Loyal to House Targaryen of King’s Landing and to the only rightful monarchs of the Seven Kingdoms: Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow. Italian. Redhead. My english sucks.
Absolutely! These two prompts are obviously best for fluff but I went angst 🤭 I know WHAT!? This is a peek into a universe I planned to write earlier this year and I teased with a moodboard (it caused drama because someone thought I was ‘remixing” aka stealing two other Jonerys fics, because of course 🙄) but I plan to return to it soon. Enjoy!
just one word | 68. “He’s four years old!” & 76. “Daddy!”
They all told her not to worry. Everyone said kids were different, they were resilient, and they “marched to their own drum beats.” Most people said that. It seemed to be the default reply, when she expressed her fear and her worries over her son’s development. They were their own drummers, they had their own tunes, etcetera. Except if that were wholly true, then kids would be doing things at all manner of ages and development stages. They wouldn’t follow a trajectory.
It just seemed that Rhaego had always been a little bit behind. A happy, bright baby, and a happy, bright toddler, but…she knew that his father’s death had hit him hard, even if he was so little he would have no memory of him. It wasn’t like he even saw him frequently. It just…it did. She did her best, but she really didn’t want photos of her ex-husband around the house. There was a single one in his bedroom, on his dresser, and that was it.
Even adding in the turmoil in his young life, Dany knew something else was going on in her son’s head. Appointments, specialists, and here they were, a few months into a new therapist. ASD. Autism Spectrum Disorder. Asperger’s Syndrome. “Don’t worry about it,” the doctor told her. “He will talk when he’s ready to talk.”
“He’s four years old!” Children should be talking at four, she wanted to cry, but her son didn’t. He just…didn’t talk. Not a word. He would point and smile and nod and generally make some sounds, but beyond that…nothing.
She stood in the stables one cold evening, not ready to go in just yet, watching from the corner as he worked with Rhaego. It had been something of a miracle when he managed to get her son to approach her horses. He had alays been sos cared and it made sense. Horses were big, unpredictable, and the stables were sensory overload. Sounds, smells, and sensations that most people didn’t generally like, let alone a small boy on the spectrum.
When she’d called to him, telling him it was time to go back up to the main house, she hadn’t heard him walking towards her, his little boots scuffing on the hard packed dirt and stone flooring, dragging along his ratty, nasty blanket he never let go. She had followed the sound of a horse in the ring, wondering if one of the horses hadn’t been put up for the night, and saw them.
It broke her heart, but made it whole too.
Her son, so frightened of the animals she had fallen in love with, had made it her life’s mission to care for, sitting atop one of the oldest ponies, an amiable, bumbling Shetland named Havzi—Dothraki for cat—because he would fall asleep anywhere and follow people around like a cat when he was a baby.
The little boy sat in the saddle, clutching the pommel, and made no sound as her--- Trainer? Boyfriend? Partner? Love of her bloody life? It was hard to place his role these days-- walked them both in small circles in the ring. It was so quiet, just the hooves plodding along in the sandy dirt they used in the ring, she could hear him speaking.
His Northern burr was always so soothing, lulling her to sleep some nights as he told her stories or they talked of nothing. It rolled, low and steady, carrying on the one-sided conversation without any concern. “See Rhaego? He’s a good boy, just likes spending his days walking around in circles and eating all the grass up on the hills. Nothing to be scared about, he’s as gentle as a lamb.”
Tears pricekd the orners of her eyes and she covered her mouth with her palm, watching them. Rhaego was so calm, steady, and his gaze fixed straight ahead, but she could see his smile, curving on his silent lips. He just seemed…free. She swallowed the dry lump in her throat, watching them, transfixed.
It might have been hours; she did not move. When he finally stopped, he waited, holding onto the horse’s bridle, talking to Rhaego, calmly, gently, telling him that he was going to help him get down and to remember to thank Havzi for letting him ride him today, and that they would need to take him back to his stable and feed him and brush him. Rhaego nodded and didn’t cry or scream when he got off the little pony.
