wolf and flame | a witchy Jonerys Orgasmic October 2023 fic | day 7: witching hour
Here we go, I managed to get it in just before Halloween! This is for @snowxstormworld Jonerys Orgasmic October 2023, day 7: witching hour! Enjoy!
He reached into his cloak and removed a heavy piece of parchment, pushing it towards her with his gloved hand. She took it, flipping it open and staring at the ruins inked into the weathered pages. It was a map. A map she had been looking for, for ages. Her violet eyes flicked up to meet his piercing blue ones.
“You found it?” she murmured.
“In a way,” he answered vaguely.
She opened her mouth to speak when her nose wrinkled, an odd scent permeating through the smoke, sweat, and ale-scented smog of the pub. It was a scent she had only smelled once in her life. The worst day of it.
Wolf
Her lips curled in a snarl; in the Stormlands, Drogon screeched, turning northward immediately to be at her side. The fire sang in her blood and she turned her fingers up, curling them, drawing the candle flames near to her.
Except…this had something to it. It was cloaked. The wolf was trying to hide. She cocked her head, her violet eyes almost black, staring at Davis. “There’s a wolf here.”
Davos smirked. “I hear there’s one in the Kingswood. The local children tell stories. They don’t go there.”
“Wolves can’t survive long out of the North.” They were her mortal enemies. The ones who helped murder her family. She scanned the pub, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, until she paused, her gaze landing on a black cloaked figure standing at the bar. She narrowed her eyes, tapping her fingers on the table, fire burning through her skin, dancing from fingertip to fingertip.
The person at the bar was magical, but she couldn't put her finger on why. The figure turned, glancing her direction, and for a brief second, she saw a pale face, dark beard, and piercing set of gray eyes before the figure disappeared into a throng of people who had just entered the pub.
She sat straighter, one hand disappearing the map into her cloak, the other flicking her hood further over her silver hair; she had been here too long. There were some who were beginning to notice. This might be neutral territory for the likes of her, but Targaryens did not survive long in Westeros and it was best she get a move on.
Davos tapped his fingers to his lips, smiling vaguely. "You might want to canvass the Kingswood, search for this mysterious wolf. The children refer to him as the Big Bad Wolf."
"Well they're children, they're stupid." He shrugged, as if to give her that point. She didn’t like the fact that the wolf scent had been so powerful, but also so fleeting. She also didn’t like the fact she couldn’t tell what sort of magic the black-cloaked figure held.
It probably didn’t matter; this city was a transit point for anyone seeking access to the greater part of Westeros. She nodded to Davos, standing swiftly in one move. “Davos.”
He smiled again. “Search the Kingswood. You might find…something useful.”
Does anyone know what happened to @wolfmaid fics. I love reading Modicum of Trust. @ashleyfanfic @daeneys-stormborn @targaryensource @magalidragon. #jonerys #ineedmyfics #jonanddany
We would like to thank everyone who participated in the event and for making it such a success! It was so amazing to see such wonderful fics, edits, art, and moodboards for our OTP! Please be sure to check out the works listed below, if you’ve not already, and show your support and appreciation to the creators with comments, kudos, and reblogs!
bad halloween 2: the reckoning by @magalidragon
“Keep your eyes on me” by @tatticstudio55
Prequel: How Dany Got the Goods on Jon by @jellybeanficwriter
A ride during the conquest by @rhaegarblackfire
Between The Pages by @targsdaenerys
Blood of My Blood, Flesh of My Flesh by Nikita_25
The Woman in White by @muttpeeta
And Now My Watch Begins by @evax3
“I want you, no one else. We are meant to be together.” by @rhaegarblackfire
Ghostly Flames by @magalidragon and @youwerenevermine
Tentative Reflections by @targsdaenerys
Spank Me by @st-clements-steps
i’m too embarrassed to say i like it by @alwaysdaenerys
I wrote this in the immediate aftermath of the HOTD finale because: 1) I’m delaying going to sleep for some reason, 2) the table was so COOL, and 3) I just really am sad that the dragons died out and I don’t want to see it. Even if it’s still a few years off. Also 4) I love Caraxes my noodle boi. 5) Also I really want Targ Restoration. Enjoy!
Dragonstone reminded him of Winterfell.
Jon walked the corridors, feeling the same chill he felt when he was in the Northern stronghold. His home, he supposed, although lately Dragonstone was more his home than Winterfell had ever been. He enjoyed the warmth from the Dragonmont, exploring the caves, and when in need, diving into the sea to work off excess energy as they waited for news from the West.
He knew the win was in sight. They’d fly to King’s Landing soon. They’d take it and he would crown his queen on the steps of the ruined Dragonpit.
In his arms, he held the egg— one of three they had found— earlier than month, while searching the Dragonmont. He had been drawn to it for some reason, a blood red with flecks of gold. Even Ghost seemed drawn to it, sniffing it and sitting by the brazier where it warmed when it wasn’t with the other two in the incubation chamber in the Dragonmont.
The dragons in the walls whispered among themselves and he’d woken up to the whispers. He took the egg and followed the dragons, the firelight on the wall torches leading the way. He stopped in the entry to the Chamber of the Painted Table, pausing and peering in.
Torches hung on the walls and the hearth blazed, doing its best to heat the room that was otherwise open to the elements, a cold wind blowing through the wall behind his queen, whistling off the stone columns.
She was sitting at the head of the table— the North— a large ancient tome open in front of her. He walked in quietly, trying not to startle her. He needn’t have bothered. She lifted her face, smiling. “I heard you coming down the hall.”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“It’s no bother. I couldn’t sleep.”
Jon held the egg up. “I wanted to bring it here. Not sure why.”
Dany nodded to the hearth. She stood and walked towards him, taking the egg and kneeling, placing it in the fire. It glowed, so red it was blinding. He walked around the table and gazed at the book she was reading. It was all in High Valyrian, but there were drawings, the colored ink faded, depicting different dragons.
“Who is this?” he asked, pointing to an egg similar in color to the one in the fire. There was a dragon next to it, with an oddly long neck and an extra set of wings on his feet.
“Ah, one of my favorites. the Blood Wyrm. Caraxes.” Dany pointed to the Valyrian. “Last seen over the God’s Eye. He took down Vhagar. One of the casualties of the Dance of the Dragons. Riders were Daemon Targaryen and his uncle Aemon, son of Jaehaerys the Wise.”
Jon knew Caraxes. He knew all the dragons. He’d never seen drawings of them though. “You’re looking at histories of the Dance of the Dragons?” He didn’t want her to do that. This war of the kingdom would have a better end for their house. He didn’t want her to think of the other outcome.
“I was looking up the dragons. They comfort me.” She hesitated and shrugged, closing the book and carried it to a side table. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
As if on cue, Rhaegal cried out. He knew it was Rhaegal because he felt the tug in his heart and mind. He glanced at the carved table, running his finger in the groove marking Castle Black. It seemed so long ago he’d been there. That that had been his home.
“Do you want to see something…for lack of a better word…” Dany trailed off, a sly, knowing smile like she had a secret she was bursting to share, “cool to see?”
“Cool?”
“It’s an idiom,” she laughed. She walked by him to the torches on the wall, taking them down and extinguishing them. The room plunged into darkness by the time she finished, at the other side of the table.
He didn’t know what that meant but he watched, intrigued, as Dany crossed to the hearth. She reached in with her bare hands and removed coals and burning embers, placing them in a box. He frowned at it. “Where did that come from?”
“Under the table. I found it the other day when I dropped my quill. It was almost sealed completely beneath it.”
She scattered some candles in it too and dragged it back to the end of the table. He watched, curious, and was about to ask again what she was going, when she shoved the box of flame beneath the table.
And as if by magic, the table slowly came to life.
The flames lit underneath the dragonglass and stone, his mouth dropping as the flames traveled up the table, the grooves glowing red and orange, like molten lava. He gaped, unable to comprehend the sheer beauty of it all.
The entire kingdom floated in fire. He glanced up and it did the same in Dany’s eyes. She had her hands folded under her belly, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t know why we didn’t know about this before, it makes conquering even more enjoyable.”
He barked a laugh, his hand touching the table lightly. It was still cool to the touch. He shook his head, smiling. “Our ancestors were…something else.”
“Indeed.”
When he looked up again, he was startled to see her atop the table. She was kneeling at the end, between Dorne and the Reach. He didn’t have to ask and climbed atop the table. They met in the middle, somewhere in the Riverlands
On their knees, they met in a long, gentle kiss. Jon brushed his nose against hers, his eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks when he opened his eyes, to find her blinking back tears. “What is it?” he murmured.
Dany didn’t speak and instead pushed his hands to her dress, both of them tugging at the clasps. The fabric pooled to her hips and he looked down at her naked upper body.
And saw it.
It was the way the shadows fell over her breasts and the curve of her hips. He hadn’t noticed it earlier. He certainly did now. The shadow and flame that danced on the gentle swell of her lower belly.
He covered it with his hand, meeting her teary gaze. “A babe?” he whispered, hoarse.
She nodded and grinned. “Yes.”
At the same time they turned their faces to the fire, where the egg glowed. Their babe’s egg, he thought. He grinned and touched his forehead to hers. “This is…gods Dany.”
“We will rule the Seven Kingdoms again,” she whispered. She looked down at the glowing table that Aegon the Conqueror had used, that all the Targaryens used to plan their wars. “And dragons will own the skies again.”
