#grenn x oc

[storyofmychoices]

Her Legacy

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!MC) + OC children Book: Blades of Light and Shadow II, Chapter 2 Word Count: ~1,100 Rating: general (no warnings?) A/N: This is my HC for why Mal is smiling when we see him in Ch2.

Synopsis: She may be gone, but she could never be forgotten. She lives on in the stories he tells and the hope he inspires.

Mal sat perched on the rooftop of the orphanage he had opened, a place he had come to call home these last couple of months. Before him were five eager faces, eyes wide, filled with wonder. These were the first of what he hoped would be many kids he'd rescued from the harsh streets of White Tower. He longed to find them better homes, but for now, he'd happily share this one with them.

The gibbous moon hung high in the indigo sky, casting a soft, silvery glow upon the small group. The gentle breeze danced on the fringes of the blankets he had set out for them to rest upon.

As he looked at the children, Mal couldn't help but smile. Each of them had a story, a past filled with struggles, and yet, here, they were finally safe. For possibly the first time in their lives, they were cared for, they didn't have to wonder where their next meal would come from, and they weren't at the mercy of begging or stealing to survive. They had a place to belong, and so did he. 

"Alright, my little adventurers," Mal began, his voice tender and warm. His eyes twinkled with excitement as he leaned forward, ready to weave another enchanting tale. "Tonight, I'm going to tell you a very special story."

"More special than battling pirates?" Thalassa questioned impatiently. The young girl bounced in her spot in anticipation.

"More special and more important," Mal offered with a gentle nod.

"More important than beating the Shadow Court?" Lysander's eyes narrowed at Mal, not believing any story could be more exciting or important than that. After all, it was what he was most known for.

Mal's smile faltered as he nodded. "More important than that. Defeating the Shadow Court and the Dreadlord were important, but they almost didn't happen, or at least, I might have been there to help."

The children exchanged puzzled glances, their mouths falling open as they expressed their disbelief. 

"But you're the hero of White Tower!" Ovisa exclaimed, pressing her fists to her hip incredulously. 

"I am one of them, but I almost wasn't," he admitted. 

"How come?" The glow of the moonlight illuminated Thalassa's eyes as she begged for answers. 

"Every story has a beginning, and this one is my favorite of all," Mal leaned back, letting memories of how they met flood his senses. Her smile, her challenging gaze, her wit and wisdom—she was something special. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't be the man before these children now. He drew in a deep breath of the cool night air and began weaving a tale of the night they met, the night his life changed for the better. "It all started in a small town called Riverbend."

"Riverbend," Ovisa's eyes widened. "That's where Daenarya's from."

"Indeed." His heart was heavy at the sound of her name, but he knew it was time to start the story from the best part.

The children gasped, their eyes shining with excitement as he wove a web of intrigue and excitement. He told them of Grenn and Constable Angus, who lost their lives to the minions of the Shadow Court, the treasures of the Temple of Ellara, the first shard, the Shadow Hound, and Duke Erthax. But most of all, he told of her bravery, of her resilience, and of her spirit that led them that night. She was a beacon of hope that made even the darkness tremble in her presence. She was something special. He would make sure she'd never be forgotten.

"Where is she now?" Ovisa questioned. 

He opened his mouth, but there were no words. It was a question he always avoided. He shook his head, focusing on his breathing as he calmed himself. She wouldn't want him to live with the weight of his grief. He studied the faces of the curious children, all waiting for the answer. Mal had told many stories over the several weeks they'd been together, but he never explained what happened to her or any of the others. He had failed them all, but, he wouldn't fail these children now. He considered giving her a fairytale ending, telling them she's safe, living out her days in luxury, but they didn't need a fairytale. They needed hope. They needed something to believe in. 

"She was taken," he admitted. His words were not much more than a whisper. The children drew closer, hanging on his every word. 

"Where?"

"The Shadow Realm." 

"Is she okay?" 

"Is she coming back?"

"Can we go find her?"

"I don't know." His head hung slightly lower as their questions overwhelmed him. He took a moment before continuing. "But I do know this: I've never met anyone as strong, courageous, and amazing as her. If anyone can find their way back to the light, it's Daenarya. So we must have hope. We can't allow the shadows of the past to steal that from us. I understand how challenging it can be to hold onto hope when life has given you so little reason to, but I hope I can show you that there is still goodness in this world and that each of you has a chance to discover your own hope. My hope comes from her, and I'll share it with you until you find something of your own to put your hope in."

Ovisa was the first to speak up, her voice filled with determination. "We'll hope for her too, Mr. Mal." She rested her head on his shoulder as she sat next to him.

Lysander nodded vigorously. "And we'll make our own hope, just like you said."

Thalassa nodded her agreement. "Maybe we can find her. Maybe that's our adventure."

Mal's lips twitched up at their growing optimism. They were so young, and life had been so cruel to them, but through it all, they still had goodness in them. He wondered what he could have been had someone come along and saved him when he was their age. But as he had told them, there was no use dwelling in the past. Despite his trials, they had brought him to her, and that is something he wouldn't trade for anything. 

As the children's eyelids grew heavy, silent yawns slipped from their lips. They exchanged soft, drowsy conversations about what the future might hold and what adventures awaited them. If Daenarya could save the realm, maybe one day they could too. Their story was just beginning.

Mal watched them closely, cherishing the moment for a few minutes longer before ushering them off to their beds. His lips curled into a smile that reached his eyes for the first time in a long time. He enjoyed seeing them like this, hoping for the possibility of what could be. They were proof that she was still there.