And she watched, awed, when he pet the pony and then sat down beside him, as Havzi shifted and moved to stand in front of him. They engaged in some exercises, just a few minutes of them, and then it was time to take him back, the three of them—the Northerner, the little boy, and the pony—left through one of the side entrances of the ring to the stables.
She hurried to join, rubbing her arms briskly and approached. “Hi guys,” she called, laughing and reaching her hands to Rhaego, upright so eh could see her palms. “Look at you! I saw you! You did so good!”
He ran towards her, grinning and flung his arms up around her. She squeezed him hard, hauling him up into her arms. He was so heavy; he was getting so big. She sniffed and laughed again, so he couldn’t sense her tears. They always caused him distress. “You’re such a brave, big boy. Did you learn a lot?” He nodded and continued to smile, gazing lovingly at the man approaching them.
“Hey.” He leaned down to brush his lips over hers. She returned the kiss, still smiling. He gazed at her with such love; she sometimes couldn’t believe she was on the receiving end of such a lok. His gray eyes twinkled and he nodded to Havzi. “I’m going to put him up. Rhaego? Are you going to help me?”
Rhaego nodded eagerly and she set him down, patting his back. “Go on, wait, wait, let me take your helmet…oh, okay nevermind.” He squealed, grabbing for the top of the helmet, rushing away, not wanting her to. She sighed and watched from the other side of the stable, when Rhaego helped with the tack.
A few minutes later, while Rhaego fed Havzi an apple, she turned towards her Jon. My Jon, she thought possessively, and pressed her palm to his heart, as he wrapped his strong arm around her shoulders. “He’s doing so well,” she marveled. “I remember when he would scream at the thought of coming to the stables…youv’e done wonders Jon.”
“You have, Daenerys, he’s your son.”
And yours too, she thought, because after almost a year together, Jon was the closest thing to a father that Rhaego had. Even her brother Rhaegar, who lived and worked with them, saw him every single day, had always been his uncle. There was never a confusion in her son’s eyes, but she knew he saw Jon as the father he didn’t have.
She took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “He still isn’t talking,” she mumbled.
“He’ll talk when he has something to say. Talking is overrated.”
“Says the man who only speaks in monosyllables,” she teased. He had been silent when she’d hired him, so quiet, lost in his own world.
Jon grinned down at her, cocking his head. “I speak.”
“When you have something to say.”
“I love you. That’s something to say.”
She kissed him again, giggling. “I love you too.” Turning back towards the stall, she whistled to catch Rhaego’s attention. He glared at her, annoyed she distracted him from feeding Havzi. “Come on little cowboy you! Dinner time and it’s getting cold! How are you not cold?”
He shrugged and walked through the door, Jon closing it and latching it behind him. They all walked together from the stables up the winding path towards the main house at Dragonstone Ranch. Her gloveless fingers were freezing, trying to stay warm in the clutch of his hand in hers. Behind them, she heard Rhaego kicking at stray rocks and scuffing his feet. She stepped up into the house, calling out, “Rhaego, hurry up, we’re letting the hot air out.”
Jon took off his boots and shoved them in the cubby near the back door, in what was appropriately a mudroom. No boots in her house, that was the rule; gods only knew what was on the bottom of them. He spoke, as Rhaego brought up the rear, still goofing around by the stoop “You were really good today Rhaego. Tomorrow we’ll give Havzi a good brushing, maybe even wash his mane, does that sound like fun?”
“Daddy!”
It was just two syllables.
A shout.
A protest.
A name.
It was a word that all children said at some point in their lives. Usually Dada. Papa. Da. All manner of variations, but it was just a name.
Except.
Now.
It was joy. It was heartbreak. It was exclamation.
She gaped, unable to believe what she’d just heard, thinking she’d imagined it. “What did you just say?” she whispered, after an indetermined amount of time, staring at her son in the doorway, who was swaying side to side, not at all bothered. She dropped her boots on the floor with a clatter and fell to her knees inf ront of him, gripping his shoulders. “Rhaego? What did you just say?”
Rhaego turned his face to Jon and smiled, pointing at him. “Daddy.” He took a deep breath. “Daddy? Help me. I can’t get them.”
