#Jon snow x reader

[myladyship]

"After everything you have done. How will you sleep at night?"

"Next to my wife."

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

A Family Conflicted

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (One Sided)

Length: 25.9k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, implied accusations of stealthing/baby trapping, pregnancy, discussions of abortion, mention of child illness, possessive tendencies, modern!au

Notes: The festival in this chapter is made up, my own in universe equivalent to Halloween. Previous Installment Here, Series Masterlist Here

Jon wished he could say he had no idea what his brother was talking about. It was the middle of the night, and he felt as if he was just ambushed. With what he knew they were now both aware of, or at least, Robb was certainly aware of, it seemed if you hadn’t spoken to Jon about it yet, he was now taking it upon himself to do so on his own. Jon knew there was nothing on him giving it away, and his face was as steeled and calm as could be if not just a tad on edge.

Closing his car door, he only made it a few steps up before stopping with a more narrowed gaze. But, if Robb wanted to go down this route, Jon wasn’t going to make it easy. “How what is a coincidence?”

Barley raising an eyebrow, Robb didn’t move nor shift his expression as much as Jon did. “She didn’t tell you?” Jons face though, didn’t change and yet that told him everything he needed to know. Were there something going on with you that Jon wasn’t aware of, everyone knew he would jump at the first chance to find out if you were alright. But he didn’t, he tried to stay calm but in turn, he was too calm. And Robb knew it. “So she did tell you.”

Jaw clenching, Jon turned his head away for a moment. Staring at the nothing of the driveway beside his feet, his hand holding the cloth bag a little tighter knowing that at least one thing was more able to be found out by Robb then the other that might drive suspicion. “She did.” Like Jon had put it to himself before, if Robb wished to do this now he’d have to say it of his own volition. What he was really accusing him of.

He started off easy, pushing off the edge of the wall and letting the arms crossed over his head drop to his sides. “Why was she so scared to tell you?”

In an honest motion, Jon had dropped his head a little with a pointed stare. His voice rough and low and almost a bit slowly spoken as if putting emphasis on what they both should be aware of already. “We’re not married, we haven’t been dating for long and we didn’t plan this. Of course she was scared.” Robb only pressing him on asking in a repeat of what he said, that it wasn’t planned and it was Jons turn to step closer. “You think she’d be afraid to tell me she was pregnant if we were already trying?”

His face already twisting into an anger that could spiral out of control should he not control himself, but if what he thought was coming truly was, his anger might snap and he knew it.

“Or if only one of you was trying.”

He didn’t even let Jon retaliate, barrelling right past what he knew was a move to defend either of you on it. “We both knew she didn’t plan this, Snow. She started having a panic attack just trying to tell me, let alone you. Why would she be so scared to tell you? Why was her first instinct to beg me to believe her saying she didn’t do this on purpose?”

Whatever Robb thought, that hurt in Jons own heart. You pled the same thing to him, but Jon had never even once gone down that path of thinking with you before. He dared not think too long on where that might have come from, for more accurately, who put that in your head that such a thing was an option. With your track record for dating, Jon knew it came from an already scared place. But Robb? Why Robb was accusing him was another.

“And she begged me to believe the same thing.” Neither said anything for a moment, but nothing changed in what was brewing in the eyes of both wolves. Jon broke the heavy silence first that time. “We’ve known her since we were children. And a few weeks ago she was worried she was intruding coming to dinner with us just because she was dating me then. After everything Karl and Ramsay must have put her through, of course she jumps to the worst option with me. It hasn’t been that long.”

It was painful, but it was true. As comfortable as Jon had gotten you with being romantically involved, you still were incredibly apprehensive about other things and tonight had proven just that. How instantly your mind had jumped to the worst thing, and adding insult to injury, how willing you were to do whatever he wanted to just to make it right.

Slowly did both of them move one at a time to close the gap, Robb now stepping closer to him with more of an edge in his tone. “You’re right, it hasn’t been that long. And it happened anyways. She tell you how she think it happened?”

It was not taken as well as it sounded in his head. “I assume you know how the process works.”

Robbs eyes narrowed though, in the dim lighting from the front porch it was not well seen but Jon knew that his blue eyes were no doubt flashing in something warning not to test him. “She thinks it was when you both went to Hornhill. For the wedding. Said she got drunk and forgot.” Before Jon could even open his mouth, Robbs tone dropped further to something much more blatantly angry. “After what happened and you let her get that drunk? Let alone-”

Whatever line both of them were trying not to cross, Robb had accidentally crossed an entirely different one that pushed Jon into something far more angry and his voice no longer had the sensibility to keep as calm or quiet to contain it. “Let alone what?” Robb didn’t answer, seemingly realizing what he had almost insinuated but it was too late. “No, Robb. Tell me, you think I let her get wasted so I could sleep with her. Hope she’d forget her birth control on purpose. Tell me that’s what you think I did.”

If that was honest in his heart what he thought, Robb talked around it. “You let her get drunk at all after I had to-”

Only this time, Jon wasn’t having it. “She’s not a child. I don’t have to tell her what she can and can’t do when we’re out celebrating. What would you have wanted me to do? Keep her on a leash? Order her around in front of everyone that she can’t drink when no one else has a problem with it?” Jon could feel his voice starting to raise but it wouldn’t stop as he also stepped closer to his brother. “She got too drunk once, and you’ve never let it go. You might not have moved on yet, but I have. How about when she wakes up you tell her how wrong she was for getting drunk at all?”

You weren’t even that much in the way of drunk, certainly by the time he got you back to the hotel. It had been a while since your last drink, what he couldn’t even recall. Something sweet and citrus smelling that you shared with Gilly. After that you all sat there talking for a while, a little more dancing certainly again between you and the much more drunk Gilly who was having the time of her life. Then you ended up speaking to Sam’s mother for a while as the worst of it wore off.

He had to help you more down the steps to the car, but beyond that the glassy look in your eye had mostly gone away by the time you got to the room. You weren’t entirely sober, he knew that, but neither was he. You were about as buzzed as he was, but thanks to the Free Folk, Jon had guiltily learned how to drive with more alcohol in his system then most people. He was fine to drive you home when you weren’t, but Robb was acting as if you were as black out drunk as you had gotten that night.

When he had mentioned you talked to Tormund that night, you hadn’t even remembered that much. You just recalled when Robb got there and little more after, since you passed out in his car. You weren’t that, you could walk in a straight line and no one would sense you were drunk unless they knew you well enough to spot how much more let loose you were.

Jon didn’t even know if you had took your birth control or not, he didn’t pay attention to that. You did it so routinely that he just assumed you had before, and clearly, you assumed that as well. If he knew you hadn’t taken it, would he have wanted too? Of course, that dark part of his brain hadn’t left, but he was sensible enough not to push it.

At most, he’d have laid you out on the bed and tasted between your legs until you passed out. He wouldn’t have risked it if he knew. Getting you pregnant wasn’t the worst thing ever, but he never wanted to push you before you were ready.

Back in his present though, Robb was growing more protective over you by getting more angry at him. “So it was an accident. The one night she gets drunk enough to forget her birth control, after going with you to a wedding, is the one time you accidentally got her pregnant. Even after everything from the other night about you clearly already talking to someone about getting her pregnant in the first place.” His tone had dropped back to a more even cadence, but Jon could pick out the bitterness in it as much as he could not hide his blatant anger.

Perhaps that time, Jon took it too far but once he said it he couldn’t take it back. “Mistakes happen. Just because you expect everyone around you to be as perfect as you all the time, doesn’t mean I do.” They only stared at each other as the guilt had sunk down heavy into Jons heart right away. The pressure was always on Robbs shoulders enough as it was, he didn’t need Jon of all people making him feel ashamed of that tendency to obsess over perfection. But he couldn’t stop himself before he spoke a little more strained to finish the thought off, “But you weren’t the one between us who was the mistake in the first place, I wouldn’t you expect to understand any of that.”

The conflict was set out. A slight against Robb, and yet Robb picked up on Jons own insecurity even if he didn’t realize it. All of the Stark children were planned, his father was lucky in that sense. All but Jon. An accident with a random woman whom wanted nothing to do with him since he was born. Jons entire life was a mistake, and no matter how unplanned his own child had become, he wasn’t about to follow the same path. They’d have two parents who could prove you both would see them otherwise no matter what. But, both brothers knew it also meant Jon still hadn’t gotten passed it.

Jon still had not moved passed the self image that he was a mistake in his fathers life.

But, they were both smart, intelligent men with short tempers and for all those smarts, sometimes, slow minds. Which was why Jon slighted Robb, and Robb slighted him right back. “You still haven’t told me why I should think you didn’t get her pregnant on purpose.” Only to cut Jon off once more when he went to argue. “Where’d you go tonight? Left when all of us were asleep, where’d you even go? Whats in there?”

Nodding down to the bag, Jon couldn’t tell Robb that. He might never paint the image he was innocent of that accusation if he did. It was just Jons obsessive nature that made him buy it, nothing malicious. Just like the ring in his pocket, he would’ve waited years if he needed to before either gift was necessary. But the timing was just terrible, because Jon consistently had the worst timing known to man.

He answered as honestly as he could while keeping it vague. “I had to pick something up from the station.” Asking what, Jon just as shortly snapped back. “Something that isn’t your business, Robb. My life isn’t always about you, including now.” Trying to move into the house fed up with this conversation, Robb pressed a hand against his torso and pushed him back.

Both men moving in front of the other with narrowed, angry gazes and shoulders near squaring up in an aggression as Robb said your name. “If I have something to be worried about with her, then it is my business. I care about her too, Snow.”

“Too much.” His eyes narrowed as Jon elaborated, his voice raising again. “Robb you care about her to the point you made yourself jealous. You always encouraged me to date her, you called me telling me to come back and fix what I screwed up. And now that things between me and her are fine, you got jealous that it wasn’t all about you and she wouldn’t rely on you the way she would me from now on. Because you can’t let me have one thing to myself that you don’t want to take from me.”

Were they both not so angry, they’d have noticed the lights on the main house porch turning on, or the lights in the very house behind them turning on inside. Robbs voice raised too, which wasn’t helping. When Jon raise his voice it was somewhat expected with his shorter temper. Robb had just as much of a temper, but never when Jon was also angry. And their shouting voices carried throughout the property. “You were afraid that she needed me, so you trap her with you to make sure she’d need you for the rest of her life.”

Jon only shouted back, “Thats what you think of me?”

Robb arguing that Jon so far hadn’t given him any reasons to think otherwise and it was growing and growing in tension to the point were they true wolves they might’ve let their teeth out by now. “Or you were afraid you’d lose her and so you got her pregnant to force her to stay no matter what you do to fuck up in the future.”

Robb only tilted his head with a raise of his eyebrow, challenging Jon to prove him otherwise but letting the bag in his hand drop to the ground without care, Jon took a massive step right in Robbs face. Both moving in a way that signalled to any watching that they might not have the claws of wolves, they had the aggression of one. But that was the thing, there were people watching.

More then they realized, with their voices having shouted more then they realized.

Two pairs of hands intervened. One pulling Robb back by the shoulder, the other all but dragging Jon down the driveway. Theon refusing to let Robb shove him off, leaning into his side with a very short and rather pissed off hiss, “Knock it off.”

It was his father in his ear, “Enough.” As if ingrained in his blood to listen, Jon settled right away. His heart not yet slowing down but the pounding against his chest lessened to the point his blood cooled off a bit. Addressing them both, Ned sounded both exhausted and a bit shocked. “You both really thought shouting at each other out here was the best place to handle this situation?”

Robb tried to defend himself, or them both for all Jon knew. “Father,”

But he wouldn’t have it. Telling him that they’ve both said more then enough. Glancing to the side, they had more of an audience. All dressed in their sleepwear, Catelyn stood closer to the house with wide, concerned eyes. Arya stood close to Sansa’s side as they likely told their little brothers to stay in their rooms before following their mother. Sansa’s wide blue eyes were shocked but less worried as she looked beyond where Robb now stood less agitated at Theons side up the small steps. “You’re really pregnant?”

It was only then did both Jon and Robb realize. Jon finally looking more up, and Robb half turning around and the guilt washed over them both to a flooding degree. You stood at the front door, partially opened as your hands gripped onto it with something even in the dim light Jon could tell was incredibly upset. Stammering, you looked between them all and just nodded before you broke.

Everything Jon said and did to calm you back down tonight, and he let his temper and possessiveness get the better of him and once again broke it himself. Hand coming up to try and cover your mouth, the hope you could force the cry back down but it slipped in your eyes.

Were his father not keeping a hold on his shoulder to stay there, he would’ve gone right too you, but he had a feeling no one else here thought him or Robb were the right fit to handle this.

Catelyn though, through her deeply rooted issues with him, still could look at you and see a girl she saw grow up on and off for half your life. Stepping up closer, she held an arm out her hand stretched to take yours as she muttered you name, “Come with me.” Like the instincts of an upset girl took over, breaking Jons heart all over again, you just nodded.

Letting your hand drop with a shaking gasp trying to hold back but the tears just fell freely at that point. Catelyn wrapped her arm around your back as she turned to guide you into the house, quietly in a soothing voice saying she’d made you something to calm down until your voices were too faded, being moved into the main house.

Everyone stood still looking at each other until Arya repeated what her sister had said with your name, “She’s actually pregnant this time?”

They looked at Jon, but he didn’t respond. Eyes closing as he ran a hand over his mouth, the anger had melted away and was replaced instantly with something deeply guilty at causing this. He had told you that you both would break the news to them in a few days, prepare what to say make it easy on your nerves and he ruined that by engaging in Robbs jealousy.

His father though, had other ideas. “Go inside.” Robb tried to plead but barley managed to get a single word out. “All of you. Let me speak to Jon alone.”

Were that not intimidating, would he ask the same questions? How far did the accusations get heard by them? You no doubt had heard them all. Likely waking up to the muffled sound of voices shouting and along with Theon opened the door to a firestorm of news that the rest of the Starks too were now privy too.

Theon had to yank Robb backwards to all but shove him towards the stairs, his voice thick with sleep and an irritation seldom heard on him. “Done enough damage for one night, haven’t you?”

Looking back, Jon still stood as still as a statue, the nerves now rushing through him at a lightening speed to what was coming from the one man whose opinion mattered more then even Robbs of him. But Ned nodded at Theons asking gaze to close the door, and waited too until he saw the girls close the front door to the main house.

“Father-”

A man who cut right to the chase though, was if no one else, the epitome of Ned Stark. “You want to move you both into the main house, I assume. Make sure she’s around everyone the further along she gets?” Jon stood in a sort of numbness if not shock at everything he had just let happen. But he nodded, dropping his hand down as both settled by his waist as if to steady himself. He wasn’t pushed though, “Alright. Get some rest. Catelyn will call Maester Luwin to get her on our care, and we’ll start getting ready in the meantime first thing in the morning.”

Waiting for him to nod, his father got only a few feet before Jon shouted, not as loud, just getting his attention. The wide eyed look on his face reminding his father much more of the nervous boy he used to be and not the man he was. “What Robb-”

But he was cut off, something the Stark men were seemingly good at towards one another. “Forget that right now. Get whatever sleep you can, avoid Robb and we’ll speak later.” Not moving until Jon nodded that time, before turning to make his way back to the house where Jon could only presume they’d keep you in for the rest of the night. Away from the two wolves who ruined everything with their jealousy, and keep them separated with Theon there to act as a guard to ensure they didn’t make more of a mess then this was.

Barley closing the front door when the Greyjoy in question spoke. “Seven hells, you two know how to break the news don’t you?” Jon only let his eyes half glare in his direction, hand stretched behind him with the bag to lock it without needing to look. “Don’t glare at me, Snow. I didn’t announce to the whole realm she’s pregnant.”

Theon likely didn’t expect Jon to say anything, only watching as he made his way to his room now free from your presence much to his own personal upset. Tossing the bag down onto the ruffled bed, he could see the hints of the wolf plush and his eyes closed trying to keep it all together at how badly he just made everything to start you off with.

What he was going to say to Robb come morning, he had no idea. But he’d wake as early as he could to find out when he was taking you to see Maester Luwin. No matter what he was accused off, he was going to make sure you and the baby were alright no matter how suspiciously prepared Robb thought he was.

You had tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary.

Assuming he must have plenty to do, but Jon was simply one of the most stubborn men you knew. Not even arguing back, the second he parked did he leave and round the other side to help you out. Muttering under your breath at him, “I can do this part.” He only gave you that look however. The one that was with a tilt of his head and a knowing expression in his eyes that said not to test him. You both knew he would simply coddle you more if just to prove you wrong.

Now though it had been a while, a few hours as everything essentially had to be redone. Luwin was the Starks Maester and you had known him from when you were younger but it had been some time since then. He knew you were coming of course, Catelyn having been the one to call him to set the appointment up but she didn’t share many details. Only telling him that they had just learned you were pregnant, and they were going to set you up on their private system. Not saying a word, Maester Luwin’s eyebrows raised as Jon was the one who walked you in.

His physical behaviour enough to tell him what he thought, only to then have Jon lay out most of the details for him in your nervous place. Having to do everything all over again so that the results were certain in their own records, Jon stayed with you the whole time. Any question that even could have popped up, Jon would ask without hesitating.

Now as you sat there, still up on the patient table, your hands held at the edge with a tense nervousness. Jon however, stood beside you with a gaze permanently scowled it felt. Your condition had already been reconfirmed, but now you mostly awaited results on your general health going into your second month and what to do next. Jon seemed to almost worry that something would come back wrong with you already, occasionally only moving to glance at the note one of the assistants wrote for him. When your eyes glanced at it with a curiosity, you had made a jest in nothing but a normal teasing, “One pretty girl’s number and you’re already reconsidering?”

Jons expression only fell further though, turning to you with a hand now running along your arm reassuringly. The other flipping the note around so you could read it as he too explained. “A list of books for me to read.” Tucking it away in his jeans pocket without looking away, Jon let that hand come sit innocently on the thigh closest to him from your higher seated position. “I’m not leaving anything up to chance if I don’t have to.”

Swallowing roughly, you knew he picked up on the heavy wave that flooded you. The way he so earnestly cared and was actively interested in even the most minute part of this process hit something in you. Perhaps it stemmed from that deeply rooted fear that he would either not want you, or want you to get rid of it once he found out. But you simply nodded, Jon letting the hand on your upper arm come up. Brushing the hair out of your face so he could cup your cheek, turning to step towards you.

His voice tender again, the grey in his eyes bright and more hopeful then even yours. “I told you, I’m going to take care of you.” You only managed to get a nod out before the door opened, Luwin entering once more.

If you weren’t sitting, you’d have nervously pulled more away from Jon so the affection wasn’t so blatant, but Jon was not at all perturbed by someone seeing the behaviour. A fluster in your chest at the brightness in his eyes almost amused. The last you had seen Luwin you were still a teenager with a crush on Jon that no one but you knew about, and now seeing him again after all this time but suddenly pregnant and unmarried was a bit embarrassing.

Everyone knew this was an accident, and you hated thinking that everyone was judging you both for it.

Jon promptly turning to ask if he found anything, but Luwin only placated his fears. “Everything is fine.” The tensity in Jons shoulders dropped, but the nerves within you clearly did not even as Luwin now addressed you specifically, “We will start you on a few things for the baby’s development. Standard protocol, folic acid, prenatal vitamins. Normally it’s ideal to start taking them before getting pregnant, but missing the first few weeks won’t harm the little one at all.”

Nodding, you glanced at the ones he was writing down. You thought the question, but Jon asked it without even hesitating. “How often will she need to take them?”

Luwin clearly knew Jon well, handing him the list sensing that he was the one who would be taking charge on some of these things. “Until at least twelve weeks.” Looking between you both, as if informing you, but noting for Jon to make sure you followed through properly. “Take them with food in the morning. If they make you feel unwell, take half in the morning and half in the afternoon. You will get the full effects you need, but the symptoms should be less severe that way if that becomes an issue.”

You all had gone over as many details as you could possibly imagine. Mind overwhelmed with information as Jon carefully helped you down onto two feet before turning to thank Maester Luwin. First a formal handshake, but of course, he had known Jon since the day his father brought him home, he was closer to him then that.

As you turned away awkwardly, picking up your bag to wrap it around your front once more, you didn’t watch the congratulatory hug Luwin offered the much more brightly smiling Jon for the news. No one from your life so early on would ever grace you with that reaction. Some wanted too that you knew for a while, of course. Because of Sansa, you had gotten a slew of messages and voicemails from Margaery demanding you call her back about it, meaning you too had gotten some much less demanding but no less excited ones from Loras. Because of Arya, you had gotten a few from Gendry who while happy for you, played it off much more as a warning that if you ever needed backup against Jon, to which you promptly told thanked with sarcasm for his enthusiasm.

You hadn’t heard from Renly, even though no doubt Loras would’ve said something to him. You hadn’t heard from Robert even though you knew Ned had promised to talk to him about the distance between you and the rest of your family. Which also meant naturally, you heard no word from your mother or father. You heard nothing from Shireen, but she was only eleven. She didn’t have a phone, and had restricted, monitored computer time. She wasn’t going to be able to reach out to you with no one noticing.

It was a suffocating, yet jealous feeling. The Starks all had each others backs, and aside from last night they all found out, there had been next to no conflict over it. You were pregnant and that was the end of it, from then on it was all about preparing for what was to come. Your family was not like that. Your father a more rigid and reserved man, and your mother raising you under the Faith of the Seven with her own devotion, you knew that this was going against what in other people they would be willing to tolerate.

In their eyes, you were raised better then that and were disgracing the family by getting pregnant while unmarried, and not to someone they would want to pre approve of as acceptable to the family standards. Perhaps they had thought dating Jon would be little more then a late rebellious phase, and not something sustainable and long term. But now, they were forced to face the music that you were about to have it in for the long haul in one way or another. Jon was forever intertwined in their lives as the father of their grandchild. You could only imagine if they did chose to even speak to you, it no doubt would turn into a lecture about reputation for you, and a lack of respectable treatment of their daughter to him.

You hadn’t quite understood what the argument was about last night. Between Jon and Robb. You had awoken in the middle of the night alone in his room, and the faint sounds of muffled fighting grew louder and louder until you recognized the voices. Throwing something on, that was when you had ran into Theon who awoke to the same thing. Only he had heard more then you, and the flicker of his eyes down to your stomach told you that the argument was about just that.

