Game of Thrones Oneshots

Jon Snow x Baratheon Reader- Calm yourself (pt2)

For the rest of your stay at Winterfell, you and Jon had avoided each other and completely ignored that tether between you both. The kiss was never supposed to happen. It was the drink that got to you. That was your reasoning for doing something so stupid or at least what you tried telling yourself.

Soon after, you returned to Kings Landing and became your angry self once more. Waiting for the day preparations were all set and you had to marry Robb Stark, and your mind often wondered back to that kiss with Jon. But in the coming months. Everything went to shit. It was safe to say that your engagement was off when Robb declared war on the Lannisters. Though it didn't matter much when you found yourself on the road alone. You'd fled your home as soon as you had found out the lineage of your other siblings and the massacre of your fathers bastards in Kings Landing. It was your uncle Tyrion who helped you get out and his parting words were, "now is the time that fire inside you is going to come in great use, don't let it die out because of this."

You travelled North, going as far as you could. Staying off roads and avoiding travellers. Things were running smoothly, until a pack of Wildlings had you surrounded. Low grade axes, swords and spears pointed your way as they snarled at you. You cautiously ran your eyes over each one, trying to pinpoint the leader. Maybe you could try and negotiate your way out of this.

"Now this is a bit overkill, a lone woman against-" you counted out loud how many surrounded you "-Nine. Ten Wildlings! I've got nothing of use on me so it's only well and good to let me go."

A bark of a laugh game from a large fellow with an orange beard and a crazed look in his eyes, "think we'll show mercy to a southerner?"

There's the leader, you thought with a smile growing on your lips.

"No. I don't think you will, but I am hoping." That's it. Use that fire inside you to throw out retorts. Keep them talking whilst you looked for a way out. You spotted a small opening where two wildlings unknowingly left a gap open large enough for you to run through. All you needed was some sort of a distraction.

As if the gods themselves had heard you, a voice bleated, "(y/n)? Is that really you?"

All of the Wildlings turned to the very man you tried so hard to forget, who pushed past the circle and froze. Even you stopped for a moment. Face dropping and breath catching in your closing throat. Jon Snow. Wrapped up in Wildling clothes and a red headed woman by his side, armed with a bow.

"You know this Southerner?" The large man asked, head quirking to the side as Jon refused to take his eyes off you. Somehow, you had become more beautiful since he saw you last. No fancy dresses or jewellery. Instead you were in simple travelling clothes, sword strapped to your side, and yet still held that authoritative air around you. A new roguish charm emanated from your entire demeanour and complemented the fiery spark in your eyes.

"I do...she's not like the rest of them, Tormund." Jon finally looked to the man and that was your cue. All eyes off you. You bolted towards the opening, violently shoving your way through, and ran towards the treeline. Just as you were about to break through, a ripping pain sliced through your thigh and you stumbled forwards. Smacking your head against a tree as a sickening crunch came from your nose. You fell to the floor, streams of blood flowing from your broken feature, and saw an arrow buried deep in your thigh.

"(y/n)!" Jon ran to you, but stopped when you pulled out your sword and stumbled up.

You flashed him your bloodstained teeth in a snarl, "come any closer and I'll gut you."

The Wildlings were in no rush as they approached you. All smirking. Oh how you wanted to beat them senseless. Tormund stood by Jon's side, grinning like a madman, "you might be right about her Crow, Southern women don't get me hard like she's doing right now."

"Put your tiny prick anywhere near me and I'll cut it off," you growled and spat blood at his feet ", and shove it down your throat."

Jon winced as Tormund bellowed another laugh, "hah! It'll be a waste killing you. Tie her up and bring her with us."

You fought back against the many hands that reached out for you. You almost cut one off until the red haired woman jammed her thumb into your wound, drawing more blood, and you screamed in pain.

~

Tied up and sat by the fire, you glared at everything inside the tent. How in all the seven hells would you get yourself out of this mess? Soon enough, Jon walked into the tent. Looking meek and apologetic as he took in your bandaged thigh and bruised nose. You narrowed your eyes on him, which would send most men running for the hills. But he simply swallowed and sat down next to you. Hands unwrapping your bandage to check the wound. You listened to his soft breathing and for a passing moment, felt a small flicker of safety with him beside you.

"Is Robb close by?" Jon muttered, wrapping up your leg again when he was certain the wound hadn't festered. "he must be worried about you."

You snorted at that, rolling your eyes. "I wouldn't know where he is and I'm sure he sleeps fine at night without me." Jon furrowed his brows and so you continued, "we didn't marry in the end."

"I see." He leaned back on his haunches, eyes roaming over your face. "So you have no man in your life?"

"Careful what you ask, Jon. Might not like what you hear." You teased, knowing full well that there was no man. In fact the only man you thought so often about was sitting right beside you, looking like a sad little puppy. You sighed to yourself. "I'm joking...I haven't thought of or even touched a man since-"

You stopped yourself, but Jon continued for you "-since our kiss?"

"I suppose so." silence fell, only broken by the crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside. You shivered, still unused to the northern climate, and pulled at your restraints. There was no need to ask as Jon took out a knife and freed you. He left for a moment and returned with a fur blanket, wrapping it around you. "Thanks, Jon."

Jon's hands lingered on the front of the blanket, holding it closed, as he once again let his eyes roam over your face. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You know...I still haven't forgot about it. I tried distracting myself-"

"With that red head?" You interrupted and felt a bitter feeling inside when he slowly nodded, shifting on the spot.

"But it didn't work. Every time I try to sleep, I think about what I didn't do that night." He ran his hands up the fur blanket and rested against your neck. His thumbs grazed your jawline as you cocked your head to the side. "I wished I had the courage to ask you back to my bed, where I could be selfish and have you all to myself just a bit longer."

You held your breath, placing your hands on his and bringing your face closer. Stopping as your noses touched. In a breathless whisper, you said, "then what's stopping you now?"

"You're injured." Jon moved to pull back but you immediately stopped him with a harsh kiss.

"Then be gentle with me, you half wit."

All he answered you with was a chuckle and he moved in for a kiss that rivalled the very first you shared. And this time, nothing was wrong with it.