The last paragraph is what I imagine we are seeing when we check in with Mal and he's smiling. He is just in awe of the hope and goodness still in these children despite the hardships they've faced.

Thalassa and Lysander are new to this AU, Ovisa is featured in the first Orphanage story I wrote "One More" which is basically another version of this concept (Mal telling stories on the rooftop, but Daenarya is there, so the tone is very different). I decided to carry over Ovisa because while she does exist in my original universe/orphanage, I never actually finished her origin story, so I thought maybe I could do that here? Or maybe I'll do it in my other universe. We'll see.

Rayden and Lydo are not part of this universe yet, but they will be. I couldn't have Mal save them with out Daenarya. And I couldn't not have them in this universe, those are Mal and Daenarya's sons and they will always find each other, even if it takes a little longer.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Game of Thrones Masterlist

my requests for Game of Thrones are currently OPEN! i love this series so much, and would love to write fics/imagines/etc for pretty much any character!!

hmu to be added to any taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

OC: Alethia Stahl (Woman of the Watch AU)

Woman of the Watch -  relationships: jon snow x oc, sansa stark x oc | summary: When Alethia Stahl is thrown into the world of Game of Thrones, she's super excited to be part of the fictional world she adores so much. That is, until she realizes how shitty medieval times actually are. | tags: fluff, smut, timetravel, crack (started out as it), angst

An Unlikely Friendship - relationship: grenn & oc | summary: part of the WotW universe;  He cannot be sure who she is - but she reminds him of his sisters, so he feels like he must protect her. | tags: angst, fluff, timetravel

What if...? Woman of the Watch Edition - summary: Alethia fell into another world and made a bunch of choices - some better, some worse. But what if things had gone differently? What if Alethia had made other choices?

WotW Memes

oc masterpost - tags: inspo, contains spoilers

Sequel: Hand turns Loom - keeping the summary a surprise to avoid spoilers :) | can be read as a standalone!

Jon Snow

Sold to One Direction??? - relationships: none | summary: crackfic!! evil Mistress Catelyn sells Jon to 1D | tags: crack

[siravalondulac]

xi. the maiden

meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight

asoiaf ff | jon snow x fem!oc

summary: jon and elle dance word count: 1212 warnings: none author's note: a bit of a happier chapter before next week

masterlist

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Jon had just finished his fifth cup of ale and his head was slowly turning dizzy.

He was to become a black brother, and Sam was as well. And Pyp and Grenn and Matt, and Albett and Halder and Dareon and Toad. Not a ranger but a steward, but that annoyance was at the far back of his mind. Right now all he could focus on was the music, the ale, and Elle sitting on the table beside him.

I loved a maid as green as spring with sunrise in her hair I loved a maid as white as winter with moonglow in her hair

Over the voices of the over two dozen brothers roaring Jon could barely hear her voice, but what he could hear was enchanting. She sometimes looked down at him, the smile never leaving her face, even as Toad started bawling out the most horrendous of drinking songs.

The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun, and her kisses were warmer than spring. But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel, and its kiss was a terrible thing.

They all sang loudly, even Jon, who had never sung in his life. Something about the mixture of the alcohol, the heat, and his brothers stumbling over their own feet trying to dance really did it to him.

Perhaps she was taken By the king's enemies Dragons, Snakes, or even the Others

Perhaps she was mistaken For a lone orphan child And sent to one of the brothels

Dareon sang "Iron Lances", “The Seasons of my Love”, "The Burning of the Ships", "The Wayward Princess", "The Dornishman's Wife", and a lot more songs that Jon didn't recognise. Elle, however, seemed to know them all by heart. Especially the more southern sounding tunes.

They got interrupted in their singing by a drunken Matt falling into Dareon, who lost the grip on his fiddle and dropped it on the ground. Thunderous laughter filled the room.

“Watching you trying to dance is like watching a fish trying to walk,” Elle said with a laugh.

Matt got up from the floor, though not without trouble. “Then you do better, my lady,” he slurred.

“Without a partner?” she said in a mocking voice. “What kind of lady would I be to dance alone?”

“Mayb's our Lord Snow would join you.” Grenn's speech was even more slurred. “He seems like he's know a thing or two.”

Elle smiled down at him, a question in her eyes.

Jon knew he shouldn't. Only lords danced with pretty ladies, and he wasn't one. But he did know how to dance - a long story that somehow ended with all of his siblings and Theon having lessons together - and with the alcohol in his blood the need to touch Elle won out.

“But only if it's a song I know!”

The men cheered, too drunk to fully understand the implications of what this kind of dance meant.

(Jon included.)

Elle jumped off the table with elegance. “That will not be a problem. I suggest “Lions of the East”.”

More cheers.

Jon knew the song, thankfully. It was a joyous one from the Stormlands, and one that Lady Catelyn had them practise to.

She held out her hand to him, palm facing the ceiling. Jon took it and was promptly pulled to his feet.

“Do not worry,” Elle whispered in his ear as she led him into the middle of the little circle that had formed after supper. “I will lead.”

Dareon played the beginning tune on his fiddle. Jon took his position across from Elle. She smiled with so much joy, he could do nothing else but mirror it.

The song was quick, the steps even more so. But with Elle leading him, and the clapping of his brothers edging him on, the movements quickly came back to him.

Elle somehow managed to sing while she was dancing across from him. The way they came so close time and time again, he could hear her voice more clearly.

What he previously thought to be simply beautiful, turned out to be one of the most entrancing voices he had ever heard. It drew him in, kept him close, commanded his every movement.