Whatever in that tension still existed, they had at least sat it aside for now. Afterall, Robb had been the one to volunteer starting to move things into the main house while Jon took you to this appointment. It was tradition, they had all insisted. Catelyn at least had grown up in the Riverlands, meaning she knew that southerners didn’t show such devoted unwavering support in these times but she happily had adapted to the idea, and despite her long standing silent conflict with Jon, it was you she was setting that aside for to bring you in.

Ned had argued the most for it to you when he came back inside, saying that you would be more comfortable in the main house once your pregnancy advanced into the further months and it would be easier moving you in now then later. They cared so much they were all happy to move you into their main home to take care of you. It was verging on later in the afternoon and still not a word was sent to you by any of your family.

Not even a smarmy text from Joffery talking down to you for making the family look bad. When not even your repulsive cousin wanted to insult you, you knew they were not approving. Image was a lot for the Baratheons for a long time, and you seemed to have just publicly squashed it into nothing. Only Gendry reached out, but he was a cousin that wasn’t even raised in the family. No one even knew he was part of the family until years ago when you met him. He was blood but he wasn’t family in the same sense, so it wasn’t the same. He accepted it because he didn’t care about that sort of thing, but the family who raised you did and spoke not a word to you.

By the time you got pulled back into the present, Jon had startled you by simply coming up behind you and resting his hands at your upper arms with a small murmur of your name. Followed by a tighter grip and a narrowed expression you could hear if not see. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Shaking your head, you turned to look up at him with what he could clearly see was a false smile. “Are we ready to go?” Nodding, Jon simply moved passed you only slightly to grab his own jacket as you looked over more politely to Maester Luwin in a fashion he knew was overly formal. “Thank you for everything.”

He took it fine though, not a man perturbed by an awkward attitude. “It’s what I’m here for. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” Nodding, Jon thanked him again before turning you towards the door. Everyone was polite in saying goodbye on your way out, despite how little you said a word. Jon did most of that talking, thanking the assistant who must have given him the book list on his way out, while you still said very little.

A breeze was finally making it’s way into the air as you both walked through the small parking lot. Jon keeping a hand on your lower back without moving it the whole time, feeling his grey eyes watching you closely as you fidgeted with the strap of your bag. The silence you could tell was not it’s usual comfortable. It was heavy and noticeable, even as Jon still silently insisted on helping you into the car, shutting the door normally. You could see his shoulders tense has he rounded to the other side. Sitting down and running a hand over his mouth, before pulling his own seatbelt and half turning to nod over at you to do the same.

You could see out of the corner of your eye that he turned to you, wide eyed and lips parted ready to say something before deciding against it. Turning the car on being as far as he got before he tried again, that time his face twisted back to something more serious and normal. “I want to pick these books up, and a few more things, I’ll drop you off at the house before.”

He had already started to pull out of the parking lot by the time your brain caught up with hearing the words. Looking over at him more confused, you simply asked “Why?” Jon only muttering as he moved onto the main road that he wanted you to relax not drag you around town more. Sitting back in your seat, you felt a heavy block in your throat at how awkward the car was. You thought he was happy, he seemed happy when he found out last night,

But maybe you thought, this was the turn. The next morning and the realization comes of what hes getting himself into, and wondering if it was too late to go back. His family was busying moving you into the main house, he took you to see the families Maester and plans were made. He couldn’t turn around and ask you to get rid of it now, or decide to break up. Everyone else was already attached to the idea.

Nothing was said the rest of the ride, you sensing Jons tension or Jon picking up on your awkward unwillingness to look at him but no one said a word. It wasn’t far, but it felt like the air between you both was rather heavy. Seeing things still being moved from the smaller house, Jon clearly decided dropping you off there was better, knowing more people would be in there at that moment then not.

You though, took it as a quiet sign that he just wanted you out of the car. It was less of a drive to get you here then the main house and without saying a word you didn’t want to linger around him more if your presence was bothering him. Not looking at him, or even waited a single second for what Jon had intended, to open the door for you as he had before but you were already out of the car. Head down and posture sunk in on itself as you walked up the small steps.

When the car left, you weren’t even sure. Walking inside before you could turn around and see how Jon was truly watching you a bit lost, a worry bright in his eyes before fighting with himself to leave. Picking these things up now meant he could get home to you sooner again, at the least.

Inside, the place looked a bit scattered. Jons door was wide open as was yours, Everything else was in place, as you assumed for the other side of the bedrooms. Theon must have been the only one in there at the moment, walking out of what was your room looking down the hall. You hadn’t even taken anything off, not shoes or whatnot feeling suddenly as if you didn’t belong in here anymore. If he sensed your mood, he took the road of trying to lighten it up first. “Still pregnant?”

It was a joke. You knew it was a joke, and yet you hesitated. Something in your gut twisting a bit at the fear that you made a mistake again. That maybe Jon really changed his mind and you should’ve just accepted the moontea that day at the doctors. Swallowing roughly, you tilted your head in a small nod as you glanced around. Clearing your throat as you swiftly changed the subject, not that such a thing was lost on Theon. “Lots of space for two people.”

“One.” Your brows narrowed, Theon leaning against a wall as his arms crossed casually gesturing with his chin over to where the other bedrooms were. “Robbs going back too.” He knew you didn’t grasp that either, or sensed you were lost on what was going on considering the fight the previous night. “His brothers having a baby, you’re someone hes been friends with for years. He has the time to allocate to his family, so he’s going to help out. Or, try. Considering...”

The look towards you had you shift on your feet, eyes flickering away as your head looked down before nodding. “So you’re what? Staying here? Alone?”

Theon only shrugged “Isn’t so bad. Get some quiet for once. Get those two idiots out of my hair for a while, remember what its like living in a house where everyone isn’t always arguing.” Asking in a quiet voice what you were supposed to do without him, his eyebrows raised in amusement. “You’ll be surrounded by the Starks most days, you’ll have plenty to do.” But there was another, deeper look in his eye. One that picked up on the way you were standing and not saying anything, as if that spoke the words for you. “Besides,” Your eyes finally glancing back up to his properly. “I’m what? A two minute walk away at the most? I can see the bloody house from my window, Baratheon.”

Finally a small laugh came from you, Theon with a light chuckle to follow. He knew you were conflicted, and had been for some time about whatever the issue was between Robb and Jon and that you felt like you’d fall apart or let them fall apart without Theon there. But, he had more faith in you then you did for yourself. Walking up, he turned in place to wrap an arm around your shoulders and move you to where he had been working before. “Besides, if Jon and Robb aren’t here anymore. It means you can come over any time to finally get the hell away from them for a few hours.”

Only another small chuckle came from you, but it was enough. Theon playfully pushing you into the room as he told you to just look through whatever was still hanging in your closet and toss it onto the bed to bring over. Himself kneeling down to throw a few last things in a box and carry it out the door.

Looking up, most were things you hadn’t thought about in months. When Daenerys had arrived, you realized you didn’t have anything to work in. You had worked a different remote job for a while by then, but you still had clothes from working in an office. You brought them with you when you moved in with Karl Tanner, and left that house that day with half a bag barley enough for overnight and nothing else. Knowing you had nothing, the first day you showed up Renly had to bring you out to a more expensive shopping district to buy appropriate clothes.

You had hung them up when Robb and Ned had convinced your family to let you off the hook for working for them again, and didn’t look at them since. But it just all brought it back to where this started. You getting so drunk you couldn’t even walk, that you passed out the moment Robb got you in his car. Thats where everything fell apart and it was all your fault. All leading one thing to another leading you right here. You didn’t mean to put this on Jon, and he seemed to understand that you didn’t do this on purpose, but you started to feel like maybe he felt trapped anyways.

Your hand running over some of the fabric, the second the thought crossed your mind your stomach twisted once more in an upset. If it were her, he wouldn’t even be in this situation. She was smart enough not to forget something as simple as birth control. She wouldn’t ruin his life by keeping it and making him feel compelled to stay with you. This would’ve never happened if what you feared had come to pass.

Jon was out right now, likely at the book store resentful that he even needed to spend money on any of this, that he would feel compelled to read any of it. You had let yourself spend a few hours happy, the thought blossoming in your head of what if everything was going to be okay and now you felt too attached to go back. The thought that Jon wished he made you get rid of it sending something ill into your head and stinging behind your eyes.

You were ruining Jons life but maybe your child’s too by forcing them into a world that didn’t really want them on one end.

Again it was as if your hearing was turned off, not noticing them until they were at your back. A hand running smooth along your spine as Robbs voice made you jump just as Jons had only half an hour earlier. “Everything go alright with Maester Luwin?” You just nodded, Robb glancing around as if he hadn’t noticed the second he walked back over here from the main house. “Where’s Jon?”

Your voice was quiet and meek and he noticed. “Picking up some books they recommended.” Specifying about the baby and you nodded yes. You still didn’t understand what the fight last night was about, but you did know that Robb still was the one you knew wasn’t leaving. He was there and if he didn’t hate you already, he wouldn’t start now. You didn’t have to be so scared of ruining his life by keeping a baby that wasn’t even his. “Theon said you’re moving in too?”

Nodding, Robb more wrapped his arm around you the way Theon had, but pulled you a bit closer into his side as his hand ran up and down your upper arm. “Aye. Can take care of you better when I still see you everyday.” Muttering that he didn’t have too, Robb didn’t let a moment pass for thoughts to fill his words in your mind for him. “No, love. I don’t have to. I’m doing it because I care about you.”

Biting down on your tongue you desperately hoped that feeling would go away. The sting turning to warmth as the worry and self hatred filled your veins at what you had done. But still, the pricking in your mind that out of everyone Robb had assured you could open up to him. He talked you through your panic attack even as you terrifyingly spilled your secret, and he had been as gentle with you since. The feeling overwhelmed, and while nothing was loud, the breath you tried to take in was certainly stammering. A higher pitch that was a sound Robb knew well, turning to look at you and the painting in your eyes was as if flooded with water. The moment he turned to face you, a tender murmur of your name and you felt that fear break through. Covering your mouth to try and prevent it as if Robb wouldn’t see, but he didn’t let you linger on that thought.

Bringing you into his front, hiding you from the empty house but safe with him he let you try and hide how you were trying and utterly failing not to cry. Muttering down into your hair as he let one hand rise up, running down the length of it along your back smoothly, “It’s alright. I told you, we’re taking care of you.” You said nothing, but you suspected Robb didn’t assume you would. “No one wants you dealing with this on your own.”

It slipped out, it truly did. “Jon does.”

Robb would’ve pulled back in shock were his focus not more determined to calm you down in his arms, but his tone held a sudden edge to it asking with a high suspicion. “What do you mean?”

Trying to explain everything, how he was acting, how everything felt, what you were afraid of and Robb stood and let you say it all before speaking. In his own mind, something was off. Last night was not his best moment, but he knew he had to be sure. He needed to know Jon didn’t do this on purpose, and he still wasn’t. It was still a very real possibility. You being in tears telling him, promising you didn’t do this to trap him, how it happened on the one night since the bar you had gotten drunk and Jon didn’t seem to stop you, or remind you. It was all convenient.

Yet, you stood there fearing that Jon regretted everything and was too nice to tell you he wanted you to go back and get rid of it instead. Which was baffling. “Love-”

“I didn’t want this to ruin anything.” Robb only sighed, finally pulling back to grasp you on both arms to make you look at him. In slow words, asking why exactly it was you came to that conclusion, your eyes flickered away for a bit trying to find that answer. It didn’t come easy, just a feeling and a fear that you couldn’t shake off. “Maybe I should’ve just taken what the doctor suggested that day. He wouldn’t have ever known and he wouldn’t resent me.”

Robb sighed deeply, looking at you with a downward expression almost in disapproval. One hand reaching up to cup your cheek, and his eyes trying to soften enough to get you to follow naturally. “Jon doesn’t resent you. He wants this. He’s not good at expressing it, but he wants this.” Again it slipped out, the small fear of what if Jon just didn’t want it with you. “Who would-” Your eyes looked away from Robbs in a deep insecurity right away, him saying your name sternly. “Why in seven hells would you think he’d want anything to do with her after what happened?”

You shrugged, trying to turn from Robbs grasp and wipe what tears were still falling from your eyes. But it was a new voice which thew you even more off guard, how many people it seemed were privy now to your emotional outbursts. “She’s been back twenty minutes and you’ve already made her cry.” Your own eyes growing wide as you looked over, Ned leaning against the door frame with a knowing look towards you that would snap you out of it, if only in an embarrassment to be caught by a father figure this emotional, which did work.

Swallowing everything back down, you tried to say something but luckily Robb was quicker to it, catching onto the intentions moreso then you to change tune. “Not hard for her as of late.” Both laughed at your expense, and both took the moment before doing so to glance at your sudden mouth slightly agape almost in protest that it wasn’t true but the tears you wiped away stubbornly proving otherwise.

Choosing instead to cross your arms over your front, Ned held a hand out. “Come on, let Robb and Theon do the rest of the hard work.” Much like both his sons, as soon as you came close he gently pushed you forward along the main hallway with a hand at your back to guide you. Once stepping into the outside, his hand came up to grasp by your shoulder more comfortingly as you both begun to walk along the grass towards the main house. “Everything go alright?”

Nodding, you kept your arms crossed still, albeit now shifting to hide your hands more in your sleeves as the colder wind started to pick up. “I have another appointment in a few weeks, just to make sure everything is on track but he said it’s all fine.” Asking about Jon, you defaulted to the only answer you thought made sense. “He’s picking up some things they suggested he should get. Books, vitamins and whatnot.”

He nodded, but with a more pointed tone elaborated. “That’s fine, but I meant how was he during the appointment that has you so worked up.” You knew he watched your eyes flicker away, but you just shrugged. Saying he asked lots of questions. Some had described talking to you for information like pulling teeth, but Ned Stark was a man well prepared to tackle that stubborn nature. Certainly from a Baratheon, he had a lifetime of experience handling the house of stubborn stags. “I’ve never known Jon to ask questions that make a girl cry like that.”

Your gaze caught his, falling a bit flat at how all Starks held the same glint in their eyes and barley withheld smirks when they knew they were being overly clever. Inhaling deeply, your insides braced themselves not to once more overreact. “Jon didn’t say anything, or do anything. I’m just being stupid.” Ned clarified that being nervous wasn’t the same as being stupid as he guided you more towards the elaborate porch of the main house. Not yet guiding you inside but stopping to face you for a moment to get to the bottom of it before he led you inside. His look only expecting of you to grasp his point rather then lay it out further. Knowing you understood despite whatever was worried in your head. “It’s just been an overwhelming few days, I guess I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.”

“Jon knows that, he just doesn’t want you to try and hide that from him.” It took longer then a moment for you to grasp what he was saying was true, but he had a point. Nodding, you ran your sleeve more over your face as if to wipe away the turmoil so evident on it, but both you knew that the others wouldn’t pick it up as quickly as they might, and if Catelyn did, she wouldn’t bombard you about it in front of her other children.

She was always good at corralling the others out of the room to give someone space, talking gently to them about what was going on until she knew they had a plan going forward. But as the door to the main house opened, you had a feeling that no one was going to get you alone for some time today. The first thing in your hearing was the barking of direwolves, and the stern voice of Catelyn trying to cut through them. “That’s enough. Out, all of you.” You could imagine her pointing towards the back door, and the exasperated expression on her watching the most rowdy of them belonging to her youngest all causing chaos wherever they went. Lady was the only thing in sight, happily laying on one of her many expensive beds Sansa bought for her, clearly having had a spa treatment day recently. Her fur nice and clean and trimmed and a little scarf sort of fabric around her neck like a dog collar, only where a tag would be sat a bow on the side of her neck. A little rumble in the direwolf came out as you instantly approached her.

You were weak for them, all adorable as they were large and vicious to others. Going right for her ears, Lady’s golden eyes closed with that rumble deepening. The closest thing to a purr that a canine would get. Muttering quiet to the direwolf, “At least someones acting normal around me.” A small lick to your hand and a laugh let out you ran it over her head once more letting her to back to resting. Pushing up on your thighs from where you had braced yourself crouched down to her level, Catelyn walked into the room from one hall and Ned followed from the main room.

Her being the first, saying your name with a relief as if she too worried something would go wrong, but Ned cut her question off knowing everyone was going to be asking you it. “Everything’s alright. Maester Luwin is seeing her again in a few weeks for a check up, but she’s healthy so far.” Perhaps it was being a mother herself, knowing the degree to which things could go wrong that had her knowing what could’ve been on your mind.

An arm out she gestured to the kitchen, “Put your things away, there’s food out. You probably could use something to eat.” It was clear how long they were married, a single look shared between them and Catelyn nodded like words were shared mutually. Treating you with kid gloves as you sat down, she brought you a plate. Her eyes peeling to where the frame entered to the kitchen from the main living room, you knew she no doubt was watching for whom might walk in. Giving them that look she’s no doubt given to all her children, the gesture of her eyes and more stern expression telling them to leave them be.

Muttering into your food between bites, “Thank you, for everything today.” Her own eyes drifted back towards you and softened. Something more motherly then you ever imagined coming from your own, but you pushed that back down. Thinking along those lines this morning was what pulled you back into darker thinking in the first place, but you suspected she already noticed.

Leaning forward a little, her own voice lowering to minimize the chance of someone else hearing. “After what they all put you through last night, the least I could do was give you some peace and quiet.” It felt good having something in your system, it had been a pretty rough time between you and Jon that morning before everyone else was up to get you to eat something. He had shown up early knowing that at least for the night without the room set up, they’d have to put you on the couch and knew he could talk to you.

He managed to twist your arm enough to let him make you something small, but that was more then a few hours ago by that point. The thought was strange that you’d have to work on that, forgetting to eat was normal for you. You got busy or distracted and your mind would focus on that so much it pushed away everything else from your brain. But like this, you couldn’t afford to miss meals anymore. A lot was going to have to change, and you felt overwhelmed even considering how much that would look like in the next few weeks alone. Let alone within the coming months as you grew more and more pregnant.

Cutting through the quiet again, Catelyns voice had your eyes snap back up and over to her almost looking again like a startled deer. “You never felt any nausea before this?” Shrugging, you mentioned only a little but that sometimes happened to you when you were stressed, so you hadn’t seriously considered what that meant beyond possibly getting sick in general. “Did your mother?”

Pausing, your eyes narrowed looking back in your memory. “I think so.” Sitting up more, your tone dropped if only a little. Not even the thoughts from before, but what came after attached to them as you sifted through the memories. “She was sick a lot though. Even before.” Another bite passing through. “Maester Cressen said that she was sick the whole time with me. I had to be with a wet nurse most days because she was too weak to even tend to me at all. But when she was pregnant with Shireen, she was sick a lot more. Throwing up yes, but, I don’t know how much of that was normal and how much was her.”

There was a softness in Catelyns eyes when you peeked back up at them, something that understood more then you thought she would. “I used to be worried about giving birth when I was a girl. My mother passed giving birth to my brother Edmure, and I always worried that meant it would happen to me or Lysa one day.” A small smile came about you, and her as well, considering how well you both knew that she certainly of all people avoided that fate. Trying to say you were sorry in a sympathy, she passed it off. “It was years ago, I wasn’t even Rickons age when it happened. But, what I’m saying is that if Maester Luwin gave you a clean bill of health now, I don’t imagine you will have much to worry about going forward.”

The voice joining next was a tad louder then either of your quiet ones, but just as amusing to hear in her tone. “She better be fine, she has to come with us.” Looking to Arya, you knew her eyes drifted to her mother giving her a warning as she surprisingly, did not make a move to nearly tackle you in excitement the way her muscles were clearly twitching to do.

Looking between them both your brows furrowed, “Come with you where?”

Arya took no care in sitting herself down next to you, Catelyn suddenly handing her a plate the very second she had reached out to grab something from yours. You always let her, even despite Catelyns insistence she show manners even at the smaller kitchen table. “The Festival of Strangers. How did you forget, it’s not even a Northern specific celebration.” Muttering that you must have just forgotten with everything else, Arya elaborated more excited. “It’s just south of the Twins this year, so we’re all going down. There’s a big festival set up, rides, events, shows, haunted houses. You have to come.”

Catelyn gently commenting that you might not feel up for that, but it was hard for you to simply sit there and resist the way Arya had looked so hopeful that you’d join. But, that feeling came back. The one from that morning festering again. “I...don’t know. That’s a family sort of event-”

“And you’re family.”

Aryas name being said again in warning no doubt to calm her voice, but you found it hard to shake that feeling back off. “I only meant, you’ve always gone as a family together. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

But you were foolish to pick a fight with her of all girls. Her brows furrowing in a way that looked almost a younger and more grumpy version of what Jon would look disapproving like. “You’re not intruding, you’re family. We’re inviting you, you have to come you’ll love it.” You hadn’t even needed to say it for the Starks to know your own family would’ve never willingly taken you to such an event when it sounded like fun was the primary function and not the faith itself. Almost using the once ancient religious day as an excuse for frivolity.

Trying to look back down to your plate, you wanted that feeling to go away. That poison seeping into your mind that your family no longer wanted you, and eventually this one wouldn’t either. That perhaps already you had driven Jon away or would come close too soon at this terrifying rate. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Well think some other time because you’re about to get yelled at.” All three of your heads turned as Sansa walked into the kitchen, holding her phone out to you with an expecting look. “She says you aren’t answering her messages, so you have no choice this time.” A stare off started between you both, but it was pointless. Sansa was following orders, and the phone was no doubt not even on mute as the other party would hear you trying to protest and only make more of a scene about it later.

Reluctantly, you grabbed it from her hands before pushing up from the table. Muttering you’d take it outside as Sansa took your place. Amused smirks on all three women knowing what was coming your way. Not even bothering to put your jacket or shoes back on, you slipped out the front door. Holding the phone down, your eyes closed as ling as it took to sigh out.

