#ღ jon

[bruisedboys]

all i want to do is spend a rainy day at home with jonathan byers like is that so hard. just cuddling and making out all tired and soft. like srs.

ohmygosh aerial. you don’t understand I need him

gn!reader 0.7k words

You’re feeling quite dizzy.

You don’t know if it’s because you’re tired, or because you’ve been giggling so much, or because Jonathan’s kissing you stupid. Probably all of the above.

You’re straddling him on the Byers’ couch and he’s got you all pushed up against his chest like he wants you to melt into him. You wouldn’t mind, honestly.

Jonathan pulls away from your mouth only to duck his head to your neck, lips attaching to your skin. He presses hot, wet kisses from your neck all the way down your shoulder and then back up again.

You giggle, lips swollen and your heart twice as much. “Jon.”

He makes a sound like a grunt slash moan and it vibrates on your neck. You laugh some more.

“That tickles,” you say breathlessly, face hot.

Jonathan makes another noise like a hum and mumbles, “Sorry,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry at all.

He pulls away, presses his forehead to yours. His eyelids are heavy and his lips kiss-bitten, his chest heaving against yours. He looks so pretty like this.

A rumble of thunder echoes overhead. You gasp, only a little shocked as the storm has been on and off all day. But the loudness of it is enough to get you shivering.

“You cold?” Jonathan asks, frowning.

“No,” you say. Actually, you’re burning up. All Jonathan’s doing.

He rubs your arms with both hands anyway, then pushes his arms under yours, hands locking on your lower back.

“How’d I get so lucky, hm?” he mumbles, all sweet and raspy, like he‘s not convinced you’re real.

His hand slips beneath your t-shirt and up the bare skin of your back, a burning trail of stars left in his wake. Your t-shirt bunches up around his wrist, cool air washing over your back.

You melt. He tends to have that effect on you.

“Don’t, Jonathan,” you say shyly, your fingers toying with the fabric of his sky blue t-shirt. Your cheeks are burning.

Jonathan frowns. “Don’t what? Tell the truth?” He hooks his free hand under your chin, thumb pushing upwards so you’re forced to look him in the eye. “You’re perfect.”

You’re a blushing mess. You smile so wide your cheeks ache with it. Then you’re giggling, because a smile isn’t enough, not with someone as lovely as him. Jonathan looks alarmed.

“What’s funny?” He asks, quirking a brow.

You shrug and make an ‘I don’t know’ sound. Nothing’s funny, you’re just sick as a dog in love with him.

Rain buckets down overhead as you lift your hand to Jonathan’s hair. You push it away from where it’s falling over his forehead, finding it silky smooth under your fingers. You wonder if he’s been using the conditioner you’d left in his shower.

Your hand slides around to the back of his head and comes to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers buried in the soft, short hair. Jonathan’s melting under your touch, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

He sighs with content and you can’t help it — you lean in to kiss him. You get in one short kiss before you’re giggling again, smiling all wide and dopey and Jonathan’s trying to kiss you but your staggering smile makes it tough.

He chuckles, a sweet, raspy sound, his mouth a millimeter from yours. “You’re laughing again,” he accuses softly, totally deadpan.

“Sorry,” you say guiltily, giggles rolling out of you and showing no signs of stopping.

“Stop smiling,” he groans, long-suffering. His own cheesy grin gives him away. Hypocrite. “It’s really hard to kiss you when you’re like this.”

“You’re smiling too,” you whine.

“No I’m not,” he says quickly. “See, look.” He drops the smile abruptly and forces his lips into a straight line. You can’t help but laugh he looks so soulless. The act doesn’t hold up for long. He’s soon laughing almost as much as you are.

“This is all your fault,” he grumbles. Without warning he grips your waist and manhandles you off his lap. Before you have time to protest he’s pushing you gently so you fall back against the couch cushions.

All the breath is stolen from your lungs as Jonathan moves to hover over you. His knee slots between your thighs and you stop laughing abruptly. The room goes quiet, but for the rain on the roof.

“All—” He leans down to kiss you, “your—” a second kiss, “fault.” One more kiss, messy and clumsy but sweet as sugar.

If this is consequence, you don’t mind admitting it’s your fault at all. Not one bit.