How she managed to sound so wonderful while keeping her movements as certain as if she were fighting was beyond him.

Jon moved in again and their hands touched.

After so much time, after seeing her so often, after fearing to be disappointed, he could not get enough of the feel of Elle's hands in his. They were smaller than his, though not by much, and cold, which was a relief in the stuffy room they were in. Jon didn't know why he had expected her hands to be soft - he had seen her work with them almost every time they met, of course they would be calloused.

(He much preferred them that way.)

Through the dance Jon got to touch Elle a lot more than he would have ever dreamed of. His hands on her waist, hers on his shoulder, catching her and twirling her, feeling her breath on his lips.

The song ended with a loud shout from everyone in the room, and Jon holding Elle in his arms. She smiled up at him, a faint pink colouring her cheeks. They both breathed heavily.

He pulled Elle up, not letting her go yet. He needed to treasure every moment he had with her, before having to swear his vows on the morrow.

His vows.

Jon took a step back, letting Elle's hands fall from his. She looked hurt for a single beat of their hearts, before smiling again broadly and cheering along with the other men.

He had to have imagined that look on her face. Because there was no way Elle could possibly feel something similar to what he was feeling.

“Another one!” one of the men shouted.

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” Elle answered with a laugh, falling down on her table again. “That was quite enough for one evening.” 

Jon sat down beside her again. She took a deep swig of her ale. He did as well.

“Where's the music?” Albett said excitedly.

Dareon strung up the first few cords, when the door opened and Commander Mormont stepped in, followed by a gust of cold wind.

Everyone fell silent.

“I think you lot have had your fun for tonight. Everyone to their barracks now.”

A groan went through the room. Even though some shouts of protest could be heard, no one dared to truly go against Mormont.

Slowly, everyone filed out of the room. Elle went ahead of Jon, stepping out into the freezing night. He shivered.

Elle smiled at him. “Have a good night.”

As Jon watched Elle walk down the wooden path and towards her tower, he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder. When he turned around he looked into the concerned eyes of his Lord Commander.

“Be careful, Jon.”

“I am.”

It was the truth. He was careful, has always been, all of his life. That would not change now. He would swear his vows on the morrow and fully commit himself to the Night's Watch. He knew himself. And he knew Elle. Nothing would happen. All would be well.

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[mystic-archer]

Lycanthropy - Jon Snow

Beast

Pairing: Jon Snow x oc (Aela of the Weres) Length: 1.6k Rating: M for Mature Warnings: gore, graphic depictions of violence

The wind howled through the trees, biting at Jon Snow's face as he trudged through the snow-covered forest. His breath came in ragged clouds, visible in the frigid air. The world around him was white and still, save for the occasional rustle of snow-laden branches swaying in the bitter wind. They weren't far beyond the Wall - no more than a few hours travel by foot. He could easily see it in a distance.

This was his first time beyond the Wall, still new to his position in the Night's Watch, walked in the middle of the small group. They were returning from a training expedition led by one of Ser Alliser's rangers. Jon was separated from Grenn and Edd who were part of another group returning. Five other crows, men he had barely exchanged a word with, walked ahead of him. Jon didn't know their names, but the camaraderie of the Watch hadn't quite reached him yet. 

"Damn cold," the stocky one muttered, his voice rough. "What's the point of this shit? Could have done this blasted shit at the Wall. No wildlings out here. Just us and the dead trees."

Jon kept his silence, though he shared the same thought. No one had warned him of the isolation that came with these missions beyond the Wall, nor the unsettling quiet. If only Uncle Benjen had been there to guide his group.

The forest was too quiet, and Jon felt his unease grow with each step. He reached for the hilt of Longclaw, the weight of the blade grounding him.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a distant, low growl—so faint that Jon wondered if it was his imagination.

The stocky man froze, narrowing his eyes toward the shadowy line of trees. "Did you hear that?"

Jon tensed, instinctively drawing Longclaw from its scabbard, his senses alert.

"Probably a wolf," the man with the patch on his eye said dismissively, "Nothing to worry about."

But Jon wasn't so sure. The growl had been too... primal. Too close.

Without warning, a blur of movement shot out of the shadows—two hulking figures charging through the trees. Before Jon could even raise his sword, one of the men was taken down with a brutal swipe from a massive clawed hand, the other screaming as he was dragged into the trees.

"Wildlings!" Jon shouted, his heart racing. The first of the attackers emerged fully from the shadows—a tall, gaunt figure wearing the furs and leather armor of a Thenn. His face was as cold as the land he came from, and his eyes gleamed with predatory hunger.

Jon lunged at him with Longclaw, but the Thenn dodged with surprising agility for a man his size. Jon's blade missed, and the Thenn slashed at him with a curved, wicked-looking knife. Jon raised his sword to block, but the force of the blow sent a shock through his arms.

He staggered back, heart hammering, and barely dodged the Thenn's next strike. The two of them circled, Jon's boots slipping on the snow as he fought to regain his footing. His breath came in sharp gasps. He attempted to back away and slipped backwards in the snow, falling on to his back.

Jon's breaths came ragged and shallow, misting in the frigid air as he sat up to crawl backwards towards a snow-draped boulder. The pain in his side throbbed where the Thenn's axe had glanced off his ribs. Around him lay the bodies of two of his brothers—Harker and Darrin—both dead, their blood black against the white snow.

And the Wildlings were closing in.

The Thenns' leader, a hulking man with a cruel smile and a scar across his bald head, stood a few paces away, his heavy axe glinting.

