knew Jon well enough to know that was a firm no in his language.

Though the laugh in you didn’t last that long when as you expected, Robbs eyes met yours when you walked in, glanced to Jon, and got just the slightest bit less warm again. And once more, did you recall the bubble of peace you felt the past three days were nothing but a distraction from the truth that Jon and now Robb too were lying to you about.

The problem between them was you, without a shadow of a doubt.

Looking up to sky, Jon sighed deeply. The stars were bright that night, few clouds if any were there to block the view of the night as he sat there. Hand running over Ghost who sat by him as his head lay on Jons lap. Glancing next to the house, only some windows had any lights on and two of which were his room and that halls side of the bathroom where you no doubt were still showering.

His eyes darted in the darkness but found no one to interrupt, and no one to watch. Another sigh left before Jon shifted. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through one picture then the next in what he screenshotted before hovering over the screen with his thumb. Tempted to delete the evidence, it was the only logical course. He had been secretive about it from minute one, and he had left as soon as he got you back just to hide it where it wouldn’t be found anywhere near the house.

Sam had mentioned that when they were in Horn Hill, there was an old jeweller he wanted to visit. A gift for Gilly he had in mind, a necklace with her favourite animal on it since she never owned anything like that before. Jon had looked it up and his eyes had been drawn to one section of their website, and before he knew it, he was making notes on his phone to screenshot and keep for later.

That day after the wedding, Sam had gotten you to distract Gilly with something so he and Jon had an excuse to head over without fuss so he could buy it. But as Jon stood there, Sam discussing something with one of the workers, Jons eyes kept getting drawn to one section. Arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the more sturdy edge of the glass case, his brows narrowed trying not to think about it.

But, then he pulled his phone out to send you a message on how much longer he and Sam would be. He didn’t even look at the screenshots, just saw the icon of his gallery on top of his home screen. Like his lock screen was he and you, his home screen was you and Ghost. It was all he needed. His phone put back in his pocket, Jon managed to stand there for another ten minutes before he broke.

Muttering to Sam he’d be right back, Jon swiftly made his way to the other side of the store. A completely different attendant behind the counter, whom seemed quite ready to make a display of his wares. A section of far, far more expensive things was over on that side but Jon gave the man pretty much no time to make any pitch. He had the screenshot, he knew what he was looking for and he saw it right away.

Interrupting his greeting with a low, discreet rasp Jon just pointed down into the glass display to a very specific item. Only muttering that he needed that one in a specific size, and by the time his head raised to meet his expression the poor attendant was clearly taken aback by Jons blunt and curt demeanour. But, he did so swiftly. The right size acquired, before he could even ask if Jon wanted it properly displayed in one of their custom jewellers boxes, Jon shook his head. Saying he’d take it directly before paying what was far more money then most would for that sort of thing.

The attendant was grateful, no doubt working on commission and the amount of gold Jon handed over meant he would get a hefty sum of it. But seemed somewhat off put by him, and none too happy Jon stuck it in his pocket with nothing to protect it. Jon didn’t care about the fanciness of it all, he needed one thing and that was it.

By the time he made it back to Sam, Jon didn’t judge him for agreeing to that very sort of packaging for the necklace. Gilly had come from very little growing up and wasn’t used to this sort of luxury, and Jon didn’t blame Sam for wanting to spoil her. Noticing a smaller necklace that matched he gestured to it with something bright and knowing, “Whats that one?”

Sam looked abashed, but Jon much like Sam had felt for his situation, couldn’t be happier about it. “It’s for little Sam. I thought if his mother was getting something, he might feel left out.”

Jon managed a genuine laugh, trying to ignore how suddenly something that didn’t even weigh half of an ounce, suddenly was so noticeable in his pocket it felt like it was full of chunks of steel. “Careful with that.” Sam looking to him in question as Jon tilted his head in am amused expression. “I have five brothers and sisters, Sam. You start feeling like you need to always get one of them something extra then everyone else wants something extra too.”

He picked well, and Jon assured him Gilly would love it before the two headed out into the street to find you both, and settle on a place to eat.

Now though, in the settled cool night air did Jon sit in a clearing in the area before the wolfswood beyond him with Ghost. Looking through those very screenshots he took before sighing deeply, deleting one then the other and any note or tab associated with it. He had it, it was his, he didn’t need the evidence on his phone to linger.

Jon had drove all the way to his station at the Wall, the top drawer where some of his most precious reminders for his rougher days were kept, including two of his favourite pictures of he and you, and he kept it there. Locking it before leaving once more just to be sure no one would find it as it sat right atop a photo where you sat. Some of the others questioned what that was about, but no one saw really.

And you never asked him when he got back what he did. And he never hinted at it. Jon had not a single clue when he would do anything about it, but at least now it was there. Ready when he was, or, Jon knew he was ready. More it was ready when he hoped you were. Jon could drag you out there with him right now and be more then ready, but he needed you to be at that point and not a moment before.

Maybe too he could focus on that. If he kept it at his work desk, he would focus on that and not the other thoughts. He could keep them at bay until he sorted things out, made sure you were ready for any of that, found some miracle to fix things with Robb before he’d do any of that. Just now with a physical motivation to push him to figure all of that out.

But then it would itch at his mind. Jon sighed deeply again, letting a hand run down his face with a frustration at how much he couldn’t make it go away. The guilt didn’t mean it didn’t run through the worst parts of Jons head. That the worries Robb had about what Jon would do weren’t entirely unfounded, since he was thinking of them. He’d never act on it, but it all kept compounding making his thoughts about you more and more intense, more obsessive over the matter.

Jon was fully aware how much his thoughts were rushing into this, but as much as he could prevent himself from acting on it, he could not stop thinking about it. But that was why he bought it. Obsess over one to avoid wanting to do something about the other. As long as Jon kept the engagement ring a secret, just maybe that could take his obsession away from the thoughts clawing at his mind.

About how much Jon truly and desperately couldn’t stop thinking about getting you pregnant.