Every single word crystal clear. Complete sentences. The most beautiful sound she had ever heard, ranking only to the sound of his first cries as he entered the world. She swallowed back her sobs, letting go of him and falling to the side, watching as Jon said nothing, his face pale, and fingers trembling, helping Rhaego with his boots.
“Thank you,” he chirped, and ran off into the house.
Leaving them aghast in the mudroom.
She peered up at him, her fingers reaching for his blindly. “I…did he…did you…”
“Aye,” he gasped. He laughed and pushed his hand through his hair. “I…I can’t…Dany…”
They clutched each other, her face buried into his heart, sobbing. She released all the fear she’d been bottling up for four years, the worries she still had for him, but it was sheer relief. He was speaking. Talking.
He said ‘Daddy.’
She wiped at her eyes and hiccupped, whispering, “He called you Daddy. Jon…I…”
“He’s my son Dany.” He was firm. He cupped her chin, his thumb flicking tears away. He touched his forehead to hers, fierce, vowing. “He is my son.”
“He is,” she cried. They were a family. They had never talked about it specifically, but it was understood. She pushed her face back into his chest, clutching his hand, and he swayed in place with her in his arms as she cried in pure joy that the notion that everything would be alright.
This drabble is for @freesoulladyaic who requested it in the anger management universe. Enjoy!
Bloody fucking hells.
She couldn't believe it. Absolutely couldn't believe it.
She knew this would happen, she just expected it would be the Honourable Judge Jon Snow who would do it, not her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Dany cursed, spinning in circles in the middle of the Rocky Road to the Roaring River, which was the dumbest ride that the blasted amusement park actually had, but since her twins were still too little for the actual fun ones, it was the most entertaining option available to her.
All she did was let go of Lya's hand long enough to check her phone, which had gone off at least fifty times, the screen flashing with a photo of her sexy wolf in his boxing gear after winning a match in the annual Police vs. Prosecutors charity meet. The black and white photo of him ripping at his gloves, his chest gleaming with sweat, his dark curls riotous...she had to pause to take a breath whenever she saw it, and finally register that he had called her instead of texting-- also he had texted.
She snapped. "What?"
"Um, where are you?"
"At the entrance to that stupid river thing, Lya wanted to go again, where are you?"
"At the Loving Lion."
"What the fuck is that again?"
"Some creepy incestuous looking restaurant with those lion figures that look like siblings making out in the front."
"Why?"
"Aemon wanted to get another lion ice cream thing....um, can you meet me here?"
"Why?"
"Just do it. Love you!" Then he'd disconnected before she could figure out what the seven hells that was about. His voice had been strained, but so had hers. Because this was the day from one of those seven hells, probably the deepest one.
It was all because she had a series of interviews to conduct out in Lannisport for one of her big cases and the twins had been begging them to visit Lannister Land. She refused to give a cent to the corrupt Lannister family, so it kind of worked out that Jon had won a few tickets in a raffle thing at one of Rhaegar's gala events for the firm and he'd been invited to speak at the University of Lannisport law school about being a young judge and how he'd gotten there ("Just do your fucking job and odn't be a dick" was kind of his message). So, they'd flown out to surprise and treat the kids, while also making plans to commit self-flagellation and hurl themselves off the edge of Casterly Rock when they finished.
It was just the twins loved it and were so happy to get an entire day with them, nothing interrupting like having to have an emergency hearing at ten at night-- Jon had to do that during Lya's last martial arts meet-- or getting a call to bail out someone from jail-- Dany had to do that the last art festival with Aemon.
She just was freaking the fuck out because now Lyanna was gone! “Lya!" she shouted, panicking. She hurried down the path, thinking maybe she wanted to go on the ride alone. "Lya!"
"Can I help you?" a security guard that looked bloody terrifying with a scar on his face asked. He grunted. "You lose your kid?"
"No!" yes. She hesitated and ripped out her phone, turning a picture of Lya towards him. "Little girl, with dark curls, purple eyes, she's wearing a Winterfell Wolves t-shirt? Have you seen her?"