"Southron boy's still breathing," he said in the Old Tongue, sneering. "Weak, but breathing." He glanced behind him to his men, their laughter low and rough. "Lucky for you, we've got company."

Jon lifted his head, wincing at the pain, and saw her.

A girl, no older than him, emerged soundlessly from the shadows of the trees. She was cloaked in darkness—dark colors that were too fine for Wildling garb. Her black hair hung wavy around a pale face, and her brown eyes caught the faint light like polished glass. There was something unearthly about her calm as she surveyed the scene.

"A Were," one of the Thenns spat, his voice carrying in disgust.

The leader turned to her, grinning wide enough to show teeth. "You're far from your kind, beast. I have to say though that the two would make a pretty couple," he said, pointing his axe at Jon like he was already a corpse. "I'll let you get first sight of my time with her before I end you both." He directs a sickening grin at Jon.

Jon felt a chill run down his spine at the words, his heart clenching with fear—not for himself, but for the strange woman standing in front of him, so seemingly unprepared for what they could do. She was nothing more than a girl, not much older than Jon, and yet she wasn't backing down. But what could she do against them? He was already bleeding, and the Thenns had him surrounded.

She stayed silent for a moment before her lips twisted into a frown. "Your funeral," she said simply.

Aela dropped her cloak to the snow with a fluid motion, revealing her form beneath. Jon blinked, his breath catching in his throat, as her body began to contort before his eyes. Her limbs lengthened with sickening cracks, and fur sprouted across her skin.  Her face contorted, lengthening into a wolf's snout lined with fangs. She dropped to all fours, the remnants of her clothing hanging tattered from the monstrous shape she had become. Massive, dark, and hunched, she resembled the terrifying werewolves from Old Nan's stories, or the beasts Jon had once seen in an old book—bigger than any direwolf. The transformation was grotesque and fast—a horrific yet awe-inspiring sight. She was no longer a girl. 

The Thenns froze, staring as Aela's new form towered over them, her claws gleaming in the moonlight. With a snarl, she lunged forward in an instant. The first Thenn barely had time to react before she raked her claws across his chest, throwing him aside like a ragdoll. His scream was short and cut off as she turned to the second Thenn, her speed and strength overwhelming him.

Jon could only watch in stunned silence as Aela tore the men apart with brutal efficiency. The Thenns fought, but they were no match for the fury of the werewolf before them. It was violent and primal, a storm unleashed upon them. Blood sprayed, and limbs were torn asunder with terrifying ease. Jon's stomach churned, both horrified and fascinated by the brutality of it all. She was a force of nature, and Jon had no doubt she could kill them all in seconds if she wished.

When the last Thenn fell to the ground, his life extinguished, Aela stood over the bodies, chest heaving with heavy breaths. She paused, her yellow eyes flicking over to Jon, and in that moment, Jon realized he had been holding his breath, the horror of what he had witnessed still clouding his mind.

The beast stepped back, lowering her head as though shaking herself awake. Slowly, her monstrous shape shrank and twisted again, the fur retracting, claws retracting. Bones snapped as she stood upright.

And there she was again.

Jon could see the moment she realized he was frightened. Her gaze softened, and she reached down to pick up her cloak, wrapping it around her body.

"I... I'm sorry," Aela murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes searched Jon's face, noting the shock that still gripped him. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Jon blinked, trying to shake off the knot in his stomach. "You—you saved me," he managed to say, his voice hoarse from the fear and the adrenaline still surging through his veins.

Aela nodded, kneeling beside him. The strength she had shown in the battle had disappeared, replaced by a quiet understanding. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch warm despite the coldness of the night.

Jon swallowed, trying to find words. "What... what are you?"

"Alive. Same as you." Her lips quirked faintly before she crouched beside him. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," Jon muttered, though his side throbbed. His eyes remained on the blood-streaked snow as she helped him to his feet. Her hands were steady and warm, despite what he'd just seen her do.

"You shouldn't look so horrified," she said. "They would've killed you. Or worse."

Jon's mouth tightened as he glanced back at the bodies. "I've seen men killed before."

"Not like this, though." She tilted her head, her brown eyes studying him carefully. "You're from the Wall, aren't you?"

He nodded stiffly. "Jon Snow. I'm of the Night's Watch."

"Well, Jon Snow," she said, standing straight again. "I'm Aela. And you're welcome."

Jon opened his mouth to respond—likely something pointed about werewolves or gratitude—but the pain in his side forced him to double over slightly. The girl sighed and reached out again, this time with a surprising gentleness.

"Come on," she said. "You won't make it back to your brothers like this. I'll help you."

Jon hesitated but saw no other choice. "You're not... like them," he finally said, though it wasn't a question. Who else lived north of the wall besides wildlings and Craster?

"No," she replied quietly. "I'm not."

She looped his arm over her shoulders and began to lead him away from the bloodied clearing. Jon kept his eyes ahead, avoiding the dead and trying not to think about what she really was—or how she'd just saved his life.

[awolfhasnoname]

The Night Wolf

PART ONE

Request: “Hi!!! I love your writing! Im not sure if you're writing for other GoT characters but if you are could I please get a request for Grenn? I really want to see a Stark reader, like Jons sister to go to the wall like Sansa did and fall for Grenn. Maybe she can have her own dire wolf and Jon thinks they died at the Red Wedding but they fought their way out. Grenn doesn't know what to do at first because of his vow? IDK if that makes sense or is too vague but just make it up as you go hehe!”