[bruisedboys]

OMGOWJDNG SHUT UP THIS WAS MY REQUEST IM SQUEALING

this is so fucking cute jade. I’m not kidding this is probably my fav thing I’ve ever read. I am an avid jonathan byers enjoyer 4 life!!

for shy fri!! what about jonathan x shy!reader who are constantly in their own little world? similar to this remus one you did!!

thank you my love! i hope this is close to what you wanted <3 shy!fem!reader x lovesick!jonathan

Jonathan isn't sure if you know how much he wants you. Talking as your boyfriend, you're together, and he still wants you. To hold your hand, or your wrist, your forearm in his hand, your forearm pulled close to his chest. To slide the first two fingers on his left hand behind your ear and tilt your head so he can see all your eyelashes. To pull your thigh over his and feel the weight of it through the whole movie. He wants every tiny piece of you there is up for offer, and he'd feel selfish if he weren't so sick in love. 

"Do you want some?" you whisper, offering your box of Milk Duds to him expectantly. 

He takes a handful just to watch your face as you shake them out. 

"More?" you ask. 

"That's fine," he whispers back, "thanks." 

He wants, desperately, to add 'honey'. Honey, baby, angel, all those too sweet pet names that'll make you hide your mouth, hand pressed delicately over your lips, smile evident in your eyes if nothing else. 

"Welcome." 

There should be a word for it, the want to press his chest to yours, to overlap. If he had his way, his friends would fade into the background, they already have, and he'd snake his arm behind your head, hook your neck in the crook of his arm and encourage your face to his neck. He'd dot more kisses than anyone ever has into your crown. 

"Are you okay?" you whisper, quiet than before. You've shifted on the couch to get right next to his ear, each word tickling his inner ear with the accompanying breath. 

He turns his face slowly so as not to startle you. TV light catches your cheek and brow, illuminating you in a bright, translucent blue. If you weren't the shyest girl he'd ever met he'd kiss you right here, friends forgotten, but you'd genuinely be uncomfortable and he doesn't ever want that. 

How to lure you away? 

He leans in like he might kiss you, lips a hair's width from your cheek. "Drink?" 

"Yeah, please." 

You misunderstand. Jonathan stands with your confirmation and catches hold of your wrist at the same time, tugging at you gently. You rise up and follow him out to the kitchen, and really there's nothing subtle to it, nothing at all.

"They're fucking disgusting," Mike says. 

Will reaches into his lap for some popcorn and hums, not disagreeing. "It could be worse." 

"Could it?" Lucas' face appears between them, leaning down from his seat on the armchair. "Will, your brother needs help, psychologically."

"He's fine." 

"He's watching the movie via lights on her face," Max adds, backing Lucas up with a scrunched up nose. She doesn't care if you and Jonathan are being sweet on each other, she cares about being right, and Lucas is correct. "It's obsessive." 

"You guys'll understand when you're older," Steve pipes up, flopping into the gap you've left behind. Robin rolls her eyes at him. "Nah, you won't. They're weird." 

"They're in love," Will says, laughing like this is the stupidest conversation anyone has ever had. 

Dustin isn't one to stay quiet any longer. He wishes he could back Will up. He can't. "Listen, I have a girlfriend, and that's not right." 

"You have a girlfriend?" Max asks, voice layered in a cheerfulness she absolutely is not feeling. She's too good at pretending — her tone is nothing less than convincing. 

In the kitchen, your skin burns with heat. The door is nowhere near thick enough to cover the sounds of their bickering. It grows louder and louder, the kids debating your love life with a voracious passion.  

"Let's not beat around the bush," you hear Steve say, "they're definitely canoodling in there." 

"Why are we friends with him?" Jonathan asks, similarly embarrassed but trying not to show it. 

"Because he's nice. And he has Robin as an add-on. It's like a two for one." 

"Two for one on idiots," he mumbles, offering you a freshly filled glass. Robin's laughter sounds from the living room, high-pitched and breathless. 

You smile despite yourself.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan says after a small pause. "This isn't what I was trying to do." 

You put your glass on the counter and smile at him. It's not the brilliant smile you usually give when you're alone. Jonathan's amazed to find that, even as a couple, you have a little warm up period every time you see him, adorable, a tinsy bit disconcerting. You can be very cautious.

"What were you trying to do, Jon?" you ask earnestly. 

He puts down his glass too. He smiles, breath caught, hands tentative and then not. "This," he says, hands vying for your cheeks. He cups your warm face in his for a stolen moment, thumbs rubbing at the skin shy of your nose, and then one hand slides to the nape of your neck, and the other goes over your shoulders. He pulls you in for a hug, as he has tens of times, but finds himself worrying when your arms don't come up automatically to meet him. 

He hugs you a little bit harder. 

"Oh," you say, arms circling his waist, half as tight and twice as affectionate, hand rubbing at the bumps of his spine. 

Shy, yes, but skimpy with affection? Never. You hold him like he's made of something infinitely precious, soft and sweet and silent, your breath warming a crescent moon against his shoulder. 