"Not many Wolves fans here>"
"That's not hte point!" She put the word out, her blood boiling, fear in her every step and breath. Oh my gods, she kept repeating even though she didn't believe in any gods, and if Jon's Old Gods were at all listening, to protect and find her baby girl, because she knew so many horror stories of what happened next.
The security guard-- Sandor-- called it in and she heard an announcement which sounded way too much like Tyrion Lannister to make her feel good at all, asking if anyone had seen a little girl in a Winterfell Wolves jersey and if her name was Lyanna Snow, to please report to the Family Reunification room at the welcome center.
She reached the stupidly named restaurant a few seconds later, seeing Jon frantically spinning around, speaking with someone who looked just as horrible looking as the other man named Gregor and he rounded on her when he saw her. It was too late for her to try to hide anything, since Lyanna's name had just gone out, and at the same time, they both exclaimed:
"I lost our child!"
Anger she tried to always keep well controlled began to course through her, warming her from the inside out, heating the fear to explosion levels. "You want?" she snapped at him, at hte same time he shouted: "You WHAT!?"
"I lost our child!" they shouted again.
Jon pushed his fingers through his curls; they went up into a giant frizzy halo, one she would have made fun of him for if the situation were not so dire. "You lost Lyanna?" he demanded, voice soft, deadly.
In the same deadly, threathtening tone, she replied: "You lost Aemon?"
She was going to kill him; Aemon was the easy one of their twins! He never went anywhere without holding their hands, was scared of his own shadow, and routinely needed to be pulled away from his sister because Lyanna tended to beat him up since he was so sweet and gentle he never fought back. She took sevel breaths, her fingers pushed to the bridge of her nose. She was going to cry.
Then she was going to kill ihm.
"Where was he last?" she asked.
Jon had other questions. "How did you lose Lyanna!?" he exclaimed.
"Shut up! Not hte time for judging, YOUR HONOR!"
Her phone began to ring, at hte same time Jon's did. They both looked at them and answered at the same time: "Hello?"
"Hey Mommy."
"LYANNA!" she screeched, positively apoplectic, while Jon was bellowing into his phone: "Aemon I swear to the Old Gods...."
Her daughter, bless her little heart, was completely calm, almost bored. "Uh, we have to call you. We're in jail."
My gods I didn't think I would get this call until she was sixteen. She exhaled hard, her shoulders slumping. It was exhausting, this parenting thing, she would rather be arguing a case before her husband. "Alright, darling, where are you? Is there an adult?" The phone scuffled and a bored voice took on the phone. She didn't wait for introductions. "Where are my children?!"
"Lost and found, Welcome Center."
Dany didn't wait for anything else, shoving her phone into her crossbody bag and grabbing Jon's hand, dragging him away from Gregor, who got into a golf cart she couldn't believe could hold his weight, and zoomed away.
At the Welcome Center, she stormed through, people pointing in the correct direction and they exploded into a little room with plastic castles and lion toys, her twins seemingly enjoying themselves laughing and running in and out of one of the forts. For all her anger, fear, and embarrassment, she melted at the sight of her babies, the two of them the living embodiment of her heart ripped in two and meant to live outside of her chest.
She grabbed each one, ignoring their protests and attempts to wriggle away from her, sobbing and clutching. "Lyanna! Aemon! Oh gods! You're alright, you're safe!" She kissed their dark heads, inhaling their scent-- ice cream, sweat, bubble gum shampoo, and sunscreen-- a combination that would be disgusting but at the moment was the sweetest thing. She cried, grabbing their faces, checking them over for scratches, bumps, bruises, and basically anything she could find to try to sue Lannister Land because they were horrible. “Oh my gods, where did you go? Why did you run off? How did you both find each other?"
They glanced at each other, Jon immediately seeing it. "No," he warned instantly. He pursed his lips, ever the judge. "You do not get a chance to get your stories synced. I want to hear from Aemon first."
The weak link, she figured. Aemon sighed, Lyanna shooting him a dark, warning glare. He swallowed hard. "We wanted to go to the gold mine ride....so we...got away." They were freaking four-years old, they couldn't ride the gold mine ride underneath "Casterly Mountain" because they weren't tall enough, but of course they thought that it was becuase they just wouldn't let them.