Grenn x OC!Stark

A/N: So as per usual I got carried away with this haha, not everything is covered in this because I will be writing a second part. I really hope you like this as its my first time writing for Grenn! I also used this opportunity to use an OC id been working on, I hope you don't mind!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, Usual GoT warnings.

Words: 1.3K

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters (except for Lyria) or gif(s) used below.

“There’s someone approaching the gate.” A smaller man announced to Grenn, before being met with a questioning look, “A hooded figure, they are approaching quickly,” Grenn nodded before instructing the man, “Go and tell the Lord Commander,” before climbing down the stairs towards the gate.

As the stranger rode in, Grenn stood back, hand finding the hilt of his sword preparing for the worst. “State your business.” As the figure dismounted he noticed they were quite smaller than they appeared on the horse. They stepped forward and removed the hood that covered their face, Grenn froze hand dropping from his sword immediately when he saw the face behind the hood.

The face of a beauty. Soft lips set into a serious expression, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves but what he noticed most was her eyes, those beautiful stark grey eyes. Which he then noticed were focused solely on him forcing him to regain his composure. “I wish to speak to the Lord Commander.” The confidence in her voice surprised Grenn slightly, “What business do you have with the Lord Commander,” he asked, voice softer than before.

The woman went to answer but before she could a flash of white leapt towards her knocking her to the ground, “Ghost!” Grenn immediately yelled running over to try to help the woman, but all he was met with was laughter. Her laugh was as soft as she looked, the melody filling him with warmth.  When he reached the pair she was still giggling, pushing the giant dire wolf off her, “Get off, you big lump,” she sighed as his weight was finally removed.

Grenn reached out a hand to help her up but the sudden movement caught Ghost off guard, he jumped before the Stranger growling at Grenn. “Ghost!” The woman snapped before turning her gaze back to Grenn, “I’m so sorry! I guess he’s still a bit protective of me,” she giggles as she soothes the dire wolf back to his normal self. Before he could react, a voice boomed from behind them “Lyria?” Jon’s pace quickened as he walked towards them, Ghost taking to his side as he reached them. Grenn looked at the woman, of course she was Lyria Stark. He had heard stories about her, her beauty, the Stark warrior, the night wolf. He had also heard she was dead, seen his brother in arms mourn for her.

A smirk grew on her face as she spoke to her brother, “Lord Commander hey?” she jested. She barely got the words out before she was being pulled into his arms, he held her tighter than he ever head. She could feel his sadness, his loss and she reprimanded herself for not coming sooner. Pulling back he looked her over, “Are you okay? I thought you were dead! I heard about Robb and Catelyn, you were supposed to be at the Twins too?” Grenn noticed the pain in her eyes as Jon spoke about the wedding, “I was…” but Jon stopped her from continuing, noticing the many curious eyes around them, “We will talk about it inside.” He instructed before looking around again.

“Where’s Shadow?” Jon noticed the smirk on Lyria’s face as she pointed behind the two and sure enough upon one of the many open walkways of the castle sat a large dire wolf, just smaller than ghost and as black as night. The wolf sat carefully hidden in the shadows before heading towards them. His bright red eyes focused on the two men as he sat in front of Lyria. Sniffing at Grenn curiously.

“Great now there’s two wolves,” Grenn mumbled. Lyria giggled causing a slight blush to appear across Grenn’s face, “Don’t worry, Shadow and I won’t be a bother.” A stout man spoke up then, Lyria hadn’t seemed to notice him watching from a distance. “You won’t be a bother because you won’t be staying here, no room for women at castle black.” As he stepped closer a low growl could be heard from Shadow, Jon was about to shut the man down but Grenn stepped forward surprising both Lyria and Jon, “Shut it Vigdis, it’s up to the Lord Commander where she stays.” But Vigdis just laughed, “Got a crush on the little stark bitch, aye Grenn?” Before Grenn could respond Jon snapped, “Enough both of you. Come on Lyria, we will talk inside.”

The pair and their wolves made their way inside leaving Grenn staring after her, not noticing Pyp’s presence next to him. “Who’s the girl?” he questioned. “Lyria Stark, Jon’s sister.” Pyp looked up at him noticing how his eyes hadn’t left the girl and laughed, “Dream on, Grenn.”

Jon wished he had dinner sent up to them instead of eating in the hall like they usually did, Jon could feel the stares of the men but it didn’t seem to bother Lyria. She was laughing and discussing better times, “I missed you brother, things hadn’t been the same since you left.” Jon could see the pain in her eyes as she began reminiscing on when everything had started to go wrong for the Starks, “This is all because of that fat prick of a King, if father hadn’t gone to Kings Landing with him we would all still be alive and well in Winterfell.” A tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it, she quickly brushed it away before changing the subject.

Grenn watched on from a table near the pair, watching her smile fade as she wipes a tear away. He can feel the strain in his chest as he fights the urge to approach the table, luckily enough he’s snapped out of his thoughts by Sam, “She’s quite pretty isn’t she?” he remarks, Grenn just feigns disinterest, “She’s alright,” he mumbles as he turns his attention back to his sub-par dinner. Pyp scoffs from next to him, “Alright? Is that why you can’t keep your eyes off her.” Grenn opened his mouth to argue when he heard that same melodic giggle that had already warmed his heart a few times that day, turning to see the beauty standing by the table and Jon nowhere to be seen.