Jon pulled her down atop the table, their heads somewhere over Winterfell and kissed her, vowing he’d do all he could to ensure that would happen.
dragonstone’s secrets | a Jonerys drabble (with HOTD tie-in)
I had to stay late at work and was like hmmm and before I knew it had this ditty down. It is similar in a way to a Dany POV fic where she goes searching Winterfell, but this is Jon at Dragonstone and has an HOTD tie-in but nothing crazy. Just a necklace and a name that I really loved for a tragic character that I felt so sorry for but it seemed to work. Anyway, here you go.
It was pouring rain, also storming, and Jon Snow was very, very, very bored.
He stared up at the ceiling of his bedchamber, flat on his back on the stone floor, counting the swirls of dragonglass in the ceiling's carved dragons. It was a pastime he'd started when he could not stop his mind and when he wanted to hide away from all the other things that called to him on an almost hourly basis. Besides, the floor was warmer because Ghost was curled up against him, snoring softly and occasionally kicking his back leg out as he dreamed of chasing elk.
In the distance he heard one of the dragons screech. There would be no riding today, he thought, and a very distinctive roar followed the thought as Rhaegal tapped into his mind. He chuckled and rolled onto his stomach, peering out towards the open archways from his chambers' terrace. He could pull the heavy curtains closed, but that would block the light, and honestly, one of his favorite things in the world were storms.
The cold, blustery winter storms in the North were never pleasant because it meant that the snow would pile up and they'd be locked in for some time until it could be dug out. He enjoyed helping as a child to do that but it grew tedious as he grew older. Now he could enjoy the screaming winds, the deafening sound of crashing waves, and watch the rain pour off the dragon sculptures' mouths like fountains without having to owrry about cleaning up when the storm passed.
He crawled to his feet, rolling out his shoulders. In lieu of the day's canceled activities-- no practices in the yard, no dragon riding, and certainly no meetings as the Queen had indicated all should spend the day enjoying themselves and <i>not</I> working-- he found himself wondering what to do. And wandering.
Dragonstone was older than Winterfell and like winterfell, it carried secrets it would only share to select individuals. And only on its terms. He liked to wander the halls and wonder about all the Targaryens who had stepped foot there before him. Before it became the seat of House Targaryen, it had been a trading outpost, and one evening while he'd been digging around in the cellar looking for spare weapons, he'd fallen straight through a concealed door and into an antechamber that had dusty old spice sacks and barrels that had to be at least 300 years old.
Maybe he'd find one of those today, he thought, Ghost padding silently behind him as they exited the room. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his breeches. It was odd to be without armor, but he didn't need it in the castle. He was in only a shirt and a light leather vest, belt low on his hips, no weapons weighing him down.
Alone on his trek through the corridors, he found himself going up a tower he knew he hadn't visited. It had a turret and long, spiral staircase that appeared to be without end. Ghost huffed behind him as they climbed, clearly not happy about the exertion post-nap. "Sorry mate," he apologized, but not really, because when he got to the top of the tower, there was a lock on the door. "Hmm," he murmured, examining it.
He wasn't completely unprepared, he thought, reaching into his pocket and removing a thin dragonglass sliver he used during council meetings when he was bored. He liked to just fiddle with it and keep his mind occupied. He slipped it into the lock and a moment later, it gave away, the door creaking open, hinges rusty from years of saltwater spraying in through a small curved opening in the stairwell.
Ghost sniffed ahead of him. The room was dark, glass shutters locked against the elements. He coughed a few times, dust settling in his nose. "What's this?" he murmured, looking around. Sometimes he encountered random things from Stannis Baratheon's time as castellan and they ranged from plain weird to gruesome.
It looked as though even in Stannis's time no one had ventured here. Or if they had, it was to use it as a storeroom. It was filled with boxes, covered paintings, and broken furniture. All of which had dragons on them. He remembered the Red Keep, when they finally got in to look at what the Lannisters and Baratheons had done, and despite his loating of all things Targaryen, it appeared as though King Robert had simply hidden away all the artifacts, armor and paintings left intact in chambers deep near the Black Cells.
He touched the top of an armoire, the wood almost giving way, rotten. He reached for the handle and tugged. It pulled straight out and the door came off the hinges. "Huh."
Ghost sniffed around some paintings, pulling at a tarp. He glanced over his shoulder and blinked, staring at the image of a haughty, square-jawed Targaryen with sleek silver hair pulled from his face. In black and red, with his hand on the hilt of a sword that he knew was Dark Sister, he recognized the face from the illustrations in the histories. "Daemon Targaryen," he breathed, forgetting the armoire and striding towards the paintings. He ruffled Ghost's head. "What did you find here, boy?"
He knelt, pulling at the painting, which broke easily from its rotten frame. There were more behind it. Targaryens going back almost to Aegon. He didn't know some of them. There were a lot. There weren't that many paintings in this stack, and he set aside a couple for future investigation. He was slightly disappointed he didn't find any of his favorite Targaryen. Well, one of his favorites.
Actually, his former favorite, Daeron. He also liked the Dragonknight.
He had a new favorite Targaryen now.
He stood and went back to the armoire, allowing Ghost to poke around behind a stack of crates. "I think we found some treasure, boy," he murmured, removing the other door and taking stock of what was in the armoire. It was old gowns, red velvet and black leather, with intricate embroidery and beading along the cuffs and collars. Back when the Targaryens were at their height, he thought. They were all womens' clothes and he grew bored, finding nothing of interest.
Ghost had climbed onto a stack of crates and was pawing at one. "What are you doing?" he mumbled, sighing. Ghost blinked and returned to scratching the lid. "Get down, let me get it."
He tugged at the lid, grunting with effort and falling backwards when it gave away. He pushed it up and looked inside. More random things, but this one was slightly more interesting. There were a few chests which he removed, setting aside. He took one, propping it on the crate and flicked the clasp. It was like a jewelry box, he thought, thinking it looked familiar to the one in his chambers.
Except it was no jewelry box.
Well, sort of.
"An ossuary," he whispered. He bit his bottom lip and lightly touched a few of the bones that were contained inside, on velvet cushioning that was still soft, despite the ages it had remained in the tower. He picked up one and recognized it quickly; if the shriek from a dragon beyond the tower didn't already confirm it for him.
It was a dragon tooth. There were a few of them, along with what he knew was a claw. And a necklace. "Odd."
He picked it up and stared at it, running his thumb over the ruby in the circular center. It was cool to touch. His eyes widened, understanding a second later. "Fuck Ghost. Do you know what this is?"
Ghost huffed; of course he did. He pocketed the necklace, locking up the dragon teeth and claws, and put them back in the crate. He rooted around a bit more with the paintings, checking them all to see if he could spot the necklace on one of the various Targaryens depicted, but none wore it.
He left the tower, closing the door carefully behind him. There was plenty of time to inventory all that that room contained, but right now he wanted to show this find off. He jogged down the stairs, dizzy by the time he got to the bottom, and took off, returning to his chambers. The bed was empty; which it hadn't been when he left, and he heard water splashing in the accompanying suite.
"Dany!" he exclaimed.
"Where the bloody hells were you?" came his devoted wife's complaint. She was propped up in the copper tub, her silver braids in a pile on her head. The top of her belly poked over the water line. He leaned over and dropped a kiss to it before pecking her lips. She wrinkled her nose. "You stink, what were you doing?"
"Looking for stuff."
"You're bored again."
"It's the storms. Look." He dropped the necklace in front of her, eyes wide, excited like a green boy with his first woman. "Valyrian steel. I found it in that tower in the east wing, near the south end of the castle. It's filled with stuff. Paintings and dragon teeth and claws...incredible things."
She grabbed the necklace, staring at it, her brow furrowed. "Wow...I've never seen Valyrian steel jewelry before...not even in Essos."
"I wonder who it belonged to." He knew that so many of the Targaryen artifacts had been lost to time and history. Blackfyre, somewhere in Essos. Dark Sister, up beyond the Wall. Aegon's crown. Her mother's crown.
She scratched her thumb over the disc, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't know, but...I think I've seen it before...I can't remember...a book maybe."
"Well, it's yours now."
Peering up, she smirked at him. "You're giving me gifts from your treasure hunts, Jon Snow? I'm flattered."
"I could give it to the babe."
"The babe is a boy."
"Nah, it's a girl." He leaned over again and dipped his hand into the water, cursing. "Fuck Dany! That's fire!"
She sighed, slouching down a little more and grinning. "A dragon does not fear fire."
"This one does," he mumbled.
"That's your wolf side."
Ghost snorted in agreement, coming over to briefly nose her belly and wag his tail. She reached to scratch his ears. "See, Ghost thinks the babe is a boy." He huffed again and shook his head.
Now it was his turn to smirk. "Hmm, a girl."
"We already know if it's a boy we shall name him Aemon, but what about a girl, have we decided?" she sighed, dragging her fingers over her belly. "I like Lyanna."
"I like Rhaella."
"There's plenty." She smiled sadly. "We could always do the female version of Aemon."
"what's that?"
"Aemma." Her voice grew sad. "Aemma Arryn was the wife of Viserys I Targaryen...she died in childbirth. She was the mother of Rhaenyra. The first Queen. Well, second, if you believe Rhaenys should have been queen first."
"As I do," he assured her. He never believed in the absolute rule by a male over a female, if said female was in line first. Or was better suited for the task, as was often the case. He thought of Arriane Martell or Olenna Tyrell. Seven hells, even Arya and loathe as he was to admit it, Sansa.