Jon arched a brow. "And how did you think to get over the height restriction?"
Lyanna shrugged.
Dany narrowed her eyes; Lyanna was tall for her age, but.... "Let me see your feet," she demanded. She pointed. "Take off your shoes."
Her daughter swished her lips a second and then lifted her chin and primly chirped: "I want a lawyer."
Oh my gods this is my daughter and I love her so much. Dany almost burst into tears again, just so emotional.
"Motion denied, you have no rights in the Court of Muna and Daddy," her calm, collected Judge said. He crossed his arms, jerking his head to the door. "Alright, we're leaving now. Thank the Lannister jail people here for housing you in well maintained conditions. You are denied access to the river ride and you will not have extra ice cream."
Aemon pouted. "I didn't wanna'! She made me!" He grunted when Lyanna elbowed him. He spun on her and pushed her hard, knocking her sideways and then swung his foot out, in a perfect sweep, but Lyanna was too fast, jumping up to avoid it. She tried to swing out again, but Jon hauled her up, throwing her over his shoulder.
"Enough! Let's go! Naptime!"
"I don't wanna'!" she sobbed, although she desperately needed a nap.
As did Dany, she thought, sighing and nudging Aemon towards the door. "Nice kick my little dragon."
They exited the Lost and Found, thanking the creepo at the front Lancel for whatever help he likely did not actually provide. She wanted to get her babies back to the hotel as fast as possible, then preferably on the first plane out of the hellish West Province. She didn't like being near these Lannister people. Gods forbid Tyrion found out she had been at one of his family's money scam ventures. She shuddered at the thought.
They walked by the two security guards, the massive mountain Gregor and the scarred Sandor, who nodded to her, not saying a word, but a small smile pulling on his face, pleased she hoped that she'd located her daughter. She smiled briefly. "Thank you!
"Sure," he gruffly replied.
Gregor snorted. "Wouldn't need to help if you kept track. Stupid parents."
"Uh oh," the twins and Jon all said in unison.
She stared at him, her eyelids lowering to slits. "What did you say?" she murmured. Her free hand flexed at her side. Lyanna immediately let go of her other hand, grabbing hold of Jon's. She barely noticed, fixing on the man who must have been at least three feet taller than her. Size didn't matter to her. If it did, she probably wouldn't have married Jon, he was shorter than her previous boyfriends.
He must have been stupid, because even Sandor moved away, giving the other man a wide berth. He rose to his full height, snorting again; he stank. "Stupid parent. Losing kid." He guffawed and reached to tap his meaty finger on her shoulder, pushing it back. Behind her Jon inhaled sharply and Lyanna gasped. He laughed. "Dumb blonde girl."
Fire flared. She could not see anything.
"Say that again."
And he did.
--
"You owe me."
"I owe you nothing," Dany sniffed, gliding out of the Lannisport County Police Department, holding her plastic bag with her purse and other pocket items, along with a fresh t-shirt from a Lannister Land gift shop-- since hers was ruined and covered in blood. She lifted on her toes to kiss her husband-- and lawyer-- who just bailed her out of jail for assault and disorderly conduct. They wanted to slap on something called "Conduct Unbecoming a Person" but when Jon had a conversation with someone at the courthouse about Lannister conduct, they dropped that one.
In fact, they dropped all charges against her after Jon had some conversations. Dany was happy to spend her time in jail, attend her arraignment, and fight any and all charges against her as was the way of the Westeros legal system, but when her husband made mention of Gregor Clegane's initial assault on her person by pushing her and his general ill manner with a guest of Lannister Land, the company declined to press the issue.
He shook his head, amused. "I thought we had your anger issues under control, love."
"There's no control on my anger when someone accuses me of being a bad parent."
"Absolutely." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Let's get the seven hells out of this shitty province."
Dany tilted her face up, puckering her lips. "What are the terms of my release?"
"You never show your face in Lannister Land ever again."
"Banned from Lannister Land? Oh the horror."
He pressed his lips to hers in a swift, hard kiss, as they approached the rental car. He broke away, murmuring suggestively. "But we couldn't even try to make out on the Lion Twins Ride."