"You sure you're okay?" you ask quietly, face turning so you can kiss the slip of chest peeking out from under his shirt's neckline. 

"I'm fine. I'm good, really. I know you don't like this stuff in front of everyone, so…" 

Your face slips down to his chest. "You could hug me a little in front of them. Better that then have them," — you pause, and the quiet is filled by the sounds of your friends' continued arguing — "doing whatever it is they're doing." 

"Right now, I think they're debating when you're gonna break up with me." 

"Never," you say. It's so fast, your answer. Instant. You cough to cover up your embarrassment and Jonathan has to hide his smile in the skin above your ear. 

"Hey, you should be glad," Steve says, too smug, something awful in the way the room quietens to broadcast him. "Better they're too weird to cuddle in front of us than teen pregnancy." 

Jonathan sighs, knowing you won't want to hug him any longer after that. Sure enough, you break apart from his hold and take a too fast swig of water, frantic. "Let's go back in," you say. 

You leave and he hasn't even picked up his cup. Jonathan presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and takes a 'Don't pick a fight with Steve' breath, frustration and agitation and an inkling of adoration for you all mixed up in his head. 

"Where's Jonathan?" he hears Will ask you.

"Practising on his hand?" Steve asks. 

Jonathan takes another deep breath. 

[godstrayed]

❛  you're depressed,  and you're high.  that's what we've figured out today.  ❜ — Jon / Steve

ღ memes. ╱ always accepting.

Was there room for the other to cast just judgement? Anyone who partook in substance at the rate he did had to be dealing with some shit. There was no convincing Steve otherwise. After all, 'normal' people had healthier ways to cope, right? [Nancy would be disappointed in them, wouldn't she?]

“Do you want a cookie?” There is a small smile gracing his lips - in that moment it was easy to see why Steve rose up in popularity. Charming, spoiled, and haughty. Probably why he fell as quickly as he did as well. “You can take your acute observations that are already common knowledge and shove it.” Petulant at times, a bit of a real bitch — “After all this is done there is a going to be a few lifetimes of trauma spilt between us all.”

[scrvetherealm]

@fullcfterrors gets a dany & jon au plotted starter

          Dark wings, dark words — never had the truth been so palpable and yet it was a wedding Jon Snow was regarding. A time of joy and merriment ; if that were true why then was his stomach twisting with horror and regret? Daenerys Targaryen would be wed on the seventh eve of the summer that had broken just a year prior. In truth the bastard had been glad to see the summer again — the winter had been long, but not so long as many had thought. That hadn’t discounted it’s rage however. The northlands had scarce known temperatures above freezing for the duration and never had Jon been more thankful for the hot spring waters that ran through Winterfell’s castle walls like warm blood through a mans body.

She’d named him King in the North ; given them the independence that Sansa believed they so deserved as did Jon — still he would have been a might happier to see his half sister wearing the crown, ruling had never been a thing the Snow boy wanted. Still they had chosen him as their leader and Daenerys had seen much of the same in him — what choice had he been given, should he have refused the new Queen of the realm? It wasn’t as if he would have been able to stay by her side anyway. As selfish as Jon wanted to be the North needed him — he’d already brought back a foreign queen, how could he then abandon his people for want of her company in bed? It had been a sacrifice, a large one that had wounded both parties more than words could say but if the bastard of Winterfell had learned one thing from his Lord father it was honour ; he had a duty to his people, his family — nothing should come before that.

It’ this knowledge that fights with the feelings rumbling within his chest, the heated sour flame that licks the back of Jon’s throat as dark eyes trace over the elegantly scrawled words. ‘Queen Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, protector of the realm, the unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, breaker of chains, and mother of dragons cordially invites all of Westeros to attend her wedding to Quentyn Martell ; Prince of Dorne. Her Grace sincerely hopes to have your gracious presence . . . Quentin Martell — it’s a name Jon isn’t familiar with and in truth could very well have gone his entire life not knowing.

He can read the distain written on Sansa’s face clear as the words on the parchment he’s presented her with but it’s no secret the Lady of Winterfell never truly took a liking to the woman Jon claimed to love so many years ago. “I think you should go.”

Her words surprise him and for a moment Jon’s voice is caught in his throat. He’d had no intention of showing up — the invitation clearly stated the entirely to Westeros had been invited, a blanket statement to be sure but the facts still held true, there would be hundreds of people attending this ‘grand’ event — would his presence even be noticed? “Why?” It’s his only question, the only thing he can manage at the moment.

“How would it look if the King in the North refused to attend the Queen’s wedding? She gave us our independence — we owe her the simple token of showing up.”