She furrowed her brow again, whispering. "I know this necklace. I can't place it, but...anyway...Aemma was tragic. She makes me think of my mother. Dying to birth an heir...and my father already had his male heirs."
He smoothed his hand over her cheek, brushing his lips to her forehead. "Your mother died so you could live, as mine did. Without her, there would be no you."
"Or you," she whispered.
He smiled sadly; it was unfortunate. Their mothers were probably the only ones that they knew nothing about. No one wrote about the women in the books, always the men. He picked up the steel necklace from her and shrugged. "Well, whoever owned this necklace, it's yours now." He kissed her gently, nose brushing against hers, murmuring. "Queen Daenerys Targaryen."
She giggled. "King Jon."
"Consort. I hate that title."
"You could use your real name."
"Hate that name too." He flicked water at her and got to his feet. "Come, the storm isn't letting up. We can go explore some more."
"We can look for dragon eggs."
"Aye, let's go look for dragon eggs."
They didn't find any dragon eggs and Dany couldn't remember who owned the necklace try as she might to remember where she'd seen it, but a few days after that horrible storm blew through and the clouds opened to sunlight, she went into labor and gave birth to a baby girl they called Aemma.
We would like to thank everyone who participated in the event and for making it such a success! It was so amazing to see such wonderful fics, edits, art, and moodboards for our OTP! Please be sure to check out the works listed below, if you’ve not already, and be sure to show your support and appreciation to the creators with comments, kudos, and reblogs!
- Day 1 ☀️
✨ Fairytales / Mythology
fairytales by @magalidragon
beauty and the beast by @mariyanas
fairytales // mythology by @tatticstudio55
Alice in Wonderland by @youwerenevermine
The True and Harrowing Tale of Ser Jon the Dragon Heart by @moon-ruled-rising
Prince Jon the Brave and the Golden Apples by Alex_Stark
Enchanted Jon Snow by @filhadoboto
Once Upon a Song of Ice and Fire by @leesielex
- Day 2 ☀️
✨ Childhood Sweethearts / Friends or Enemies to Lovers
Bound to You by @moondancer71
Friends and Enemies to Lovers by @tatticstudio55
The Sweetest Summer by @the-last-targaryens
You, Me, & The Summer Sea by @the-last-targaryens
One Day by @firetrape
priceless by @magalidragon
A Summer in Greece by @amidstsaltandsmoke
learning you by @alwaysjonanddaenerys (snowflakes00)
- Day 3 ☀️
✨ Forbidden Love / Soulmates
Mamma Mia! by @moondancer71
Forbidden Love // Soulmates by @tatticstudio55
Romeo + Juliet by @youwerenevermine
A Place to Hide by @evax3
Believe me by @firetrape
“Why do you not love me, you who love me so much?” By Alex_Stark
- Day 4 ☀️
✨ Time Travel / Historical
Under the Same Stars by @arielchelby // featuring art by @evax3
Historical // Time Travel by @tatticstudio55
the time traveler’s wife by @mariyanas
A chance to live. A chances to see life by Alex_Stark
begged and borrowed time by @moon-ruled-rising
Shipwrecked with the Pirate AU by @libradoodle1
wicked words // part 2 teaser by @magalidragon
- Day 5 ☀️
✨ Second Chance Romance / Romantic Songs
Wild Love by @firetrape
You by @firetrape
Shivers by @moondancer71
Good Vibrations by @the-last-targaryens
The fisherman and the City girl by Alex_Stark
Romantic Songs // Second Chance Romance by @tatticstudio55
- Day 6 ☀️
✨ Arranged Marriage / Fake Dating
Proposal by @firetrape
Arranged Marriage // Failed Dating by @tatticstudio55
I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve by @alwaysdaenerys
- Day 7 ☀️
✨ Free Choice
Uncle Jon is Massive by @moondancer71 & @jellybeanficwriter
forever winter by @magalidragon
Summertime by @youwerenevermine
Free Choice 1 // Free Choice 2 by @tatticstudio55
Spank Me by @st-clements-steps
A Love Like Summer by @the-last-targaryens
Invisible Strings by @jupiterix
Inside Your Head by @evax3
Frost and Flame: You Got Me Almost Melting Away by @ashleyfanfic and @the-last-targaryens
The beautiful edit credits goes to @youwerenevermine
How to Flirt with a Queen like Jon Snow -Finale Update
Step 1) Challenge her: Whatever you do, don’t bend the knee. Be defiant & irrational as hell!
Step 2) Casually drop BDSM subtext into conversation
Step 3) Be Mysterious : Just when your wingmam builds up your backstory, stop him as he is about to disclose the most intriguing information about you. A little something for her to think about when you’re not around.
Step 4) Casually throw in your man-pain into the mix during casual chit chat as you brood and sombrely stare in the distance. Sun setting over the sea in the backdrop helps the aesthetic.
Step 5) Take her to a pretty cave. Girls love dimly lit caves for first dates.
Step 6) Introduce her to your hobbies and interests, which in your case is white walkers and white walkers alone. Couples who nerd out together stay together.
Step 7) Establish non-sexual physical contact to make sure that you’re welcome in her personal space.
Step 8) Tell her you believe in her when she comes to you with a problem. She wants someone to listen, not to problem solve.
Step 9) The key to every single mother’s heart is, gain your future step childrens’ trust. Since her kids are literal fire breathing dragons who could kill you, it’s high risk, high reward. But if you succeed…Boom Overies!
Step 10) When your competition tries to steal your thunder to impress your girl, activate full alpha male irrational mode. It’s a bad plan but it’s worth it because you found out that she fears for your life more.
Step 11) Leave her with a fearless warrior’s goodbye, like the smooth talking bastard you are and hope that she misses you half as much as you did when you waited for her at the cliff daily hoping she would return safely from battle.
Step 12) Oh shit she flirted back. Shit…shit…shit…you weren’t prepared for this. Be cool, Jon! Quick, say something normal and Kingly.
Step 13) No situation is too dire to not check in and send a raven to bae, even when a hoard of ice zombies are chasing you. Especially, when a hoard of ice zombies is chasing you, because now that your jealous alpha male daze has passed, you can see that your plan sucks and only bae can save the day.
Step 14) Admire her badassery when she literally descends from the sky on a firebreathing dragon like the angel of death here to save you in your most hopeless moment. Congratulations! You now know how much she loves you. If you are the shortest person in the squad, shove them aside to check out bae.
Step 15) Don’t miss the opportunity to put your heroics on display. If you swing your sword like a total badass, maybe she’ll want to hold your other sword later.
Step 16) Even while dying of hypothermia flex your chest and abs when she’s looking. Gotta be hot and mysterious with those scars until your dying breath.
Step 17) Comfort her as she grieves, apologise for the plan that caused her great loss and most of all now that she’s all in, bend the fucking knee already.
Step 18) Come up with a cute an endearing nickname for her and casually slip it into conversation.
Step 19) Now that you know she has triggering memories of that nickname, settle for her greatest kink instead.
Step 20) Did she just hold your hand? Yes! It really is her greatest kink! Now that you are on on a winning streak like the smooth bastard you are and there’s solid hand holding action going on, don’t let go. Hold on tighter and look at her with those longing direwolf puppy eyes and beg her to stay. You might be at the brink of death but you’ve died before, no big deal, you can muster the strength to bone.
Step 21) Well how about that you horny idiot? You read all the signs wrong! Now is not the time, she’s grieving. Close your eyes to escape this awkward situation before you die of embarrassment and pretend to sleep. You’re doing great sweetie.
Step 22) Declare your loyalty to her at the least opportune time. It might seem ill advised, but you’re not here for politics, you’re here to look sexy in your furcoat & turn on your woman.
Step 23) Now that she’s completely onboard with your zombie killing interests, learn more about her heritage & culture. ‘Couples who nerd out together, stay together’ is a two way street. Gotta learn everything about Dragons & High Valarian quotes.
Step 24) You’ve been a defiant & unimpressed bad boy all this time but in her most hopeless moment, confess how amazing she is in your eyes.
Step 25) As someone who has come back to life even though the witch performing the ritual didn’t believe she could do it, you dont buy into magic birth control setup by low level witches. Slip your ability to impregnate her casually into conversation.
Step 26) Invite her on your boat, nothing sets the room like a romantic cruise.
Step 27) Come on Jon, you’ve fought zombies! Don’t be afraid to ride the dragon…knock on her door already & just barge in like the smooth & take charge bastard you are.
Step 28) Take a moment to really appreciate & let it sink in that you actually are balls deep in your Queen. You did it Jonny boy! You do know some things ;)
Dany’s version - How to flirt with a King like Daenerys Targaryen
As requested by @itsteia & @thevagabondthoughts, Dany’s version of Jon’s Stargaryen Playbook - The Queen’s Playbook
Step 1) When the Lord of Light’s ancient tinder brings you a match, swipe right and send a raven to invite him over to your place for some solid knee bending action.
Step 2) Casually drop the kind of dirty talk that works for him, like how you have all the resources to kill White Walkers just lying there on Dragonstone.
Step 3) A fabulous entrance: Shine like a diamond with your perfected Dragon Queen persona. You are the most powerful woman in the world after all.
Step 4) No matter how thick he is, gracefully lay it on him that if he wants to take things slow, at some point in this relationship, there’s going to be some solid knee bending action required on his behalf.
Step 6) If your dad did something super crazy to his family, like maybe gruesomely murder a relative or two, be the bigger person and apologise.