"That ride always freaked me out, those brother and sister twin lion cubs were way too close."
"Too bad, we'll have to find another theme park to fuck in. So I declare."
Dany giggled, climbing into the car. "Yes Your Honor.”
the next generation | 110. “Quit stalling, where is your father?”
Eep, this is a little late for @freesoulladyaic who requested the prompt in the all the world’s a stage universe. Uncle Viserys makes an appearance and Jon learns that it may be best to just go with the flow of his eldest child’s dreams instead of fighting them. Dany is not so sure…enjoy!
Daenerys Targaryen really hated Los Angeles, when she had to travel there. It was hot, smoggy, generally gross. It was filled with fake and plastic people, doing fake and plastic things. Good thing she wasn’t there. New York was a little better, but it was still too far away from home and maybe she had gotten old or something, but she did not feel the need any more to travel to the hubs of her profession, to throw herself on the altar of public opinion, and engage in the various necessary evils of propping up her image and career.
She would rather quit then have to fake smiles and laughs for pap strolls, with photographers running backwards in front of you to take your photo while you pretended they weren’t there, because she had to prove to the mass public how happy she was and how important and busy. Ugh. People could see through that shit.
Lya is going to be a trailblazer! I love that Jon is behind her ❤️❤️❤️ AMAZING! (Also… @magalidragon I was sooo greedy that every time I see the drabbles I jump up and down LOL )
Kind of a meet cute between Ghost and Rhaegal… Ghost waited for Rhaeghal to fall asleep to climb a top of him and sleep as well. He senses that Rhaegal cares for his Jon and he wants to see if he is cool. Rhaegal doesn’t really know how to feel about it, but the weird thing in his back smells like the new human he likes so much. (I soooo don’t know how to draw)
And we are back with the boating beans! For @moggett who suggested we check in on them while I canvassed for drabble prompts. 🤗 Also uses the prompt from @youwerenevermine with the quotes: “Why are you wearing my sweater?”/“Because it smells like you.”
Dany loved storms, the more violent and angry the better. She chalked it up to growing up on an island in the middle of a sea, accustomed to being battered left and right as the storms from the north-- aptly the Stormlands-- swept down into the Narrow Sea and Dragonstone before dissipating as they made their way farther south or over to Essos. Seven hells, she was literally named Daenerys Stormborn.
It did not seem, however, that her beloved enjoyed storms in the same way as her.
Nor did their darling daughter. Or son.
Which was most unfortunate, she thought, not minding at all as the storm rocked their yacht around in the Sunset Sea, a rather odd late summer storm surprising them on their big trip from Lotus Port up north to Oldtown. They had spent a week at their house in the Summer Islands and were going to take the yacht that Rhaegar had bought— “just because”— up to Oldtown where he wanted to dock it.
She was sure there was some sort of weird tax thing he was doing but didn’t ask. She’d look into it later. Right now she needed a break. The foundation had been going gangbusters and she’d been working so much. They were enjoying their alone time as a family.
Aside from the major storm.
They weren’t piloting themselves through it and the yacht was large enough that it wasn’t in any danger. She didn’t mind. If anything, she thought, peering out the window at the lightning cracking through the sky, this was a perfect evening to curl up with her babies and a good book.
“Babies?” she called, exiting the main living area and going down the corridor towards the stern. “Jae? Rhae?”
In the huge open area that had large doors which ordinarily would have opened out to the back deck, her kids were bundled with Jon, fast asleep and clutching him. Jae had her blanket wrapped around her like mummy rags and Rhae was in one of his swimsuits complete with hat. He hated the water but they couldn’t get him to wear anything else.
It wasn’t that though, which had her frowning. “Jon?”
He flinched when a howl of wind shook the windows. “Huh?”
“Why are you wearing my sweater?”
He glanced at the beige woman’s sweater he’d shoved his arms into. He pulled it tighter. “Um…Because it smells like you.”
“But I’m right here,” she laughed, walking over to stretch out on the couch with him, pulling Jae into her arms. He whined and pushed his face into her neck. She rubbed his back soothingly.