“Grenn, was it?” he couldn’t do anything but nod, “My brother had to meet with some of the free folk, but he said you were the one to see about going to the top of the wall?” He still didn’t respond, not seeming to be able to find any words at the moment, her smile began to fade as she continued, “I’m sorry I don’t mean to be a burden, I’m sure I can find my way up there.” She turned and began walking towards the door, slightly embarrassed by the small rejection. She had just made it outside when she heard a voice behind her, “Wait, Lady Stark.” He paused to regain some breathe, obviously trying to reach her in some haste, “I can take you up the wall.” He watched the soft smile grace her face and felt his stomach flutter, “Only if you’re not too busy, I do not wish to be a burden,” He barely let her finish before jumping in, “Not a burden at all my lady, I’d be honoured.” A sheepish smile crossed his face as he spoke to her, she simply nodded feeling a slight heat reach her cheeks as he looked at her. “Lead the way.”

[1-800-imagines]

Masterlist

Finally Finished! Here’s the full Masterlist in all its glory!

Suicide Squad

The Joker

1

2

3

4

5

Doctor / Part 2

Harley’s Sister

Boss Man

Joker’s Daughter

Stolen NSFW

Concert (Preference)

Bad Day NSFW

Being a Daddy (Preference)

Jealous

Phone Calls NSFW

Boss Man

Materials

Scars

Digger Harkness ‘Captain Boomerang’

Fluff

1

Chato Santana ‘El Diablo’

1

2

True Blood

Eric Northman

1

2

3

4

5

6

Hurt

Fluff

Jealous

Alcide Hervaux

1

Jealous

Fluff

Jason Stackhouse

1

2

Family (Preference)

Fluff

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller

Addictive (Semi NSFW)

Jealous NSFW

Downwards Dog NSFW

1

2

3

4

5

Ice Cream

Fluff

Family Fluff

Boxing NSFW

Drabble

Chibs Telford

Little Sister

Jealous

Baby

1

Juice Ortiz

1

I love you (preference)

Being his wife (preference)

Chibs’ Niece

Happy Lowman

1

Competing 

Fluff

Opie Winston

1

Herman Kozik

Baby Girl

Competing

Tig Trager

Flangst

Shameless

Carl Gallagher

1

2

3

4

5

6

Lip Gallagher

1

2

3

4

5

6  (Halloween)

7 (Dad!Lip)

8

9

10 NSFW

Ian Gallagher

1

13 Reasons Why

Justin Foley

1

Dating him (Preference)

Montgomery de la Cruz

Dating him (Preference)

Supernatural

John & Dean Winchester

Choices

Dean Winchester

Serial Killer

Proverbial Dog House

Meeting Daddy / Part 2

1

2 (Dad!Dean)

3

Fluff

John Winchester

Angst

These Days

Sam Winchester

1

Random

Turkey Day

Being Bobby’s Daughter (Preference)

Game Of Thrones

Jon Snow

Homecoming

1

2

Leaving

Flangst

Twin

Jaime Lannister

Flangst

1

2

xStark!Reader

Tommen Baratheon

Hurt

Fluff

1

Being Married (Preference)

Unique / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Tyrion Lannister

Book Room

Stealing Books

1

Robb Stark

Dating Him (Preference)

Birth

Flangst

Grenn

1

Lost

Theon Greyjoy

1

2

Trapped

Sansa Stark

1 NSFW

Sandor Clegane

Mine NSFW

Fluff

1

Oberyn Martell

1

Angst

Bran Stark

Fallen

Come Back to Me

Lots of people

Making you cry

Original Character

Lyanna Baratheon

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

Daryl’s Baby

Dating Him (Preference)

Jealous

1

Saving Grace

Shane Walsh

Dating Him (Preference)

Carol Peletier

Her Long Lost Daughter

Carl Grimes

Dating Him (Preference)

Negan

Marvel

Tony Stark

First Christmas (Preference)

1

OC Hadley Stark

Family Fluff

Loki Laufeyson

1

Thor Odinson

Fluff

Clint Barton

1

Peter Quill

Fluff

Headcanon

How they fight for your attention

Riverdale

Archie Andrews

1

Jughead Jones

1

The Vampire Diaries

Damon Salvatore

1

2

Klaus Mikealson

1

2

Grey’s Anatomy

Alex Karev

Anxiety Attack

Oh Baby

Daughter 2

Shooter

1 / Part 2 NSFW

Derek Shepherd

Car Crash 

Teen Wolf

Isaac Lahey

1

The Outsiders

Sodapop Curtis

1

Headcanons

Cuddling

Reign

Francis

1

Twilight

Carlisle & Esme

Being Their Daughter (Preference)

Paul Lahote

1

Star Wars

Kylo Ren

1

Dirty Dancing

Johnny Castle

Be My Baby

Here ya go lovelies! Enjoy.

[siravalondulac]

ix. the father

meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight

asoiaf ff | jon snow x fem!oc

summary: jon works in the stables and sees a side of elle that should have stayed hidden word count: 1619 warnings: slutshaming, detailed threats of death

masterlist

previous | next

Jon was certain that he would never get used to the smell of horse shit, no matter how long he was forced to work in the stables.

He tried not to let his discomfort show. Especially because Elle, who had been working in the stables for an even shorter time than him, seemed absolutely unaffected by her environment.

Even though he tried, Jon couldn't keep his eyes from flicking towards her every now and then. It did not distract him from his work, he would tell anyone who asked him - not that they did, too caught up with complaining.

"How come you get to tend to the horses,” Halder said to Elle, "while we have to dig around in shit?”

For some reason, after brushing out the horse’s mane, Elle had braided a strand of its hair.

Elle smirked. "Perhaps because I am not a criminal and therefore get to choose my work.”