“But I’m needed here-“

“I’ve held Winterfell without you before, I can do it again. Besides . . . I think it would be good for you — perhaps it would give you . . . closure.” Sansa’s words hang over him and for a moment Jon regards his sister with something like contempt before the venom dies away and his coal eyes turn sorrowful. Sansa isn’t wrong, despite the distance and lack of communication Jon Snow has loved Daenerys every day of the five years they’ve been separated. He’s never taken another lover — hasn’t had the heart to do it, to falsely lie with someone who doesn’t hold his heart. Sex is one thing but to take a bride would be . . . a farce ; at least that’s what he believes and in truth had hoped Dany would believe as well — so much for that.

It takes some convincing and urging from Sansa but soon enough the King in the North is escorted down the Kings Road, a handful of knights to keep him guard but no company to attend the ‘blessed’ event — that burden Jon will bear himself, partly because there isn’t anyone he wants to bring with him but more so because he isn’t certain how he’ll react to seeing the silver haired Targaryen in whites ; leaving the ceremony by himself was one thing — having to explain to a guest why he vanished mid ring bearing would be an entirely different folly.

Kings Landing is every bit the same as Jon remembers, but in place of golden lions dancing across pillars and emblazoned on the queens guard it’s the fiery red of the dragon — the sight of which tightens the muscles in his chest and forces Jon to draw his breath more deeply ; perhaps this was a mistake after all.

He’s greeted, of all people, by Tyrion Lannister who stands half a man tall on the steps of the keep Jon’s been given stay in. A warm smile laces against dwarfish features and both mismatched eyes seem to glimmer with the prospect of regaining an old friend. “It’s a pleasure your Grace, though I’ll have to ask you be more punctual in the future — I’ve been standing out here half the day, you should see about sending smarter ravens.” The grin that befalls the Lannister is enough to release the vice that grips Jon’s chest and for the first time since the beginning of his journey Jon his glad to be in Kings Landing.

“I would have thought a Lannister would have the means to find something comfortable to sit on — at the very least you could have made use of that mouth. Or was it what ran off all your company?” They great each other with a hearty handshake, each gripping the others forearm as warm glances are exchanged. Jon had liked Tyrion a long while and it gave him comfort to know someone so trustworthy was by Daenerys’ side. Pleasantries are exchanged for a while but it isn’t long before the conversation turns a might heavy and as Jon and Tyrion make their way down a large hall the imp asks a question that strikes the Snow’s heart like a lance straight through breast plate.

“Do you still love her?”

Silence follows as their steady pace down the hall comes to a halt. Jon gazes down at the half man, so much larger than men thrice his height, with brows knit together so tightly one might think the wrinkles there were permanent. He considers for a moment, whether or not he should tell the truth. He knows Tyrion to be trust worthy, but that isn’t the only factor at play. If Jon admits what he feels no doubt it will some how make it back to Daenerys — what then of the wedding? If her heart has been claimed by this Quentyn, then who is he to step in the way of true love? Why should his feelings matter more than her own? He swallows hard, burying the truth down in his gullet and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

 It’s simple enough but there’s no missing the twinkle behind Tyrion’s mismatched eyes. Whether he believes him or not Jon’s given his answer and ensures it isn’t he who breaks their gaze first.

                The conversation recovers from its slight hiccup in time for Jon to excuse himself to his chambers to prepare for the feast. He does so in silence and more than twice considers leaving before the dreaded affair begins. Instead he makes a margin with himself. If the feast proves too much, if the mere sight of the Targaryen is more than he can handle he’ll leave on the morrow. That was an acceptable thought. He’d made his appearance, would pay his respects and claim the north needed him for some incredulous reason. It wouldn’t be a lie, there was always something that needed seeing to in the north.

[wolfqueennamedstark]

{ Episode 2 starter for Jon || @strengthanddevotion }

       Sansa paused in the darkness, watching him from a distance and contemplating whether to approach or not. Jon was just standing there in front of Lyanna’s statue. They only had so many hours left before the dead would be there. They could all die tomorrow so she forced herself into the light to stand beside him. “Sam told me.” His face was half hidden in shadow, she couldn’t gage his reaction very well.

       So she reached out her hand and rests it on his arm, “You’re still a Stark to me. Nothing can change that. Nothing will change how much we love you.” How much I love you.

