Game of Thrones Imagines

The Flayer - Part 4 - Jon x Reader

(Y/n) waited out the front of the hotel. It was eight twenty five, and Robb should be there any minute to take her back to the precinct. She was lucky if she had got an hour's sleep, instead finding herself with her head buried back in the files.

Not being able to sleep was nothing new, not now anyway, and she had learnt that it was better to bury herself in work rather than remember the events of six months earlier.

Her bosses had tried to talk her out of even coming back to the bureau, never mind taking a case. Telling her that she needed more time, that what she had been through would take more than a few months to come to terms with.

The bureau had made her take leave after she left hospital, and even forced her to see a shrink, both things that she hated. Making her stay away from work, just meant that she had more time to think, more time to dwell on the darkness that was now part of her; and being forced to go over and over the events again and again had not helped her either, in fact the shrinks had only made things worse.

She could vividly remember the words of her superior as he had tried to persuade her to take more time off, and at this precise moment in time she was regretting not having listened.

"Are you sure you're ready for this (Y/n)? I mean, it's not that long since....... well since what happened; I don't want you going into a situation where you might feel uncomfortable, I don't want to lose you." Her boss had said as he looked over at her. But she had insisted, telling him that she needed to get back to work. That the gods had only given her one gift, and that was being able to catch serial killers.

(Y/n) shook the memories from her mind as a familiar car pulled up, but the driver was not who she had been expecting.

"Oh, good morning Detective Snow. I was expecting Robb to come and pick me up." (Y/n) said, as a softly smiling Jon opened the passenger side door for her.

"Morning Special Agent." Jon began as he handed (Y/n) a travel mug which smelled of freshly brewed coffee.

"I managed to persuade my father that Robb was needed at the precinct, and that I would be more than happy to pick you up. And please, call me Jon." Jon informed her with a quiet chuckle, as he closed the door, and quickly made his way back to the driver's side.

Jon had hated that Robb had been the one to get to drive the beautiful agent to her hotel. Robb was the more outspoken one, where he was the quiet type. But the Special Agent was so different to the girls around Winterfell, that Jon knew he had to do all he could to get to know her better.

"Well, I can't say that I am disappointed in the change of driver. They certainly breed very handsome men up here in the north. I mean, there's you, Robb, and even your dad and that deputy Jory are easy on the eye. There must be something in the water." (Y/n) giggled as a slight blush of pink began to creep up onto Jon's cheeks.

"Well, all I can say in return is that they must breed beautiful women wherever you come from." Jon replied, as he quickly turned his attention back to the snow covered road.

"I don't know about that. I originally come from the Westerlands. I was born in in a place called Lannisport on the Sunset Sea. But because my father was in the forces when I was born, we moved around a lot, so I really never had time to call anywhere home when I was a kid. When he joined the bureau, I got a chance to settle down, but I suppose I've always been a rolling stone. That's why I like travelling around so much." (Y/n) explained, as she took a sip of the steaming hot beverage in her hand. The caffeine giving her a much needed wake up call.

"Could I ask you something?" Jon asked, as he fumbled to get his coffee mug back in the cup holders without spilling it everywhere.

"Yeah, sure. Why not. But I assure you I'm not very interesting." (Y/n) chuckled, as she turned her attention from the snowy world outside, to the man next to her.

"What's with the scar on your throat?" Jon asked hesitantly, as (Y/n)'s hand suddenly flew up to her neck.

"How did you....... How did you see?" (Y/n) asked nervously, as she pulled her collar up to cover the mark.

"I noticed it yesterday. You have a tendency of covering with your hand or moving your collar like you did just now. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. It's just that I've seen self-inflicted scars before, and that doesn't look like one to me. If you don't mind me asking. How did it happen?" Jon enquired, noticing that agent was looking slightly uncomfortable as she turned to look back outside.

(Y/n) sighed heavily, as she watched the snow outside fall silently to the ground. She knew that there was no point in lying about it. And even though she was always worried about what people would think, she knew that there was little point in being anything but truthful.

"Did you ever read about a serial killer, last year, that the press dubbed the 'Strongman'?" (Y/n) asked, as she moved uncomfortably in her seat. Jon mussing for a moment as he thought back to anything he may have heard or read.

"Oh yeah! That guy that killed those prostitutes; they called him the Strongman cos he was able to break his victim's backs, right?" Jon continued, watching as (Y/n) slowly nodded.

"He would pick up these women, choke them out, then when they were unconscious, he would do some very inappropriate things to them, before literally breaking them in two. Not the kind of guy you'd take home to meet your mom." (Y/n) told him, as Jon's eyes grew wider as the realisation of what had possibly happened, occurred to him.

"I was the agent that was closest to the victim's profile; we came up with a sting operation where I was put on the street's pretending to be a working girl, in hopes that he might see me and pick me up. I was out there every night for a month, freezing my ass off, waiting for the sicko to make an appearance, then one night he did. This huge, mountain of a guy came along and propositioned me, and I had to get in the car; now I had back up, but somehow this bastard got away from every car that they had watching me, it was like he knew we were on to him. Next thing I know, the world goes black, and suddenly I wake up tied to a chair to see this prick carrying the body of some other poor woman out to his car. When he got back, I proceeded to give him a few home truths, about the fact he was a sick motherfucker, which he appeared to take offence to, as he punched me in the face, and I ended up on the floor. Luckily, I found that he hadn't searched me properly, as I still had my small hand gun strapped to me; as I struggled to try and get my weapon he knelt down behind me and proceeded to cut my throat. As he did, I got my gun and shot him from under his chin, blowing the back of his head off. Thankfully I woke up several days later in hospital, happily alive, but with a souvenir from a serial killer." (Y/n) told a shocked Jon, pulling back her collar to reveal the full extent of the scar.

For a moment Jon was lost for words. He couldn't believe that she had been through all that, yet here she was, still working to help them catch their guy

"Thank you." Jon said, reaching his hands across and taking (Y/n)'s gently.

"To go through all that and come out still strong is unbelievable. I don't want to sound like I'm kissing your ass, but you truly are one of the most amazing people I have ever met, and I've never said that to anyone before." Jon told her, as he felt her fingers tighten slightly around his hand.

"Anyway. I've been on sick leave for the past six months, and this is only my second job back in the saddle. But I love being thrown in at the deep end." (Y/n) said, as she moved her hand out from under Jon's. The car pulling to a stop outside the precinct.