Jon shrugged. “You know I hate being on the water during storms.”
“Just face it, you’re afraid of storms.”
“No!” He said it so loudly she feared he would wake the kids. He hissed, catching himself. “I am not afraid.”
There was another clap of thunder, followed immed by a bolt of lightning and then another thunderclap. Jae cried out in her sleep, reaching for him. She got between the kids and him, so they were all tangled in a pretzel and each one was somehow touching her. Or her sweater.
It was a favorite, she’d been wearing it earlier on the deck. She chuckled and sniffed the wrist. “Smells like saltwater and lavender and sunscreen.”
He smirked. “It’s soothing.”
“You could have found me.”
“You were working.”
Unfortunately that was true. She winced. “Sorry, I had some emails to return. I’ll stop.”
“No big.”
She giggled. It was so silly, him in her sweater. Just to comfort himself. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“You can keep the sweater. You stretched it.”
He kissed her lightly, murmuring. “Then it will smell like me.”
“And I’ll wear it next time I’m scared.”
“I am not scared!”
She rolled her eyes, saying nothing, but her Big Bad Wolf jumped in spite of himself at the next boom outside. The rain picked up, hammering the yacht, and she leaned back as they all cuddled against her. Jon mumbled something again about not being scared, but she didn’t believe him.
It was fine, she thought, he could keep the sweater. It kind of looked better on him anyway, she chuckled, settling in for a long night ahead of them.
Here we go! Wanted to get this done so I could start working on my Halloween fics, lol. Enjoy :)
She leaped up, banging on the plastic divider between them and the ice, screaming. “No! Defense Qono! What the fuck!” The rest of the Dragons fans were also pissed, the Wolves taking the puck and shooting it back down the ice. She shouted in Valyrian, banging the partition again. “Our defense sucks!”
“Good for us,” he chirped. On cue the Wolves scored, sending the sirens blaring. He and Arya screamed, waving their Wolves scarves while Dany sulked next to him. He turned, pursing his lips. “Suck it.”
“Fuck you,” she said goodnaturedly. Another few sips of beer later, she looped her arm through his. “So how is your new house working out?”
He liked his new house, was just getting used to not staying with Arya and her boyfriend Gendry. “Good, Ghost likes it.”
“Good, I’m coming over to make sure you have food in your fridge too.”
“Aye mother.”
She laughed. “So when did Ygritte finally pack up? You didn’t tell me.”
Because he didn’t like talking about his wife with his best friend, while they had been married there had always been an unacknowledged divide, because he knew Dany didn’t like Ygritte— even though she tried to be friends— just like Ygritte didn’t like Dany. Not that she hid her dislike. It had been a huge source of their problems. He was going to answer her, when Arya jabbed him hard in the ribs. “Oi! Watch the game!”
“I am!” And also talking to Dany. They hadn’t had a chance to really talk, between his divorce and closing on the new house and work. He’d been on nights, more work for a trauma surgeon than daytime hours.
Dany chuckled, her hand dropping to pat his knee. He drew in a sharp breath. Seven hells, he thought, her slim fingers lightly stroking the denim before she replaced her hand in her lap. She leaned a little closer to him, her head almost on his shoulder.
He could smell the lavender in her shampoo, the faintest whiff of antiseptic from the copious amounts of soap and hand sanitizer they were always using, and the soft orange scent from her hand lotion. He moved awkwardly, wondering if it would be too much to put his arm around her shoulders.
Contemplating the pros and cons of it, he almost didn’t register her shriek, followed by a loud “Seven hells!”
I’m sorry this is a few days late. I debated if I should write you a one-shot or do this, but ultimately, I wanted to pay homage to The Friend Zone, which is my absolute favorite story from you. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend and I hope you like this.
If you haven’t read this story yet, click on the AO3 link and enjoy!
bad halloween | a smutty Halloween Jonerys fic | teaser
popping in from my vacay to tease the first of hopefully two fics for the 2k21 Orgasmic October Event hosted by @snowxstormworld ! Time to visit the trashy smutty messed up beans for a new holiday!