[bruisedboys]

NO OKAY HES SO??!!??? the hickeys … the hickeys!!! I want him to bully my neck sooo bad. (p.s I feel like he gets incredibly flustered when receiving hickeys. he whine and moans I just know it)

this is too much for me I’m ripping my hair out fr. ily aerial <3

jonathan byers is defffintely a sloppy kisser. he’s still trying to figure out what he likes and what you like so it’s all clumsy and messy and giggly. also!! he’s very good at giving lazy hickeys <3

no because true!!!! mal i love u

he hasn’t kissed many people :((( but he’s determined to get really good at it because he wants you to love it. at first he’s clumsy. your first kiss is soft and slow but your noses bump a little too much and he doesn’t know which way to angle his head. you lead it mostly but he pulls away too quickly for your liking because he thinks he’s doing it wrong. m’sorry, i’m not an expert at kissing. he’s still smiling and you think it’s adorable. s’okay, jon. just kiss me however you want. jus’ wanna feel you. because you do!!!! his lips are so soft and you just want to be close. you kiss until you both can’t breathe, giggling because it’s so messy n soft. but then he eventually figures out you like it when he teases you. pulling away halfway though, watching you when you chase his lips with your eyes closed. lips all swollen wanting to kiss him so bad. he also knows you love it when he holds you close when he does it. even when it’s so casual, you need to be pressed against him. and the noises you make!!!! he loves it when you whine and huff into his mouth.

and the hickeys!!!!! that’s something he becomes an expert over. he loves sitting on the couch with you, just kissing all over you neck. he’s a little obsessed over it tbh. will start off slow like always. kissing kissing kissing. then he starts to pull the skin between his lips and when he’s sucking will run his his tongue over the reddening spot. he loves it when you’re a little sleepy just squirming and whining in your spot while he bullies your skin. you get a little gaspy and he pulls back to nudge the spot with his nose and ugh omg I need him so fucking bad.

[stcrmswithskin]

{ continued from HERE || @strengthanddevotion }

               Naesella looked up from behind a rock, “Uh hi…” Her voice was small and unsure. The small opening in the cave was filled with small trinkets such as seashells and bits of cloth piled together to simulate a bed. There was even some stale hard bread in the corner that she’d been pulling a bit off off each day. She nods at his question, “I’m not— I’m not hurting anyone.” She had seen him arrive on the boats then go up to the castle. He looked important.

[spvilers]

THE ART OF EYE CONTACT — Y. FLOR

ღ prompt; looking at your crush or lover only to find them already looking at you and when you make eye contact, they smile at you.

ღ pairing; yara flor x fem!reader

ღ warnings; none (?)

THE PAST FEW days, you have been stressed. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, hell, Yara was sure you didn’t even blink.

Honestly, were you even alive at this point? Yara didn’t know, though she did everything in her power to get you to sleep, even if it was just for a little bit. But you refused.

You had so much work to do and the Justice League didn’t make it easier. Everything was just too much, you felt like you were suffocating.

Right now, you had a meeting with the team, Jon stood in front of all of you and was in the middle of telling everyone about the newest threat.

As time passed, you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier and you were struggling to keep yourself awake.

From the seat the opposite of you, Yara was looking at you with great concern, of course, you didn’t notice it, but she was growing more and more concerned and the urge to just pull you into her lap to let you sleep grew stronger.

But she restrained herself, she was around the team right now.

Just when you were about to fall asleep you startled awake again. You couldn’t sleep now!

As you looked around, afraid that someone might see you almost sleeping at the meeting, you saw that everyone’s heads were turned to Jon, everyone’s except Yara’s.

When you looked at your girlfriend, you found her already looking at you, she smiled a comforting smile at you when your eyes met and you mirrored it.

When the meeting was finally over you walked through the door and suddenly felt someone’s arm being thrown over you.

The person pulled you over and you immediately recognized the arm as Yara’s.

“Are you going to finally sleep now, my love?” she asked as she pulled you closer.

Sleepily you nodded your head, “Only if you join me.”

From beside you, Yara nodded, “Of course, sweet girl.”

[bruisedboys]

☆ JONATHAN BYERS MASTERLIST!

blurbs!

staying in on a rainy day with jonathan

[wolfqueennamedstark]

{ @killthebxy @strengthanddevotion }

Jon Snow and Sansa Stark + parallels (requested by bericdondarrion)

[allelitehq]

Hello members!

This group has been the best one we’ve adminned in years, and we’ve had such a blast with each of you. Through the ups and downs, each of our dedicated members have stuck with us regardless. Some of you left us and even came back which we appreciate so much!

But like all good things, sometimes they must end.

AllEliteHQ will be closing it’s doors. Since establishing in Dec 2020, we had loved every single moment of it. However with that comes a group running it’s course. Whether that be from plots lasting longer than most groups with no resets, to our unwanted alias rolehogger whom we can conclude is still filling their place around here.