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

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navybrat817 · 3 months

Text

Hold You Tight: Part 3

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4

Chapter Summary: The date is just beginning, but you're not sure if you can keep it together.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, possessiveness, manipulation, mental and emotional whiplash, reader is trying to stay calm, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You took a deep breath and another, but it didn’t stop your heart from picking up in your chest. It was a feat that your legs didn’t give out. Your throat felt rough and raw, except you hadn’t screamed. You hadn’t made a sound. Not until Bucky moved toward you, pulling a whimper from you.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he said, cupping your face with a smile. You wanted to believe there was a warmth behind it or that he had a voice in his head telling him that this wasn’t right. That none of this was right. “Don’t you like them?”

“The flowers. The guy who bought them…” you swallowed, wondering exactly who he was and how he was associated with Bucky. Did Bucky know him well or was he a stranger? Did he bribe him into going into his shop?

“Oh, he’s fine,” Bucky assured you, which didn’t make you feel any better. “Loved the tulips you helped pick out for him. I know his girl will be very happy to get them, too.”

The citrus and woodsy combination of Bucky’s cologne filled your nostrils as you took another deep breath. You expected to stumble back when he suddenly crouched down, but you didn’t budge an inch. Once again, you were frozen in fear. Why couldn’t you move? You told yourself he wouldn’t hurt you. Why bother dragging you all the way to his place for that when he could’ve done so in your home?

Or, apparently, your place of work.

“Why don’t we have some of that wine after I show you around?” He asked, retrieving the clutch you dropped.

“Do you really expect me to just sit and have a drink with you?”

“Not just a drink,” he said, slowly standing and reminding you just how large he was. “Dinner. Dessert.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” You asked.

He nodded over your shoulders. “There’s one right behind you.”

You turned and went into the bathroom, careful not to lock the door behind you as much as you wanted to. He may have broken down the door if you tried. You gripped the sink as you struggled to take your next breath, blood rushing in your ears as you looked at your reflection. A voice in the back of your mind whispered to stay calm when tears threatened to spill over for the second time that evening.

Could you though? Could you play along and get through this night without having some sort of breakdown? You had to try.

Your attention was pulled away by the soft knock on the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Would you care if I wasn't?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

The door opened a heartbeat later, but you didn't dare meet his gaze in the mirror as he approached. Not even as he pressed himself against your back, your body trapped between his and the sink. It was suffocating. He brought a hand up to lift your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. The light above the mirror put a spotlight on the intensity of his gaze as his lips brushed your ear.

“I care more than you think,” he whispered, turning you to face him. His fingers traced the column of your neck before he let go. “In time, I know you’ll see that.”

You fought the urge to laugh as he led you back into the entryway. If he cared, he would’ve gone about this whole thing differently. You focused your attention instead on the penthouse, taking in more of the decor as he showed you around. As immaculate as the place looked, it lacked a personal touch. Where were the photos? Trinkets?

“What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful place,” you answered. And it was beautiful, but it didn't feel like a home or lived in like your place.

“A bit spacious for just me,” he said, glancing at you. Was it his roundabout way of stating again how he expected you to move in?

“Yeah, it’s a lot for one person, but it’s still nice.”

He nodded in agreement. “The couch is comfortable if you ever want to take a nap,” he said, an almost knowing look in his eyes as you stopped at the living room. Jesus, did he know you slept on your couch last night? “Though I’d prefer you sleep in our bed.”

“Our” bed. Not subtle at all. “I know you said this would be my place one day, too, but maybe we should get well past the first date before we talk about sharing a bed,” you said, sarcastically adding, “I hog the blankets, so I hope you're prepared for that.”

He chuckled and you wished you didn't like the pleasant sound. “You can have as many blankets as you want. And I had every intention of showing you the master bedroom tonight, but I think I’ll wait.”

“Really?” You asked, hoping you didn't sound too eager to avoid seeing it. Was there a catch?

“Really,” he said, pulling you close by the hips. Through his clothes, you felt how firm he was. There was strength there you couldn't match. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. And when I take you to bed, I’m going to ruin you. That's a promise.”

A shuddering breath left your lungs as he leaned in, his lips skimming yours.

“But I’m not the monster you think I am, which is why I’m going to wait,” he whispered.

It was a relief that Bucky wasn't going to take you to bed. Not tonight, at least. At the same time, what exactly was he waiting for? He made it clear that he wanted you and wasn't going to let go. What game was he playing?

Thinking about it was enough to drive you mad.

“And you won't hurt me?” You questioned. You had to hear him say it.

“I’d never hurt you,” he promised, pulling away at the two knocks on the front door.

He wouldn't hurt you, but what about other people?

“Chef’s here, boss,” the guard’s voice rang out.

“Perfect timing,” Bucky smiled.

He kept a hand on you as he guided you to the kitchen, the guard and who you assumed to be the chef entering seconds later. “Mr. Barnes, so good to see you.”

“You as well,” Bucky replied, his demeanor professional and somewhat colder.

Your eyes went back to the guard as Bucky chatted with the chef. He seemed to avoid your gaze, keeping his eye instead on the two men speaking. Did he know the circumstances that brought you here? Would he care if he did?

“You’re sure this is what you’d like, Mr. Barnes? This is a relatively simple meal,” the chef scoffed, making a show of gesturing to the ingredients. It dawned on you as you looked at them that he was going to prepare one of your favorite meals. Your stomach dropped, but you kept quiet. Of course, Bucky knew.

And of course, it wasn't sophisticated.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as if he sensed your embarrassment. The guard didn't look impressed by the chef’s comment either. “It’s her favorite. Are you insulting my girl’s taste?” he spoke, making you shiver from the ice in his tone.

“No, Mr. Barnes. Of course not! I meant no disrespect.” The chef shook his head, meeting your gaze with a shaky smile. “To be simple is to be great.”

“That’s right. Simplicity is also to be respected,” Bucky said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And with your reputation, it better be the best meal she has ever had. I’d hate to see what happens if she doesn’t like it.”

“It’s fine,” you whispered. It was better to focus on easing the situation instead of yet another reminder that he knew another intimate detail about you. That and you felt bad as the man behind the counter began to sweat. “I’m sure the meal will be delicious. Thank you for taking the time to come here and prepare it.”