Step 7) Honesty is the key to every successful relationship. Tell him about life experience, your troubles, your issues and your dreams but also be intimidating AF about it.
Step 8) If he still doesn’t get it, offer him a royal suite, a warm bath & supper. He deserves to be pampered like a King.
Step 9) Give him meaningful gifts which are precious to him without expecting anything in return. He’s not your average gold digger, he’s a Drogonglass digger! So just casually give him all your dragonglass mines.
Step 10) But also be super chill & Queenly about it… Like you aren’t even thinking about checking him out as he walks away.
Step 11) Get to know him. Take interest in his hobbies and interests - dragonglass, caves, ice zombies, fighting & ancient cave paintings featuring those interests. He might be a weirdo, but he’s your weirdo now!
Step 12) Now that he’s shown you some proof of these ice zombies he keeps raving about and he’s looking at you with those big brown direwolf puppy eyes, promise to protect him and his people.
Step 13) But close the distance, speak in a low sultry voice and hope that in this intimate dimly lit setup, he finally understands that now it’s his turn to bend the knee & explore your cave.
Step 14) Stop messing around and call him a ‘King’ in your sexiest voice.
Step 15) Casually invite him into your inner circle, when diplomats are failing you, seek your King’s counsel. #Power Couples Rule
Step 16) Introduce your kids to him now that you are getting serious about him to check if he fares well with children.
Step 17) Subtly try to ask him to take his shirt off. You know, for science, or whatever…nothing fishy here, you’re just curious about how he survived a knife to the heart.
Step 18) Make him jealous when he’s playing too hard to get. You have options, he needs to know that!
Step 19) Shit, jealousy backfired! You didn’t expect him to be this suicidal and competitive. Quick, find the words to express your heartfelt concern for his safety. Whatever you do Dany, don’t say something Queenly…
Step 20) Now that you don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, look at him longingly & let the Queenly mask fall. Come on sweetie, feelings aren’t that hard.
Step 21) When bae needs you, strap on your prettiest coat, get on your dragon and it’s ride or die to save his suicidal ass.
Step 22) You not only lost your child but also your future husband. What’s even the point of anything anymore? Stare into the abyss of the snow covered white waste hoping by some miracle he comes back to you.
Step 23) He returned from the dead & after seeing his sexy scars, you know he’s quite literally done that too. You love & admire him, stop fighting it & take your time sailing back to stay by his bedside as he recovers instead of flying.
Step 24) Now that he evoked your greatest kink & called you his queen, make the move, but in a totally chill & ladylike way.
Step 25) Oh he wants to bone? Right now? This escalated quickly! Since he’s a King in a world obsessed with producing heirs, be completely honest about the future and leave him to decide what he wants when he’s less horny.
Step 26) Now that you’re less angry & more turned on by his public declaration of loyalty for you at the worst possible moment, drop some sexy Valarian quotes on him & show him what a worldly & unburnt last dragon you are!
Step 27) After this magically undead man challenged the legitimacy of your birth control curse, give him a chance to help you make an heir.
Step 28) Make up a totally lame reason to once again take slow transit with him instead of flying so that you can get this “military alliance” successfully up and running, if you know what I mean ;)
Congratulations, the knee is finally bent in the way you wanted it!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 4/10
Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Characters: Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, Missandei, Grey Worm, Davos Seaworth, Arya Stark, Sansa Stark, Bran Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Varys (ASoIaF)
Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff, Some Angst but I mean…it’s us, time travel-ish?, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, We leave canon behind after 7.03, Smut, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon Snow’s Parents
Series: Part 2 of From Time to Time
Summary:
This story picks up where ‘Remember the Time’ left us - Daenerys struggles to make sense of the things she has seen, and whether they ought to be believed, as we move through the events of Season 7 and venture well outside the lines of canon.
As a “hey I’m sorry I’ve been gone and all that stuff”, here is a little tease to something I have been working on for the @snowxstormworld Jonerys Summer Event! I hope it will at least have one chapter done by then! And I actually posted the moodboard exactly one year ago 😂 It’s here
Jon gasped, eyes springing open, the water gone, the image of the girl he'd been swimming towards gone, and the person looking down at him happened to not be a person exactly, but the face of a scowling girl, with pinched silver brows and a wrinkled button nose. Her lips were in a tight line and if he was seeing correctly-- he might not have been as he blinked away sleep-- her eyes were a shade of violet he'd only ever seen in books or movies.
He flailed, gathering his bearings, and recognized the water around him wasn't water, but the salty morning air off the Narrow Sea, and he was asleep on a bench, with his backpack under his head for a pillow and the little wolf puppy he'd found abandoned in a tree stump near the Riverlands sitting atop his chest, licking his chin and waiting for breakfast scraps. He glared up at the girl, who had unceremoniously awoken him from his rather nice dream. "What the seven hells? Who are you?"
"Who are you?" she retorted. She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning back on her leg. It was a pose meant for an angry mother, not a little girl, and she snapped at him, "You're asleep on a bench outside my house. I get to ask the questions."
Who was this girl? He sat up carefully, holding the pup he'd named Ghost to his chest to keep from falling off, but the little traitor was scratching his chest, straining his neck towards this girl. She tried not to smile at the pup, keeping her face on him, pretending to be fierce. "I'm no one," he muttered. That's what they told him all the time in Winterfell.
She cocked her head, her face softening, lips pursing into concern rather than disdain. "How old are you?"
"What's it matter?" he demanded, immediately defensive. "You gonna' turn me in?"
"No. I've always wanted to meet a runaway." She held her hand out. "Dany."
"That's a boy's name."
"It's my name. Daenerys, if you prefer." She smirked, arms going across her chest again. "But something tells me that might be too hard for a Northern boy to say."
He glared, his gray eyes flashing silver in annoyance. "I can say it."
"So say it."
"Daenerys," he retorted, putting emphasis on each syllable, mocking her. She chuckled, shrugging as if to say 'well played.' He set Ghost on the ground and the pup scampered to her feet, licking her toes. She was barefoot on the pier's hot wooden planks. In fact, she was dressed only in a purple one-piece bathing suit and a pair of cutoff jean shorts, her hair-- indeed, silver-- knotted in braids behind her head. There were purple sunglasses holding the braids back from her face, perched atop her head. Another glance down at Ghost licking her feet and he noted purple was also the color of her nail polish.
Daenerys-- Dany-- cocked her head. "You shouldn't be sleeping on a bench," she chasisted. Her arms fell to her sides. "Come on."
"You're not turning me in?" He couldn't believe he hadn't been cuaght by security. Part of why he'd stowed away on the ferry from King's Landing to Dragonstone was because he wanted to get on a ship out to Essos, but on Dragonstone, well...he was as far away from the North as he could be and he knew no Northerner would dare set foot on an island purported to be inhabited by dragons. They were a superstitious untrustworthy lot. Not even Ned would come this far in looking for him, if he even gave a shit.
She waved her hand, snorting. "Naw, I don't care. But you're asleep in front of my house and I want you gone before my brother finds you. He might call you in."
"What if I'm a murderer?"
"You're not a murderer."
"How do you know?"
"You're like my age," she laughed. She picked up the puppy, cuddling him under her chin, squealing. "And you have this cute little thing! No way a murderer has a dog this cute."
He rolled his eyes; girls. "How old are you anyway?" he wondered, getting up and stretching out the kinks in his back from the bench. It was more comfortable than the ground, that was for sure, but not by much. He didn't fancy getting swept out to sea which was why he'd avoided the beach.
"Fifteen. You?"
"Sixteen."
A perverse shot of pleasure twisted his smile when she wrinkled her nose, obviously annoyed he had her beat. She pursed her lips. “What are you doing here?”
“None of your business.”
“Kinda is because I could report you for trespassing.”
“Dock is public.”
“Not this dock.” She pointed to a sign posted above the bench beside his. He read it, scowling.
BALERION PROPERTIES, LLC
NO TRESPASSING AFTER DARK
“Balerion?” he read. “That’s a dragon.”
Her ego, if possible, swelled. “The biggest dragon known to man. Aegon the Conqueror was his rider.” He knew all that, but still didn’t really answer his question. The girl stretched her arms around herself, jerking her head to the big building behind them. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
He stiffened, voice soft. “You aren’t turning me in?”
She snorted. “No, not if you come with me.” She set off, marching towards a large stone building beside the dock, which as he approached behind her, was older than it initially appeared, with moss and water stains creeping through the uneven black brick.
He cocked his head, noting that there was an odd shimmer to the stone. The girl, Dany, puffed up again. “Dragon glass. It’s all over the island.”
“Cool.” He was fascinated by old things, especially ones that you had to dig out of the ground. At the top of the steps to the main entrance, he lightly touched the stone. It was cold. “Wow,” he murmured.
“Come on!”
Seven hells she was annoying. Jon ground his teeth and followed the little queen, lest she burn him alive or something.
Hello Anon! This took forever but here you go! I chose the two prompts that weren’t covered by other asks. Enjoy! It’s a bit 🔥🔥🔥 🫢
4. Things you said over the phone; 31. Things you said right before goodbye
"I'm so old."
"You are not."
"Do you know how young these kids are out here? I'm old. I have to spend ten times as long in the ice baths and on the massage table." It was highly unlike Jon to whine or mope about his age— he was only 25– or his injuries, or his growing internal fear that he was being passed by younger, sharper swimmers. Dany understood it in her bones, as an 'ageing' athlete herself, but Jon had not lost a down-to-the-second important swim yet. When it was clutch time, when it counted, he was on it, better than any one in his field.