If those whom are in the group would like to continue rping their plots, by all means. Our Main page however will no longer be accepting roles as we move on in our Rp world. Please see @wrestlingroleplayhelp as the wonderful blog has linked current available groups!

If anyone would like to add/speak with either of the admins, we are always available on Discord directly. Admin Jon/Kayla - Ky ღ#8595 & Admin Max/Cee - vampire weekday.#8184

We love you guys so very much. It’s been a wonderful ride. This is not a goodbye forever. It’s just a cya later.

- Your Admins

[godstrayed]

let’s not talk about it, let’s just not talk. — Jonathan

ღ memes. ╱ always accepting.

　What was there to talk about? Billy hardly a conversationalist. Half of the talks he contributes end up with a punch or a kiss —— hardly much variety aside from that, mind never able to work much further than what is right in front of him.

He knows they should — both nearly having died countless of times in the last week — but he understands. It's easier to manage if they pretend, casting aside their reasonability from saving their loved ones and the rest of the fucking world, and just being stupid teenagers for one more evening. He gets it, often indulges it, and who is he to deny Jonathan anything?

His calloused hands move to grab Jon's face and brings his mouth to his own. "Okay, no talking got it." Fingers brush through hair and brings the other's smaller frame into his own, not nearly unbothered as he might seem.

[scrvetherealm]

@fullcfterrors asked || [ eyes reverse  + love ] for jon

        She’s magnificent, an absolute beauty with the ability to tear his breath from his lungs. Fully clothed Daenerys Targaryen leaves Jon Snow speechless, but now, naked as her name day and riding him as confidently as she strides atop her dragons, Jon could scarcely describe her as anything other than ravashing.

She sets the tone for pace, her hips rocking back and fourth over his own, slowing and speeding as she likes. Jon doesn’t mind at all and complies more than willingly with whatever she demands. His hands scour over bare flesh, drinking in the softness of her flesh and tone of her body. Silver locks fall loose from her braided adornment, the length of which is easily accessed from her waist, strands finding their way to tangle between his searching fingers.

With her face upturned toward the sky Jon finds himself needing to look into Daenerys’ eyes, those violet flecked hues that communicate so much it’s a wonder she needs a tongue at all. Jon lifts himself from his reclined position and without breaking stride snakes one arm around her waist and with the other cradles the back of her head, applying gentle pressure in order to encourage her to look toward him. Hooded eyes fall upon him and almost immediately Jon is harder for it, his body shivering in compliance with her small twitches and murmurs. “I love you.” It slips out — faster than he can stop it and as haughtily as any of their whispers before had come.

           There’s no time for Dany to respond as Jon’s lips claim her own, powerful passion engulfing them both, dragging them down into a sea of pleasure and euphoria. There isn’t time to regret what he’s said ; mostly because he doesn’t, but because this new position drives the Snow deeper into the dragon and as the kiss is broken it’s only to allow him the oxygen that’s so needed with the increase in speed.

[wolfqueennamedstark]

{ episode 1 starter for Harrion || @tymptir }

       On the battlements, all her problems were beneath her. Literally. Up here, Sansa’s mind cleared and she could see all the possibilities of each situation, except now all she wanted to do was scream in frustration. Her home housed most of the Northern houses and their armies and people. Now two more armies camped outside the walls and two dragons were farther up. Their supplies barely made it so she could feed the North through winter… not two more armies and dragons who fed indiscriminately. She was angry with herself for not being able to see and prepare for it.

       Watching the horizon, she saw banners in the distance. The banners weren’t clear enough until they’d almost reached Wintertown: a white sunburnt on black. Karstark. A small smile lifted her cheeks before she turned and went down to greet Lord Karstark in the courtyard. When she had sent him to get his men and people, Harrion still looked tired and rough around the edges from his time in prison. However there was no time to wait for his health to be back fully. Now he had hair down to his shoulders and a fleshed out beard. He truly looked like a Northern lord.

       “Lord Karstark. Welcome back to Winterfell. It seems that you’ve continued to regain your strength.” In a storm of frustration, a small potion of happiness seemed to make the cold ease. Ater the time they spent together during his inital recover, it wasn't lost on her that he noticed the world around him had changed. Winterfell was no longer the proud capital of the North Kingdom, but a hub for two armies, two dragons, and a queen no one had wanted.