Bringing it up along with your hands covered by your long sleeves trying to keep warm in the colder autumn air, you sat down on the top step, your side pressing against one of the railing pillars as you tried to keep as steady tone, eyes closed tightly in preparation. “I assume Sansa told-”

Well, she was right. You were absolutely about to get yelled at. “In the list of things presently happening in your life, did you not think it would be the most important news to tell me that you are pregnant?” Trying to say her name in the start of an explanation, Margaery on the other end only cut you off. Her voice higher pitched and a bit shrill, in that fashion you knew meant she likely was in her room. Half way through getting ready to go out and now pacing back and forth on the phone with you in a mood. “We’ve known each other since we were girls, told each other about our crushes, every major life change we’ve gone through you were the first person I told besides my brother, and now this happens and I have to hear it from Sansa?”

Your tone was not welcome in her lecture, something flat and sarcastic. “Strange way to refer to learning something your own partner told you.”

You could see it. Her stopping mid pace, turning around as if to look at you with wider eyes and a mouth agape that you would joke in a time like this. “You are not sassing your way out of this discussion. Did a Maester test you already?” Answering just that morning, but she didn’t react just yet. Firing off more interrogating questions. “When did this happen?”

You were honest, but telling Margaery that story might have been a mistake for you right now.

Her voice was a bit breathy, as if speaking through a gasp but also no doubt grinning beyond compare. “He got you pregnant at a wedding? If that doesn’t say something-”

Cutting her off, your eyes glanced up. One figure would have been too much, but both? Jon had arrived back, parking off on the street a little knowing he’d have to work out parking arrangements now that he and Robb both would be back with the already two cars, but as he walked up with a larger cloth bag then you assumed he’d return with, Robb approached as well from the main house with the last of your own things to bring over. “It doesn’t say anything, Margaery. It was an accident.”

“And yet you still didn’t tell me.”

Your free hand rested on your legs bent on the next step. Bracing against your forehead, your eyes were blocked from the view of both approaching Starks looking at the other, then to you and back, with equally as frustrated expressions. But the phone in your hand at least could be your only reprieve from watching you accidentally start another fight between them. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry you had to hear it from Sansa, but, it’s been complicated. I only found out a few days ago-”

You should’ve known she’d also get angry that it was a few days ago you found out, and not yesterday as it seemed Sansa’s retelling had made it sound. Your name came from her mouth with a tone that rivalled even your own mother and father, if such a feat were possible. “You didn’t tell me for days?”

Raising your head back up, your flickering eyes caught sight of Jon and Robb both as they approached from different sides of the driveway before tucking your hand into your lap. Curling more in on yourself as you leaned against the railing as if that would make you small enough to disappear from their view.

Robb thankfully, took the more direct approach. Passing by you with a gentle look, his blue eyes bright in the outside sun that reflected that you no matter what still also had him. Only in that moment you decided not to tell Margaery that you told Robb first, instead of her. Bringing your things into the house he left you out there, but Jon was a little more conflicted.

Slowly making his way up the steps, his grey eyes light and wide as they looked so brightly at you but with something unsure and worried sitting just behind them as he looked at you. The edges of his lips twitching wanting to say something, but respecting that you were on the phone. Instead, his head dropped down as he swallowed whatever the gentle emotion painted across his face was. Brows narrowed and more frustrated then before, he seemed like he was about to pass you by completely and deal with you later.

Only, as Margaery continued to speak on the other end, you suddenly felt Jons warm figure lean down. Pulling you by the other side of your head back a bit, his lips pressing firmly down against your hair. Lingering for a moment longer then you had expected, a weight came up in your throat as that stinging feeling returned. That same pathetic fear telling you what if you never felt that again. You didn’t lean back, look up at him, or react in any way but stiffen up. But, Jon was observant. Your expression telling it all that something deeply had begun to bother you, but now in this house with such fresh news, he knew getting you alone in a state of mind to talk about it was not going to have many opportunities for some time. Not until the excitement to his siblings all simmered down. Which, who knew when that would happen.

He was happy, you were pregnant and you both wanted to keep it, he had been thrilled last night when he finally found out. But today he watched you swim back to the shores of fear and insecurity like something would go wrong and he wanted that fear to go away. He never wanted you to doubt what this was, and he knew some of what might be bothering you.

He had a few gifts he still had yet to give you, the wolf was supposed to be tonight's. He thought perhaps in a few days could be the other, but no doubt Arya would insist you come to the Festival with them, meaning Jon wouldn’t be able to say he was staying home with you. So there went that one. But as he walked into the house, he thought maybe he had an idea for a third and it was hearing Sansa mention that it was Margaery Tyrell you were on the phone with, that gave him that.

He had heard much of her, and she of him, but they had never met nor spoken, but Jon knew he might need to change that. If just to give you one gift to smile at properly, and at best, show you that he did this just to make you happy. And reassure you that none of your fears were true or worth dwelling on if he could help it.

Passing the rest of his family, Jon simply made his way up the stairs to the second floor. It had been a long time since he could call it his room up here. Once more of his younger siblings were born, it felt a bit crowded considering he was a brooding fourteen year old boy. That was when he moved into the basement, but the room up here was still considered his. It was larger then even his room in the smaller house before, and considering he and Robb were the eldest, had the perks of a small on suite in both their rooms. It wasn’t much, and the tub was a lot smaller then the other one, but it would be enough he still could have you in a bath with him when he wanted.

It was odd, the room he spent years dwelling on how in love with you he was, and now he was walking into it with books, pills, and other assorted things just for you all because you were pregnant. With his child. It was surreal, and the dazed look in his eye as he walked in was not unnoticed by his father, putting the final touches on the room for you both himself.

“Do I even want to ask how you’re feeling?”

Blinking his suprise off his face, Jon swallowed that weight down. His voice coming through a bit more rough then he expected. “About last night or in general?” His father simply stating either, Jon sighed. Looking to his dresser with an empty space on top he put the bag there before turning to lean against it, his arms crossing over his front before letting one hand run down his exhausted face. “I didn’t want you all to find out that way.”

Nodding, his father made his way more over to him, something knowing yet comforting on his tone as if he always knew how to talk his children down from difficult states. “I don’t know what gave Robb that idea, but he’ll come around.” Jon didn’t say anything, he doubted it entirely. Stepping over, he matched his sons posture beside him, only his eyes on Jons as Jons were on the floor. “If you had only known her for three months total, I’d have more reason to be worried. But you haven’t. You’ve known her over half your life, been in love with her for gods know how long. It makes sense you were more ready for this then someone else might be this soon into a relationship.”

Jon knew his father wasn’t wrong, but he had spent so much time the past hours feeling guilty that it finally all came out in that shame and insecurity. “I thought about it all the time. Her being pregnant. I couldn’t think of anything else, but I’d never-” Cutting himself off, Jon almost as a nervous tick ran a hand over his mouth once more before dropping it back down. “I know she doesn’t think that, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt that Robb does.”

For a moment, he assumed his fathers silence meant the conversation was over. About to push off the dresser to get to work, he was stopped by his fathers sudden lighter tone, more bemused as his eyes were bright in the distance of a memory. “I bought things for a baby before Catelyn was even pregnant.” If that didn’t have Jons head whipping to the side to look at him with wide eyes, but his father only chuckled to himself. “I was out with Robert, and we passed this woman coming out of some Specialty Babe Shop. A little blanket in the window, grey and black. We had somewhere to be, but I thought about that blanket all day. Didn’t even make it to work the next morning on time, because I was too busy buying it and hiding it in my car so she wouldn’t see it when I came home.”

His father obviously told him the story to make him laugh, but Jon only looked at him for a moment. The trust filling him knowing in close to amusement how alike he really was to his father, Jon turned to the bag he had brought. The other things he went out to buy in there, but still what he called his first gift inside.

Pulling it out, the soft wolf plush he handed it to his father. Explaining in a low tone as it was looked over, “I saw it in a store window when I was in town with her. I left early before going on shift the next morning to buy it, and hid it in my locker there.” Ned just laughed, a deep laugh from his chest as he nodded.

Commenting with even more of a light tone, “I think our ancestors might have been onto something, making the House Sigil a wolf. The way the men in our family act.” Both of them laughed that time, something maybe a little less worried in his head. He knew his father loved having a large family, having a difficult one growing up.

His own father Rickard a difficult and stern man, and his older brother Brandon somewhat distant from him, as he stayed half the time in Barrowton going to a unique private school opened by the Dustins. Their families close and had enough room to enroll one of them, and their father chose Brandon. His sister Lyanna not born until he was already a boy, and Benjen not even born until a bit after that. So he liked having all of his children here.

Never doing the same, and sending any one of them away for any reason. Keeping them all here, in Winterfell as a close family. It made sense, being so separate from his own family, especially when so soon after marrying Catelyn, did his his father and brother both die in an accident, and almost a year later, his sister Lyanna pass away while on a trip abroad, that instilled a deep need in his fathers mind that he wanted to start a family. Maybe try to heal from the pain of losing so much of his own after that.

But, Jon knew he didn’t have that excuse. His fathers want for a family made sense, but Jon? He knew he felt a bit more obsessive over it. Something almost possessive, but he kept that to himself.

Handing it back to him, his father gave him a look with a bit of hope and guidance. “Robbs moving in too, to help take care of her when you can’t be here. Eventually, he’ll run out of red flags he thinks he’s seeing and you two will make up. He thinks better of you then he’s willing to admit, I promise.”

Jon nodded stiffly, hiding the wolf plush away in the bag once more before clearing his throat to somewhat change the subject, and lighten the tense tightness against his chest. “What needs to be done up here?”

You could only sigh deeply. Hiding your eyes in your sleeve as your arm was propped up on your knee. You hadn’t been dragged out like this for some time, and gods be good did Margaery of all people know how to put on a lecturing tone. You suspected she must have heard your sigh despite trying to hide it, as her tone shifted a little, catching your attention with a more gentle call of your name. “Okay, the lecture part is over. How are you really feeling?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and even moreso the longer you struggled to come up with something firm to actually say. Shifting so your free hand sat at your lips, unconsciously biting at the nail on your thumb you only found any words when she called your name once more, that time in a more soft tone. “I don’t know. I had a panic attack about it the other night, then Jon found the test results so I didn’t even really tell him-” Cutting you off she jumped more to a point she sensed was a worry, asking exactly how Jon reacted. “I thought he was happy.”

“You thought? You don’t know?”

Sighing again, you moved your hand away from your mouth and tucked it against your stomach as you again curled in on yourself. “He seemed happy..he said he wanted this but now I don’t know.” Asking what changed, you struggled what that too. “I can only think of a few reasons he would want this, and plenty more he wouldn’t.”

You could hear her tone shift, as if she had been pacing this whole time and only now managed to settle either on the edge of her bed or at her overly elaborate vanity that you spent so many years as teenagers letting her paint you up like a doll on. “Listen to me, men will always have a million reasons no to want something. They’re good at it, finding excuses. I haven’t met him, but I promise you that if Jon really didn’t want this, he’d probably not hide it from you at this point. He wouldn’t be moving you two into the main house if he didn’t want this. Putting a failing relationship on display for everyone to see. I’ve been to that house more times then I can count and I’ve still never even ran into him once, someone that private isn’t going to want an audience for when everyone finds out he doesn’t want this with you.”

It poked at your mind, the question that you didn’t follow up with. What if he did want this last night, but changed his mind after it was too late to go back. Jon was a very private man, for the longest time Margaery would joke she didn’t even know if he really existed because of how little social media presence he even had. But he also was sweet and kind and caring. Meaning he wouldn’t want to make things awkward for his family after this arrangement was already made, and was playing nice now that it was too late to go back on it. “I uh, I should go. Everyone’s busy inside getting things moved in and I’ve been out here for who knows how long.”

Standing up abruptly, you offered to give her back to Sansa, but she sighed. The image of looking down at herself and realizing it had been near half an hour she was in the middle process of doing her hair no doubt. “I should get back to things here. I talk that girls ear off enough as it is.” A gentle laugh shared between you both, but she had one more thing to say. “I know this is scary, but you can always come to me if things are too much. You know my grandmother loves you and she wouldn’t pester you about things the way we might.”

Despite her not being able to see it, you nodded. A shaking inhale as you said goodbye and hung up. Standing on the porch just looking at the distance with the phone in both your hands as you considered what to do. What you wanted to even do. You weren’t lying when you said you wanted to keep it, but you also were serious when you told Jon that if he really wanted it, you’d get rid of it. It sounded desperate, doing whatever he wanted against your wishes just to stay with him but you couldn’t change the fact that such a pathetic part of you was there no matter what you thought otherwise.

But, there was nowhere to hide here. Not living in the main house. It was odd, just walking in on your own. Even when you were a guest here over many nights, it was rare you’d ever leave on your own and wander in and out as you pleased. You stayed in the guest room, not a main room. You didn’t have this place to call a home the way you did the smaller house.

It was slow, the way you slipped inside. Things seemed to have settled a bit since you first walked in. From one of the living room spaces you looked around the corner, seeing the television on. Sansa on one couch with her nails gently scratching at the slumbering Lady, and Arya splayed out on another with what looked like her homework spread out on the coffee table in front of her. You couldn’t hear where Catelyn had gone, and you knew Bran was out, always the one to take Rickon to whichever sport the youngest Stark was trying out that month.

Upstairs you could hear more. The faint sound of Robb and Neds voice, but you suspected that no doubt Jon had to be up there too if nowhere else. First making your way over to the couch, you gently sat Sansas phone down beside her, her head turning up and back to look at you with a quiet tone, “I told her to go easy on you.”

A half smile came at the explanation, partially saying that she didn’t need to make any sort of apology. The same half smile trying to be given to Arya, just watching you quietly in the same way her sister was as if both were expecting something or trying to figure something else out. But, you made your way to the main hall before they could come to whatever conclusion it was. Each step up the stairs felt heavy, it felt like a weight was sinking you further and further into the wood, your grip in the railing tight enough your knuckles strained as it moved along.

The voices grew clearer as you approached the second floor. Robbs voice heard from his old room, the light on and door open but far enough away you couldn’t see him in there, and across the hall from him you could from this angle see Ned and Jon inside his old room. Jon knelt down by a cabinet as he was unpacking something, and putting what appeared to be blackout curtains over the lighter ones that had long since taken place in the room when Jon went to the basement.

Biting hard down on your tongue, it was a tie. You didn’t know what to do, you felt foreign. New to this place despite how many years you spent on and off around. It was easy for them, this was their home, they grew up here. But you? You felt odd just walking around with the freedom to go and so whatever you wanted. You felt like that could be much of your life. Never really living somewhere that you felt was firmly home in there halls. Just a place you were in that time before you moved on.

It had been obvious too how much you had lost when Jon picked you up from Karl Tanner’s place. Jon had what looked like a lot, but really was a normal amount of things to own and you had not much in comparison. Even moreso, the things you did have, so much of them Jon had taken you out to buy himself. He was all over your possessions, and now, your person too. If he didn’t want this, or you for much longer, then you didn’t know how you’d come back from it. How you’d shake off the fact that Jon was imprinted over your life to such a heavy degree.

But, you didn’t have to choose what to tackle first, Robb stepping out into the hall and catching you with your hands fidgeting together at the top of the stairs calling your name. “You alright?” A closed mouth half smile he did not believe coming across you with a nod of yes. Gesturing to Jons room he maintained a low but soothing tone, “We have everything handled up here, you can relax if you want.”

That was the issue. How did you relax anymore? How does one relax in a space you might not belong in, with people who might not want you in some time? Biting down against your tongue you tried to nod, but made no move to go anywhere. It was very clear to Robb how you stood there, looking utterly and completely lost.

The voices travelling catching the others attention, Jon suddenly appearing at the edge of the door. Glancing at Robb and then his eyes flickering into the room, Jon seemed to take whatever this scenario was and move it somewhere else if just for that moment. “Did you eat?” Nodding yes, he muttered “Good.” Turning back to the room to grab something, not the bag he came in with but a smaller paper one you recognized would’ve come from the pharmacy in town as he made his way to you in the hall. “He said you should take this in the morning, but it shouldn’t be too late just for today.”

It only dawned on you by the time he got to your person what he was even referring too. The pills, right. Nodding, you were simply silent as you let him turn you back around and down the stairs as he followed at your heel. Your head stayed down and mind a bit foggy, but Jons eyes pretended not to notice the way he could see his sisters staring at you both with significant glances. Whatever was on their minds, he wanted them to keep it to themselves.

No one luckily was in the kitchen by the time Jon guided you in there. Putting the bag down on the smaller table, Jon told you to give him a moment as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Hearing the tap turn on behind you, your fingertips just barley reached the bag from here, toying with the edge to look at them before the glass of water appeared as he sat it on the table in front of you.

Knowing which was which, Jon got everything out for you. Once more picking up on how everyone was treating you with kid gloves suddenly. You didn’t know if that was making you feel more or less pathetic if you were honest. He prompted you to take each one, slowly moving the bottles into a specific spot in a drawer. Mindlessly as the last went down, you picked up one of them. Honestly, you barley registered any of the words on it, but you turned and turned the bottle as if any of it made sense in your mind what this was what your life was now. You always thought when you’d learn you were pregnant, your life would be so different then what it was now, and the mess it turned out to be was a sort of whiplash against your mind versus reality.

Murmuring your name, you looked up to Jon with his hand out, not even needing to ask before you handed it to him. Hiding your own hands back in your sleeves as that insecurity made you feel like you needed to be smaller and more out of the way despite Jon happily standing so close in the rather large kitchen. “I’m sorry.”

Turning back to you, Jons face twisted into confusion. “What are you sorry for?” Saying that it was for last night, Jon stepped up closer. One hand coming up to your waist while his other rose to cup your cheek. “You had nothing to do with what happened last night.” Mentioning to him that you seemed to have something to do with it, Jon exhaled deeply akin to a sigh. His thumb running back and forth against the soft skin he found there. “We were arguing about you, not because of you.”

“Why?”

That time he hesitated, and you didn’t grasp why. Feeling like Jon was silent as he searched in his mind for an answer you’d believe rather then the flat truth. “This all happened quickly, it took us all off guard. He just wanted to make sure everything was alright, and I let it get heated.” Brows furrowing, it was on the tip of your tongue that he didn’t have a reason to get mad at Robb, you cut it off before it could slip from your lips that if anything he should be mad at you. Letting your hands drift up to his chest somewhat, but not stepping all that closer to him. “Darling,”

You shook your head, wanting it to be dropped if only for right now. “Still. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I haven’t exactly been myself today.”

Jon would’ve playfully rolled his eyes if he couldn’t tell how upset you presently were pretending you weren’t. His other hand reaching up to cup your other cheek, he turned you down enough to press a kiss to your forehead before allowing his own to rest there too. Your hands sliding a bit higher more at his collarbones. Rasping down at you, you could feel his warm breath dancing across your skin. “I think you have more then a good enough reason to be.” Both thumbs running across your cheeks, “I want you to take it easy tomorrow.”

Right. He had to go in tomorrow. Of course. Jon had his shifts, everyone was either going to be at work or school tomorrow and you’d be here alone. In a house that wasn’t yours, unsure if it would ever feel like yours before it was too late. “I have work to do-”

Jon pulled back, looking you more in the eye as he let a hand drift back down to your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer. “I didn��t say don’t do anything, just that I want you to relax while you do them.” Looking you over with a curious yet inquisitive look his eyes narrowed slightly, “Did you even sleep after last night?”

There was no point in lying, you likely looked beyond exhausted. Shaking your head no, you promptly let your hands drop down to his sides a bit more casually. “I think I dozed off a few times at best.” He knew why, you both did. Maybe it was to make things feel less tense, maybe it was because he knew there were ears all around the house now listening in on your conversations, but he chose a different path.

Moving his hand from your cheek to tuck your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers run through the loose locks as they fell downwards on you. “I don’t sleep well without you either.” If only for a moment he got a laugh from you, and he matched yours with his own. For once your mind distracted by the handsome way he looked in such a laugh and his eyes shining so bright as he did so.

It was starting to feel like this was all anyone wanted to talk to you about.

From morning to night, all anyone could do was at some point during a conversation, turn it around and make it about you being pregnant. Even if not spoken directly to you, it was about you. And when it wasn’t talking, everyone was being extra careful around you as if you were going to break. You were a porcelain doll and everything around you was something that could knock you to the ground and smash into pieces with the slightest touch, and so they were all the guards standing around to make sure that didn’t happen.

News had finally begun to spread, despite you not saying a single word about it anywhere online. People you hadn’t heard from in a long time begun reaching out to you as if they really cared, instead of the obligation of sending some a congratulations as if it meant anything. Old classmates, people you only ever knew in passing greetings from when you worked at the office, everyone found their way to you to send you a message to the point you couldn’t been mistaken for it being plastered all over everyone's homepage.

No word from your family. You understood. They either weren’t ready to speak to you, or didn’t want too. If they ever would, you didn’t know. No one in your family or even adjacent to your family reached out. The only ones who did were surprising. About half an hour after Jon left for work, you had only just dozed back off when your phone vibrated against the night side table. A message from your Uncle Axell Florent, your mothers second older brother. Asking if you could call him when you got the chance.

Slipping something warmer on, you quietly crept downstairs in the empty house as everyone else was still asleep, and slid the back door open. Grey Wind promptly woke up at the sound and followed you out, happy to get the fresh air. Closing it behind you did you finally call him, only to immediately get told how happy he was for you. Asking where he even heard the news, he told you that your mother had called him.

He knew they hadn’t said anything, and told you to be patient. If anyone would come around eventually he said, the first one to do so would be Selyse. As rigid as she could seem, she dreaded missing the life of her grandchild because you didn’t fit into her own moral standards. Assuring you that you always had a place to visit in Brightwater Keep you thanked him. A waver on your voice as you said goodbye, hoping he didn’t hear how emotional the weight in your throat felt at someone in your family saying anything, even if it was an Uncle you barley got to see anymore.

The second was unexpected, nor was he technically part of the family, but he was adjacent to it and the only one in his family line to say a word. It had been in the middle of the afternoon, a random message online from someone who posted so little you forgot he even had any account let alone you followed one another. But it was there as strange as it was.

“Congratulations on you and the baby.”

Jaime Lannister was the twin brother of your Uncle Robert’s wife, Cersei. Her eldest child Joffery, pampered and insufferable prick he was, had taken over your job when you left both times. The first was only temporary until your father could find a suitable replacement and now he had this job during the whole of the campaign, being in charge of PR. You hadn’t looked, you had no interest in seeing anything beyond what you did that week alone. He nor his younger siblings, or Cersei or his other uncle Tyrion said anything yet Jaime Lannister sent a single message.