It had been bothering him, the upcoming trials for Meereen 2024, and unfortunately for them both, she was across the continent for her own Olympic trials. That meant they couldn't engage in their superstitious activity. She had remedied the problem by engaging FaceTime and the nifty little stand for her iPad that Missandei had purchased for her so she could watch cooking videos while in the kitchen. Then she’d shown Jon just exactly what she had wanted him to do to her if he were there, but with her own fingers and the vibrator she had christened “Little Jon.”
It wasn't the same, but it would have to do.
She reclined back on her hotel room bed, her iPad propped on her knees, watching the frustration on his face. Honestly, she thought it would help but Jon was more superstitious than she had realized, despite his own engagement in the joint session. She knew he wasn’t that into it though— he hadn’t come nearly as hard as her— plus he’d been too worried that Davos or someone would knock on his hotel room door and interrupt.
They might have to “fuck” one more time before she disconnected, she thought. Perhaps that would work for him. Her morning was jam-packed, she had to be awake bright and early for morning training and then press. Jon was up earlier— his first heats were in the morning.
At least her trials only lasted two days. His trials were a week long.
“I’ll see you Wednesday,” she said, trying to cheer him up.
He huffed, slumping in his bed, his skin still shining with sweat from their exertive session. He made a face. “Not soon enough.”
“Jon I don’t know what to tell you.” Now she was getting mad. She scowled. “We have to realize we can’t fuck all the time before our meets.”
“I know!”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t done a million times before only now you get to look at this— “ she paused to run her hand over her flat belly and back up to her breast, palming it lightly. “— while you do it.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I know.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“It’s not the same.”
Now she was getting angry. “You are worse than a teenage girl!”
“What’s that supposed to mean!?”
“Means I’m doing what I can and no matter what you’re being a dick about it!” She was so pissed at him. She rolled her eyes. “I tried, okay? It’s a silly superstition!”
“But it’s our superstition!”
“You are being unreasonable!”
He was quiet for a moment and then spoke, voice cold. “I have to get up early. Good night Dany.”
She scowled. “Good night Jon.” She jammed her finger angrily on the red phone to hang up on him and threw her iPad aside, harumpfing and slumping into her pillows. “Asshole,” she grumbled. She got up and went to shower, taking care of herself again since Jon clearly wasn’t going to help even a thousand miles away.
When she finished, not at all satisfied and annoyed that that was how they had hung up on each other, she got back into bed and forced herself to go to sleep. She had a big day tomorrow, even if Jon was being stupid about it all.
Forget him, she thought, punching her pillow angrily.
The following morning she felt worse than she had been the night before. The old adage “never go to bed angry” was really screaming at her “told you so!” as she prepped for the first rounds of trials. It was vault and beam today for her.
She ignored everyone around her and got in the zone, headphones on and listening to eardrum busting rap to block out and focus. She stretched, warmed up, practiced, and did her press conference. Even that went well until the final question, called from a journalist from the North.
“As I understand it, it appears Jon Snow has pulled out of the 400 meter freestyle and the 400 butterfly today at the Northern swim trials, do you have any comment?”
Dany ran her tongue over her teeth, irked. “Why would I have a comment on the Northern swim trials when this is the Dragonstone gymnastics trials,” she chuckled. She tried to play it off, seeing Missandei- her new manager- out of the corner or her eye gesturing for her to shut it down. She shrugged. “Perhaps you are at the wrong event.”
She moved to get up, when the reporter called out again, “Rumor has it he ended it because he’s too burnt out flying back and forth to Kings Landing to train up in the North.” There was a d’instinct accusation. “Because of you.”
“Jon Snow is a big boy he can handle himself.” She was pissed more now bevause his stupid fan base in the North had decided to blame her again for his crap. He took a year off and it was her fault. He moved to train in Kings Landing and that was her fault too. Now he was pulling out of some event at trials and it was her fault.
She was shaking, furious with him and herself for being rattled and brushed Missandei aside. “Forget it.”
“Did you guys get in a fight?”
“What!?” She spun around. “How did you know that?”
Missandei smiled. “The Internet. Jon gets extra pissy in public when you two fight. He was spotted at the airport in the Riverlands almost coming to blows with a photographer.”
She scowled. “We got in a fight. He’s being stupid about the whole sex superstition thing. I did what I could.”
“He’ll get over it. I can’t have you rattled.”
“I know. I need to chill.”
It didn’t matter. She had one of the worst vaults of her life when it was her turn, several hours later. As she walked down the side, her cheeks— face and ass— flaming from her sit-down, underrotated and shitty fucking Amanar, she closed her eyes and did her best to regroup.
Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.
All these people wanted her to fail. She was too famous, too old, too “bad girl.” They wanted the up and coming, perky, innocent and glitter encrusted children to be their champions.
Dany reached the end of the mat, to go again. Her second chance. This one was her last chance too. Two vault, then she had to move on. She dusted her hands, making sure her braces were tight. A Yurchenko Double Pike. She’d done it before, with minor deductions. “You can do this, it’s just a stupid superstition,” she muttered to herself in Valyrian.
She walked up the starting point and lifted her arm to wave, flashing a bright smile, fake as could be. When she turned to brace herself for her run, she paused, out of the corner of her eye seeing movement on the side of the performance stage.
It was Jon.
What the fuck!?
Dany had no time to process his appearance, looking a mess, face tired and in a Dragonstone warm up jacket as he stood beside Missandei. The light went green and she took off, sprinting down the mat and to the vault, her entire mind blank save the task at hand.
She handsprung off the vault platform, forcing her tiny body into the twist and pike, spotting her landing. When her feet hit the cushion, she locked her legs and steadied herself, arms outstretched above her head.
Cheers filled around her and she exhaled hard, eyes closing. She walked off the mats and hopped down, Missandei handing her her jacket. Jon stood awkwardly near her. “Hey,” he called.
“Hello,” she said. She nodded to the scoreboards. “Have to get my score.”
“Aye. Might want to do that.”
Dany scowled at him. “What are you doing here? You blew off a day of events!”
“My weakest events. It’s fine. I had to talk to you.”
“That’s what phones are for!”
“This couldn't be done on the phone!”
Acutely aware of people staring at them, she pointed to the door heading to the warm up rooms. "Get in there." They were going to be all over the gossip blogs anyway, but at least she could try to make it less obvious what was actually going on. She shoved her feet into her Uggs and bundled in her warm up sweats, stalking after him, not even waiting for her score. She heard the cheers and assumed she did fine, but right nwo she was focused on what the actual fuck Jon was doing here and not at his trials.
She pushed him into an empty warmup room and slammed the door. "What are you doing!?" she hissed.
"I thought about last night and I...I'm sorry...I..." he trailed off, frowning, his shoulders slumped, voice weak, almost boyish. "I shouldn't have hung up after saying those things...before we even said goodbye you know? I was being foolish and stupid and...it's just...look I had plans and I didn't know that the Northern trials were going to get mvoed to the same time and it's been messing with me."
She squinted. "What are you talking about?"
"You know how they were scheduled for next month? Then they got moved up?"
"Yeah." That hadn't been that big of a deal. It was done rather last minute but only because the fact that no one thought the Northern football team would do as well as they did and need the arena for their match, so they bumped up trials. She crossed her arms. "Jon they made that decision like three weeks ago and only bumped it up by two weeks."
"Aye, I know, but I was gonna' do something now....at the trials here." He chewed on his bottom lip and raked his fingers through his hair. He sighed hard and shrugged. "And I wasn't focusing anyway and the 400s are my worst so I just said fuck it today and I'll get on a flight tonight and be back or the heats tomorrow afternoon for the 200 fly."
She cocked her head. "So what are you doing now other than just apologizing for being an asshole last night?"
"I didn't say I was an asshole."
"No I did, now what is bloody going on?" She was so frustrated with him and she had to get into the gym to work on her muscles so they didn't freeze up before the beam later. She snapped her fingers. "MOve it along Jon!"
"Fuck, for the love of gods Dany!"
"What?!"
He exploded, throwing his arms out to the side. "Will you marry me!?"
She stared, eyes wide. What? She arched her brows, stunned, and stared in bemused shock as he fell to his knees-- not one, but two-- reaching into his pocket and taking out a black velvet box. He flicked it open and inside was a stunning diamond ring with two sapphires and two rubies alternating on either side of it. She glanced from it back to his wide, terrified expression. "You could have asked me on the phone," she murmured, touching the ring with the tip of her finger. She smiled briefly. "I would have given you an answer then. Save you the trouble."
He swallowed hard, his voice rasping. "Daenerys, seven hells, this is more nerve wracking than competing in the Olympics."
She cocked her head. "You were upset last night because it wasn't about the superstitions?"
"Well...not really. My plans got messed up."
"I tend to do that to you." Their entire meeting at the Olympics four years ago was a messed up plan. She chewed on her bottom lip, pretending to mull it over. Sometimes he could be so infuriating. He was freaking out; his eyes so wide he was no longer blinking and she genuinely wondered if he thought she'd say no. She licked her lips and smiled, cocking her head. "Yes Jon."
"Yes?" he repeated stupidly.
"Has the chlorine gotten to your head? Yes, I will marry you, get up you idiot."