The tension dissipated as Bucky softly smiled at you, a crisis averted for the time being. “We’re going to enjoy our wine on the balcony while he prepares our meal,” he told the guard. “Keep an eye on him.”

“Will do.”

Bucky took you away from the kitchen before the chef could speak another word to you. Fresh air might help you breathe easier. He opened the glass door, the night breeze making you shiver as you stepped outside. The view of the city stretched on and the moon and stars lit up the sky. It was breathtaking.

You jumped when Bucky put his jacket around your shoulders. The romantic gesture felt like a claim. “I hope his comment didn't upset you. If it did-”

“It’s fine. Really,” you assured him, glancing at the two-seater table as he pulled out a chair for you. Two glasses were set out as well, along with what you knew to be an expensive bottle of wine. “This is gorgeous.”

“It is,” he agreed, your cheeks flaming when you saw him looking at you instead of the view.

“Do you spend a lot of time out here?” You asked.

He popped the cork on the bottle and poured each of you a small amount. You almost thanked him for that. You had to keep your wits about you.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he said, nodding to a small sofa in the corner as he took a seat. “But I do like to read out here.”

“You read in your free time?” You asked, biting back a moan when you sipped the wine.

His eyes lit up and just as quickly darkened when you licked your lips. “I do. Reading has always been a hobby of mine. I even have first editions of some of my favorite books.”

“That’s really nice,” you smiled. For a moment it felt like the two of you were having a normal conversation.

That good feeling went away when he took out a velvet box.

“Can’t forget about the surprise,” he smiled before he handed it over. It looked too long to be a ring box, thankfully, but it wouldn't have surprised you if there was an engagement ring inside. Which was likely why your hand shook as you opened it.

The diamond pendant was stunning enough to make you gasp. Five stones each a different shape, they sparkled under the moonlight. The kind of necklace you could only dream of having.

“Bucky, I’m sorry.” You shut the box and slid it back across the table toward him. “I can’t accept this.”

His gaze flickered to the box before he looked at you again. You wanted to believe he looked concerned, but he hadn’t exactly taken any of your feelings into consideration so far. “Why not? We can pick out another together if you’d rather have something else.”

“I can’t accept it because it’s too much,” you said. Accepting the gift would make the situation more real.

He chuckled after a moment. “No, it isn't. Nothing would ever be too much for me to give to you.”

You reached across to tap the top of the box. “Bucky, this is the kind of gift that you give to your wife or fiancé or girlfriend. Hell, maybe a mistress or a sugar baby. I’m none of those things.” Something flickered in his gaze and that should’ve been your warning to stop, but you kept going anyway. “I’m not your girl.”

He took your hand before you could pull it away, his jaw clenched. “You’re right about one thing. You’re not my mistress or a sugar baby,” he agreed. “You could never be those things because you are the only one I see.”

But why? It didn’t make any sense to you. “But-”

“Girlfriend, fiancé, wife,” he ticked off with the fingers of his free hand. “We'll get to all those phases of our relationship, so you might as well accept this gift now or you'll be accepting much more than this later.”

You swallowed, but didn’t attempt to pull away. His grip didn’t hurt and you didn’t know exactly what he was implying, but you didn’t want to find out tonight. Not when he promised he wouldn’t drag you off to his room. “Thank you for the wonderful gift.”

He smiled and took the box as he stood. You didn't protest as he moved to put the necklace around your neck nor did you flinch when his fingers moved along on your skin. When he sat back down, he sighed and lovingly looked you over. “It's beautiful. Just like I knew it would be on you."

You touched it after a moment, the feel of his fingertips still lingering. “I didn't expect something so nice for a first date.”

“This is only the beginning.” He tilted his head and let his eyes watch you trace the delicate gems. “You deserve so much more.”

“Is this some elaborate joke?” You scoffed a bit. He sounded so sure of himself, that he believed you deserved the world. But why? “You do realize that I'm just a florist. And I don't say that to belittle my career because I love what I do, but I'm nothing special.”

Sadness took over his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have with the stranger who broke into your home. You didn’t want to have any sort of conversation tonight. “Because I don't own the flower shop I work at. I'm not rich. Hell, I lived with a roommate until last year just to save up and afford my own place. You should know since you researched me,” you said without a trace of bitterness. “I’m not a party girl. I don't turn heads wherever I go. I just want to work with my flowers, go home, and live a simple little life.”

His eyes followed the motion of you biting your lip again before he shook his head. “You think being rich and owning a business are the things it takes to make someone special?”

“No, I don't think that.”

“Then what does?”

You looked around the balcony with a sigh before meeting his gaze again. “Who a person is makes them special.”

“Yet everything you stated has nothing to do with who you are. So I’ll ask again, why would you say you're nothing special?”

You didn't know how to respond. You thought he would’ve just dropped the conversation, so you looked into your lap with a shake of your head. If you were special, wouldn’t you have found someone by now the way Addision and your other friends had? You didn’t want to pour out your insecurities, even if he seemed to hold an invisible knife and was ready to cut them open. “I don't know. I just know I’m not.”

He hummed a little. “So, would someone who is nothing special make homemade meals for her neighbor because she recently had a baby and probably wouldn't have time to cook for herself?”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly hurt yourself. “How-”

“And not only are you in Addison's wedding party, you offered to have her flowers done so she could have more money for her honeymoon. You're telling me that being caring and thoughtful doesn’t make a person special?”

Goosebumps raised on your skin, realizing just how thorough he was in his research of you. “How do you know all of that about me?” Tears sprang to your eyes and you blinked them back. “I didn't tell anyone about my neighbor or the flowers.”

He cracked a small smile. “That's one of the things that makes you special. You don't do those things expecting anything in return and you sure as hell don't do it to brag. You do them because you care.” He took a second to lean back in his seat, his eyes still on you. “When I see something I want, I give it my all. And I'm not afraid to use my resources. I told you, I like to be thorough.”

You giggled. A hysterical sort of giggle. One that scared you because you had never laughed like that. “I don't know if I can do this,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I shouldn't be here. I should be getting a restraining order.”