[stcrmswithskin]

(2024, for Lana) you do realize i've literally raised you both from birth, and i know when you and Lily are hiding things from me. what happened?

conspiracy theories || @killthebxy

               Her body froze, staring at the phone as she was trying to get Pan to text her back so she could get the address and pick her up from whatever party she’d gotten drunk at. Even Lily looked up at her, unsure what to actually tell their father. Alana had gotten drunk for the first time at sixteen before stumbling home and falling face first into the floor of the entryway. Pan had no such luck this time as Lana was trying to stage her rescue. She was the eldest after all and she had truly done her best to keep their father clueless… but alas when they intentionally try to hide things, he’s got a nose better than Ghost.

               “Um Pan is at a party.” The words felt like betrayal on her tongue. “I was going to go pick her up.” and bring her back home drunk enough that her fingers couldn’t type a coherent sentence so Lana’s phone was filled with slurred voice messages. “I bribed Lily with ice cream to come with me.” She hadn’t, but the bright look on her sister’s face said that they would be stopping for ice cream before finding their sister. Frowning and fiddling with her phone anxiously, Lana sighed. There was no way they’d get Pan in the house with him figuring out that she was stupid drunk.

               “I’m picking her up because her ride got drunk… and so is she.”

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Robot #5072

!!!TW for attempted self harm and depressive episodes!!!

Robot #5072 didn’t have a name. Well, that wasn’t true. He was Robot #5072; that was his production number. But he wanted a real name, like Rabbit and The Spine. He had suggested ‘Mr. Goldilocks’ but that didn’t feel right. Also Pappy didn’t like it.

He often wondered about why he didn’t have a name. Maybe Pappy was too busy to give him one? Yes, that must be it. He was so busy with The Weekend War that he didn't have time to give him a name. That was understandable. Pappy wouldn’t just forget to give him a name.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Often Robot #5072 would lay in his bed, specially reinforced so it didn’t collapse on him like the first one had, and cry. He would cry so much that his bedsheets would be more black than their original murky blue. Ma always helped him wash it when she had the time.

He didn’t let Rabbit or The Spine know how much it bothered him. He didn’t want their pity, but often he longed for their comfort. Sometimes, when he was particularly down and crying so hard his voicebox didn’t work, he would sneak into Rabbit’s or The Spine’s room and cuddle with them. He never told either of them why he was crying; he had his voicebox to thank for that.

This namelessness was a problem, it had always been one, but not one he had needed to address until now. So, here he was, standing on the stage, desperately trying to come up with a right name for himself, all while Rabbit and The Spine looked at him with barely-contained panic. They had already introduced themselves, and so Robot #5072 had to as well. The crowd in the small diner was silent, waiting expectantly.

While Robot #5072 scanned through his memory banks for something, The Spine said, “Heh, sorry folks! Sometimes his memory banks act up and he can’t remember things.”

“O-Oh yeah, that’s right! Y-Y-Y-Yesterday he forgot what a pi-pickle was!” Rabbit added on, eliciting a few chuckles from members in the audience.

Robot #5072 was wonderfully smacked out of his stupor when he heard someone in the audience say, “I’ll be right back, I’ve gotta use the john.”

He smiled brightly, catching his siblings off guard. “That’s right! I’m sorry I took so long folks; I’m The Jon!” He said proudly, puffing his chest up like a bird.

He saw his siblings blink in surprise. Then Rabbit grinned. “Y-Y-Yeah, you r-remember now! No-o-ow we can get onto our s-s-s-s-second song!”

↠━━━━ღ◆ღ━━━━↞

“Th-Th-The Jon, huh?” Rabbit asked behind the stage, the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed. They had just finished their performance and The Spine had needed to refill his boiler, so it was just them two alone.

The Jon bristled, immediately on the defence. “Is there a problem with my name?” He asked, his expression guarded.

Rabbit held up their hands and backed up a bit. “N-No! Of c-c-c-course not! It’s nice, su-suits ya,” They said, grinning apologetically.

The Jon relaxed, slumping his shoulders in relief. “It does?” He asked, a shy smile on his face.

“Yeah, it s-s-suits ya face,” Rabbit said, grinning and motioning to their own face.

“Thank you…” The Jon said shyly.

Rabbit’s smile fell from their face. “...Does Pappy know?”

The Jon’s smile fell as well, a look of muted fear replacing it. “No…”

Rabbit winced. They opened their mouth to say something, but The Spine, having finished refilling his boiler, asked, “What are you whispering about over here?”

“My name,” The Jon answered.

“Ah, yes. I’m glad you finally found it, The Jon. It suits you,” The Spine said, smiling at his younger brother.

The Jon smiled back and rightened his posture, standing straight like a board but wearing one of the biggest smiles in the world. “That’s right! I’m The Jon!”

The Spine smiled back, taking The Jon’s hat off so he could ruffle his hair affectionately. Rabbit did the same, cackling with glee. The Jon smiled and swiped his hat back, taking a swipe at his siblings’ hats and managing to knock Rabbit’s off. They stood there, laughing and smiling.