He laughed, leaping to his feet and flinging his arms around her, hoisting her off the floor and spun her around. She giggled, embraced tightly against him, her face buried into his neck. "Seven hells! I thought you were so mad at me last night you'd say no!"
She swatted him lightly on the back and pulled her face away long enough to find his lips with hers, kissing him hard. "No," she murmured, pulling back a moment and then kissed him again. After the need for oxygen forced her to break away, she looked down at the ring and held out her hand, which she was startled to see was shaking.
He slipped it on and she flexed her fingers; it fit perfectly of course. "Perfect," he murmured, gazing lovingly at her.
"Better than a gold medal?" she mused.
He arched his brows again. "Hmm....you tell me. It's your ring."
She giggled and shook her head, rising on her toes to kiss him again. "Not a chance."
They fell together, bumping back against the closed door. She reached behind her and flicked the lock, kicking a chair beside it down to help block. He pulled away long enough to mutter— while also hurrying to take off his coat— “Need that good luck charm?”
“Well if you’re here,” she chuckled, helping him push down her warm up pants. It was hard, but they’d done it before, pushing aside the elastic leotard from her cunt enough for him to slide into her. She groaned, legs dangling at his hips. “Fuck Jon. So good. Hurry.”
He pushed her up on the door, hips snapping into hers. “I was so ready for this,” he mumbled over her mouth. “Since last night.”
Competition really did get them going. She dug her nails into his shoulders, her head banging against the door with each thrust. He shoved his hand over her mouth when she finally came, stifling her cries and she did the same when he came a few moments later. Hot, fast, and still she felt the same as when it was long and slow. All tingling and calm. Truly the best way to prep for competition.
She brushed her nose over his. “That will keep my muscles warm.”
“Happy to oblige,” he teased. He let her feet fall ba m down and framed her face in his hands after she adjusted herself. Love shined out of his eyes, his smile loopy. “I love you. Go show them an old lady like you can jump circles around them.”
She smacked his ass and he jumped, startled. She grinned. “Who you calling old, old man?”
When she went back out, several hours later— after she and Jon took advantage of the empty massage room near the medical unit— Dany felt relaxed and ready to show them even more.
After her balance beam routine flung her to the top, Missandei casually commented, walking backstage. “I’m shocked you didn’t fall.”
“What? Why?”
“That’s a pretty heavy rock on your hand there.” She winked. “Didn’t upset your balance at all.”
Dany admired her ring and grinned, searching Jon in the crowd and blew him a kiss. “Nope. Not at all.”
it must be puppy love is a favorite of mine! It was fun to return to my favorite neighbors/enemies-to-lovers and their silly dogs. This is set in chapter 2 of that fic, between when the puppies are born and they first smut it up and the vet visit six weeks later when Jon realizes his feelings. It's a smutty little drabble with some of their banter and also their sneaking feelings :) Enjoy!
20. Things you said I wasn't meant to hear
“How’s your baby mama?”
Ghost plopped down in the center of the kitchen, his muzzle wet from his water bowl, drool and water droplets forming a puddle near his paw on the floor. He had his lips pulled back, tongue out, and was “smiling.” He’d just come from the backyard, where Jon figured he was greeting Drogon through the fence.
The puppies were still in the whelping box with her, but they were starting to move a bit more, one black and one white, their little eyes opening and tiny yips tugging on whatever thing in his chest might be called a heart. He even thought they might have proven that Daenerys Targaryen had a heart too, when he caught her once wiping at her eyes when she’d been holding one. Like she was crying. Although she insisted she wasn’t.
He checked his watch, a little antsy. He was going to go over there if she hadn’t knocked on his door by eight. He had a busy day tomorrow; they had to get this thing going.
“I cannot believe I’m fucking her,” he said out loud, to no one in particular. He opened the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Stark Whiskey, a decent age, and two crystal glasses etched with wolves that he’d nicked from his aunt and uncle’s house last time he was up there.
It was really quiet in his house, since he’d flicked off his music after sufficiently annoying her. The weather was decent too so he had the doors open to the garden. He moved to shut them, in preparation for whatever might happen in the next fifteen minutes, whether he went to her house or she came over to his, when he paused, hearing Dany talking. “Hmm,” he murmured, stepping out onto the patio.
Ghost, thank gods, with his muteness didn’t bark and give him up when he moved a little closer to the stone wall that separated their gardens before it switched into a wooden fence. There was greenery overgrowing the wall and up the side of her house, despite teh fact he’d argued to have her cut it back. He leaned back against his house, listening to her; she was so bloody loud.
“Missy I’m being safe, stop being such a mom to me.” She laughed, high and light, and his toes curled in his boots, a smile pulling on his face at the sound. “Missy, you’re crazy. I’m not in love with him.”
He glanced at Ghost, pointing to his chest, mouthing. Is she talking about me you think? Ghost cocked his head, listening too. He was now intrigued and moved as close as he dared, not wanting to clue her in as he was eavesdropping.
“It just sort of happened, I told you The night Drogon had the puppies…yes, it was amazing.” Jon grinned, pumping his fist back in silent bragging. Dany snorted. “Okay fine Missy I’ll admit, it’s really the best sex I’ve ever had.”
He threw his hands up, silently screaming. YES! Fuck yes! This was bigger than he ever could have thought. Holy shit, he was the best sex that she-dragon ahd ever had!? He deserved an award.
Dany laughed again. “I mean, yes it’s great, but…I mean…sometimes it just seems too fast.”
Jon froze. Ghost drew his head back, almost flipping it upside down in confusion. He scowled. What the fuck was she talking about too fast?
“No, no not like that, he definitely has stamina, it’s just it’s like…he comes here or I go over there and then we have a drink and we fuck and yeah, his tongue is like…seven hells it’s like…it needs a monument to it, it’s the best ever, but I mean, it’s fast and angry and I like that, you know I do, and I like it with him, because he’s hota nd it’s hot and it feels so good, but sometimes I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind it taking its sweet time.”
He furrowed his brow. Sweet time? He took his time! He spent like an hour between her legs the night before, his jaw locked up! He’d brought her over twice in the meantime but what the fuck? He huffed and moved towards the house, calling out purposefully. “Alright Ghost! Get in here boy!”
Dany cursed in Valyrian. “He’s home! I’ll talk to you later Missy…shut up, I am not desperate!” She giggled. “Bye, I’ll talk to you later. Love you…no Missy I am not in love with him! Shut up!”
Jon shivered; love? Who said anything about love!?
He swept into the house, grabbing the whiskey and glasses, and with Ghost on his heels, left his house and stomped up to hers, banging on the door. She swung it open a minute later, her face impassive, not at all like she was throwing him under the bus to her friend, whoever Missy was. He held up the whiskey and glasses. “You want a drink before?”
She cocked her head. “I had a weird day, was kind of hoping we could just fuck.”
“Too bad.” He was taking this slow.
He was going to prove her wrong. His mad dragon queen was going to be eating her words when he was through with her.
After they had a drink– or two– he pulled her towards him, taking her mouth with his, kissing long and slow. When she tried to push his shirt up, he stilled her and pushed her away from the counter where she’d been tugging him back. “No,” he breathed, holding her face gently in his, blowing lightly over her cheek, pressing gentle kisses there towards her ear, before he gathered her into his arms and kissed at her pulse, his tongue pushing against it, eliciting a long moan from her. He pulled away briefly, kissing her again. “Not here. Upstairs.”
He took his time, kissing her thoroughly and picked off each piece of her clothing, bit by bit, and reclined her back onto the bed after he carried her up the stairs, still kissing her. Each time she tried to pull at his clothes, he stilled her and he forced himself to keep from just taking her, as much as he wanted to.
Gods, it was bloody painful, but he did it, dragging out each touch, each kiss, and teasing her up to her peak before bringing her back, only to do so again. Soon, he had her eating out of his hand, panting and crying out, his name breathless on her lips. He gathered her up after her first climax and soothed her a bit in his arms before he took off his clothes and kept her from grabbing at him, pushing her arms up over her head, taking her hands in his and smiling over her lips again. “Not yet,” he murmured.
“What’s gotten into you?” she sobbed, slithering against him. “Oh gods, this is killing me!”
“Maybe I just wanted to try something different.”
When he finally slid into her, after he thought she was sufficiently tortured from the slowness, he bit down so hard on his tongue to keep from slamming into her and pounding her into the mattress. He squeezed her hands, bringing them beside her head on the pillow and then let go to stroke at her thigh, lifting it up over his hip, moving slowly inside of her, each moan from her lips a satisfying ‘ha!’ in his head.
He took his time, touching her here and there as he kept moving over her. She tried to pick up the pace, but he would stop and wait for her to calm, before he started again. It was killing him too and at one point he thought he might have died from spontaneous combustion, but he kept going. He was sweating, he was holding back, his hair damp and his skin sticky.
Finally, finally, finally he let go and once he did, she was already gone, sobbing his name, her nails digging into his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life.
When they calmed down from their peaks, he rolled to his side and dragged her against him, idly stroking her feverish skin, sweat beading int he small of her back, and her breasts rising and falling rapidly as she gulped in air. “Oh gods,” she mumbled, lifting her eyes up to meet his. They were soft, melting, and she sighed, satisfied. “That was amazing…I needed it.”
Jon gazed down at her, unsure what he was feeling. His stomach hurt. He wanted to hold her forever. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Aye. Me too.” He bit his bottom lip, wanting to say I told you so! but he couldn’t even begin to think about how he had one-upped her and she didn’t even know it.