Bucky didn't look offended in the slightest. “You could try. Do you think it’ll stop me?”

What little resolve you had left snapped. “Oh, my god. Do you hear yourself? I mean, really hear yourself?!” You snapped, tempted to throw the remainder of your wine on him when he didn’t react. “You know what a first date is, right? It’s two people trying to get to know each other and to see if there’s a mutual connection. You didn’t give me a chance to form a connection with you because you decided it for me after you stalked me.”

His brows pinched like you hurt his feelings. “Doll-”

“You know ‘everything’ about me, but what do I know about you, huh?” You continued, your anxiety bubbling over. “I know that you own a club and that you break into homes and scare the shit out of people. Oh, and that you read. And you apparently have the world at your fingertips since you can send people into my place of work and find out details about me that most aren’t privy to. You could probably use those resources of yours for good or to help others, but you used them to dig into my life when I didn't ask you to!”

“Some people do research before a first date,” he pointed out, not raising his voice.

“Not a full background check! I’m not an employee of yours and I’m not a toy for you to play with!” You huffed as you sat back, suddenly exhausted. How was he unphased? “You really think you have a say in my future? Are you that much of a control freak that you think you can control me?”

The silence stretched on as Bucky considered you and your body trembled as he idly sipped his wine. You weren’t the type to snap and you suddenly felt the urge to apologize for your outburst, which wasn’t fair. He put you in this situation, so why did you want to make it better?

Because you didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m not trying to control you,” he stated, handing you a handkerchief.

“It feels like you are and that isn’t fair,” you said, dabbing at your eyes. Life wasn’t exactly fair though, was it? “And for the record, the only reason I’m not tossing this wine on you is because it’s delicious and it would be a waste.”

His nose scrunched as he laughed. “I wish you could’ve met my mom. She would’ve loved you,” he said so softly you almost missed it, the change in topic jarring to say the least. What happened to her? “I’ve tried traditional dating. It doesn’t and hasn’t worked for me so far. The last woman I dated? She tried to rob me, if you can believe that.”

You sighed, still a bit worn out from your rant. “I can,” you said. There were greedy people in the world and he seemed to have more than enough to provide others with a comfortable life. It wasn’t right that someone tried to take what he earned.

It also wasn’t right what he was doing to you.

“In my line of work, everyone wants something from me. Money, power, favors. It’s hard to trust people,” he said, his gaze surprisingly soft as he took your hand again. “But not you.”

“Because that’s not the kind of person I am,” you guessed.

You were in many ways the opposite of him. While you weren’t poor, you certainly weren’t rich or powerful and didn’t want to use people for your gain. Perhaps that was why he wanted you so badly. You were someone who didn’t want anything from him. Someone like you was easy for him to control since you didn’t run in that kind of circle, even if he said he wasn’t trying to.

Maybe you should have put up a fight instead of making yourself an easy target.

Wait, why were you blaming yourself?

“I know it isn’t,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “So, maybe I’m a control freak and maybe my approach is a bit extreme, but I don't want to control you. I like who you are, doll. You’re loyal and caring and real. The kind of person I want and need.”

You took a sip of wine so you didn't have to respond. He needed you, so he said, but did you need him? And why did his praise warm your insides? You didn't want it to feel nice.

“And maybe I like that you aren’t the kind of person who has a hidden agenda and that you aren’t a party girl. Even you snapping at me. I love that fire. I want more of it. Burn me with it if you want,” he continued, sweeping his gaze over you once again. “Fuck, I can’t take my eyes off you. And I can't stop thinking about you.”

The look in his eyes put you on edge. “But we-”

“You’re good for me and you may not believe I’m good for you, but I am. We’re right for each other,” he said. The fierce determination in his gaze almost had you believing it. “And aren’t you tired of being lonely? I know I am.”

Loneliness could eat away at a person. Drive them to do desperate things. It didn't excuse his actions.

“Lonely or not, you can't force us to be together,” you said.

“I’m not forcing us to be together. You chose to be here tonight.”

“You know why I came here,” you argued. He had to know you did this because of his threat. “And I’ll behave or do whatever I need to do for the rest of the night, but I can't promise anything beyond that.”

Instead of anger like you expected, he smiled. Like a wolf flashing his teeth before sinking into its prey. “That’s okay because I have a promise for you,” he began, the flame dancing in his eyes. “You’ll be out of your apartment before the end of the month.”

The balcony door opening covered up the wheeze you let out, but didn't hide the despair written all over your face. He couldn't be serious. “Dinner’s ready,” the guard stated.

Bucky didn't spare him a glance as he stood and kept your hand in his, your appetite gone as his smile widened. “C’mon, doll. Better not let it get cold.”

Ooh. Will he really have you out of your place that soon? How awkward will that meal be? And who do we think this guard is? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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itneverendshere · 4 months

Text

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - two

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader x sorta canon!rafe; doesn't exactly follow the real plot line but...it does?; am i turning this into a series? maybe.

word count: 6k...

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again, as if it had never happened. It couldn't have happened; it must have been a figment of your overactive imagination.

There was no way in hell you would have let Rafe Cameron have you on top of a dining table, living up to the derogatory "dirty pogue" nickname. You were better than that. You knew better.

Despite that...You found it impossible to look at him for the next forty-eight hours. In fact, facing yourself in the mirror became a challenge, so much so that you refused his help in tending to your wound. Self-sufficiency had long been your norm. Growing up with Luke meant mastering the art of tending to your bruises from a young age.

Initially, there was clearly tension between you and Rafe.

Every time your paths crossed, it dragged you back to that regretful moment—the feeling of his hands, the memory of his presence inside you—but there were bigger things at stake, and so, you pushed the nagging feelings aside, focusing on one thing only: getting out.

You and Rafe didn’t mix, oil and water, two stubborn bastards with heavy emotional baggage. Sometimes it was tricky to work together, but other days, it flowed so easily it gave you whiplash.

In the time that followed, you both worked tirelessly to plan your getaway, meticulously plotting every detail to ensure success and not another round of bullets.