Almost instantly after she said it, her eyes crossed with his, and her gaze softened, looking almost apologetically. Elle wasn't the only one who had noticed, apparently.

“Jon here's not a criminal either,” Grenn said from the back of the stables.

Jon could see Elle trying to say something, perhaps to apologise or explain herself, but he decided to butt in before her.

“No, it is true, I have committed the worst crime of them all,” he said in a theatrical voice. “I, as a Stark, dared to have curly hair."

A general sense of confusion could be seen on everyone's faces, but soon they all burst out into thunderous laughter - even Elle.

"Aye, and dared to be prettier than all his sisters too," Pyp exclaimed while lazily punching him in the back.

Jon, however, looked over to Elle. She was still laughing, though her eyes had never left him. He nodded and smiled encouragingly, hoping it would calm her nerves about her previous statement.

She smiled in response, and Jon knew it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Elle had started combing down the next horse, a black stallion, when suddenly Ser Alliser appeared in the doorway. If there had been remnants of laughter left, it died down now.

"Elle," he spoke loudly into the room.

Said girl stretched her head out of the horsebox. "Yes?"

"Can you come with me? I have need of you."

"I will finish brushing down this horse and then I shall be right with you."

Why was Elle so courteous with Thorne?

The man looked around the room before gruffing out a "Fine" and left.

Elle appeared seemingly unaware of the stares upon her, continuing on with her work.

“There's something weird about her accent,” Pyp said.

Halder huffed. “She's Dornish, what'd you expect?”

“But she doesn't sound like the Dornish I've met.”

“I don't think I wanna know what kind of Dornish you hung around.”

Jon had only listened with one ear to their conversation. He still stared at Elle, trying to make sense of her previous interaction.

He blinked and decided he'd had enough of the guesswork and walked over to her. She shot him a quick smile.

"Elle, why does Thorne tolerate you?"

This was what got her to turn towards him fully. She laid her head to the side.

"Do you know why he is here, at the Wall?"

Jon shook his head.

"During Robert's Rebellion, he fought for the crown. After King Aerys was killed, the loyalists were given the choice between bending the knee and swearing fealty to Robert Baratheon, or taking the Black. Ser Alliser chose the latter."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"I am a Martell. Princess Elia was my aunt and my father tried to raise an army for Viserys Targaryen. He must have put two and two together and concluded that we are on the same side."

"And are you? On the same side, I mean."

"Jon, I wasn't even born yet when the Rebellion happened. It doesn't matter whether we share political opinions, simply him believing that we do makes my life far easier."

“And with me being Ned Stark's son…” He left the thought unfinished, but he knew. No matter how much he tried (he didn't) Thorne would never like him.

"Oh, would you calm down for a moment?" Elle exclaimed. The stallion had not stayed still for even a moment since she had come into his box. "I do not mean you harm."

"I'd be careful with that one," Sam said. "I heard that a few moons past he broke someone's leg."

Elle chuckled. "I wish Elia were here. She would have no problem taming this beast."

"Elia?" Jon asked, confused. How could Elle have ever met Princess Elia?

Elle immediately recognised the origin of his confusion.

"Oh, my sister, Elia. She was named after our aunt. Sometimes I think she is half horse, the way she moves on them." She furrowed her brows together. "Though I do wish that she would have let me win some of our races."

"Maybe you'd like to race against me sometime?"

Ugh, why had he said that?

Elle smiled one of the broadest smiles he had ever seen on her. "I would like that very much.”

“Maybe you would have more of a chance,” Sam joined the conversation again, “if you rode one of Lord Willas’ horses. I heard his breeds are the best of the best.”

Jon wanted to frown at Sam, but he held back. He was his friend and Elle didn't belong solely to him.

“Good, yes. But also incredibly expensive,” Elle answered. “The animals he breeds belong to kings, not bastards.”

“True.” Sam was deep in thought. “I would not be surprised if the king himself had multiple of Lord Willas’ stallions.”

Elle smirked. “Perhaps the princess used one of those to run away.”

“You should not joke about that.” Jon didn’t know all the details of the princess’ disappearance, but even he was careful around the topic.

“You Northerners are such prudes,” Elle said with a laugh. “Everyone in Dorne would have laughed at that.”

Jon would not have been surprised if the Dornish had celebrated upon learning of the tragedy that had befallen the royal family. They held no love for the Baratheon crown and-

"Oy, Snow!" Rast called from across the stables. He was leaning on his pitchfork, an ugly smirk across his face. His eyes were on Elle. "What'd ya reckon, how often did she have to let Thorne fuck her for him to be nice to her? A dozen times maybe?" Some of the men chuckled.

The heat curled up inside of Jon's stomach and slowly made its way into his entire body. Who was he to say such ugly things about his Elle? He wanted to growl, to roar, to burn him to ashes.

"Maybe that's the reason Mormont lets her stay, eh? Suppose her bed is never cold."

A hand touched his shoulder. Jon spared a glance towards Elle, and all the fire in him froze.

Jon couldn't move. He only stared at her smile, so dark and full of malice. He had never seen someone smile like this.

Her smile promised death.

He wanted to stop her, but it was too late. She was already walking towards Rast, like a predator stalking its prey. A shiver went down Jon's spine.

The others seemingly had noticed too, for a general sense of discomfort had spread amongst them. Even Rast had noticed.

He moved his arm, and within the blink of an eye Elle was onto him. Faster than anyone could move to stop her, she slammed Rast down into one of the carts, her knee burying down on his stomach and her dagger pressed to his throat.