You didn’t bother saying anything back. Knowing his clever but frustratingly annoying attitude, he’d find some way to twist it into a way to bother you as he had many times when you lived in the same area in Kings Landing.

At this point, there seemed to be no need to even say anything online, come the end of the week near everyone in Westeros would know. Not everyone knew with who, not knowing the workings of your love life, but some did and if a message Jon sent you in the middle of the day said anything, he was getting much the same. He didn’t have time normally to type a lot out to you, but he’d send photos that spoke all the same. That day he sent two in a row, both as ridiculous as the other. The first a screenshot of his inbox, tons of people and many with similar starts of a congratulations of some sort.

The next actually managed to get a laugh from you as impossible as that sounded. A small cake on his desk with icing lazily written across the top, “Congrats on getting laid.” At least he was having fun with it, if only at work.

It was hard to find time alone to talk so far. He’d come home late tonight and leave early tomorrow morning so he could make it back in time to ride down. But it meant you two had barley talked about the baby, or what was to come. Or if you two even stood okay at the same spot. Maybe he thought you were, but you didn’t know about him. You still worried that he’d realize he made a mistake by saying he wants this, and find a way to make you leave, or talk you into getting rid of it before it was too late.

By dinner, you pin pointed what the feeling was around the house. You still felt like a guest. The Starks treated you well, but like a guest and not like someone who lived there, like there was only so much you could do to contribute before you as the outsider got in the way. Yet, in a manner you were. Sitting there you looked around as everyone talked, and knew that you weren’t family. You were like family, but not actual family. Being pregnant didn’t make you a member of the family, and you were worse then just on the outside, you were unintentionally helping to rip things apart.

Robb and Jon still barley spoke, eyes meeting the other but little more. They both freely spoke to you, but rarely each other. And when they did, it was a bit stilted. Some eyes noticed more then others, and after the outburst the other night everyone knew you were a sore spot between them for whatever reason. But, Jon did his best to ignore it.

Sitting near one end of the large table next to you, Jon would quietly, sometimes silently direct you to keep eating when you’d get distracted or let your mood weigh down your appetite. When you hadn’t taken much in the first place, once everyone else was distracted and eating, Jon just silently shifted some of his own onto your plate with barley a glance up at you. He knew you understood what he was saying.

Had your mood not felt so all over the place, it might’ve amused you that he was already being a bit what you might playfully describe as bossy. For a brief while, you thought maybe you could push these thoughts away, until at least after the festival. But, that too seemed not in the cards.

Jon had called you in the middle of the morning that day saying that something came up and he needed to stay late, unsure as to how long that would be. Apologizing profusely that he’d make it up to you, you just quietly told him it was alright and to be safe driving home so late whenever that would be. He knew you were trying not to sound sad when you hung up, not disappointed, but a bit lonely almost. You certainly felt that. It felt like the joy you both shared in those moments the other night when he learned the truth would never come back, a fleeting accident never to be replicated between you both again.

Everyone around you was getting ready to go when Robb came home. One of the first things he saw was you alone on the couch waiting to leave with a look more dejected then normal. He knew why and he felt terrible. He hadn’t instigated anything with Jon since the other night for your sake. What happened really upset you to the point his mother had to bring you over to the house. Neither he nor his brother wanted that, but it got out of hand.

And now with all three of you in the house with the rest of his family, he knew he needed to keep that anger in check much better. Robb could get just as angry as Jon, but Robb also knew he had a far better handle on his temper then Jon. His brother could easily be set off by the right person poking very specific spots and Robb was one of the only people who knew what those were and for some reason, he kept choosing to do it until they stood yelling at each other in their own driveway in the middle of the night.

Seeing Theon helping Rickon with his costume he wanted to wear, all his younger siblings dressing up as was tradition, even Sansa out of the corner of his eye had made an elaborate costume despite every year saying she was too old for it anymore. He saw him though stop for a moment, his gaze flickering up to Robb and nodding over to you. He read the message, to handle you.

Robb didn’t know everything that was upsetting you, he knew one thing, but he also knew the other Theon was pointing out, that the fight he and Jon had was still on your mind and you’d blame yourself before you blamed them. Theon could do a lot for you, but he couldn’t fix what was a problem Robb knew he started.

The entire walk over the room to where you were, he ignored Sansa’s pointed stare in his back.

Sitting down next to you, your hands just in our lap toying with your other fingertips, he tried making a joke to ease you into any conversation. “If you wanted to dress up too love, you could’ve just said something.” Barley did it even get half of a smile on one side of your face. Nudging you gently in the arm with his, he tried again, that time his voice a bit softer and quieter. “Do you want to talk about it?” Asking just as quiet and yet not at all convincing, talk about what, Robb was silent until you looked over at him. A raised brow and knowing glance he let his eyes flicker down to your torso in the only relevant spot to even glance at.

Sighing deeply, you dropped his gaze looking down to your fidgeting hands before pulling them more back in your sleeves as if trying to force yourself not to continue. Barley a mumble came out of your mouth, but he heard you anyways. “It’s just a lot to handle on my own.” Robb responding with a confusion that you weren’t alone but you bit at your lip and looked out the window to the side as if to distract yourself for a moment. “I mean you’ve all been generous. More then generous..but it’s not the same for me.”

He knew what you were getting at, and part of him felt bad, but he needed to simply comfort you in the moment rather then overstep what he knew he couldn’t. “Didn’t you say your uncle called you?” Nodding, he tried leaning more forward to catch some of your gaze again. “And what did he say?”

Your eyes narrowing in thought, as if trying to recall the exact words as you spoke them aloud slowly. “That my mother told him, so he thinks at least she will come around eventually.” Noting that didn’t sound too bad, you only shrugged. He knew it bothered you. Normally not being so close to your family had fallen to the wayside of things you deeply cared about, but now you had switched gears. Seeing the Starks come together so easily and willingly because one half of the party involved was Jon, and how nothing even close to the same would ever be for you.

Even in their main house, he knew you felt lonely and the worries about Jon weren’t helping. That Robb did wish to handle, but his father had warned him to back off. A more stern talk the night before, after dinner where he said that this was something only you and Jon could figure and Robb couldn’t intervene in that way. Robb wanted to support Jon, he was his brother. The same age, grew up their entire lives together and it was awful being at odds for months.

But as stubborn as Jon was, so was Robb, and their father knew it.

Letting a hand run along your back to smooth up and down your upper arm, he pulled you into his side just the slightest. “Come out with all of us tonight, try to have fun, and we’ll start fresh tomorrow. I promise.”

You didn’t nod, but he didn’t expect you too. He knew you were thinking on if you even could start fresh in this same situation, but he didn’t get the chance as everyone begun moving out. Theon making his way now over, “You’re riding with us, Baratheon.”

Gesturing between himself and Robb, you looked more wide eyed and he hated that he had to do this for the plan to work. Let you just be sad with little comfort. But it needed to be done just this once. Moving you close to the front door, he let both hands run along your upper arms as he guided you out onto the porch. “Have fun one night, and you’ll feel better.”

The ride over was quiet. Theon and Robb both offering you the front seat, but you only politely shook your head no. You were fine in the backseat at that point. Letting the two of them enjoy up front, their music more quietly playing. Every now and again either of them would try throwing the conversation back to you, but with small words you barley contributed. Wishing you didn’t let them talk you into coming, you felt now as if you’d just drag them down.

It was childish, but you felt even more lonely knowing Jon wasn’t there. You felt like you were walking on eggshells around him now, but you had gotten so used to him being there that it felt odd to be so distant from him. It felt like the sort of event you would’ve loved to go with him to now that you were together, even with his family around. But you couldn’t blame him for needing to stay late, it was your fault for being upset about it in the first place.

You weren’t even aware of how much time had passed. The sky turning from a fading blue to an orange as the sun properly set beyond the skyline, and the clouds casted in shades of purple in their final moments of brightness before the evening turned more to a look of night. The Festival looked very active as you drove up. Knowing likely where they were to meet up by the entrance, you assumed it didn’t matter where Robb parked.

Arms crossing over your front as you walked, Robb and Theon glanced up to where you could see the rest of the family first. Sansa coming down the stairs handing tickets over to the two of them first, you jokingly could only ask, “Change your minds on bringing me?” But Sansa only glanced over all of your shoulders with something more bright in her eyes and a held back smirk. “Oh I don’t have your tickets, he does.”

Your brows narrowed in confusion, when no one else’s did until you turned around. The first sight would’ve been something, but you had three reactions in a row, all different then each other. Something wide and bright eyed as you saw, standing at his car with his arm perched on the door as if he just stepped out was Jon, a smile so handsome on his face.

The second was confusion, dressed in something matching Sansa’s costume was Margaery looking as so proud for pulling whatever stunt this was on you, but you didn’t seem to grasp why she was here or why this was left as a suprise until she spoke. “Oh I’m not the surprise, this one is.” You hadn’t seen from where you were her on the other side of Jons car and in the dark night and parking lot you couldn’t see inside with the lights off.

Opening the door she let the third party out, but your reaction finally turned to something both ecstatic yet so relieved you felt your face warm in a manner that hinted at how you could cry. Calling your name first, you could barley get her name out before she ran to you. “Shireen?”

Coming quickly to your senses, you ran forward and knelt down enough that you met her in the middle. Your baby sister flying right into you with a hug, and both holding you far tighter then any hug before for some time. Running a hand along her hair as you broke out into a smile pulling back, keeping her arms in your grip to look her over. “I didn’t think mother or father would’ve allowed you to come.”

The mischievous grin in her eyes thus matched the one sat in both Jons and Margaery’s and only at that moment did you put together this was a plan everyone else was in on. Turning halfway around to see Robb, Theon, and Sansa all watching with an amusement that it worked before turning back to Shireen.

You could tell Margaery did the makeup to suit her face perfectly. The left side of her face covered in greyscale from when she was still a baby, it was obvious Margaery carefully painted around the edges with colours to let it blend in. The unmarked side of her face decorated with a skeletal appearance much like depictions of the stranger without being overbearing. Her dress a long black gown and hood with a deep blue sewn into the insides to keep her warm. There a silver along the dress that was too matching like a skeleton to match that only showed in direct light properly to glow.

Margaery circled around with a bright smile on her face. “Well, Jon could tell it was bothering you that your family wasn’t reaching out to you, so he thought maybe we could get just one to come see you.” Standing up, you kept your hands around Shireen pulling her back into you like a hug. Glancing to Jon he just nodded slightly to the side indicating she could explain. “He reached out to me asking if there was a way to get Shireen to meet you here, and we made a plan. Loras and I talked to Renly, who managed to convince Stannis and Selyse that we were taking her to a smaller ceremony near Highgarden for the festival. When really, Renly dropped us off so Jon could come get us and suprise you together.”

Your eyes bright looking to Jon, the feeling of Shireen holding at your arm almost like a hug of her own back. “I had to get her number from Sansa,” Jon looking over to Sansa whom Margaery was walking over to. Before gesturing over to Robb and Theon, “And got them to make sure to bring you no matter what so you could be surprised.”

Robb walking over, he ran a hand along your arm with a softer tone but an amusement shining bright in his eyes. “Jon will drive you home, have fun.” Shireen, completely oblivious to anything else like tension, turned up to wave at him, Robb giving a bright one back and a smile coming over her at finally meeting people she’d heard of for so many years.

Margaery and Sansa linked arms, bright smiles looking at you with knowing as the former explained, “I have to get her back to the hotel by midnight, so no getting into trouble we would’ve at her age.” Your face fell a bit flat looking at her as Sansa too waved at Shireen back, a high pitched tone in a very kind manner saying she was happy to finally meet her.

The three of you alone, Jon more slowly walked up to you. Something hopeful in his eyes you knew matched the way you must have felt inside. Instead looking down at Shireen, you jested “Did he talk you into this?”

Jons eyes narrowed playfully, but Shireen grinned, “What if I talked him into it?” Muttering as you playfully gave her a small shake pulling a giggle from her as you told her that she was always the one getting into trouble between you both. Knowing how untrue that possibly could be. Before suddenly turning in your grasp to gesture back to Jon once more, “I told Margaery he needs a costume but he said no. Why don’t you have one either?”

A small smile, you were more honest about it then you think Jon expected. “Haven’t been quite feeling up to it recently.” A frown forming over her face that from the corner of your eye, could see Jon trying not to smirk at how similar to you it looked. Leaning down more to her level your expression purposely brightened for her sake. “But, you’re here now. So how about when we get in, you can look for something small I can wear.”

Shireen was a girl who was not to be trifled with when she wanted something, with an excitement in her eyes she turned to Jon, “Only if I can pick something for you too.” Jon without hesitating, told her it was a deal and the smile on her face grew somehow more as she turned back to you before the thought hit her. “Is what mother said true?”

Resisting the urge to look up at Jon, you remained stoic in your expression. “What did she say?”

You already knew, the hint told to you by your uncle means it could’ve easily passed through Shireens ears, but you let her tell the story as she saw fit. But the way her eyes dropped down to her feet for a moment said it all for you, pushing away the grin wanting to form as what she said matched your suspicions. “I overheard her. She was on the phone with Ser Axell, and she was upset with you..that you were pregnant. She doesn’t know I heard her, I can keep it a secret I promise. I just want to know if I’m going to be an aunt soon.”

Inhaling deeply, your eyes that time did flicker up to Jon. Knowing he should have a say as well but he simply nodded at you in encouragement. “We’ve only just found out, but yes.” You were nearly slammed into the ground with another hug as she begun to ramble. A boy or girl, how she’d get to see them, before deciding she also needed to find something today as a present to give to them when they’re born as you laughed more freely then you had in days. “Alright, but we have to get inside for that. Are you ready?”

Before she even nodded, Shireen looked over to Jon properly. “You’re coming with us right?”

His gaze remained neutral, while his eyes spoke a doubt. He had done this for you, and you didn’t want to make him leave just because you were insecure. Luckily, whatever your face conveyed behind Shireen was enough to convince her. “Of course. How are you going to buy me something to wear if I’m not there?”

Turning to move towards the main entrance, you pushed up to your full height as Jon approached you for a quiet moment. Opening then closing your mouth, words wanted to come out but it was difficult. So much you could say but it still was so muddled and confusing. Nodding his head a little, Jon too moved his arm to your lower back guiding you up the path. “Can’t keep her waiting.”

Everything was certainly decorated accordingly. Much more festive then any you had attended before. Lights all around set up to glow purples, orange, red, dark blending colours giving everything a spooky sort of energy and many statues and figures and displays set up to look much like images of the Stranger and displays of modestly grotesque sights meant to mimic things the Stranger might see in their time. All done not to be scary necessarily, but meant to amuse as it was to put a small fear in children no doubt.

The first area was set up like a small village. In the daylight you imagined this place was once the courtyard of a castle, now designed instead for such festivities to be decorated. Many places were naturally food, candy, all the sorts. Some local and some much more chosen to appeal to the children about. You could easily imagine the moment Rickon stepped in here, Catelyn would’ve had to prevent him from eating himself sick right away.

Speakers were hidden carefully in trees and foliage to keep the illusions. In some places more dark and eerie music played while in others sound effects like thunder were meant to bring an aura of danger no doubt. Shireens eyes were wide with so much to look at. Actors dressed up all around were placed and wandering to scare passerby’s and speak to them in character of whomever they portrayed. Only moments after going inside, did you and Jon have a stand off.

There was a booth, little necklaces with a light up cartoonish ghost attached to it that indicated to the actors not to scare you. You had thought he stopped to ask Shireen, but she turned to stand beside Jon on a dime, both of them looking at you expectantly. “I’m barley a month in.”

Jons arms crossed over his chest as Shireen followed his move. He though was much more convincing when his voice ran deep with more of an authority then Shireens would have. “I don’t know how much they’re going to try, and in this condition-”

“Jon, it has a name.”

Barrelling over your words he continued, “I want to make sure you’re alright. There’s enough going on around us.” Asking if Shireen needed one if you were to, he looked down at her with a grin before back to you. “She’s dressed up scarier then some of the actors. They should be the ones staying far away from her.” Were you not trying to fight against Jon coddling you, you might have melted at the way Shireen instantly had taken to him.

When it was Karl or Ramsay, you never liked the idea of her being around them. Not knowing what they’d be like with kids let alone a sweet and sensitive one like your baby sister. But Jon? He helped raise four younger siblings, he knew what he was doing and children always loved him. Gravitating like he was their big brother and she was no different, neither of you ever having a brother after all.

Jon let Shireen pick the right necklace, so he could carefully pull it over your head to drape along your front. His eyes even in the more dark light looked soft. His hands falling to his sides but for just the briefest of seconds you watched as he ran two knuckles ever so gently along your stomach before wrapping an arm around your waist to guide you further into the festival.

Shireen almost always was a few feet in front of you both, taking in everything. She was sheltered on Dragonstone, and even there you knew your mother and father kept her inside. Not wishing the greyscale to worry others, how rare it was even now to find a cure for it it scared people. Margaery did a wonderful job with her costume makeup, you’d have to remember to thank her. It wasn’t often Shireen could run around somewhere with her greyscale and feel totally at ease no one was staring at her face.

There were two paths, one down what looked like a large jack-o-lantern with mini ones stringed as lights above it in a different area, and the other over a bridge that stood above a man made lake that had lights glowing down on it to make thew waters shimmer red like blood. Further along the bridge was a castle entrance into a more eeiry section, whereas the other looked like it had more food and games.

Instead of you choosing, you stopped to look at Shireen. “You’re the special guest here, which way should we go first?”

She did not hesitate to choose the scarier option. “I don’t want Jon to have to carry our prizes all night long.” Jon only asking amused how much was he going to carry and she shrugged. “It depends on how good you are.” Only grinning he agreed to it, but with the notion that if he won you both a prize of your choosing, she needed to pick a game to play and win a prize for him. Jons own face turning jestingly serious as hers was genuinely with her hand out making a deal.

Thus far, no one had managed to scare her. She was vigilant even though she was so unused to being in a heavy crowd at night but each time an actor approached she would try to scare them first. Pulling her hood up to hide her hair look more unsettling. Some attempts got a smile, others played into it by trying to scare her back and letting her win. One woman dressed in what you could only guess was supposed to be a kind of witch commenting by putting her hand over her heart, “I’ll have to tell the others to be on the look out for you, I’ll see you in my nightmares tonight, kid.”

Her face always beaming after. She never had so much attention, but each new thing she discovered she always would turn to include you and Jon. You took a step back sometimes, letting them bond as they got along so well. The way he interacted with her reminding you of the way Jon used to interact with Arya when she was that age, but a bit softer and sweeter and less teasing and bantering then he normally was. Shireen could handle some, but she wasn’t quite where you or his own siblings were at and he was happy it seemed to dial it down and be sweet on her.

Part of you hesitated to join them as much. They enjoyed their time together, Shireen always wanting something of a big brother and if only one thing good came out of what happened, it would be they got to meet and you desperately hoped your mother would come around if not for you, then to at least let Shireen visit more. But, you trailed back sometimes. That feeling once more of getting in the way, of intruding on a moment you had nothing to do with.

If you were close too, Jon could see the way you watched him with Shireen and worry that was putting more hope in your head for him wanting to keep the baby. That he’d see your wishful thinking and change his mind faster then you were scared he would.

The haunted houses were easier to start with. There were a few that you all decided to make your way around too, the third of which thus far walking up to it in the queue seemed the most dark and scary. Each seemed to have a specific theme, this one however you couldn’t quite pin down which might have been the point. The darkness and unknown scarier then knowing what to expect. You kept Shireen in front of you, her back up against your front as you kept your hands by her arms to guide her, especially in the dark.

The greyscale had left her eyesight in her left eye more faded then most people. Maester Cressen estimated that she had about fifty percent of normal vision in bright lights, but it would to her, appear like twenty in that eye in the dark so she had a little more trouble navigating. Jon was right beside you, if a little behind as if to keep your own back safe as you did hers. Actors popping out with a growl or yell, and Shireen would break. Shriek as she’d jump back into you, normally a light laugh on you as you assured her they wouldn’t hurt her.

The actors were good though, noting your necklace and would crouch or bend down more to specifically scare her as opposed to you all as a group. At one point you felt her reaching to find your hand, you gripping hers firmly and kept her close to your front. You’d have to gauge when you left how she was feeling, knowing how not used to horror she was.

Jon didn’t say a word, but kept at least one hand at your waist at all times. Strong and steady against you even when sometimes you’d get startled by the actors by way of them jumping out regardless of if they yelled or not. Your first question was answered as you all stepped out onto the wooden steps leading back to the pathways, as she skipped down them and turned with a jump. Her voice a high pitched near shout of excitement, “Mother never would have let me go in there, it was so much fun,”

Your eyes glanced up, noting you could see some of the other Starks in the distance. Ned and Catelyn clearly getting the youngest three in line for a ride, Catelyn a dismayed smile on her face at her children’s relentless begging to go on more and more rides. Never having gone on one before, you knew they didn’t appeal to Shireen as much as the rest of the festival, but you asked anyways gesturing over. “Do you want to join Jons brothers and sister on there?”

Her neck had to stretch up to see the roller coaster which winded itself above you, a net hanging high no doubt to catch anything which came up from someone before looking back at you and Jon with wide eyes shaking her head no. Jon laughed freely, guiding you down to her level muttering your name, “She never quite liked them either.” Turning to move along the path once more Shireen asked if he did. “When I was your age, not so much now.” Asking why he explained more as she made her way to walk beside him listening diligently. “I work at the Wall, sometimes going North. There aren’t any formal roads out there so any drive out you feel every and all dips in the land. If you get car sick it wouldn’t be a place for you. And some of the places I go are high up in mountains or near caverns or caves. I get enough adventure there.”

Tilting her head in wonder, “Isn’t that all dangerous?” Jon only explaining to her that it could be, if you didn’t know the land. Which was why when he was new, he listened to everything the free folk told him but now he knows where to walk and where not to walk as well as they do. So he keeps safe as he can, that and adding his Uncle Benjen had been his stations First Ranger for over a decade now, so with him by his side he was as safe as he could get. “I used to hear stories that they are all savages who kidnap women in the middle of the night.”