Your job was to sit around and act innocent, while Rafe had to ensure you had a way out and enough money to pay someone off. Avoiding Ward was easy enough since he spent most of his time in Guadalupe.

Rafe scoffed; his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the small, weather-beaten boat skeptically. "I'm not getting into that piece of shit. No fucking way," he declared, voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the frustration growing in your chest.

He was so fucking insufferable.

"Oh, so you've got a better suggestion?"

He shot you a glare, but you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes caught the shimmer of the clear night sky, "I do," he retorted, gesturing towards a sleek motorboat moored nearby. "That one looks like it might get us somewhere without sinking halfway."

You followed his gaze, your entire face scrunching up as you took in the sight of the motorboat. It was certainly more modern and well-maintained than the rusty old dinghy you had been eyeing, but something about it made you uneasy.

"Hell no?” you hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. "It seems a bit...too much. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Rafe rolled his eyes, "C'mon,” he scoffed, "This isn't the time to be playing it safe. We need to get out of here, and that boat is our best chance."

You bit your lip, torn between your instincts and Rafe's seemingly reckless impulsiveness.

On one hand, you didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but on the other hand, you knew that time was running out and you needed to act fast. Ward was coming back to the island soon enough and if he dragged Rafe away with him…you were a lost cause.

There was no third chance.

“What about the guards?” your voice dropped to a whisper as you glanced around nervously. The last thing you needed was someone overhearing your plans.

“I’ve got it covered,” Your skepticism must have shown on your face because he stepped closer, lowering his voice, “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I’m not about to let us get caught. I’ve been dealing with Ward’s security my whole life. I know how to slip past them.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, “Fine. But if this goes south, it’s on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, isn’t it always?” he replied, dismissively waving a hand, “Just try not to get shot this time.”

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Keep your voice down."

The sleek motorboat gleamed in the fading light, its potential for escape glinting like a promise of freedom.

As night fell, you both moved with practiced stealth, with a reluctant nod, you followed him towards the sleek motorboat. The docks were eerily quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the hulls of the boats. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept a lookout for any sign of the guards.

Rafe moved with the confidence that you envied, quickly untying the boat and preparing it for departure. You glanced around nervously, half-expecting to hear the shout of a guard at any moment. Every shadow seemed like a threat, every noise a potential alarm.

“Hurry up,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder.

“Calm the fuck down,” Rafe muttered, though he did quicken his pace. “We’re almost ready.”

Your anxiety spiked. This was it. No turning back.

Rafe started the engine, the low rumble sounding like a roar in the silent night. You winced, half-expecting the noise to draw attention. The sound was louder than you expected. But luck seemed to be on your side.

“C’mon,” He whispered, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of trouble, “Get in.”

You climbed aboard, your hands shaking as you settled into the seat.

“Go!” you urged, glancing back at the docks nervously.

Rafe didn’t need to be told twice. The boat lurched forward, cutting through the water with surprising speed. As the island receded into the distance, you felt a little hope. For the first time in months, freedom was within your reach.

As he guided the boat out of the harbor, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“See? I told you it’d be fine,” Rafe said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the water,” you retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He adjusted the throttle, the boat picking up speed. "Relax, Maybank. Enjoy the ride," he said, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You shot him a withering look, gripping the edge of your seat. "Just focus on getting us out of here in one piece.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"

"Frankly, I don’t care what you think you know. Just keep us moving.”

Rafe's hands tightened on the wheel, but he said nothing. The silence between you was a common thing, the hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the night. The coastline was a distant memory now, the open water vast and foreboding. You kept scanning the horizon, every wave hiding a potential threat.

"You're acting like we're about to get ambushed by pirates," Rafe finally said, his tone lighter but still edged with that irritation.

"Better safe than sorry," you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

Rafe let out a sharp laugh. "Always so paranoid. That's what gets you in trouble."

You whipped your head around to glare at him.

“No, your family got me in trouble. In case you’ve forgotten.”

His face hardened, the easy bravado slipping for just a moment, “Huh, right. ‘Cause your friends are such fucking saints.”

“At least they’re not murder—”

You cut yourself off before you said it, but the damage was done anyways. Rafe's jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching again as he ground his teeth, lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't respond verbally, but the anger you could feel radiating from him was answer enough to you.

He turned his attention back to the horizon, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles were white. The boat's engine roared louder as he increased the speed, the vessel slicing through the water with renewed urgency.

The waves splashed higher, and the night air became colder, but Rafe didn't seem to notice. His focus was absolute. Yeah, he was pissed.

What could you possibly say? Apologize?

There was no way in hell you were apologizing to him. Not after everything his father had put you through. If anyone owed an apology, it was him. And you knew you'd see the world end before Rafe Cameron ever uttered those words.

It was infuriating. There he was taking a step forward, leaving his loyalty to Ward behind and he still refused to show remorse if not between four walls with you. Never out in the open, never too loud.

You sat in silence, each lost in your thoughts, the weight of the past not letting you calm down the way you really wanted to. It was done.

And although you wished things had been differently, they weren’t.

Despite the chill in the air, sweat prickled at the back of your neck, tension coiling in your muscles. The night stretched on, like it was never ending, you hated every minute of it.

After what felt like an eternity, light appeared on the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn. You breathed a sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

The worst was over, for now at least.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “We’re almost there. Keep an eye out for any patrol boats," he instructed, his voice curt and businesslike.

He was all focus still, that calculating side that had always unnerved you.

You nodded, scanning the waters diligently. The further you went, the more the reality of your situation sank in. You were out there, in the middle of nowhere, relying on a Cameron to get you to safety. The irony was almost laughable.

“Where are we heading?" you asked, breaking the silence. Your voice was softer, dulled by the exhaustion.

"We'll head south, find somewhere to lay low for a while. I've got contacts who owe me favors."

“Uh? We’re not going back to The Outer Banks?”

He shook his head, attention fixed on the horizon. “No. Not unless you want to get killed.”

The Outer Banks, once your home, now felt like a trap waiting to snap shut. You should’ve figured Ward would send someone after you the minute he figured you were gone. A loose end.