The other men moved back in shock, some lone shouts found no echo in the room.

"Elle," Jon tried.

"What do you reckon?" she snarled. "Perhaps the reason they let me stay is because I did to them the same thing I am doing to you now."

Rast had let out a loud scream when his head hit the shit in the cart. Now he just lay whimpering beneath her.

"Or perhaps I held them over the edge of the Wall, let them see beyond the horizon and all the way into the Lands of Always Winter. That would let anyone's blood freeze. Would you like to try?"

"Elle," Jon tried again.

"I wonder how long it would take for the entirety of your blood to leave your body. Most likely not under an hour, especially not if I only open your throat here."

Jon could almost feel her pressing the dagger further into the skin himself.

"But if I dragged you to your bed and did it there, then your bed will not remain cold for the night."

"Elle, stop!"

This time she did look up, and Jon wished she hadn't. If he didn't know any better, he would have said her eyes glowed. He took a step back.

Elle bared her teeth and let her tongue run over them. Then she looked down again, smiling.

"It seems your life shall not end today. Truly a shame, I was so looking forward to it."

She removed her dagger and took a step back. But before Rast could move away from the cart as well, Elle kicked him in the stomach and he fell back into it.

"As a reward, you get to take care of the other horses," she told Rast. Jon knew it wasn't meant as one.

Her gaze went across the room and as their eyes met, she suddenly looked unspeakably tired. Then she smiled again and walked out of the stables.

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author's note: with this chapter and the last you should figure out who elle is pretty easily

[siravalondulac]

vi. the smith

meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight

asoiaf ff | jon snow x fem!oc

summary: jon walks around castle black and spots elle somewhere she should perhaps not be word count: 829 warnings: none

masterlist

previous | next

After two days, the storm had finally passed and Jon wasn’t confined to the underground passageways anymore. And although he had never loved the sun as much as others might, he had to say he missed walking around the castle in its light.

Many of his brothers seemed to share this sentiment, as he had rarely seen so many men going after their work outside. Even Albett had joined them outside, though Jon supposed that was more due to coercion than his personal want.

“This thing is falling apart already,” Albett said as he kicked a wood panel into place. “I don’t understand why we should try and fix anything.”

The storm had done considerable damage to the wooden ramparts and stone walls of Castle Black, so Othell Yarwyck had recruited anyone who didn’t have a more important duty to help with the repairs. The recruits were the first to fall victim. Ghost, however, had taken off north of the Wall to hunt. Lucky dog.

“Well, he ain't wrong,” Grenn said from the upper floor. “I almost broke my neck the past week walking down the stairs. And that was no storm causing that.”

“That's no proof. You'd fall down the stairs of Highgarden if you ever set foot in the castle,” Pyp countered.

“I wouldn't want to go there anyways.”

Jon shook his head at the antics of his friends, even though he couldn't suppress a smile.

“You really should want to see Highgarden,” Sam chimed in. “It is no Hightower, but the architecture is truly noteworthy.”

Jon could already feel the insults on the other's tongues, so he quickly said, “No matter what, no castle will ever be as grand as Winterfell, I can assure you that.”

“'Course he'd say that,” Grenn said.

The group went quiet again. Jon went to move one of the boards at the end of the staircase in place. He looked around in confusion.

“Does anyone have any nails left?”

A resounding “No” came from everyone in the group.

“Fine. I'll go get some.”

He had quickly found what he needed in the armoury and was on his way back when he noticed several brothers standing at the foot of the Tower of Guards, looking upwards. Intrigued, he walked towards them.

Following their gaze, he noticed a woman sitting on the tower's roof.

“What is Elle doing up there?” he asked the man next to him. Jon had seen him before but couldn't remember his name.

“Fixing the roof,” the man answered. “She's the only one able to get up there.”

Jon's eyes wandered down and up the side of the tower. He spotted a few alcoves and jutted-out bricks, but nothing providing a true way to reach the top.

“How?”

The man shook his head. “Don't ask. You need to see it for yourself to believe, it's as if she can stick to the walls by herself.”

“We can be glad she ain't no wildling,” a blonde haired man spoke up. “Otherwise the Wall would have long fallen.”

Jon looked up again. Elle sat dangerously close to the edge, teetering on falling over. And yet she didn't seem to pay any mind to it.

“Instead of standing around uselessly down there one of you could finally pull up the box I know you already have,” Elle shouted from above.

“Get it yourself! Or are you such a weak and fragile little lady that you-”

The blonde man let out a high-pitched screech as a brick fell down right in front of his face. It landed with a loud thud on the wooden floor. The three men around him broke out in laughter.

“You missed,” one of them shouted.

“Better get me that box or I shall not next time.”

The man Jon had spoken to walked towards a rope hanging down from one of the windows. He grabbed it with both hands and started pulling, heaving a small chest upwards.

“You scream like a girl,” a man said, still laughing.

“Do not!”

Jon's gaze stayed on Elle, even as the men started bickering amongst themselves. She had noticed the rope moving. Putting down whatever tool she had been holding, she grabbed ahold of the edge and swung herself over it, as if she had done it a thousand times before. She climbed down the short distance to the window and took ahold of the chest as soon as she could reach it. She placed it on the window sill, took something out of it and quickly climbed back to the roof.

Jon's amazement must have been written clear on his face, because when the man had let the rope to the ground again and turned towards him he said, “Told you so.”

He didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded and walked towards the staircase he was supposed to be fixing right now.

And even though he tried, he knew the smile on his face was clear to see.

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