Jon only laughed. “They’re a little rougher then you or I, but they’re really no different from us. Just a different kind of life is all. Besides, they haven’t done things like that in hundreds of years.” Muttering that it still didn’t seem like a place she’d want to visit, he ran a hand along her hair before pulling her hood up almost playfully. “Shame, that’s where I wanted to take you next time.” Nudging his hand away telling him not to tease her, Jon said your name. “Ask her, she gets teased all the time.”

Her looking past Jon to see you nod, her face twisting as she looked back up at him. “I’ll have to watch you from now on.”

By the time you all stopped to get something to eat, you came across a little diner looking building. Cleverly all the workers inside were dressed in tattered uniforms and makeup done to look like the undead, trapped in their jobs long after passing as if the Stranger had never come for them. Jon playfully pushing Shireen a little further in, “How about you find us somewhere to sit?”

Your eyes were trained on the small menu by the time he turned back to you. His voice rasping a little lower as his hand found your lower back stepping to your side, murmuring your name. “Are you alright?” Blinking heavily you looked from the menu to him, such an alluringly soft look in his eyes that you could be charmed into watching forever, instead looking back to the menu and nodding. Muttering you were just figuring out what Shireen should have, “Darling, you know thats not what I’m asking.”

But something more nervous filled you, a weight in your stomach worried once more of when you’d never hear that term coming from him towards you again. Would he ever call another woman that when you were gone? A term for you alone, or was it only because you were there at that moment. “I’m fine.” Pushing it all back and partially this conversation, you didn’t want Shireen to pick up on anything and make her worry. “Really, Jon.”

You both knew he didn’t believe you, but for now he let it go.

Eventually she found something for you both to wear. Nothing quite like hers was suitable in her eyes, so she decided to go with a pair of demon horns. Jons a bit longer and more menacing, yours short and a bit more what she called cute. Nothing big or obnoxious, but you both happily let her put them on your heads, satisfied she had made you both finally look like you belonged.

By the time you circled around to the games, it was more obvious to Jon that you really weren’t alright. The night ticking closer to when you would have to drive her and Margaery back to their hotel and not know when you’d see Shireen again on your mind. And that you’d be left alone with Jon, too not knowing where you stood with him. But, you let them enjoy the night as much as part of you truly did feel a warmth in your heart watching how much they got along.

You let Shireen pick what prize she thought you should win, but she had a bright idea. If Jon would win two of the same prize, she’d win the third for him and a fourth for the baby, and you’d all have something matching. Smaller plush toys were chosen on. A skeleton plush with a more demonic looking tail and scythe seemed to match her costume and the horns she picked for you both. Shireen cheered for how easily Jon won, not that you were surprised he was good at anything to do with aim. According to Karsi he was better then most marksmen she’d seen shoot an arrow for twenty years straight.

By the time it was Shireen’s turn, Jon stayed by her side to guide her through. The eyesight too effecting her ability to aim, and Jon would gently move her hands and arms into the right spot when she was off. You eyes wandering a bit until landing on Margaery, hovering nearby watching.

You didn’t say anything as you left, not wanting to disturb them. The word rather elongated a she begun, “So, how is it all going?”

Looking back, a softer glaze in your eyes came over for a moment. “Well enough, they get along great.” Only for her to ask specifically what about you, and then your name in warning when you didn’t respond. Looking back your brows furrowed a bit as your expression finally allowed itself to twist into something subtlety upset. “As long as they have a good night, it’s fine.”

Your name coming from her, Margaery brushed the hair in front of you gently back of your shoulder, “This night is about you too. You’re the pregnant one, you need to be enjoying yourself as well.” Her eyes flickered behind you, suspecting Jon had finally noticed you weren’t there. Not that you had seen, but she did. The brief panic in his eyes thinking you’d wandered off too far and he lost where you were, only to settle just the slightest as he spotted you with Margaery.

“I appreciate you helping to do this, really I do. But one good night won’t fix anything if he decides this isn’t what he wants.” Your name coming more softly from her mouth made you feel worse, the sting behind your eyes suddenly forming along with a block in your throat. Your arms crossed over your front, “He doesn’t want this, Margaery.” Asking gentle like you were the child how you knew that, but your answer was a bit stammering. “I just do. He’s not happy when he’s with me now. He was the night when he found out, but I think he regrets it..I think he realized what he got himself into and made a mistake but now everyone knows and it’s too late to take it back.”

Assuring you he didn’t think that you crossed your arms over your front as it to protect yourself or curl in on yourself. Her hands by your arms she spoke softly and as comfortingly as she could, at least sensing her honesty in the gesture. “You weren’t there, you didn’t hear him on the phone trying to set this up. How desperate he was to give you something that would cheer you up. That man adores you, and he’ll adore your baby together. Just give him a chance to prove it and you’ll see.”

Glancing back finally, you could see an excited Shireen that she finally won and that unfairly handsome grin on his face. Turning back you nodded, no words to say you’d try but she understood. “Do you need to get back to-”

Cutting you off she linked her arm with yours to turn you around and walk back towards Jon and Shireen. “She headed back to find her father, ready to go home when they were. Besides, it’s getting close to when we should probably leave. I have to get her makeup off when we get to the hotel otherwise your mother will wonder exactly what kind of ceremony we went too when she face times.”

Shaking your head at how watchful over Shireen was, how you never got that kind of protectiveness from them, and a weight in your gut that now you never would.

Margaery at least took the reins on starting the conversation as you both walked back over. Looking to Shireen with a bright expression, she let go of your arm to lean down to her level, “Did you win this for me?” Shireen’s face only twisting as she pulled it closer with furrowed brow as Margaery laughed instantly. Running her hand over her hair a little, “Well what am I supposed to remember tonight with?”

Quick on the draw, and perhaps even sensing the teasing game being played Shireen said flatly with an equally as flat expression, “The pleasure of my company.”

You could only turn away with a grin. Looking around the night with people scattered about everywhere, you felt a warmth envelop your side as Jon rested a hand more along your lower back again. Facing you more and himself away from the other two as is rasp was quiet, “Enough fun for one day?” A tiny breath of a laugh came out and a hinting smile to join, pulling what brightness in his eyes Jon could get from your reaction with a tilting nod to the side in agreement. Running his hand more up and down your back he kept your eyes just a beat longer then normal as if not wishing to break away yet before turning you both back to the others.

Shireen seemed to have picked up the winding down mood, asking if it was time to go. You nodded, not even yet allowing her face to fall in a disappointment as you shifted from Jon to pull her more in front of you. Much like how you guided her through each haunted house earlier, but this time you felt her relax more into your touch as she held three of the plushes, yours, hers, and what you presumed was the matching one for a gift for the baby. With Shireen here you dared not let your brain tread back into only moments ago as you ran a hand along her arm. “I’m still coming with you on the drive to the hotel, you have a little bit longer with me.”

A sad nod, you felt guilt at having to end the night but perhaps a tad relieved that she too felt the same dejection at ending the night not knowing when the next would even be. The four of you slowly begun to make your ways to the main entrance out into the dark parking lot, a small part of you wondering if Margaery was feeling awkward. Between yourself and Shireen, and yourself and Jon, there was a comfort in a natural silence no one felt the need to fill with talking that Margaery was not used too. Were your mood not in such an odd place, it might have been ever so slightly amusing.

A cute little instinct in Jon caught your attention for a moment though, the way he found it so instinctive to open and close the car door for you, and yet how he instantly did so for Shireen right away without a second thought. Watching just a little longer as you held your side open still, just as he met your eyes with a softness in the greys you let your gaze quickly flicker away as to not draw attention, when you both knew it was too late for Jon to not catch you staring.

The ride was just as quiet over, nothing more then the light music playing just quiet enough in the background. You sat in the back with Shireen, only quiet whispers shared between you both, asking if she had a good night and her affirming it was her favourite in a long time. Her hands never not clutching the plush toy, you were happy that she would have something physical to remind her of the night even if you couldn’t talk even over the phone for a while. That part of her and you would still be there for the other now that you had put yourself in such a precarious position.

“That Tyrell money knows no end to luxury doesn’t it?”

Looking back at you with a playful squint in her face at your jest, she was no doubt used to the comments. Her family played second only to the Lannisters in terms of sheer wealth, but the Tyrells were always smarter in how they spent it rather then flashy. Clearly though, for Shireens benefit, she had put a little more towards this hotel then you expected when you drove up.

Coming over to you, neither hesitated in a hug. Her whispering in your ear for only you to hear, “Remember what I said, give him a chance.” You said nothing, not that she expected you too. Swallowing roughly as she pulled away, you bit down then on your tongue to calm your expression from twisting too much. Only looking between you, Shireen and Jon hovering by his open car door, she nodded at him and he back before looking to Shireen. “I’ll be right by the elevator waiting for you.”

Not closing the door, but pushing off the car and walking over, Jon crouched down to Shireens height, the brightness in his wide eyes and smile almost was infectious to her. “I’m glad I finally got to meet you, Shireen. Despite everything, it’s better now then never.”

Nodding, she held more of a stern tone which was only overpowered by the degree of cute it was coming from such a small, innocent, and sweet girl. “If I’m an aunt, that makes you by law, my brother. So this isn’t allowed to be the last.” Jon muttering that he knows she’s never had a brother before and only adding he was happy to be hers. Only for a second did she hesitate, and almost as if knowing what was going to happen, Jon had braced himself for Shireen lunging herself forward into a hug. Holding her gently as she held him more tightly, a smile on his face the whole time with a chuckle.

Running a hand down her hair in a smoothing gesture, “Next time, I’ll find a way to bring you up to Winterfell. See if we can’t get you a sleepover with your big sister instead of just Margaery.” She giggled in response. Pulling back, he pulled her by the back of her head close, giving a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Shireen and you only watched for a moment as he left to get in the car to give you both privacy. He wouldn’t have any reason to know what he did, how he didn’t hesitate or likely even think about leaving it on the part of her forehead untouched by greyscale. But he didn’t, a forehead kiss half and half down the middle as if it was normal for anyone outside of her family to want to even entertain touching it. Margaery was an exception, she knew her well through Renly, but Jon was a near stranger to her until tonight.

Kneeling down to her level, you didn’t need to say anything. Green eyes against green, Shireen moreso fell into your front in a hug. Her arms desperate to not let go as you didn’t hesitate to hold her tightly back. Muffled against your clothes where her head was hidden, “When am I going to see you again?”

You’d like to comfort her, but she deserved better then that. “I don’t know, sweet girl. But Jons right, we’ll find a way to do this again before too long.” Asking in a quiet voice if it was going to be before the baby came, you both knew she felt the hesitation. “I can’t promise that. But, I have another idea.” Pulling back you held her by her upper arms to keep her close, your eyes bright with something flooded with an emotion ready to pour out but kept it together for hers much closer to crying now that you really had to leave. “We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, so how about you start making a list of names you like. You can give them to Margaery to pass to Jon and I, and when we meet again, we’ll see how close you got.”

Nodding, you let your hand run over her cheek with your thumb, catching the tear that escaped. You of course, were the only one outside of your mother and father, or the family Maester to not hesitate touching her skin so freely on the greyscale for a long time. You always had, since the day you could hold her as a baby again when she was cured, you never wanted her to think you’d let her mark make her feel any different to you.

You didn’t expect her to say anything. She was young and upset and conflicted and likely still a bit confused as to why it was the way it was now. Words not easily coming to the vivacious reader when she felt too much in her heart. Just sending her on her away, only a nod when she at the door, turned half around to look at you before going inside.

Jon respected your privacy still, giving you the time to get up and into the car at your own speed, finally sitting in the passenger seat in the front. The music still playing lightly but he clearly had switched it to something softer and more instrumental. The gentle concern in his eyes, as he leaned over. First just pulling the headband off and sitting it in the back with his and the necklace you had let them twist your arm into wearing. Not moving away but letting his hand trail along your cheek, thumb running over the soft skin much more intimately then you had Shireens moments ago. “There’s something we should talk about before we go home. Nothing like that.” Jumping in to speak again the moment your eyes went wide, realizing no doubt how quickly you had taken those words, and watching your shoulders deflate and your eyes soften as the reassured you. Asking what about, Jon just leaned over more to pull at your seat belt, muttering that he’d rather not talk about this in a hotel parking lot you could only laugh at how he just did it for you.

If you had only one ease for your mind it was that the silence was far less awkward then you feared as he drove. Not going along the main roads like normal, but side streets along the riverside as it led through the Twins and into the much more forested lush of the North before Jon found a place to stop.

Stepping out, you turned to him with a light laugh. “Do you just know every single small park from here to the Wall?” Shrugging with a held back grin, Jon pulled you firmly into his side as he walked you through the empty small park to a circular table bench under a lovely looking awning. Your eyes barley noticed the bag in his hand, but couldn’t come up with anything it could be.

Sitting you up against the tables edge, Jon only parted your legs enough to stand between them in front of you. One hand on your hip, but his other ran along your neck and cupped your cheek and jaw more to get you to look at him. “I know it’s not the same for you.” Your brows furrowed in a silent look of question. “Having all of my family around for this, and none of yours. Everyone loves you, but I get it. They’ve just left you alone, to deal with this like they have better things to do then take care of the daughter thats carrying their future grandchild.” Swallowing roughly, that weight didn’t go away and Jons eyes softened as if he knew. “I don’t know when they’ll come around, but I’ll find a way to make sure I can get Shireen to come see you more.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes dropped, but he leaned forward more without turning you to look back up properly. “For tonight, it meant more then I know how to say. At least getting to spend one evening with her.” A tender rasp barley a whisper as Jon muttered that he doesn’t need a thank you.

His warm breath dancing across your skin. “I just want to see you happy.” Trying to argue that you were, Jon knew better. Pulling back more to get you to look back up at him, his face more turned into something knowing but heartbroken. “I know you aren’t, you’ve spent the last two days scared and confused and worrying yourself sick that I changed my mind about wanting this with you.”

Your eyes turned wide, knowing you couldn’t lie your way out of this, you tried to stammer, “When did Margaery-”

Cupping both your cheeks, Jon forced you to look up at him closing the gap between you once more without kissing you. “She didn’t tell me anything. I just know you, darling. And I know you’re wrong.” Nodding, he pulled you into his front. Your arms wrapping around his shoulders, his face tucking itself into your hair before pressing a kiss right under your ear. “I want this with you now, I will tomorrow, and every single day for the rest of our lives I want this with you.” Leaning back only enough he cupped your cheeks again, letting his nose trail down yours, a gentle nudge as it nuzzling you sweetly. Your hands coming down more to his sides, “I love you, both of you. You know that.”

He didn’t even bother letting you respond. Your heart heavy and yet light in your chest at how honest his words spoke and how deeply you felt his heart break at the worry you even thought any of it. Not even getting passed the first few sounds of trying to tell him you loved him back did Jon close the gap. Leaning down to press his lips to yours.

Deepening it right away, his soft lips guided yours. Not giving you any room to even consider controlling it let alone pulling away, your hands rose up to wind around the back of his neck, trying to press more to his front. Running his lips over yours over and over again, demanding you give him your every breath and sound of need as in return his kiss gifted you the promise he meant all of it and more.

Feeling his tongue brush against your bottom lip, he was taking the gentle route tonight. Your lips parting, and instantly did Jon let his tongue slide inside your mouth. Brushing only teasingly against yours, coaxing you to try and follow before he’d nearly stop the kiss and return to repeat the process. One hand on your cheek leaving to run around, his hand raking through strands of your hair before grasping a larger chunk of it, pressing you closer to his lips as yours found their way into his dark curls right back.

Once, twice, three more times did Jon fail to pull away, still pressing a feather light peck to your lips before he felt his leave yours completely. The hand in your hair relaxing and returning to raking through the strands over and over. Your eyes flickered to the side and back with a curious smile, “Whats in the bag?”

Jons grin grew though, which only peaked your curiosity more. “Proof how much I want this.”

Once upon a time Jon assumed he’d have to explain to you what the plush was, so many months or years after he knew you saw it in the shop window. Not weeks, not so few it could count as days. The second he pulled it out, your eyes went wide. A weight in your chest making you feel lightheaded but in a fashion that brought not wooziness but emotion, he gently transferred it to your hold. Turning it slowly without ever taking your eyes of it’s well made design and soft fur. Jon muttering quietly “It’s the one you-”

“Saw in the shop window. When did you buy this?” Whatever response he seemed to expect was not what you gave. A watery laugh with tears forming at the answer of the very next morning. A tale of hiding it at work and thats where he went in the middle of the night, to get it for you.

“I was going to give it you sooner, but after what happened with Robb..I didn’t want to look like I was pushing you for this. I wanted this, I really wanted it, but I was going to wait as long as it took for you to be ready. I promise.”

What could you say? A promise of the only thing you were truly scared of between you was not true. Keeping it in your lap, your hands slowly moved. Cupping his cheeks, your thumbs running over his coarse facial hair before slipping behind the back of his neck. Jon needed no more hints, pulling you with one hand back in your hair and the other wrapping around your back to pull you closer he took over and pressed his lips to yours.

In truth, it wasn’t the only thing Jon was going to give you that night. But he didn’t have it in him to break the peace, the gentle kiss he so desperately needed. There was plenty of time for the ring in his pocket, he could ask you any time. For now though, you both were content in the others kiss. No matter how much Jon yearned to marry you here and now, he’d have to restrain himself.

He wanted to take his time, but the wolf inside of him was always another much darker and needier story.

[dipperscavern]

jon and ‘good girl’, u need to sedate me rn

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP DHSJSN

he doesn’t even think about it the first few times it slips out either. while he’s on his way to go up the wall, he tells you to remind edd to recount the food stores & you say you already did. he nods to himself, absentmindedly muttering a-

“Good girl.”

-and giving a small caress of your hip before he enters the box, men beginning to send him up. and you just stand there almost dumbfounded, mind reeling with what just transpired. when you both make eye contact, you quickly turn away, hoping the flush of your cheeks and look in your eye didnt give you away.

(it did, of course. jon smirks at the realization.)

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

[winnysplayground]

“he’s so babygirl”

babe he just killed somebody.

[seasons-of-death]

when funkyfrogbait said “how many einsteins have spent their lives washing dishes, how many mozarts bent over stoves instead of pianos because they had the misfortune of being born a woman.”

i might mostly post smut on this account, but i write SO much more than just fanfic, and every word i write is for every woman that came before me that couldn’t write what they wanted. it’s for my mother, my grandmother and my great-grandmother as well as the women that came before.

[chaotic-laila]

The bond between a girl and her favorite fictional man? That shit’s toxic, but in the best way. It’s this messed-up, all-consuming obsession where she’ll go to war for a man who doesn’t even exist—like, literally fight someone for talking shit about him. She knows he’s a red flag with legs, but she’s ready to unpack his trauma and let him ruin her life, because he gets her in ways real guys never could. He’s everything she wants and everything she should probably stay the hell away from, but fuck it. It’s not about logic; it’s about the fantasy of someone who’s so broken, they’d burn the whole world down just to love her.

It’s painful, because she knows he’ll never be real, but that doesn’t stop her from falling harder every damn time she opens the book, watches the show, or reads another fanfic. And yeah, it hurts like hell, but it’s a beautiful kind of hurt. The kind that makes her want to scream and cry and laugh all at once.

Because no real guy could ever compare to that kind of perfectly fucked-up perfection. (And cause he will fuck you till you can't think straight)

Link 🔗 (for all of my other social accounts)

[swordgrace]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ jon snow x female northern reader.

SYNOPSIS: you reunite with your beloved childhood friend, jon snow, at the edge of the world. the both of you have changed, but your feelings certainly haven’t.

note: season six jon, follows s6 ep4.

format: one-shot — not requested.

word count: 10.5K (not sorry).

warnings: SMUT (mdni), ramsay bolton warning, friends to lovers, confession of feelings, reunion sex, description of scars, jon is definitely more of a switch, horny reader (valid), lots of groping, making out, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, jon loves to munch, body worship, hair-pulling kink, unprotected sex, p in v sex, lotus position & missionary position, reader is on top and on bottom, light biting & tit sucking, soft ending + aftercare

author’s note: I don’t know where this came from, but I’m glad because I had so much fun with his one! I’m a Jon girlie until the very end <3 I would honestly love to write more of him if you guys enjoy this! thank you so much for the love and support!

𝐀𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲.

Direwolf sigils were replaced with that of flayed men, befitting for the screams that often emerged from the bowels of the Keep or the kennels, where enemies were fed to Ramsay Bolton’s pack of slavering hounds. Old faces that you had grown up with as a girl were gone — removed or slaughtered.

Your father, once loyal to House Stark and to Eddard himself, was strung-up and butchered for all to see, flayed alive by the Bolton men who now controlled Winterfell. You grew numb to the pain, numb to the shifting environment around you. It wasn’t the home that you had grown up in.

When you had caught sight of Sansa Stark in the courtyard, auburn tresses like searing embers against the backdrop of endless gray and snow, tears on her face, you knew that you needed to act.

You hadn’t known Sansa very well, but you did know her brother, Jon Snow. A beloved friend in your youth and teenage years, you had watched him go to the Night’s Watch. Any letters you’d written were likely thrown to the wayside, given the oaths that Men of the Watch swore, but you had longed to see him again.

Sansa recognized your face, no longer that of a young maiden with her head in the clouds. The both of you were women grown, trapped within Winterfell, and you wholly intended on escaping.

Fleeing Winterfell was perilous — dangerous, especially with the winter so biting and icy that it threatened to freeze away your extremities. Aided by Theon Greyjoy, once a captive of Ramsay, the three of you escaped into the harshness of the Northern woodlands.

Much of your time spent was in constant peril, with the looming threat of Bolton hounds nipping at your heels, search parties sent sprawling across the Wolfswood and beyond. Every rustle in the trees, every snap of a twig, distant scream of the wind made your steps quicken.

It was only when your lives were spared by Brienne of Tarth and her squire that you knew you were truly safe.

Castle Black had stood the testament of time, the last line of defense against whatever monsters lurked outside of The Wall. When its massive gates had opened, making way for your caravan, you felt shrewd in the presence of strangers. You hadn’t left Winterfell for much of your life, and only now, the world seemed so much larger.