Shills ran down your body as you remembered your close encounter with death.

"Your contacts won’t sell us out?"

He smirked, though there was no humor in it. "They know better than to cross me. Criminal, remember?”

You sighed, ready to jump into the water if it meant a little space from the unbearable atmosphere. Despite everything, you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling of guilt from what you’d almost said before.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen,” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. He glanced at you, his expression guarded, but you continued, “I don’t care, okay? Not right now. What matters is that you’re here, not with him.”

Rafe's face softened slightly; the hard edges of his demeanor were momentarily blunted by your words. He looked away, his jaw working as if he were chewing over something in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued than before.

“If you say so.”

As you drew nearer to the shore, details of the island began to come into focus. Lush greenery blanketed the landscape, punctuated by towering palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was oddly like the place you’d been stuck in for months, but this time, there was no sense of dread in you. The boat slowed as Rafe expertly maneuvered it into a small cove, sheltered from prying threats by rocky outcrops and overhanging foliage. With a soft thud, the vessel came to a stop, the engine sputtering into silence.

Once he was done, he stepped onto the water, knees deep as the sandy shore still lay a little ahead.

You blinked in confusion as he turned to you, his arms open wide in a gesture that left you momentarily perplexed. The water lapped gently against the sides of the boat, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your brow furrowing in bemusement as you eyed his outstretched arms.

“Helping you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his simple gesture of assistance. It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did, a faint blush tinged your cheeks at your slowness.

In all fairness, you weren’t used to this side of Rafe. You’d only seen it a few times and it was…something else entirely.

“Right.”

As Rafe's hand brushed against your waist while helping you out of the boat, your skin prickled in goosebumps. Traitor.

You quickly brushed off the sensation, chalking it up to nerves from the situation. With a grateful nod, you stepped onto the sandy shore, feeling the warm grains shift beneath your feet. The island stretched out before you, its landscape dotted with lush vegetation and towering trees. It was larger than you had expected, much bigger than Ward’s private hell.

"We should find a place to sleep,” you said, turning to Rafe as you scanned the horizon for any signs of civilization.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours as he surveyed the landscape. "Let's head towards the center of the island. There should be some motels.”

With a shared nod, you set off along the sandy shore, the waves crashing against the beach providing a rhythmic backdrop to your footsteps.

As you walked, an uneasy feeling crept over you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling, maybe it was just the paranoia that had become like second nature to you over the past year.

After a while, you noticed a winding path leading into the dense foliage of the island's interior. Without a word, you and Rafe followed it, venturing deeper into the heart of the island.

The sounds of civilization faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, you emerged into a clearing. Before you stood a beat up motel, its faded paint and weather-beaten facade blending seamlessly into the surrounding landscape.

"This should do," you said, nodding towards the building, "I guess."

“Yeah. Good for a night or two, my contact won’t be here till then.”

As you entered the motel lobby, the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener. Rafe followed closely behind you, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the dimly lit room. You approached the front desk, where a bored-looking clerk sat slouched behind the counter, flipping through a magazine with half-hearted interest.

"Hi there," Rafe said, flashing a charming smile as he leaned casually against the counter. "My wife and I are looking for a room for the night."

His what?

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly hid your reaction, playing along with his impromptu act. It was obvious it wasn't the first time Rafe had pulled a stunt like this, and you had to admit, he had a talent for getting what he wanted.

To pretend and lie his way out.

The clerk glanced up from his magazine, peeking over the two of you with mild curiosity. "Sure thing," he said, his tone disinterested. "How many nights?"

"One for now," Rafe replied smoothly, reaching into his pocket to produce a wad of cash that you hadn't even realized he had. It was a substantial amount, more than enough to cover the cost of survival for at least two weeks.

The clerk took the cash without comment, handing Rafe a key with a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Room 203," he said, gesturing towards a staircase in the corner of the lobby. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

"Thanks," Rafe said, pocketing the key with a nod of gratitude. He turned to you; his expression unreadable. "Let’s go, baby.”

Baby?

He must've been out of his goddamn mind. His hand found yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. You glanced at him, confused, but he simply squeezed your hand reassuringly, focused on the hallway.

When you reached the door to room, he released your hand with a reluctant sigh. That always happened with him, there was always something new you couldn’t pinpoint, but eventually got used to. The charming, panty-dropping posture was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual brooding demeanor as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modest but comfortable-looking room.

“After you.”

You swallowed your surprise at his manners and stepped into the room, grateful for the relative privacy it offered. Rafe followed close behind, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It was sparsely furnished, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space and a small television mounted on the wall opposite. A worn armchair sat in the corner, and a narrow window offered a glimpse of the night sky outside.

"It’s a fucking dump,” Rafe said, his tone light but with an underlying note of exhaustion. "But it'll do for now."

You sank onto the edge of the bed, resting the mattress. “Better than my room back home.”

“Really?”

"Don't act so surprised. We're not exactly living in luxury over there."

You could see the realization click on Rafe's face as if he’d forgotten your background, “Didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

"Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving," you replied, "But let's save up the pity for later. I'm more interested in asking you why the fuck you got just one room with one bed."

“I can sleep on the floor, relaaax.”

You shot him a skeptical look, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Seriously? You'd actually sleep on the floor?"

He shrugged, "Why not? It's not like I haven't slept in worse places."

You didn’t want to delve into that.

Instead, you only stared at him for a moment, searching for any hint of insincerity in his expression. To your surprise, you found none.

Moments like these reminded you that he was human, and you hated it.

“Okay.”

With a weary sigh, you rose from the bed and began to remove your shoes, the events of the day finally catching up with you. Exhaustion settled into your bones, dragging you down like an unbearable weight.

Rafe watched you for a moment before turning away to rummage through spare sheets and pillows, preparing a makeshift bed. There was no time to change clothes; you had left the little you had behind.

As you slipped beneath the covers and closed your eyes, you couldn't ignore the possibility that this was only the calm before the storm. It felt too easy.

You heard the rustle of sheets as he settled onto the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible, “Don’t fucking snore, Cameron.”