He pulled the covers over them, but even as Dany dozed in his arms, he remained awake, staring up at the ceiling, very disconcerted in these rising feelings inside of him.
Hi hi!! So I already did #9, but #12 is perfect to bring back the silent shadow beans! Enjoy!
12. Things you said when you thought I was asleep
It was silent.
It was always silent.
Jon lay on his side, staring at the alarm clock, unable to sleep. He wasn't sure why tonight he was wide awake. It might have been the full moon, the brightness of it streaming in through the skylights above their bed. He frowned, eyes narrowed on the damn thing, reminding him it was two in the morning and he should be asleep.
He glanced over his shoulder, to see if Dany was also afflicted by this strange bout of insomnia, but she was fast asleep, clutching her pillow. He shifted, sitting up slightly against the headboard, scanning the bedroom. It was summer and there was no fire in the grate, but the wolves were passed out in front of it, a blur of black and gray in their beds. He tossed back the covers, climbing out and padded from the room. He scratched his hair, sending it flying out in all directions, and peeked in on the girls. They were asleep too.
Maybe he needed a drink.
Dany always swore by some sort of tea. He went downstairs, not realizing until he turned from the cupboard that Ghost was with him. He signed to him. "Hello my shadow."
Ghost said nothing, turning and following him into his study when he decided that he didn't want any tea. He sat at the desk, fussing with some papers, thinking maybe he'd bore himself to sleep by reading up on the sanctuary's accounts. Except even that was not going to do it. He frowned at Ghost, slumping his chair, signing for no particular reason even though the wolf couldn't tell what he was saying. "What is wrong with me? It's not like anything is happening tomorrow."
He leaned over the desk, tugging a book to him on the eating habits of the Dothraki Sea wolf. He propped his head on his hand and started to read, sighing after a while. It was truly boring, but at least it was interesting. To him. He rubbed his face and moved to set it aside when a soft touch on his shoulder startled him sideways. He blinked, staring at Dany, who was in one of his t-shirts, her eyes heavy from sleep, her silver curls in a rat's nest around her head. "Couldn't sleep?" she signed.
He shrugged. "I don't know why."
She crawled up into his lap, lips pressing to hsi pulse, humming so he could feel it. "Hmmm."
Honestly, he couldn't remember if there was anything on the calendar tomorrow that subconsciously might bother him. These days even "those days" where he used to mourn something or otherwise just sulk off about it, he didn't think of them much. Perhaps he'd just had too much coffee today. He'd only had six cups.
Nah that couldn't be it.
He shrugged and signed. "Let's go to bed."
Getting up, he flicked off the light, and patted his thigh for Ghost to follow. She led him upstairs and into the bedroom, crawling back onto the bed. She relaxed back against the pillows and wiggled her eyebrows, signing: "I think I know of a way we can make you sleepy."
He arched an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder. The girls were fast asleep....he nodded to Ghost and snapped his fingers, Shadow popping up when Ghost nudged the wolf, clearly irked. "Out," he said, actually speaking. "For now."
Ghost swatted his knee with his tail, showing his displeasure at being forced from the room. Shadow bounced out, licking his hand and nipping after Ghost, probably off to climb into Alysanne's bed.
An hour or so later, finally a bit sleepy after Dany blew his mind and he hers, his eyes drooping shut, he felt Dany move over his shoulder. She lightly stroked his cheek and kissed his temple, her fingers folding into the sign over his heart.
I love you always.
He smiled, burying his face into the pillow and drifted off.
For the mini fic, can you please do #25 Jonerys set in the Daddy Jon ‘verse? 😊💞
Hello Anon! I chose my favroite Daddy Jon as I do not write the Daddy Jon triplet universe any more.
So we have springtime in the Bad Santa verse again :)
25. Things you said I wasn't meant to hear
“Dany this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“I highly doubt that, remember when I dyed your beer green for St. Patrick’s and you were pissing green for three days?” Dany grunted, her knee dug into his arse as she jerked the zipper up and over a sticking point in the track. She crowed in happiness. “There! All done!”
He was going to kill himself after this. Probably a drowning. He’d find the closest alcoholic beverage and just stick his whole head in it and inhale until his lungs filled with it and then it was over. Then he’d come back and haunt the shit out of her.
Dany peered in the mirror, adjusting her earrings, which were little dangling eggs, to match her carrot necklace and her pastel outfit. She even had on little lace gloves to go with her prim and proper springtime outfit. “How do I look?” she asked, spinning on her platform pastel green sandals.
He glowered at her. “Like I will never want to fuck you again. You look like a child vomited on you.”
“Oh fuck off.” She giggled. “You look adorable.”
“I will kill you.”
“Later, first do this for your daughter.”
“You know she doesn’t care. You know she would rather eat the eggs and the candy and probably has set fire to all the children that are out there right now.”
Dany opened her mouth to say something and then shut it, hurrying to the door and peering down the stairs, calling out. “Hey Arrya?”
“What?!”
“How is Rhae doing?”
“Wants to know how long this bloody thing is going to take because she’s got a date!”
Jon furrowed his brow and shuffled to the door. “My daughter has a date?” As she was only two, he wasn’t sure how that worked. He frowned, thinking it might be that stupid little Umber shit. At nursery he always was trying to peek under Rhae’s skirt. Thankfully his daughter could take care of herself and had pushed him in the dirt numerous times.
Dany nudged him. “No, Arya clearly does. Come on, let’s get this over with and then maybe I’ll let you take a peek under my skirt.” She wiggled her eyebrows and smirked, her voice dropping. “Because I might have some themed knickers that are decidedly not appropriate.”
His lips and other parts of his anatomy twitched, but then he remembered what she was making him do and how he was dressed and he steeled his resolve. “That is not going to change my mind!”
“We’ll see Jon Snow.”
They descended the staircase and stood outside the door to the garden, where all the children were set up for the springtime egg hunt, in celebration of the Vernal Equinox and Day of Rebirth. It had been Dany’s idea to host something for Rhae’s nursery classroom as she had apparently been accused of not engaging with the mothers and the rest of the families, so she said she’d do this and be done with it for another year.
He didn’t understand why it was his job to do this stupid thing now.
“No more dressing up,” he said to her, hissing between his teeth. “No more Santa, no more of this.”
She wiggled her brows. “But I do like you dressing up.”
Rhae came around the corner and froze, staring at them both. Her eyes briefly widened at him and she wrinkled her nose, letting out a frustrated cry. “See!” he exclaimed, reaching for his baby. “She doesn’t like me in this either. It’s alright love, it’s just Dada.” He fussed with her, kissing her face and speaking over her snuffles. “There’s no such thing as the Springtime Bunny.”
Dany gasped and Arya, who had appeared out of nowhere, cursed under her breath.
Jon turned and looked towards where they were focused and caught himself before he cursed. He waved at all the little kids, who were horrified and staring at him, some even starting to cry. A couple of the parents were glowering and trying to console their children. He cleared his throat and waved his hand, clad in the furry white suit that Dany had rented, which he was now sweltering in, with its stupid white ears and even a damn pom-pom tail on his arse.
He had even stupidly allowed Dany to paint whiskers and a nose on his face. And because apparently bunnies didn’t have beards, she’d made him shave. He was furious. He hated being clean shaven.
It seemed Rhae did too, because she kept hitting his face and saying, “No! No!”
Dany rubbed at her face and turned, going to the kitchen. “Well, no more hiding now, does the Springtime Bunny want a drink?”
He sighed. “Fuck yes.”
The kids he was supposed to entertain continued to howl, demanding if it was true there was no such thing as the Springtime Bunny. Arya chortled. “Make sure before you say things no one should hear that they aren’t in the vicinity, Jon!”
Jon didn’t care. He just wanted to find out now what Dany’s naughty springtime knickers happened to be.
34. Things you whispered in my ear (continuation of #22)
35. Things you said at the top of your lungs
28. Things you said in the dark
27. Things you said through a closed door
12. Things you said when you thought I was asleep
9. Things you said when I was crying
14. Things you said after you kissed me
10. Things you said that made me feel like shit & 11. Things you said when you were drunk
18. Things you said when you were scared (continuation of #10&11)
20. Things you said that I wasn't meant to hear
Okay oh wow didn't realise I got this many prompts. Thanks guys for all your asks! It was really fun ❤ let's do this again some other time with other prompts 🤗
Hello! Thank y ou so much for the ask/prompt! I chose anger management for this one, because it seemed to fit perfectly with those fighting beans. Enjoy!
2. Things you said through your teeth
He’s going to divorce me.
There was no way around it. How else could they survive together after this latest debacle?
Dany paced back and forth, her hands pressed into the small of her back, her belly jutting out. She groaned, pressing into her SI joint, noting that she’d have to get a massage again. Unless Baby A could kindly get off her nerves. Baby B had taken to punching her incessantly, taking after his father no doubt. She dropped her head backwards, closing her eyes and mumbled. “To any gods who may hear me, it was a total accident, don’t let him divorce me.”
“Nuh gunnah forsh you.”
She whipped around, her belly knocking against a stack of law books on the edge of the desk, sending them falling to the floor. “Jon!” she exclaimed, rushing towards him and throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh gods! Let me see!”
He turned his face slightly, so she could inspect the massive bruising and swelling in his jaw. He arched his brows, smirking pointedly around the gauze and cotton stuffed into his mouth. “Can’t talk,” he ground, his jaw almost sealed shut from the swelling.