When you saw Jon Snow again, more a man now than a boy you’d left behind in Winterfell, your heart nearly shriveled up within your chest. Youthfulness had left him, replaced with a permanent twinge of melancholy. A scar circled around his right eye, seemingly newer, and his mound of curled tresses remained tugged into a half-bun.

You stood in Brienne’s shadow, shuddering from the gnawing bite of the cold, feeling it slowly eat away at your bones. Sansa sobbed into her brother’s shoulder — and you couldn’t fault her for it. The viciousness she suffered at the hands of the Boltons was some of the worst cruelties one could imagine.

It was only when you caught Jon’s eye that he felt his breath hitch within his throat, and he felt like a young man again — freshly eight-and-ten, watching as he introduced you to Ghost for the first time. The sound of your curious laughter had filled the courtyard of Winterfell, and he remembered it as if it were yesterday.

You were from a distant dream, somewhere close yet far away, slipping in and out of his thoughts.

The last thing that you wanted was to detract from Sansa’s reunion with her brother, and so you kept quiet, bringing yourself into the shoddy shelter of your cloak. Your visage was icy, stung by the bitter wind of the far North, and your hands ached.

“You are safe here,” Jon murmured, brown hues glistening with appreciation as he looked upon Brienne of Tarth. “I owe you my gratitude for saving my sister. Whatever you need from Castle Black, you’ll have it.” He nodded, finding his gaze drifting towards you, begging for you to look his way.

Perhaps you didn’t recognize him, but that seemed far-fetched. Edd beckoned for Sansa to follow him at Jon’s command, hoping to find warmth in the guest chambers in the Lord Commander’s suite. The burden and duty no longer belonged to him.

Brienne bowed, hand atop the pommel of Oathkeeper, the Valyrian steel sheathed within its scabbard. “I swore an oath to Catelyn Stark that I would keep her daughters safe — and I shall keep it.” She replied, cerulean hues flickering towards you. “Lady Sansa’s escape wouldn’t have been possible without her.”

Jon gazed at you as if you had brought down the sun and stars themselves, moved mountains with will alone. Gods, he missed you terribly. His departure for the Night’s Watch had left a gaping hole in your heart, never to be filled, but seeing him again only seemed to make it ache with something painful.

Wordlessly, your feet carried you before logic could stop you in your tracks, and you flung yourself into Jon’s embrace, feeling his arms wrap around you. Brienne’s countenance glistened with the realization that you knew Jon, and she seemed to steer Podrick away, allowing the both of you some privacy.

“You’re alive,” You whispered into his shoulder, feeling hot tears trickle down your cheeks. Part of you worried that he might’ve perished, but here he stood, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, a man. “It has been so long, Jon Snow.”

He hadn’t been alive days ago — death had claimed him once before.

The scars that littered his body seemed to ache and throb with the mere thought of his own demise, and the anguish of betrayal that came with it. His dark brows furrowed together, visage one of gentle joy as he released you from his grasp. “You look older.” Older in the eyes — not in the face.

You were still just as beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen — your appearance hadn’t changed, and he hoped that your heart hadn’t, either. Your friendship kept him afloat for many years during his time in Winterfell, living as a Stark. You never cast your judgment upon him for being a bastard — and you never would.

“So do you,” Concern crept into your voice as you looked over his rugged beard and the scar upon his brow. “What happened to you, Jon?” There was so much he wished to tell you — from the Wildlings to the White Walkers, and his death. You could see it in his face — the maturity, the weight of duty, an abundance of stoicism.

“It’s a long story.” Jon huffed, Northern timbre crackled with a bout of faint amusement, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. He gestured for you to follow him, striding across the courtyard of Castle Black in-search of his own quarters. He no longer held the Lord Commander’s chambers, and for good reason.

The men of Castle Black weren’t accustomed to seeing a woman — it evoked his streak of protectiveness when it came to you. He ensured that he kept close to your side during the lengthy trek to his chambers. Brienne was sworn to Sansa, and Jon knew that she would be well looked-after in the Lady’s stead.

Ascending a flight of rickety wooden steps, Jon led you to his quarters. Smaller, but he preferred his solitude. His brothers had stabbed him, tore away his mantle of Lord-Commander, killed him — as soon as he could, he intended on leaving.

Pushing the door open, you were met with the gust of a raging hearth, warming your brittle bones as you rubbed your hands together, “Gods,” You whispered, immediately moving toward the crackling fire, extending your hands to the flames, eyes closing in satisfaction. “I nearly thought we wouldn’t make it.”

Jon’s brows furrowed together, and he pulled up a wooden stool for you to sit, and so did he, firmly planted at your side like a dutiful guardian. “You’re safe here. I’ll have a bath drawn for you.” Dirt stained your visage, clothes tattered and worn from travel, hem shredded and covered in snow and mud.

Something forlorn reached his eyes, a distant glimmer of melancholy that you immediately recognized. He was still Jon, but something else seemed amiss. You lowered your hands into your lap, basking in the lick of the firelight. “All my life, I longed to see beyond Winterfell. Here I am — and here you are.” Your smile was threadbare.

The both of you had endured unimaginable hardships during your time apart, yet the warmth and fondness of your friendship remained, strong as ever. If Jon told you what all had happened, what he saw, what he went through — he wondered how much of it you would believe.

“Do you remember the night of the feast, when King Robert came to Winterfell?” Jon remembered — he remembered you, most of all. Gods, you looked so beautiful that night, bringing him a heaping plate of foodstuffs from the banquet, keeping him company throughout the night’s festivities.

“Of course,” It was one of the last days you had spent with Jon before he departed for the Night’s Watch. You had a plethora of regrets, and not kissing him that evening was one of them. The opportunity had dangled itself before you, and you never acted on it. “They sheared your face clean. A disservice to you, truly.”

A brief huff of laughter escaped him, lips twitching into a faint smile. “That’s what you chose to remember?” He remarked, planting his forearms against his knees. Admittedly, he chose to remember you — the way your dress clung to you, the vibrancy of your smile, tenderness in your eyes.

Your nose wrinkled in amusement before you waved him aside, a smile stretched across your features — happier this time, full of warmth. “I remember more than just that, but yes. You weren’t so dour, then.”

Jon chuckled, effectively shattering his stoic mask as he looked at you, head canting to one side. “I still was, always sulking about in some corner,” He mused, peering toward the hearth. “The things I’ve seen — the things I’ve been through …” His jaw tightened, and the wound to his heart seemed to ache.

Empathy tugged at your countenance, one that dissipated from something lighthearted to seriousness. You reached out, resting a palm against his bicep. “What happened to you, Jon? You don’t seem the same.” You asked, glancing toward the scar on his face.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you about his death and resurrection — not yet, anyway. It was still too fresh a wound to speak of, left gaping and open, one that would take time to fully heal. “I went beyond The Wall.” Jon stated, as if that would answer all of your questions.

Silence drifted between you both, and you exhaled, brows creasing in contemplation as you looked toward the fire. You let your hands drift closer again, hoping to absorb any lick of heat that you could find. Jon stared at you, unbeknownst to you, studying the intricacies of your visage, the way your tresses framed your face.

Abandoning the rank of Lord-Commander had been a liberating thing. He was done fighting for men who had countered him at every turn, men who slaughtered him. He was unsure of his next course of action, but he wanted you there with him, regardless.

Hunger and famine gnawed at your stomach, chewing you up and spitting you out. Even Jon could hear the violent lurch of your stomach, see the exhaustion etched into your features. He didn’t want to keep you, but he didn’t want to leave you, either.

“You should clean up, join us for supper,” Jon prompted, melting away the tenuous silence. “I’ll see about finding you something proper to wear.” He wanted to continue to reminisce with you, but you deserved a moment of solace, a chance to bathe and warm yourself without his intrusion.

You nodded, offering Jon an amiable smile. “I want us to continue our conversation,” You insisted, your voice soft and tender, a silky resonance. Instead, you reached for his hand, finding the calloused, roughened plane of his palm. “I’ve missed you, Jon.” If he hadn’t realized it by now, then he might’ve been blind.

Jon’s breath hitched within his throat, reduced to a mere boy in your presence. Whatever he thought of at that moment, it was inappropriate — it transcended all bonds of propriety and proper friendship, yet he couldn’t help it. How long had he thought of you? Yearned for you, dreamed of you whenever he was laying on the cold earth somewhere beyond the Wall?

If it weren’t for his uncertainty, he would’ve kissed you then and there.

He never stopped to consider what your life was like now — perhaps you had a husband and a family, a life that had moved on from him, no longer frozen in the time of your youth. Jon always feared that being a bastard would’ve stopped you from courtship, but he knew now that you didn’t care. You never did.

Years of letting yourself toil over Jon Snow had amounted to this — to this unspoken affection that permeated the fringes of your friendship. In his absence, you hadn’t taken a husband, you hadn’t wed. Part of you thought you would become a spinster and live out your days caring for your ailing father.

Tension simmered, sparking to life in the wake of your intertwined hands. “I missed you, too.” His accent seemed deliciously thick, noticeably huskier with the rougher pitch of his tone. Those earthly-brown hues of his bored right into you.

Your stare became doe-like, able to feel his calloused digits, how strong his hands had become, careworn from holding a sword. Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you let your hand recoil, placing it back into your lap. Your fingers curled tightly into your dress.

With a brief clearing of his throat, Jon decided to give you privacy. “I must speak with Sansa,” He murmured, standing up from his stool with an abruptness. His heart thumped madly within his chest, throat becoming thick as he gathered his bearings. “Come to supper when you’re finished.”

“Of course. Thank you, Jon.” You smiled, and he stepped out to give you your solace. His quarters were noticeably smaller yet homely, and you immediately decided to go to the washroom to clean yourself. Endless dirt and grime stained your flesh, making you feel worse than you already did.

As soon as you disrobed, sinking into the steaming-hot waters of the metal tub, you submerged your head beneath, coming up for a gasp of air. You glanced toward the hearth, scrubbing yourself down with a bristle brush and sponge, using the scarce amount of herbs and soap given to you.

You thought of Jon — thought of his hand, the firmness of it, the rough-hewn texture of his skin, the hardened muscle of his bicep beneath your grasp. You thought of the dismal, tempestuous storm of emotions raging war within his gaze when he spoke of being beyond The Wall.

It gave you much to dwell on as you scrubbed away the dirt from your skin, smoothing handfuls of hot water across your face. A simple Northerner’s dress and a furred cloak lay on the chair beside you, something suitable to wear that weren’t your tattered rags.

Sloshing around within the steaming water for a moment longer, you finished cleaning up, feeling the continuous gnaw of hunger strike at your stomach. The air was brusque and still bitter with a noticeable chill, the hearth continuing to roar in spite of being left with little attendance.

Tugging on the coarse, linen dress, you retrieved your boots, having thoroughly cleaned them off of hardened dirt. You let your hair dry by the fireside, swaddled in the cloak given to you by Jon. It swallowed you whole, yet it smelled like him — woodlands and scented smoke, the musk of a battle-hardened man.

By the time you joined the others for dinner, you felt cleaner than you had in some time, liberated from the weight of grime and hard travel. Exhaustion still clung to you like a shroud, but you assumed that a proper meal would make it easier to deal with.

Sansa greeted you with a thin smile, moving aside for you to sit next to her. There was never a fondness you shared between one another in your youth — you were always Jon’s friend, a girl who preferred mucking about in the outdoors and watching him fight with steel instead of any ladylike endeavors.

You had become quite proficient with an embroidery needle, and a dagger. They were one and the same for you at-times.

Jon’s silent admiration of you continued, hues fluttering over your form, now rid of soot and dirt. A warm plate of heaping food sat before you, helpings of potatoes, stewed vegetables, and roasted venison. You ate as if you hadn’t consumed a bite in years, the richness of it filling your belly.

“We are to take Winterfell back from the Boltons,” Sansa stated, her tone resolute and assured. “Do you think that there are still allies in Winterfell who might help our cause?” She inquired, her question directed towards you. You knew Winterfell — you’d been there this whole time.

“If Ramsay hasn’t flayed them all alive, then yes,” You murmured, thinking of your father’s corpse, strung-up on some wooden cross, muscle and flesh peeled away to reveal his bones. You shivered, masking your discomfort through a bite of vegetables. “There are still denizens inside who remember the Starks.”

Tormund Giantsbane, Jon’s ally and the leader of the Wildling forces, noisily bit into a haunch of meat, juices spraying across his ginger beard. Brienne’s discomfort and bewilderment was palpable as she turned away, blonde brows furrowing together.

“Could you find your way back in?” Tormund grunted, and you understood the insinuation of his proposal. If you were to rally those who still supported House Stark to Jon’s cause, staging a coup from the inside, it might assist his chances of taking the Keep.

“I suppose I could, but the Boltons rarely let anyone in or out, save for those bearing the Flayed Man sigil,” Jon seemed visibly apprehensive at Tormund’s suggestion, jaw tightening as he stuck his fork into a piece of meat. “It is dangerous now — one wrong move, and they string you up on the banisters, flay you for all to see.”

Tears glistened within your eyes at the harrowing memory of your father — you watched him be pinned to that post, screaming for mercy, men with knives cutting him apart as if he were a pig for slaughter. You hastily wiped them aside, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

Jon’s gaze never wavered from you whenever you spoke — Sansa could see it, Edd could see it.

“That is the fate that befell my father.” With a sharp exhale, you continued to eat, momentarily meeting Jon’s sullen-eyed stare, full of sympathy for your loss. His condolences were unspoken, but he didn’t have to say the words to convey meaning.

“We will find another way,” Jon murmured, brows knitting together. “You’ve risked enough to save Sansa’s life. I won’t let you risk it again. Out of the question.” There was a finality to his words, wrought with a glaring overprotective nature.

Sansa remembered the day they left your father out to bleed in the courtyard — Ramsay’s sickening smile remained emblazoned in the back of her mind. She reached to squeeze your hand, and you nodded, the both of you returning to the food.

She plucked at hers, turning a piece of meat over along her fork. Edd stifled a brief chuckle through a mouthful of hard rations. “Sorry about the food, m’ladies. It’s not what we’re known for.” He stated.

“That’s alright. There are more important things.” Sansa smiled, but you were in the throes of consuming everything that you could. Foodstuffs had become scarce in Winterfell, especially to those who weren’t Boltons — just residents. You had to scrounge and work for every scrap — this meal was the best you had in ages.

A brother of the Watch entered the Great Hall, carrying a scroll of parchment for Jon, one that was marked by the wax seal of Ramsay Bolton. “For you, Lord Commander.”

“I’m not the Lord Commander anymore.” Jon uttered, yet he took the scroll, anger seething within his eyes when he realized whose sigil held the parchment together. He unraveled it, jaw tightening as he began to read it aloud.

“To the traitorous bastard, Jon Snow, you allowed thousands of Wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind and you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard — come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon …” Jon trailed off, breath quickening as he looked at Sansa.

Her countenance was one of shock and horror, tears welling within her eyes as she nodded for him to continue reading. The Hall was eerily silent, and you listened, brows furrowing together.

“His direwolf’s skin is on my floor — come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me bastard, and I will not trouble you and your Wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride North and slaughter every Wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living, you will …” He stopped.

“Go on.” Sansa murmured, but Jon refused, rolling up the parchment with a despondent, rageful expression. He felt it blossom throughout his chest, the very same anger that consumed him when he sentenced his brothers to die.

“It’s just more of the same.” Jon quipped, preparing to tear it asunder, but Sansa reached over to take it from his hands, unraveling the parchment.

“You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister and your Northern bitch. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother — then I will spoon your eyes from your sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” She read, a shudder within her voice.

You shivered, feeling a pang of disgust and fear rattle through you, goosebumps cascading along your spine. Ramsay knew of you — knew that you helped Sansa to escape, and knew of your affiliation with Jon Snow.

“Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Jon grit out through clenched teeth, fists tightening around Ramsay’s missive. He would kill him for what he did — to Sansa, to you, to his brother. He swore it by whatever Gods were willing to listen.

“Roose Bolton is dead — Ramsay killed him. Now, he has our brother — he has Rickon.” Sansa’s voice trembled, but she remained stalwart, even if she knew what a monster Ramsay was. She used to think that Joffrey was the root of all evil — she was wrong.

“We don’t know that.” Jon protested, but Sansa stopped him.

“We do. He has five-thousand men, at least — I overheard him talking about it when he prepared for Stannis’s attack.” She replied, folding her arms together. You felt nothing but admiration for her — sorrow, perhaps, but you admired her strength in the midst of this.

“How many men do we have?” Jon looked to Tormund, desperate for answers, for a shred of something positive. They were lesser in numbers than the Boltons — they would need allies, and they would need them swiftly.

“Ones that can march and fight? Two-thousand.” Tormund replied. They had a Giant — that had to count for at least fifty men, if they were lucky.

“Jon,” You spoke up at long last, finding your voice as you sat soundly at Sansa’s side. “You are the last true son of the Warden of the North. Northern families are loyal, and they will fight for you if you ask it of them.” The gentle encouragement you offered gave him much to think about.

Sansa reached across the table, seizing Jon’s arm. “A monster has taken our home and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell, to save them both.” She pleaded, auburn brows furrowing together. It was the right course of action — it had been years since a Stark had truly sat in Winterfell.

Jon nodded, determination tempering his anger, and the desire for justice. He remembered wanting to ride North to help Robb’s cause, and he didn’t. Sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if he did — if his brother might’ve survived. There was no time for inaction, not anymore.

“We will reconvene at first light, to discuss our next move.” He briefly squeezed Sansa’s hand before glancing at you. “You need to rest — both of you.” It wasn’t a request — more of a command, really. You and Sansa had been running from Winterfell for days before Brienne happened across you.

You took your leave, hoping to pray about your father alone before dusk settled in.

𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬.

Brienne had taken Sansa back to her chambers for the evening, and you had gone to the ramparts after finishing your supper.

The death of your father was still an unsightly wound, something that had cut you right to the bone. He was your only family left — the last tether that you had, the last one to truly care for you. It left you with a gaping void of loneliness, one that had only felt healed in Jon’s presence.

Flickering torchlight danced along the wooden bridge that connected two sides of Castle Black, and despite the chill of the air, you remained outside. Rest eluded you, and you knew that you would be up all evening, tarrying around to try and occupy your mind.

Darkening skies twinkled with stars, partially obscured by large wisps of gray clouds, and with it, a light snowfall. The fur-lined cloak you wore kept you warm, shrouded from the gnawing chill as you listened to footsteps resonate from your left side.

The pale shadow of Ghost trotted alongside him, those crimson eyes glowering through the encroaching dusk. The last time you had seen Jon’s direwolf, he was the size of a small dog — now, he was massive, nearly coming up to your shoulder with the tips of his ears.

“What did you feed him?” You mused, kneeling down to greet Ghost as if he were an old friend. You recalled the day that Jon had brought the albino pup home, nothing more than a scraggly runt hidden in his cloak. Ghost nudged your hand, silently asking for a scratch along his ears.

Jon smiled, coming to stand near your side as he peered down into the silent courtyard of Castle Black. It was quiet, save for the occasional soldier scurrying across the dirt or the distant howl of the wind. “He’s much larger than I expected him to be,” He confessed. “Seems he remembers you.”

Ghost whined, ruby eyes studying you intensely, as if he recalled your last meeting. The pale direwolf allowed you to dote on him for a moment longer, padding off to lay outside of Jon’s chambers. You watched him go, a smile spreading across your face.

Your countenance softened at the sight of Jon, tousled curls still tugged into a loose half-bun, a smile toying at either corner of his mouth. “Aren’t you cold?” He questioned, noticing the way your form quivered beneath the cloak he’d given you.

“Quite,” A brief chuckle left you as you wring your hands together, letting them sink into the thick fur that you tugged tighter around you. “I don’t believe that I will be able to sleep tonight, given the circumstances.” You confessed, and he seemed empathetic.

“I don’t sleep much — not anymore.” The night that he had found himself resurrected from the black shroud of death, he did not sleep. Instead, he lay waiting for his brothers to burst through the door, knives drawn, waiting to send him to the cold, hard earth.

Jon slept with Longclaw at his side — he imagined that he’d never feel safe again without it by his hip.

A comfortable silence of understanding drifted between the both of you, and you felt him lean closer, brows furrowing together. “I am sorry about your father,” Jon murmured, knowing what it was like to lose his own. “I am sorry for what they did to him.”

Tears pricked your eyes again, yet you refused to let them fall, jaw tensing before you shook your head. “He is with the Gods now,” You whispered, mustering a threadbare smile despite the melancholy of your talks. “I hope that Ramsay Bolton is not shown any mercy.”

Jon hadn’t heard you speak like that before — so full of pain, an agony in your soft tone that he wished he could rip away from you, place the burden on his shoulders. “We will take back Winterfell — for my family, for yours, for the North. I promise.”

“You’re a good man, Jon.” The two of you remained huddled close together, and you very nearly reached for his hands again, but decided against it. “You always have been, despite what insults you’ve been hurled. They are half the man that you are.”

He was a good man, despite what he thought of himself — an honorable man, the very best of them. His shining qualities were often diminished in the face of being a bastard, and you wished it weren’t so. Jon had long been ostracized for it, even if it was no fault of his own.

Jon hadn’t believed it, that he was truly good. He had done plenty of wrong — broke his vows to the Night’s Watch, killed many men, killed a boy, and for what? What good had come out of it all, other than being sent to an early grave for his actions?

You had always believed in him steadfastly, and he often felt undeserving of your praise. Nonetheless, Jon offered you a forlorn look, smile not reaching his eyes as he bowed his head. “I wish I could believe you.” Through a softly-spoken confession, he turned to face the cutting bite of the Northern winds.

As darkness hovered, the cold beginning to bite at his flesh, Jon gestured toward the doors to his chambers. “It’s getting cold,” Even he had his limits, hardiness tested by the harshness of winter. “Come on.” His hand hovered near the small of your back, sending a shiver down your spine.

The warm sanctuary of his chambers offered you a much-needed relief, hearth roaring beside his bed, lined in countless furs. The furnishings were scarce, and he placed Longclaw at his bedside, never very far from his grasp. An orange glow permeated all it touched, encompassing you in its gentle heat.

Ghost stayed outside, furs able to outlast the encroaching winter. He was the watcher tonight, ensuring that no strangers or brothers disturbed his friend.