Rafe chuckled softly, the rare sound carrying through the darkness of the room. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maybank.”

Hours later, you woke suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to the edges of your consciousness.

For a moment, you lay there in the darkness, disoriented and trying to make sense of your surroundings. Then, you heard it—a low, murmured voice coming from the other side of the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, you saw Rafe lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

He was tossing and turning restlessly, his brow furrowed as he muttered incomprehensible words under his breath. The sight of him trapped in a nightmare weirdly stirred something protective within you. Despite everything, despite the walls he put up, you didn’t like to see him in pain. It felt so familiar, and for a second you were back home, in your room, rocking yourself back and forth after waking up in hysterical screams.

Moving quietly, you slipped out of bed and crossed the room to kneel beside him. Gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Rafe," you whispered softly, trying to rouse him from his slumber. "Hey, wake up."

In the next second, you were gasping for breath as Rafe's hands closed around your throat in a vice-like grip. Shock and fear nearly knocked you out instantly but your body instinctively started against his hold as you struggled to break free.

Muscle memory and all.

"R-Rafe!" you gasped, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper as you clawed at his hands, desperate for him to let go. But he was so lost in the grip of his nightmare, his grip unyielding as he continued to squeeze, his eyes wide and unseeing.

Panic took over you as the world started to blur around the edges, darkness creeping into your vision while your lungs burned for air. Frantically, you tried to call out to him again, to wake him from whatever hellish nightmare held him in its grasp, but your voice was little more than a choked rasp.

“Rafe!"

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure around your throat disappeared, leaving you gasping and wheezing for breath as you collapsed against the bed.

Blinking away the tears that pricked at your eyes, you looked up to see him kneeling beside you, his hands shaking as he stared at you with wide, horrified eyes.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling, "Shit, shit. I didn't mean to—I didn't know—"

His words were choked off by a strangled sob as he buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

It was a startling thing to witness , seeing the usually composed and confident Rafe Cameron reduced to this, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see. For a moment, you were frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

But then, instinct kicked in again,and you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him.

He practically dragged you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He only shook his head, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face where your neck and shoulder met, his entire body wracked with tremors. All you could do was hold him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

Eventually, his sobs began to subside, his breathing evening out as he clung to you like a lifeline.

You held him close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Better?”

Rafe nodded against your shoulder; his breathing still ragged but gradually steadying. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft sound of your heartbeat. "Yeah, I think so."

You remained silent, holding him close as he slowly calmed down. The weight of his body against yours was oddly comforting, grounding you and pushing back the memories of his violent outburst just moments before.

After a while, Rafe pulled away slightly, his eyes red-rimmed but clear as he looked up at you "I didn't mean to hurt—”

You reached out and brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair from his sweaty forehead.

“I know," you whispered softly, “It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

You didn’t know why you offered him that solace.

"You do?"

You nodded, though you knew he couldn't see it in the dim light.

"Yeah," you admitted, "They’re pretty bad too.”

There was a brief pause, filled only with the sound of your quiet breathing and the distant hum of the night outside.

Then, Rafe spoke again, "What do you dream about?"

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But something in Rafe's earnest expression told you to be honest, to let down your guard just this once,

“Luke. You?”

Rafe's immediate reaction was defensive, hands pulling away from your body, “Doesn't matter."

You felt stupid for asking him such a personal thing.

He wasn't like you.

“Do you want to sleep in bed with me? It might be better than the floor."

"I'm fine on the floor. Don't worry about me."

But you weren't about to let him off the hook that easily.

With a sigh, you reached out and gently grasped his arm, turning him to face you again, "Rafe," you said, voice borderline pleading, “Just sleep on the bed. Okay?"

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the bed, but with a reluctant sigh, he nodded.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."

With that, he rose from the floor and cautiously joined you on the bed. You shifted slightly to make room for him, and as he settled beside you.

“Don’t snore.”

“Not more than you do.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of fitful sleep and restless dreams, but somehow, with Rafe by your side, it felt bearable.

When morning finally came, you awoke to find he was already gone, his side of the bed cold, no traces of his presence, and a messy scribbled note left behind on the bedside table.

"Picking up food and clothes, brb. Don't open the door."

You felt relieved that he hadn't disappeared without a word and was instead putting in the effort to rely on you.

Deep down, you knew he had left as soon as he woke up, probably sprinting out of the room to avoid waking you and having any awkward confrontations about last night. It was going to be a long day, especially if he was determined to hide his emotions. You knew the old, bad Rafe Cameron would make a reappearance.

You got up from the bed and stretched. You needed a shower. You stank. It had been two days since you had washed yourself properly, and the thought of having gone to sleep in such a state made you want to hurl.

You’d have to ask for another set of fresh sheets if you stayed another night.

As you stepped into the bathroom, the warm water cascading over your skin felt like a dream, washing away the previous night. The steam filled the small space, enveloping you like a comforting embrace as you took your time, allowing the water to ease the knots of stress from your muscles. You focused on washing away the dirt and grime, letting the familiar routine ground you.

Yet, even as you lathered soap onto your skin, your mind couldn't help but drift back to Rafe, to the way he had clung to you in the darkness.

Another reminder that despite his tough exterior, he was just as human as any of you, with fears and insecurities that ran deep. And it terrified you, because up until last month Rafe Cameron was not capable of emotions to you, only violence.

You stepped out of the shower, the steam still lingering in the air and with a towel wrapped snugly around your body, you stepped back into the main room of the motel, feeling refreshed.

“Huh, good morning to you too.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, “Fuck!”

Rafe stood there, leaning against the doorway, something similar to a playful smirk at the corners of his lips as he watched your startled reaction.

His arms were laden with bags of groceries and a few articles of clothing.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you were alive in there."

You stared at him incredulously, “Turn around!”

He scoffed, walking into the room as he closed the door with his foot, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He said it so casually, it irked you. As if you two hadn’t been purposely ignoring that night ever happened. You shot him a withering glare, snatching a towel from the nearby chair and aiming at his face, full force.

"That's not the point, Cameron," you grumbled, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “And you didn’t see shit. I was dressed.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, catching the towel with ease before tossing it back to you "What's the matter, Maybank? You shy all of a sudden?"