One of the doors was cracked open, a few flashes of lightning from the storm outside lighting up the dark hallway, resembling strobes. Like a moth to a flame, he moved to the open door, his heart pounding. There was no reason for the door to be open. He edged closer to it, lightly touching the old wood, nudging it. The hinges creaked ominously, and he peered in, recognizing the room as belonging to the Lord of Winterfell, back in the day when that was more of an official thing instead of ceremonial like nowadays.
He shivered again, very cold in the unheated room, the warped window panes rattling from rain. It was truly Halloween. "Freaky," he muttered, giving it another glance, briefly wondering if the room was haunted, and moved to turn.
"Boo!"
The shriek he made sounded like nails on a chalkboard, filling the room and bouncing off the stone walls. His heart stopped and he flung out at whatever the ghostly apparition was, a blur of white and silver, and he stumbled on the rug underneath him, falling backwards against the bed, at the same time the ghost leaped at him, knocking into him. He struggled a moment, until the rational side of his brain spoke, wondering: “This ghost smells a lot like Dany" and also: “Do ghosts usually feel so solid?”
He stopped, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and the lightning flashed again, illuminating the face of the ghost atop him. A beautiful, tiny, evil ghost with a smirk on her full pink lips, her violet eyes more plum-colored in the dark, and wearing a silky white confection of a dress with a huge metal dragon collar across the chest, holding two of the dress panels together.
It looked like a Dany, it smelled like a Dany....
Lurching upright, he captured the ghost's mouth with his, and she moaned softly, startled, and he sighed in relief. Strawberries, the faintest bit of whiskey, and pure joy. It tasted like a Dany.
It was a Dany.
"Dany!"
"Boo," she giggled, wiggling herself against him rather suggestively
I See You | A story for Jonerys Orgasmic October 2k21
Summary: Jon was looking for peace and quiet on his vacation, but he doesn’t find it when his step-father’s little sister shows up unexpectedly and he’s forced to share the house with her. Now he finds himself looking, but for all the wrong reasons.
Scribonia (c. 70 BC – c. AD 16) was the wife of Octavianus, afterwards the emperor Augustus, had been previously married to two men of consular rank, according to Seutonius (Aug. 62). This writer, however, does not mention their names; and we know the name of only one of them, namely P. Cornelius Scipio, of whose consulship. however, there is no record. By him she had two children, P. Cornelius Scipio, who was consul, B. C. 16, and a daughter, Cornelia, who was married to Paulus Aemilius lepidus, censor B. C. 22. Scribonia was the sister of L. Scribonius Liho, who was the father-in-law of Setus Pompey, the son of Pompey the Great. After the Perusinian war, B. C. 40, Octavian feared that Sextus Pompey would form an alliance with Antony to crush him; and, accordingly, on the advice of Maecenas, he married Scribonia, in order to gain the favour of Pompey, and of his father-in-law Libo. Scribonia was much older than Octavian, and he never had any affection for her; and, accordingly, he did not hesitate to divorce her in the following year, B. C. 39, on the very day in which she had borne him a daughter, Julia, in order to marry Livia, more especially as he was now on good terms with Antony, and hoped to drive Pompey out of Sicily. Octavian said that he divorced her on account of her loose morals; but Antony maintained that it was because she had taken offence at her husband’s intercourse with Livia : the real reason, however, was undoubtedly his love of Livia. Scribonia long survived her separation from Octavian, for in A. D. 2 she accompanied, of her own accord, her daughter Julia into exile, to the island of Pandateria.
She was about 86 when she died. Scribonia’s last known activity was around AD 16; when her great-nephew, Marcus Scribonius Libo Drusus, conspired against Tiberius she encouraged him to face trial and punishment rather than commit suicide, telling him, “What joy is there in doing another man’s job?” Drusus did not listen and took his life shortly after. Although Seneca disapproves of Scribonia’s advice, referring to her as “gravis femina; gravis”, meaning “dignified and severe" in an old fashioned Roman manner, modern historians have praised her as an exemplary Roman matron with the composure to sustain her rejected daughter Julia and suicidal nephew Scribonius in their tragic misfortunes.
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