You moved to sit against the large, rustic footlocker that sat at the end of his bed, closest to the hearth. The cloak you wore swallowed you whole, allowing you to descend right into the pile of furs, warming your icy flesh. Jon sat beside you, keeping a comfortable distance, one that many might’ve labeled as prudish.

Jon’s lack of subtlety became brazenly clear, dark hues shamelessly fluttering across your face, absorbing the finer details of your form. You had grown into your beauty, and even then, he was at your mercy — you were incomparable in his eyes.

The sting of embarrassment rippled through him, his behavior akin to a young man with an unrequited affection. His one experience with a Wildling woman had been in an effort to feel something, anything — a retaliation against the Night’s Watch.

You were different — you were his friend, a girl he’d known since childhood, now grown into the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. It was as if you reduced him to a mere pup without even trying, unbeknownst to you.

Jon carried a flagon of honeyed mead, the warm liquid churning about within its leather confines. It tasted stale, but it was better than he expected it to be, taking a brief swig. He hoped that it would quell his nerves, but perhaps it was wishful thinking.

“I’ve never been so far away from home before,” You sighed, breaking the comfortable silence with an amiable smile. “I used to always dream of going elsewhere, an adventure away from Winterfell. Now that I’ve gone, I want nothing more than to go back.”

“Has it changed much?” Jon inquired, voice dropping into a husky lull that made you shiver. His tone had become rugged, gruff — that familiar Northern timbre always filled you with a sense of comfort and ease. He hadn’t been to Winterfell in years.

“No,” Your visage grew forlorn, tinged with a peculiar sadness as your lips wavered into a half-frown. “Just those who command it.” The homely stone and Stark banners were all you knew for the longest time — and you hoped that it would be so again.

You wanted to cease dwelling on all things bleak and dreary, and instead, you smiled at Jon, countenance melding into one of genuineness. He caught your eye, features growing unbearably hot beneath the ardor of your gaze. Something passed between the both of you, something that caused you to look away; smitten.

Jon exhaled, taking a swig of the mead before offering it up to you. Liquor wasn’t something he necessarily enjoyed, but it did take some little edge off — for now, anyway. He watched with a faint smile as you took it, giving the cork a brief sniff, nose wrinkling.

Nevertheless, you took a drink, stinging liquid burning your throat on the way down. You sputtered, your expression one of clear distaste as you handed it back to him. “Gods, what is that supposed to be? The Night’s Watch isn’t known for their ale, either.” You huffed.

A huff of laughter tore past his lips, and at last, you could see the glint of his pearlescent teeth, a smile that could melt The Wall itself. “Still can’t handle your drink after all this time?” Jon remarked, corking the flagon of mead as he placed it aside. He didn’t want to drink himself into a stupor with you present.

“There were never any occasions that called for it,” You retorted, a warm playfulness permeating your tone. You leaned forward atop the footlocker, gazing into the flickering flames, its heat basking your visage. “Winterfell wasn’t the same after your family left. Everything seemed so dour, so hopeless.”

Jon hung his head, hands folded together as he contemplated your statement. “Sometimes, I wish I’d never left.” He confessed, tone slipping into something silent, as if he were sharing his greatest sin with the septa. There were times where he missed home — missed what might’ve been.

Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you didn’t hesitate to look at him, hues swimming with a wet sheen. Reminiscing often brought about plenty of sentiments for you, sentiments that you thought you’d buried. “Sometimes I wish that you hadn’t left, either.” You whispered.

None of this felt real.

There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere, a tension that had risen from the lingering flames of a longstanding friendship. Jon felt an unusual swell within his stomach, the onslaught of boyish nerves, yet he pushed them aside for the sake of the moment. It all seemed to feel so right, as if this had been long in the making.

Jon stared at you, absentmindedly tilting closer, enough to where you could feel the heat of his honey-tinged breath fan across your face. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t?” He murmured, hoping that you would confirm whatever it was that he felt, too.

“I am not sure,” Butterflies erupted within the pit of your stomach, hands beginning to reach for one another, even if you hadn’t fully realized it yourself. “I would like to think that I would’ve gained the courage to tell you how I truly felt about you.” There wasn’t an ounce of subtlety present — you knew what you meant, he knew what you meant.

I love you — it was on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released, to let his confession take wing into the open air. He should’ve told you that night of the feast, when you took his hand and told him that you would always defend his honor and his name.

“Jon.” Your voice was nothing more than a saccharine whisper, eyes wide and doe-like, a wordless plea to act on whatever it was he felt. Before you could say another word, Jon’s mouth was on yours, hot and rugged, everything that you imagined it would be.

His calloused hand rose to cup your face, rough pads of his digits tracing across your cheek, your jaw — you felt like velvet, an unblemished plane that had eagerly awaited his touch. Jon had always fantasized about kissing you, and the reality of it far exceeded any expectations he might’ve had.

The sudden intensity of the kiss had grown, as if throwing kindling onto an open flame. You weren’t prepared for it, but you needed more. A moan stirred within your throat as you pressed forward, hands reaching for the front of his leather-studded tunic.

Jon kissed you as if you were the air itself, every breath he drew consuming you, dragging you in until you were intertwined. He seized your waist, rough palm sinking into the coarse material of your dress, nearly shuddering at the feeling of your body beneath his palm.

“I love you,” He uttered against your mouth, forehead briefly bumping into yours as he held you close, the weight of his confession beginning to sink in. “I never wish to be parted from you — from this day, until my last day.” Jon promised, voice rumbling and solemn, knowing that he would keep his vow.

Incredulously, you gazed at him with wide eyes, unable to escape the feeling of complete and utter joy you experienced at his confession. Breathless, you took a moment to compose yourself, gather your bearings before you smiled. “Don’t leave me again, Jon Snow.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Jon murmured, eagerly seeking your mouth again, tugging you in for a heated kiss. Gods, your mouth was so disarmingly soft, pliant and plush against his lips, giving him everything that he ever imagined and so much more.

A gentle, uttered string of breathy ‘I love you’s’ left you over and over again, each kiss ripping the air from your lungs, leaving your heart hammering beneath your breast. You shrugged the cloak aside, letting it pool around you, partially strewn across the footlocker.

Desperation laced your kisses, as if something might threaten to rip you away from the excitement of the moment, or that you might wake up from a distant dream. Jon was lost in your mouth, a grunt blossoming from his chest when he hauled you closer, until no sliver of space remained.

He stood up, bringing you with him, standing atop the sprawling furs of slain stags, closer to the lick of the hearth. It allowed him to better hold you, hands respectfully roaming your body, never allowing himself to slip below your hips. “Wait.” He rasped, removing his mouth from yours.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, fearing that you had vastly overstepped. This was all somewhat unfamiliar, the territory new and unexpected. You had been with a man before, but it never crossed a certain threshold — you wouldn’t allow it.

“Is this what you want?” Jon questioned, dark brows knitting together as he regarded you with caution, a devotion reserved only for you. He couldn’t continue without hearing the certainty escape your mouth — he hadn’t done this in some time, himself.

Gods, you loved him. There was a lack of hesitation in his movements, but instead, a desire for clarity. He didn’t want you to feel obligated or trapped in some corner — he wanted you to want him. A twinkle of ardor glistened within your warm gaze as you brought your hands together at the nape of his neck.

It’s what you’ve wanted for such a long time — a terribly long time, at that. Everything felt as if you were wading through a dream, one that would shatter at any moment. “Yes,” You whispered, longing to unfasten the leather buckles and straps that held his tunic together. “More than anything.”

Jon’s breath hitched, a subtle noise, desire beginning to blossom throughout his chest. His grasp on you became innately protective and needy, hands gingerly kneading into your curves. He bent down for another kiss, arms caging themselves around you, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest.

Soft fingertips raked through his dark curls, bringing him to heel as he kissed you, unashamed of his clear desperation. It no longer felt like the ghost of a distant thought — this was a blissful reality. He helped you to remove the bulky leather of his jerkin, but part of him feared fully removing his clothes.

His scars would reveal the abhorrent truth — that he died, brought back to life from the twisted magic of a Fire Priestess. Jon’s hesitation was palpable, especially when your digits sank into the coarse material of his tunic. The leather fell to the wayside, and you were closer to seeing him disrobed.

Jon sluggishly reached for the linen ties that held your dress together, and you gave him a nod, subtly encouraging him to unravel you. As he gently tugged upon the tie, the fabric sagged upon your shoulders, allowing you to push it aside, stepping out of it altogether.

A strangled gasp caught within the depths of his throat, manifesting as a sharp exhale that consumed his ribcage. You were every bit as wonderful as he’d imagined you to be — such fantasies had clung to the fringes of his mind out in the frozen wastelands beyond The Wall.

The plane of your flesh was velvetlike, bathed in the flickering firelight of the hearth, dancing across your body with its incandescent glow. Jon’s jaw visibly tightened, restraining himself from touching you as he pleased. The longer he stood, gawking at your body like some clueless boy, the more emboldened you became.

Careworn digits gingerly wrapped around his vambrace, unfastening the buckles there before you guided his hand to your chest. “There isn’t a need to be bashful,” You whispered, noticing the way his pupils dilated when his calloused palm embraced your pliant breast. “I want you to touch me.” You gently encouraged him.

Jon appeared a touch forlorn, attempting to mask his gnawing fear at the idea of you seeing him. “It’s not you,” His smile was humorless — pensive, even. “Gods, you’re beautiful.” He huffed, hand drifting toward your hip, shuddering at the satiny texture of your skin.

Warmth crept across your spine in the wake of his breathless compliment, prompting you to unfasten his other vambrace. He aimed to distract you, mouth moving toward the spot where your jaw met your neck, beard scratching ragged against your flesh.

He palmed your breast, reveling in the softness of you beneath his rough-hewn hand, tracing along your hip until he squeezed your derrière. Everything about you was plush and inviting, as if you were a goddess incarnate.

Jon’s kiss became hungry, wanton and passionate as his mouth peppered itself along your throat, from your jaw to jugular. He treated you kindly; gracious hands that melded themselves to your form, like a sculptor to his masterpiece.

Saccharine soaps and hints of underlying flora clung to your flesh like a springtime haze, powerful enough to melt this ice he felt. You brought with you such warmth that it threatened to swallow him whole; he delighted in it, letting you shake the frost from his bones.

Lips danced together with a long-repressed passion, now exploding like crackles of fire within a hearth, spontaneous yet heated. You kissed Jon as if he might slip away from you, turning into dust between your fingertips.

A low moan stirred within the depths of your throat when his fingers toyed with your pebbling nipple, prompting you to grip his tresses with an unexpected harshness. You mumbled a sheepish apology, yet he paid little mind to it, dusky hues swirling with an ardent adoration that made your stomach churn.

As your hand drifted to the hem of his worn, linen tunic, he very nearly stopped you — yet, part of him wished for you to see him without a spoken word. Jon’s chest tightened with quickened breaths as you kindly maneuvered the clothing away, and he watched, hues fixated upon your bewildered countenance.

A battlefield — innumerable scars, so fresh that you nearly held your hand over them to stop the bleeding, gouged across his pallid flesh. One that seemed to sting the most rest over his heart, curved and garish, the stroke of a vengeful knife that ended his life.

Wordlessly, you lifted your hand, fingertips tracing across his chest, feather-light and disarmingly gentle; the opposite of the knives that had left their mark. Your brows furrowed together, and you wondered how he could’ve survived something like this — if he survived something like this.

Jon shivered at your embrace, as sweet as the maiden’s grace, caressing him with your resplendent touch. He held you close, arm caging you in, his other hand stroking beneath your breast, above your ribcage. “I didn’t make it,” He rasped, noticing the glimmer of understanding in your eyes. “I’d like to think that the Gods wanted me to see you again.”

His smile warmed you, more than any blazing hearth could, more than that of summertime. A fluttering sensation spread throughout your chest, followed by a hitch in your throat that you stumbled over. “Jon,” You whispered, stroking across his chest with a peculiar tenderness. “I am so sorry.”

It wasn’t the time for condolences — such sentiments could wait. Jon didn’t want your coupling to be soured by what had happened, and instead, he shook his head. His yearning for you trumped that of any sorrow and mulling over death, prompting him to press his mouth against yours once more.

The kiss seemed to convey the unspoken message, his desire to tend to you before discussing the intricacies of his scars. Jon dutifully dipped down to kiss your throat again, and then your collarbone, guiding you towards the fur-laden expanse of his bed.

As you lowered yourself onto your back, Jon kicked his boots aside, crawling across the thick mound of pelts to cover your body with his. You sluggishly spread your legs, allowing him to reside in the space between, palms planted on either side of your head.

Each heated kiss blossomed across your flesh, as he peppered his lips along your shoulder and collarbone, descending toward the valley between your breasts. It was flesh he’d longed to grace, savoring every second spent; his mouth smoothed across the silken flesh beneath your breast.

“Jon,” A sigh of passion tore past your lips, gooseflesh coalescing along your spine as he continued his descent, knowing exactly what he sought. The heat between your thighs sang to him like a siren’s song, and you weren’t about to intercede. “Please, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

The ragged scruff of his beard scratched pleasantly against your skin, the sort of burn that left you aching for more. He kissed across your stomach, inch by agonizing inch, hand reaching back to caress along your calf. It was slow, exploratory — he wanted to learn every curve, every dip and expanse of flesh.

A hazy heat gripped your surroundings, as if everything had become feverish, touched by a fog of warmth that permeated you, sank into him. Doe-eyed hues flickered toward the taut muscle of his back, the blackness of his curly tresses, the scar around his eye.

Planting a kiss against your hip bone, Jon sighed into your thigh, hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. His belly churned with an excitable heat, having waited for such a terribly long time to finally have you. He smoothed his calloused palm along your leg, ascending until he held your haunch.

Gods, you were in ruins — Jon hadn’t even placed his mouth upon you, and you writhed in anticipation. No man had been courageous enough to treat you this way, yet Jon lacked hesitation, settling onto his stomach as he bullied his way between your thighs.

Raking hot embers across your cunt, Jon lapped along your slit, eyelashes fluttering at the sound of your euphoric whimpering. He hadn’t heard a sound quite like that before, and from your lips, it was abhorrently sinful.

He sighed your name; reverent, a prayer only spoken between Gods and men — and you are no man. It made you shiver, belly filling with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, soothed only by the sweet laps of your lover’s tongue.

Jon’s mind reeled with the sight of you — flushed with pleasure, visage contorted into a look of complete and utter bliss. He continued without pause, nose brushing across your mound as he buried his tongue into you, greedily lapping at your cunt as if he were a man starved.

Your heart hammered beneath your breast, that of sheer excitement, consuming you like a tidal wave as you brazenly reached for his tresses. Sinking your digits into the crown of his tousled curls, you tugged, showing your appreciation in an unorthodox manner.

“J—Jon!” A strangled moan tore past your mouth, wisps of air being ripped from your lungs. Jon was inherently greedy, consuming you in the way that you deserved, finding his solace between your thighs. His dutiful lapping continued, from the pearl of your cunt to your aching entrance.

Akin to ice against your skin, Jon’s palms glided along your thighs, moving to trace your hips. His mouth was like a wave of fire, beard searing the silky flesh of your legs as you involuntarily squeezed his head. You hadn’t intended to suffocate him, but it was a worthwhile demise, in his perspective.

One hand fisted the furs, digging in until you threatened to rip it apart, hips occasionally jerking and jolting forward into his mouth. He hadn’t tasted something as sweet as you, like a fine stout coating his tongue, leaving him intoxicating; craving more.

His eyes had nearly fluttered shut, half-lidded slits that occasionally flickered to catch a glimpse of your blissful countenance. Your back arched from the furs, seeking his mouth with reckless abandon as he lapped along your cunt, tongue briefly flicking over your clit.

It was as if you’d been struck by lightning, body bristling with a long-repressed pleasure, something that only he could cure. The sensation of his calloused skin against your plane of silk was a satisfying juxtaposition — he never wanted another’s touch again.

Jon burned for you in every way imaginable, a sonorous groan ripping through the depths of his throat as he moved to lap at your cunt again. His ministrations were slow, made to explore and to savor you instead of letting it all become rushed.

Your fingertips brushed across his scalp, untangling his curls from the half-bun he’d placed them into. They fell across his head, dark and somewhat cropped. He groaned at the sensation, feeling you pull and grip his tresses, guiding your hips closer.

Rough-hewn hands gingerly kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thighs, caressing their way up and down in a soothing manner. Jon savored your taste, letting your nectar find its purchase against his chin, glistening along his lips. He kissed your clit, evoking a breathy sigh from you.

It had been such a long time for the both of you, intensified by feelings of a long-seated desire and carnality, friendship transcending all bonds of propriety. Jon felt his cock twitch within his trousers, incessantly throbbing and straining against the thicker material, longing to be inside of you.

A cry of delight tore past your mouth as you involuntarily jolted forward, grinding yourself into his mouth. Jon treated you to a barrage of eager laps of his tongue, from your entrance to the sensitive pearl of your cunt.

Dragging his tongue in languid circles around your clit, he watched as you quivered and moaned, mouth agape, back arched off of the furs. Knowing what path to follow, he showed attention to your neglected pearl, nose buried into the softness of your mound.

“Jon,” You sputtered, thighs molding themselves to either side of his face, feeling the scratch of his beard rake itself against your silky skin. He listened, dutiful and with a burning desire to please you, continuing to lap at your clit. “Gods, don’t stop.” A trembling exhale left you.

It was then that he melded his lips around the aching bud, beginning to suck on your pearl with a pang of vigor. You shuddered, rattling like a leaf as you haplessly tugged on his mane of curls, hips tilting upwards into his mouth. You whined, fisting the furs at your side.

Jon did not relent, feeling the ironclad grip you assumed, knowing that he was bringing you close to your release. White-hot sparks fluttered across your vision, body singing his praises, collarbone glittering with the first inklings of perspiration.

A strangled gasp tore through your throat, followed by a myriad of moans and pleading whimpers, seeking friction against his mouth. Your release was fast approaching, like a tidal wave of heat, flooding across your body with its intensity. Jon’s name emerged from your lips as if it were the only word you knew.

The pinnacle of your release made you feel as if you were floating, legs shaking in the blissful aftermath, feeling Jon lap at your core a few times over. You exhaled, chest heaving from exertion as you loosened your hold upon his tresses.

“You’ll have to let me do that again.” Jon murmured, and that seemed to ensnare your attention. Seven Hells — you would let him do that for as long as he pleased, whenever he liked. He pressed a few soft kisses against the inside of your thigh, crawling up to be near you.

“Whenever you would like, I will never protest.” You mused, gaze sparkling with mirth and adoration, inviting him back to being on top of you. Though, your impulses had other plans, as your palm pressed against his shoulder. “There is something I wanted to try.”

The softness of your suggestion seemed to placate Jon, who felt you push his shoulder until you guided him onto his back, hooking a leg over his lap. Gods, he would’ve stayed like that for an eternity if you asked it of him. As you situated yourself on top of him, Jon sat up enough to reach you, kiss you if he wanted to.

He felt your fingers move towards the laces of his breeches, and he didn’t stop you, observing you in rapturous hunger instead. His breath hitched, mouth moving inward to press a string of hot kisses against the column of your throat.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about this?” Jon’s confession emerged as a husky sigh, murmured against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. It came as a surprise, a wonderful one, and it only made your hands move in a borderline frenzy.

Freeing his cock from its confines, you moved yourself up upon your knees, aided by his strong, firm hands, coming to rest just below your derrière. The flushed tip of his length nudged against your cunt, prompting you to sigh with passion.

“Jon,” A pleading moan tore past your mouth, mind becoming fuzzy as you attempted to absorb the genuineness of his words. The Northern timbre of his hoarse baritone made you tremble, hands steadying themselves upon his shoulders. “Please.”

In a sluggish descent, he gently lowered you onto his cock, the both of you shivering in-tandem. The low, throaty groan that escaped him made your stomach churn with molten heat, letting you find your own pace. He was bigger than you imagined, filling you perfectly.

Mouths danced together and then clashed again, kiss after kiss of pure ardor, tongues becoming exploratory as you brazenly lapped at his lower lip. It was messy and hot, feverishly so, bringing the both of you to heel as you happily drowned within desire.

Your cunt was tight around him, slick with arousal as you continued to lower yourself, inch by blissful inch until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Jon’s heavy pants fluttered across your throat, mouth pressing near the curve of your jaw.

Jon was captivated by you, inhaling a gust of your soap-laden scent, beard ragged against your soft skin as he continued to kiss along your neck. His hands were resolute in guiding you, rocking you up and down along his cock, chest to chest with you.

Tangled sighs and low, heavy breaths wove together, forming a heated cacophony that filled his chambers with your lewd activities. The feeling of his calloused hands sinking into your plush flesh was mesmerizing, leaving behind a wave of goosebumps that crawled across your skin.

The sensation of his cock filling you completely, nearly kissing your womb, almost made you sob from delight. The friction of your bodies was a delicious thing, with your chest brushing against his, knees squeezing near his waist, hands gripping his shoulders.

A burning sting began to dance along your thighs, the exertion of muscle as you rode him, moving up and down in somewhat rhythmic motions. His cock speared you over and over again, filling you completely before you nearly drew yourself out, and back down again.

“Gods,” You sighed, nails sinking into the muscle of his shoulders, your countenance one of complete and utter pleasure. Leaving behind angry-red crescents against his pale skin, you didn’t want the feeling to end. “Jon, please — don’t stop!” With a simpering moan, your head began to roll back slightly.

Spurred by your softly-spoken praise and breathy sighs, Jon did not relent, hands sinking into your thighs as he guided you against his cock. The angle allowed for friction to blossom, chests bumping together, bodies tangled up within one another.

He kissed his way along your collarbone, bringing you up enough to trap one of your nipples within his mouth. The head of his cock remained pleasantly buried within your cunt, the warming of it making you writhe. He held you steady, greedily kissing at your pert breasts.

One of your hands fisted into his dark curls, tugging on them as if you were attempting to wrangle him into submission. His mouth peppered warm, needy kisses around the valley between your breasts before he let you sink yourself back down, cunt clenching around his cock.

Shameless strings of sinful noises left you in droves, eyes closed in a state of ecstasy. Jon groaned with you, vocalizing his own pleasure as he coaxed you down towards the furs, not wanting to place you there unless you consented.