“It’s all my fault!” she wailed. “I’m so sorry!”
He shook his head and winced, lifting the disposable ice pack in his hand back up to the purple mess that was his jaw. “Shit down,” he mumbled. He winced again. “Ugh.”
She guided him to the couch. His white dress shirt had specks of blood on it and she was starting to notice the bruising forming under his eyes, his nose also swollen. She lifted his wrist to her lips and kissed the script ‘Love’ tattoo, squeezing his hand tight in hers. “They wouldn’t take me to the hospital, apparently I was being…” She made a face. “Unhelpful.”
Instead of smiling, he grimaced. “Ish okay.”
For the next fifteen minutes, she fussed about him, getting new ice packs, helping him change out of his ruined shirt, dabbing at dried blood on his face and babbling about how the bailiffs had taken Drogo away, the police had appeared to question everyone as to what exactly happened, and did they talk to him at the hospital? Which he nodded, yes they did. She couldn’t believe this had even happened. Her bloody fucking stupid ex-husband, showing up out of the blue, of course fucking Viserys had tried to wheedle money out of him to the firm.
He had always had anger issues and when he’d spotted her, pregnant, walking down the corridor with Jon, he’d gotten into a rage at her, demanding to know why she’d left him, who the fuck had knocked her up, and she thought she had things under control, sending Jon to his courtroom while she kicked Drogo away.
If only she’d remembered how long he could wait before he struck.
She’d been in a heated argument with Tyrion over a plea arrangement when she got the news. Jon and Drogo, in a major fight, in his courtroom. Jon had held his own, but despite felling Drogo long enough for him to be arrested, he’d also suffered a dislocated jaw.
“Will it need to be wired?”
He shrugged and handed her a sheaf of papers from the hospital, which she barely glanced at before stuffing aside, leaning closer against him. She would help him upstairs to bed soon, but right now she wanted to reassure herself he was alright. “Luff you.”
She sniffed again. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea how truly horrid he’d become.”
“He luffs you.”
“What a bloody awful way to show it! Attacking my husband and breaking his bloody jaw! I hope they send him to jail and I never have to see his face again.”
Jon smiled, a horrible thing she thought momentarily, with all bandages around his jaw and his face a painting of bruises. “Awayz fought you would do it.”
As did she. “If anyone should break your jaw, Your Honor, it should be me. Your recent judgments have been far too harsh of late against nonviolent offenders.” He rolled his eyes. They both knew that was bullshit. She smiled and leaned in, kissing his cheek, mindful of the pain he was feeling. He winced again. She patted his chest. “Come love, let’s get you upstairs. Oh!”
When she’d pressed against him, both babies had begun attacking in earnest, strong enough for him to feel it against his belly and he laughed through his clenched teeth. “They luff me,” he sighed.
She brought his hand to her belly, to keep feeling the angry little twins, and she rested her head against his shoulder. “I love you Jon.”
“I luff you too Dahny.”
“When your jaw heals and these babies are born, we are going to spar. I find you will not face such an easy competition as with big lumbering Drogo.”
“And haff you break my other jaw? No fanks.” He hugged her tight. “Only fing that mayks thish worsh ish I can’t really kissh you.”
She leaned in and very gently pressed a kiss to his cracked lips. “No matter,” she sighed. “Because I can kiss you.”
Here you go, my lovely! This is an alt-season 8 scene. In that it actually makes sense.
#29 things you said in the rain
“Don’t do this,” he implores.
She whips around, her single braid following like a long tail, her eyes narrowed to slits. At this moment she looks more like a dragon than she ever has, and it’s frightening. As if on cue, lightning strikes on the horizon with a terrifying clap that surely sends many residents of the ruined capital running for cover, certain that they are under attack again.
“What would you have me do?” she snarls.
He dares to step closer, mindful that her guards are omnipresent, and care not if he once shared her bed. They’ll gut him like a fish if they think he is a threat to her.
Maybe he is, whether he wants to be or not. Sansa saw to that. Which is the cause of the current predicament.
“Forgive,” he says stupidly, tasting the bitter futility of those words on his tongue.
She answers with a scowl. “So am I to treat all treason with the same seriousness as a petty insult, or just those acts committed by members of your family?”
“She’s my sister.”
“And Viserys was my brother. And no matter how horrid he was, I still loved him. But he too forgot his place and antagonized the wrong person, and in the end there was nothing I could do to save him from himself.” She looks at him softly, her brows creasing her forehead, for the swiftest moment revealing the vulnerability he’s sure she’s only ever let him see. Then, she takes his hand in both of hers. He’s almost forgotten what her touch is like. He’s missed it, more desperately than he realized. “Don’t you know that if I could spare you this pain, I would?”
The rain has begun in earnest now, fat and cold drops ricocheting like arrows against the stone path. His hair is soaked. Icy rivulets run down his face. Neither of them know this place well, and they stop their quarreling to seek shelter. A small alcove under a crumbling balcony will have to suffice. For a moment, there is a quiet peace between them, almost like it used to be, but the specter of Sansa still looms, and he must get this settled, elsewise tomorrow, his sister will burn.
He knows it’s justice. Part of him can even admit she deserves it. Daenerys was right, as usual. She wasn’t the girl he’d grown up with; she was a far more vicious and cunning version of the spoiled, aloof brat he’d known.
Her mother would have been proud; her father, ashamed.
But when he thinks of Lord Stark, and what the man sacrificed and risked for him, he can’t repay that mercy with the lives of his trueborn children. He owes it to Ned Stark to protect them as best he can.
He never wanted to have to choose between Daenerys and his family. And she is his family, too. He’s having to choose between one side of himself and another. He remembers telling Theon that he didn’t have to make that choice; he could be both. Circumstances have not been so kind to him, though. These women are forcing the choice upon him. Stark or Targaryen? War and bloodshed, or relative stability? The North, or the Crown?
“Sansa never wanted you dead,” he mutters, trying his best to believe it himself, because he has to. “She only wants Northern independence. She didn’t think it through.”
Daenerys rolls her eyes. “I’m sure she thought everything through. And if you think for a moment this is about Northern independence, you’re a bigger fool than I ever imagined. She doesn’t care about the freedom of those people. She just wants them kneeling to her instead of me.” She steps away from him, the wall that had started to crumble quickly rebuilding itself. “She thought she should have been made Queen to begin with. But then the Lords and Ladies chose you. And you yielded the North to me, because you said it was the right thing to do.”
“It was the right thing to do. I just didn’t go about it the right way.” He’s known that for a while. Sometimes, you have to admit your mistakes. He’d made the declaration in a moment of passion. And now look where they are.
“And what would the right way have been?” she wonders, her brow raised in disbelief.
He swallows the lump in his throat. He takes one step toward her, then another and another, until there is barely daylight between them. “I should have asked for your hand.” He recaptures her hand and raises it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, then brushing his thumb over them. She softens with his touch, and he knows she’s kicking herself for it. He knows the power he wields over her, as much as she knows what she wields over him. They are truly hopeless when it comes to each other, and while it’s not honorable to play on her emotions like that, he’s desperate.
Desperate to salvage his sister.
Desperate for his Queen’s favor again, if he’s being honest.
Because he loves her, and this self-imposed estrangement from her has been a torment.
He continues. “We could have united our kingdoms with marriage. Much simpler and less bloody than a war.” Robb’s experience aside, anyway.
“Well, you never asked.” She pulls her hand away, and once again dons her queenly mask of indifference.
This woman is impossible. Stubborn, pig-headed, and proud. He’s ready to concede defeat, or try to come up with another plan, and the only solution left is the most terrible and disastrous he can fathom, and he would never dream of it besides. He can’t give up. He can’t let Sansa die, and he can’t lose Daenerys. He’s lost enough in his life. So have they.
No more.
“What if I asked you now?” He drops to his knee. “Would you have me? Would you unite your claim with mine, and put an end to all this nonsense?”
“Oh for pity’s sake, get up,” she snaps.
“Not until you answer me.”
“And how good of you to sacrifice your honor and offer yourself to a woman who disgusts you for the sake of a traitor.”
This isn’t playful banter. He can see it in her face. There is real pain behind those words, and perhaps for the first time, it hits him how his callousness toward her, his unexplained withdrawal, his impotence when it came to dealing with his family in the first place, has hurt her.
He never wanted to hurt her. Not ever. He’d sooner hurt himself.
In a blink, he’s on his feet and has her backed up against a pillar. He cups her face in his hands. “You do not disgust me, Daenerys. You might infuriate me sometimes, or frighten the living shit out of me, or drive me mad, but you do not disgust me. Quite the opposite, actually.” He touches his forehead to hers. She sighs and presses against him. It makes his cock twitch. He wants her still. “I love you,” he whispers. “I do. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt it. So will you have me?”
He pulls back and studies her face. Her eyes shine with tears as the rain pounds around them.
“You’re drenched,” she sniffles, brushing a stray drop of water from his cheek.
He tilts his head toward her. He feathers his lips over hers and she does not resist. “I’m sure we can find a way to get warm and dry.”
Then he kisses her. And she kisses him back, and this time, he doesn’t break it when he remembers he’s supposed to be ashamed, because he’s not actually ashamed. It’s his reticence to accept who and what he is that has them in this mess to begin with. He’s done with that.
“So is that a yes?”
“It’s not a no,” she replies coquettishly.
“And…Sansa?” he dares ask.
She smirks devilishly. “I think I know exactly what to do with Sansa.”