“Will you shut up?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he leaned against the nearest wall.

There was no point in getting into a pointless argument with him, especially not when you had more important things to worry about. Instead, you focused on drying yourself off and getting dressed in the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

As you emerged again, fully dressed and composed, Rafe had already begun unpacking the bags of groceries, laying out an assortment of food on the small table in the corner of the room.

The sight of the makeshift spread made your stomach growl in anticipation, reminding you just how long it had been since your last meal.

“Hungry?” Rafe asked, glancing up from where he was arranging the food.

You nodded eagerly, making your way over to the table and helping yourself to a plate of fruit and plain toast.

As you ate, Rafe filled you in on his plans for the day. It was strange, hearing him talk so casually, without insults, without fear, or threats. For so long, you had seen him as nothing more than a spoiled, entitled rich kid, content to go through life on his family’s wealth and influence.

But ever since that night, you couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of respect for him. He wasn’t Ward.

When he finished speaking, you glanced up from your plate, “Sounds like a plan. Is your contact here, yet?”

“Nah, only tomorrow.”

“Great. So, we’re on our own for now?”

“Yeah, you and me, Pretty Maybank.”

"Hey," you began, your tone light as you tried to sound casual, "I've been curious—why do you call me 'Pretty Maybank'? Is there a story behind it?"

Rafe's gaze flicked up from where he was picking at his food. He seemed taken aback by your question as if he hadn't expected you to bring it up.

He shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted his voice casual but tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Just seemed fitting, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Fitting? How so?"

Rafe hesitated, elbows dropping to the table as he searched for the right words. "I don't know," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "You just...are pretty, Maybank, everyone knows that.”

You felt like there was more to the story.

“Oh.”

He leaned back, now sat in the old chair, “Might start calling you snoring Maybank though.”

Your lips twitched, fighting back a smile, “You’re not funny. At all.”

“Sure.”

You tilted your head, studying him intently. He looked like a completely different person from last night, “Do you feel any better?”

“About what?” He feigned innocence, avoiding your gaze, as his fingers started tapping nervously on the table. You knew what that meant.

You leaned forward as you reached out to touch his hand gently. “Uh—Y'know, last night, your nightmare.”

“Don’t,” Rafe's abrupt change in demeanor catched you off guard, his walls shooting up in an instant, his tone laced with defensiveness.

You straightened up as you withdrew your hand, a wall of your own rising to match his.

"It’s not important," he snapped,"Just drop it, okay?"

You recoiled at his harsh tone, the way he spoke down at you making you want to slap him across the room. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever demons haunted him in the night, and you knew better than to push him when he was like this.

But you were feeling inspired.

“Why do you always do that?” You blurted out, frustration taking over your mouth.

You needed some sense of security around him, and every single time you were close to getting it, he backed out.

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you “Not doing anything.”

"You always shut me out," You continued, words coming out in a rush as you struggled to articulate your feelings. "Every time. You say a few words, and then bamb, gone. We’re not friends, that’s fine. But I need to know you’re someone I can rely on, okay? You can’t be doing this. One moment you’re all trusting and the other…I don’t even know what the fuck you are. You can say no nicely, you don’t need to act like a dick.”

Rafe's jaw clenched, his expression turning steely as he locked onto your gaze, "I don’t want to be your fucking friend, Maybank," he retorted,"I'm protecting myself. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you're the one who needs to reevaluate things."

The words stung like a slap to the face.

You felt the color drain from your face.

"Protecting yourself?" you shot back, your voice rising with each word. "From what, exactly? Me?"

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Keep your voice down.”

You shook your head, standing up from your seat. He'd said the same exact thing before you got on the boat and you were tired of being pushed aside like a toy.

“No, I fucking won’t. You’re the one who punched me on that ship, your guards were the ones who shot me, your father is the one who wants me dead,” your lips quirked in a small, humorless smile, “And you want to talk about protecting yourself?”

Rafe felt himself flinch, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy.

"You think I don't know that?" he growled, “You think I don't carry that guilt with me every single day?"

His words caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face.

"You have no idea what it's like. To carry that weight, to know that everything you touch turns to shit.” His voice was probing, his eyes scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you want to run out the door. “And you—Shit, you’re just searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as everyone’s made me out to be. Newsflash, I am."

You let out a groan, the sound scraping against your throat. "I’m trying to help you! Are you stupid? Oh my god.”

"I don't need your help!" he snapped, standing taller than you, "I don't need anyone's help. I've been doing just fine on my own."

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, "Fine? Is that what you call it? Living on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, never knowing who you can trust? That's not fine, Rafe. That's not living."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly, “I don’t know how to live. I know how to serve, that’s it.” His grip on your wrist tightened as if he was trying to anchor himself, "I just...I can't."

Can't trust you, you think that's what he wanted to say.

“Right,” You swallowed, finding the carpet of the room suddenly all too interesting, “Good enough to fuck, not to trust.”

His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling away from your wrist as if burned, “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. Dirty pogue, remember?”

His breathing mirrored your own, both erratic, leaning in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against yours, “You think I’d risk my life for you if I believed that?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

“You have no idea," he breathed, “Do you?”

"I don't understand you."

"Neither do I."

Without another word, he closed the distance between you in a single fluid motion. His hands found their way to your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His touch seemed to tingle between tenderness and roughness, with soft, gentle kisses blending seamlessly with fervent, desperate ones, as if he was unable to choose between cherishing the moment and giving in to his desires completely.

You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It felt different from the first time you kissed. Less violent, less primal, more…intimate. Like he was trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words, everything he had been keeping bottled up inside, and you welcomed it.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can’t keep kissing me to avoid questions.”

"I know," he murmured, "It's just easier than talking."

You sighed, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled jawline, "It's wrong."

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching slightly at your words. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, and retreat into his shell. But then, to your surprise, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I know," he murmured against your lips,"But for now, can we just...be?"

You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, "For now, we can just...be."

Neither of you knew what you were doing nor the consequences to come.

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