The Jon felt his void vibrate with affection. He would die for them, to keep them happy and safe. And he loved how happy they were. Nothing could soil this.

↠━━━━ღ◆ღ━━━━↞

“Come in,” Pappy’s voice came from inside the room.

The Jon stepped inside, nervously fiddling with his hat and rightening his wig so it didn’t look so dishevelled. He had just found his name yesterday; this couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. Pappy was sitting at his desk, writing on a paper that looked like blueprints.

“Yes, Pappy?” The Jon asked nervously.

“I hear you’re calling yourself The Jon now?” Pappy said, still not looking at The Jon.

“Y-Yes, Pappy,” The Jon said, cringing internally at his voicebox’s minor malfunction.

Pappy sighed and put the page down. The Jon peeked over and saw it was his own blueprints. “Are you sure you want to go by that for the rest of your life?” Pappy asked, now looking The Jon straight in the eyes.

The Jon stood straight, trying to mask his nervousness. “Yes.”

Pappy nodded. “Good. It’s about time you found a name for yourself.”

The Jon deflated, sighing with relief. Pappy wrote something on the blueprints. The Jon peeked over once again and his photoreceptors practically glowed as bright as the sun when he saw it was his name. Not Robot #5072, but The Jon .

The Jon asked politely, remembering his manners through his excitement, “Can I go, Pappy?”

Pappy said, “Hm? Oh, yes, you can go now.”

The Jon bounded to the door and, just before he skipped out and down the hall, remembered something. He turned around and peeked his head back inside. “Pappy, why didn’t you ever give me a name?”

Pappy’s head snapped up. He looked astonished. He put the paper he had been reading down and ran a hand through his grey-streaked hair. “I guess I just forgot to,” He said, looking sheepish.

He forgot. He forgot . “Oh,” The Jon said in a small voice, looking down and closing the door quietly.

He walked down the hallway and slowly made his way to his room. It still didn’t have a door, just a tapestry with birds on it. He pushed it away and made a beeline to his bed. He lay down and grabbed his bear that Ma had given him, his photoreceptors already dripping oil. He forgot . Pappy forgot to give him a name .

That was when The Jon started crying. It wasn’t like the other times, which were silent and mostly calm. He let out a loud, pitiful sob and tore his hat and wig from his head, throwing them in random directions. He then dug his digits into his head vents, letting out a screech-scream. HE FORGOT. HE FORGOT MY NAME, The Jon viciously thought, his eyes narrowing in resentment while oil dripped from them in a steady steam.

He let out another scream, bashing his head with the heels of his palms while he sobbed. He let off a loud whistle of steam from one of his neck vents. AM I JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH? DID I NOT DESERVE A NAME? The Jon thought, curling in on himself, oblivious to the noise he was making.

Seconds later, The Spine and Rabbit burst into his room, having heard the ruckus. They found The Jon sobbing, his tears staining his bed black while he curled his fingers into his head vents in an attempt to pry them apart. “J-J-Jon!” Rabbit cried, dashing to their younger brother and prying his hands out of his vents.

The Spine followed, hugging The Jon in an attempt to give him affection and keep him from hurting himself any further. “N-Not… good… en-enough…” The Jon sobbed, curling in on himself again but no longer attempting to pull his head apart.

“No, no Jon, you are good enough,” The Spine crooned, feeling his core metaphorically drop into his feet. What had set him off like this? What even WOULD set him off like this?  He thought, frowning.

“N-No… not e-even go-good en-enough for… for a n-name ,” The Jon wailed, letting off a large amount of steam from his neck and mouth.

The Spine and Rabbit shared a surprised look. This was about The Jon’s name? “No, you are good enough. You have a name,” The Spine assured, rubbing The Jon’s back.

“Y-Y-Yeah, ya n-name’s The J-Jon. Tha-That’s ya name,” Rabbit said softly, running their hand softly over The Jon’s head plates.

“Is everything alright in here?” Pappy’s voice asked. Rabbit and The Spine looked over to see him standing in the doorway, holding the tapestry aside.

The Jon somehow sobbed harder , glaring at his creator through his oily tears. “ LEAVE ,” He screamed, throwing an oil-stained pillow the inventor’s way.

It hit the man in the face, leaving a splattering of oil on it. He looked angry, but the look The Spine and Rabbit gave him, begging him to leave, made him sigh and leave.

The Jon whimpered, his voice no longer coming through as English and now as binary. Rabbit and The Spine couldn’t do much other than sit there and try to comfort the smaller automaton.