With a brief bob of your head, you found yourself beneath Jon, his musculature covering you, content between your legs as he hitched one around his hips. The calloused plane of his palm wrapped around your calf, causing you to shiver at the foreign contact.

He could look upon your face, see the way your visage contorted into pure pleasure when he rocked forward, cock burying itself deep into your cunt. His skin was flushed, expression somewhat doe-eyed and awestruck, even if you were too lost to notice.

Your hands moved, one finding its purchase against his bicep, the other on his shoulder as his pace began to intensify. It was a chase, galloping after his release as he bent to kiss you, releasing a grunt into your mouth when you rolled your hips forward.

The wooden frame of his bed began to creak, groaning in protest from the vigor of his ministrations. You didn’t care if he was a touch rougher with you — Gods, you needed him. Heat swirled within your stomach, gnawing at your bones, making your toes curl in delight.

“Jon!” You cried, and that nearly sent him soaring over the edge, cock throbbing inside of you. The friction of your pelvis grinding against him almost made his resolve shatter into two. He lost count of how many times his cock sank into you — it was all blurring together.

The inevitable rush of euphoria reached him when his release came, hot and blistering, making him see stars as he groaned your name. Your nails were digging into his bicep, a gasp emerging from your throat when he thrust into you again.

Ropes of warm spend painted your insides, and he very nearly collapsed on top of you. He had the decency to hold himself afloat, hand tracing along your calf and to the crook of your knee, letting you unhook your leg.

Jon removed himself from you, attempting to gather his breath as he laid at your side, gazing at the dark ceiling above. Your breathing was just as unsteady and erratic as you drifted down from your buzzing high, wiping beads of perspiration from your brow.

Once he recuperated, Jon looked at you, noticing the smile on your face, the unrestrained delight you were experiencing as you rolled over. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured, watching as you began to shamelessly crawl into his arms.

“Quite the opposite,” You hummed, feeling him adjust the furs, drawing them both around you. Despite the feverish pitch of the room, the frost would settle in again soon, especially at the hour of the bat. “Were you jesting when you said you dreamed about this?”

Bewildered, Jon cast his eyes toward you, canting his head to one side. “Of course I was serious,” He huffed, surprised that you would think otherwise. “You were all I could think about, north of The Wall.” His confession was genuine, sweetly-spoken.

“You don’t have to dream about it anymore,” Your voice soothed him, a sound that he had yearned for with a blistering ache. He felt as if you would slip away from him if he let you go. “I won’t leave you.” Your smile was warm enough to melt even the hardiest of frost.

Jon’s lips tugged into a smile, one that you rarely saw beneath the brooding curtain of his visage. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, allowing you to get comfortable against him. The silence that followed allowed for some contemplation, absorbing all of what had transpired.

His scars seemed so fresh when they caught your eye. With a forlornly look, you dragged your fingers over the scar above his heart, feeling him shiver beneath your touch. Your body still felt as if it were caught in some haze, coming down from the blissful aftermath of your coupling.

“If you hadn’t come back …” You trailed off, attempting to refuse to think of some painful reality where Jon perished, but the thought briefly crossed your mind. If he had, none of this would be happening — he wouldn’t be holding you in his arms.

“But I am here,” Jon’s husky timbre shook you to your core as he planted his palm against your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not leaving you.” It was a promise — insistent, spoken from a man who now fully understood the weight of love, the weight of sacrifice.

You nodded, wordlessly reaching to hold his hand, feeling the arm he had caged around you plant itself against the small of your back. He drew circles there, brows knitting together as he leaned in to kiss you. It was hard and warm, so real — he made sure that you understood exactly what he meant.

Within the warm embrace of his arms, you let your head recline against his chest, feeling him draw you closer, until there was no space left between the both of you. He listened to the steady, shallow sound of your breathing afterwards.

At the edge of the world, he had you — and that was all he would ever need.

[angelltheninth]

ASOIAF Men When You Get Engaged to Someone Else

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Harwin Strong, Jon Snow x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, slight angst, threats, marriage declaration, possessive behavior, jealousy, suggestive, marriage proposal

A/N: HOTD s2 keeps making me go nuts.

Daemon immediately wants to make you his by any means necessary. In his mind you are already his anyways, there’s no issue in taking you for himself is there? There were many times where it almost happened anyways so why not take that final step now, besides if people find out that he was the one who did it there aren’t many people that would dare to challenge him.

Aemond decides that he will declare you as his fiancée already. Power, money and influence go a long way and there are few who have more than he does. He becomes very open with his affections and intentions towards you, especially in front of the man who wants to be your husband. Should it be necessary he will go to war for your hand but he knows you’d rather avoid such unnecessary bloodshed.

Harwin won’t accept anyone who can’t defeat him in a duel as your future husband. Even if they are of a higher status than him, even if you are of a higher status than him he wants to prove himself to be worthy of your love. Really doesn’t care if he seems like a lovesick fool, if it will win him your hand then let him be one. Promises to be the best husband, the most loving and gentle, your own knight in shining armor.

Jon felt heartbroken when he heard of your engagement to some noble in a different kingdom. While true that he a member of the Night's Watch and as such can’t be there for you a lot he never wants you to feel like he doesn’t love you or doesn’t want you. Makes a trip back to you to confess his love all over again and ask you to marry him in secret. You don’t need to say that he is your husband but you can always wear a ring as promise.

[glossgojo]

the starks (cregan, robb, jon) headcanons

cregan who loves to be soft with you, loves to look in your eyes and hold your hand when you’re fucking. he’ll kiss every inch of your body, tell you what he loves about you, praise you to high heavens even when his pace is making your head hit the wall. he worships you night and day.

cregan who can be mean when he needs to be, usually you’re testing him on purpose or plainly asking for him to be rougher, he’ll always prioritize your safety and make sure you know to stop him if he goes too far

cregan who treats you like royalty after, he knows he’s bigger and stronger than most men, in many ways ;) , but he’ll be at your beck and call after leaving bruises on your skin from how hard he clutched your waist to drive you down onto him when you tried running from his girth, or gripped your thighs as he kept them open till your third orgasm was running down his chin

robb who is almost always fast and rough, he rarely has time to spare so when he does get some time with you alone in his tent he’s making it quick and dirty

robb has you coming undone on his fingers first of course, bending you over the planning table and making sure you’re well prepared and dripping before he takes you. he’s rough and passionate, pulling your hair, maneuvering you to his will and of course you love it

robb who always makes sure you come first, unless you’re under the table sucking him off between meetings that is. even then he’ll try and coax you to give him a taste and prop you up on his desk as he makes you gush onto his tongue while he sits like the king he is between your legs

robb who loves you endlessly and will always listen to your desires, even if he wants nothing more than to fuck you both dumb, he’ll treasure the times he can look into your eyes and get lost in the love there

jon who always wants you, it’s his constant state of being, any sign from you that you need him he’ll jump at and give back tenfold. (the biggest service dom in the world fight with the wall). in the beginning of your relationship he would get hard from a look alone and you had to adjust to his insatiable sex drive.

jon who could eat you out for hours and would much rather drink from you than touch a drop of water ever again. who loves when you tug at his hair when he’s down on you, he’s instantly groaned into and getting firm. when you’re in pain, when you’re sad, when you’re angry, when you’re just bored, jon will want to distract you. fucking you deep and slow, fast and rough whatever you need

jon who sometimes can’t control himself, especially when he’s nearly lost his life, and he’s fucking into you and breeding you again, and again, and again until his eyes look more black than anything else and you’re crying from overstimulation. he’s lost count of how many times he’s come nevertheless how many times you have and he can’t scratch the itch that he has to have you forever.

cregan, robb, and jon who live and die by “wear whatever you want i can fight”

cregan, robb, and jon are by nature protective and possessive but they never let bleed into controlling you, they only want you to be safe and no one dares to try anything when they’re over your shoulder, intimidating any and everyone possible

cregan, robb, and jon who can smell other people on you, chalk it up to the wolf ancestry, and immediately get irritated that anyone would dare get close to you, they need you to smell like them or just yourself. it’s something primal they don’t even realize until you’re coming back smelling like rancid fruit, nothing like your usual scent or their own. they’re on you in moments, holding you close and rubbing against you like a feral wolf

oh my god i was possessed by a horny demon writing this in one fell swoop

[myladysapphire]

Love, the death of duty

duty part two

married near six years, you learn that duty is truly the death of love, and yet when Robbs brother, jon, returns to winterfell, you find that perhpas you where wrong, perhaps love is the death of duty.

You can find the requests here and here

word count: 3,838

CW: MDI, 18+, Smut, cheating, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), slight breeding kink (if you squint), not beta read!

Jon Snow x Frey!reader/ Robb Stark x Frey!reader

Masterlist | Part one

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Jon snow had been at the wall for near ten years before he returned home. Ten years, six as lord commander before he was betrayed by his own men. And though he had gone to the wall of his own volition, a choice he made to better himself, to find a place in the world, he knew it was time to return to Winterfell. His brother Rob had written him begging him and asking for his homecoming, and even declaring as King he could commanded him home, and now he was finally listening.

He didn’t know what to expect, if he would be welcomed or scorned.

But one thing he did not expect was you.

He knew his brother had married, had had children, but never did he expect you to be his wife.

Someone of such beauty and kindness, and with such a profound view of duty it made his heart ache.

He had expected you to be harsh, almost too similar to the lady Catelyn. But instead, you had shown him nothing but kindness.

“Jon Snow?” you asked, approaching his as he brought his horse into the stable.

“My lady” he greeted, head bowing in recognition.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you” she spoke, a soft smile on her lips. And Jon had been struck instantly by you, you smile had stirred something in him that he had never felt before. And the way you had gone out of your way to greet him, even walking him to his rooms, rooms you had picked and had made ready for him.

You had made him feel welcomed in a way no one had before at Winterfell. Of course, his half siblings had always welcomed him, but he never found a home here, until you made sure he did.

“How far along are you” he asked, as you walked him to his chambers.

“Near eight moons now.”

“And it is your third?”

You flinched, had his eyes never left yours, stuck on you at every moment, he was sure he would have missed it.

“No, my second” you spoke that part with happiness, the second however was a tone he had hear many times, the tone of a lady fulfilling her duty, “Robbs third”.

He had never thought Robb would father a bastard, he knew of Jons woes and how hard his life had been, and yet he had actively gone about it. He felt nothing but anger at the fact and even more at the clear pain in your eyes. It was clear from the start what your marriage was, there was no love or respect, simply wedding vows long broken.

He shook his head in disappointment, “I am sorry, my lady, I did not know” he hesitated for a moment, as the doors to his chambers opened. They were different from his youth, where he now slept in the same halls as his half siblings and not in the servants quarters as he once had, “Robb only spoke of a wife and two children, I never thought-“

“Do not worry, Jon…I am not offended” you shook your head, turning to face him, “it is something I must bear…not you”.

“I am sorry, my lady” he bowed his head, as he entered his room.

“I hope it is to your liking, I…Sansa told me a few things that you liked in her visit a few moons ago, and Arya helped find the things you had left from before”.

“It is perfect, my lady…truly it is more than enough”.

You smiled, insisting he call you by your name, “let me know of anything you may need” you said turning to leave.

And Jon remained struck by you and your kindness, not many would make a bastard feel so welcome, especially one scorned as you had been.

They say that duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty.

You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.

Your marriage was a one of duty, such duty that love had died before it could even blossom, and where Robb had neglected his own duty to you, in favour of love, causing duty to die for him, and love to blossom. But not with you, never with you.

You had known that every day of your marriage.

Even more so the day she had died.

He had spent every moment of her labours beside her, a vast contrast to yours.

Holding her hand and crying tears of joy and then of grief.

And you realised you were only a duty, a duty he happily forgot of.

And yet for a year you had chosen to ignore it, only for more hurt to be caused.

And in the  five moons since that day, the day where he chooses the ghost of a dead woman over his wife, you realised there would never be love where there was duty.

Though you painted the image of the dutiful wife, happy and content to be a wife, mother and lady, you still craved love.

Desired it.

Even if it was not with your husband.

There was nothing, not even respect to be found with him.

Not when know you lost all hope of ever having a marriage of love. It seemed to be the burden of woman. Where men can fuck and love as many women as they desire, woman are more often than not left with the duty of marriage.

You and Robb were strangers now, you had moved away from your old chambers, though still in the great keep, your rooms were now closer to Jon’s quarters than his.

Jon.

Your mind was stuck on him, though he seemed shy and guarded, you couldn’t stop of thinking of him. Assessing every detail of him, taking in every word he spoke, every action he did.

Of the ways his eyes followed you, how he seemed to hang on every word you said.

In all honestly, she sought him out more often than not, they even developed a routine. Spending their lunches together and always at beside each other at dinner.

And though you both had your duties, he had been given as hand of the king, and yet despite his ever-building duties, you both saw each other much more often than what was appropriate.

He made time for you where Robb neglected you.

He cared for you where Robb scorned you.

And as time passed, you found Cregan more in the presence of Jon than his own father, found yourself looking for Jon wherever you went you slowly realised that you loved Jon in a way you had only dreamt about loving Robb.

He was always there, either by your side or in your thoughts.

Whereas your husband was never there either in presence or thought, even less in the lives of his children.

He had no quells when Talissa mother came from the summer isles and took Minisa away, eland you had even less. A part of you wished you had cared more, having taken care of her for the past two years and yet you only felt slight relief when she left, though you would never admit it.

Even as you remember the conversation you and her had had years before.

“do you hate me?” you remember her asking, as she bounced baby Minisa in her arms, and you Cradled Cregan in yours.

“why do you think that?” you sighed, having only been civil, out of fear of facing a side of your husband you did not think existed.

“why shouldn’t i?”

“you are the reason I will never find love in my marriage, I resent you for it but I suppose you resent me for marrying Robb, for being his duty”

“I am more jealous, I am simple a mistress, the mother of his bastard, you are the wife the mother of his heir. You have everything-“

“no I don’t” you spoke softly, “I do not have love, respect or happiness in my marriage, I do not have a husband that wants me” you placed Cregan softly in his crib. “I do not hate you, but I will not be your friend…I can’t not when you have stolen the one thing I wanted…love”

“I didn’t mean too”

“I know, and that’s why I don’t hate you…Robb is the one at fault here, not us…and yet I must face the burden of his mistakes, I must act for duty where he can act for love…if I hate anyone it is him”

She nodded in understanding.

You stood in silence, watching your babes as they fell to sleep, neither of you saying a word.

As most of your time was spent with her.

“would you keep them apart?” she spoke after moments.

“they are siblings, half or not…I would not keep them apart if they did not want to be”

“good” she smiled.

And yet that had changed.

The day she died, the bed fever taking her and yet she had asked for you as she suffered in pain.

“do not hate her” she breathed, “I do not ask you to love her…but please don’t hate her” “I won’t” you swallowed, a feeling of sadness washing over you.

“my mother- my mother will come for her…please don’t let her” she breathed heavily, “I want her with Robb…please” she coughed, her eyes drooping.

Robb barged back in the room, stopping the conversation. And moons later you could do little to respect her final words as her mother took Minisa, little as Robb command her gone, and even less as a weight began to lift of your shoulder.

You hated it, how easy it was to forgo a dying woman’s final words, but you had forced her mother to write to Robb and allow Minisa to write to Creagan. You would let them know there sibling even if they were an ocean apart.

Your marriage was a farce and the birth of your second child was all the proof you needed to show that.

A moon since Jon return and yet you had grown more closer to him in a moon than you had with your husband in six years.

Where Robb had left both times you went into labour, taking days to visit, Jon had held your hand through it all, and had been the first after you and the midwife to hold the babe.

If anyone saw you both, the way he was with you every day and night, sleeping in your rooms, albeit on a coat, it  would have been easy to assume he was your husband, especially with the way his gaze never left yours, his hand holding yours through your pains and never letting go, even after.

“What will you name him?” he asked, after you had finally been left alone, the babe cradled in his arm.

“Eddard, mayhaps” you started, though there was hesitation at the name, “I know Robb wanted to name…to name Minisa that is she were a boy”.

“So not Eddard” Jon spoke, handing the babe to you, he crouched to your side, “mayhaps Edric or Benjen?” he suggested, Benjen you assumed after his uncle.

You hummed, “Edric is a good name” tasting the name on your tongue, “Cregan and Edric”

“So, Edric Stark?” he spoke, tone soft as he gazed up at you.

“yes”

With the birth of your second, you deemed your Marriage officially over, you had given him and heir and a spare and even then, his sister Sansa had married Willis Tyrell and birthed her own sons, and Rickon had begun to court an Erena Glover. You were sure Robb would find no shortage of heirs and so was he. And he was more than content to let you be, ignoring your presence at any time bar feasts and officially Gatherings, or on occasion the few times he and you were in the same room with your children.

You and Jon however, your friendship had blossomed into so much more.

With lingering stares and casual touches, you felt your heart blossom in his presence.

no longer did you feel the chains of duty, no longer did the word duty fill your mind and taunt your nights.

Now the word love did.

Jon had been here six moons now and you were thoroughly and completely in love with him.

Your mind was always on him, you time spent with him or your children. Even Cregan and Edric spent more time with him than Robb.

Robb seemed to care little for the family, stuck in his own misery, misery he made himself and every effort to get out of it was half arsed and only done as a distraction with no true meaning to it.

But Love, you finally knew what it was, you felt it when Jon looked at you and when you looked at him and yet neither of you said it.

Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.

You were still married by law and in the eyes of the gods, and yet there was no marriage. Nothing of your marriage followed the meaning of the word.

Your heart belonged to Jon, you just needed to tell him.

A year into Jons homecoming and your fleeting romance though nothing ever was said or acted upon.

But now you stood under the weirwood tree, your heart bared to Jon.

“Jon” you whispered, his head in your lap, your hand running through his curls.

“yes?” he hummed, focusing his gaze away from the book he had been reading.

“I…I love you” you final spoke, after moons of feeling it, of the sheer desire for him and want to bare yourself to him. And yet you had waited, for what you did not know, but today, in this moment it felt perfect.

He smiled, a pure smile of joy at your words, as he quickly moved of your lap “I love you” he spoke in return, his face moving inches away from yours, your breaths becoming one for a moment before your lips where on his.

You had never kissed anyone before, even after all these years of marriage, only a small peck on your wedding day.

But this, a slow passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotions, your love into it was so different than a small dutiful peck.

Your lips followed his movements, moving with his, as he pulled you into his lap. Your hands moving to his hair as you continued to kiss.

A low moan left you, only to be swallowed by Jon as he began to kiss you harder, more passionately.

“Jon” you whimpered, separating your lips from his.

His face chasing yours as you moved away.

“what is it?” he hummed, his hands caressing your sides.

“anyone could see us…” though the thrill of being caught was not lost on you, you were still a married woman, and your children’s legitimacy would be put into question if you were caught.

He hummed, “come with me” he spoke, moving you off his lap before standing a reaching for your hand.

You had thought you had explored the gods woods in its entirety, found every nook and cranny and yet it seemed a youth spent running the woods had allowed Jon to find a spot only years spent getting lost in the woods would allow you to find.

It was a small cave, covered in leaves and blocked off by trees and endless bushes.

A small whole a the top allowed the summer sun to shine through, lighting up the small space and to reveal a moss covered floor.

“we could go back to your rooms…or mine” he spoke, hesitantly, unsure if you would approve of his small little space. It was clear that he had been here a good few time, like this was his space away from everyone, and the basket sat in the corner was a clear indicator of it. With a blanket, a book and an old bottle of wine.

you turned to face him, “its fine…we can save a bed for another time” you said, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his once more, in a heated, sloppy kiss.

He slowly backed you into the wall as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he began to play the laces on the side of your dress.

You gently pushed him off you, sending him a teasing smile as you started to undress in front of him.

You had never been fully naked in front of anyone, not even Robb, something always stayed on, a barrier from truly being intimate.

And as Jon joined you, undressing himself and allowing you both to stand bare before the other, you had never felt more intimate. Never felt that a moment was more right.

With you sat upon the blanket, Jon moved towards you, caressing your face and leaning his body over yours.

Your eyes locked in a heated gaze as your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss.

His body grinding against yours as his hands moved to cup your breasts.

“your beautiful” he spoke, placing soft kisses on your lips, before moving down your body towards your breasts and placing soft kisses around your nipple, before taking your breast in to his mouth, licking and sucking as he did.

You moaned as he alternated between your breasts, Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“your perfect” he spoke once more, letting go of your breast, “I love you” he whispered before moving down your body and licked at your folds, causing you to whimper and moan even more.

Your hands found there way to his hair once more. And they always seemed to, you loved his hair, his curls, even more so now as the peeped out between your thigsh as he lapped at your cunt.

“Jon” you moaned, as you felt a pleasure your own fingers nor Robb had ever given you before, it was overwhelming, the sensation filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly brought his fingers to your entrance.

Groaning as his fingers entered your, he relished in the tightness of your cunt.

He continued to lap at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, licking at your heat as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“JON!” you screamed as your peak finally hit your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers as you came.

You swallowed roughly as he moved up your body, taking your mouth with his in a possessive kiss, the taste of you evident on your tongue.

His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You breathed, and he finally entered you.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust to his cock.

After so long, with only your fingers, the feeling of a cock, of Jon was more than enough to send you over the edge as he became to thrust in and out of you, hi space moving picking up, as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock.

“gods” you moaned, your arms pulling hi closer to you, urging him to finish inside of you.

“where?” he breathed, his pace moving faster and faster as he chased his pleasure, as you came down from your own.

“Inside!” you moaned.

He looked at you unsure, but as your legs pushed in closer to you, your hands arms pulling you in as you urged him to cum, he let go and his seed filled you.

And a part of you hoped it took root.

Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.

You woke up and fell asleep in his arms every night. Every meal was shared. And you treated Jon like a husband, and you were treated as a wife.

Words of love and acts of affection was shared and no ounce of you regretted your actions.

Love.

The word circled his mind when he looked at you and Jon.

 Robb Stark, with all his faults and flaws, would be the first to admit he had ruined all chances of being a good husband the day he feel in love with Talisa, and now, when he had given himself into the desires of wanting you for a wife, of the comforts that came with it, he had gone and ruined it, worse than he ever could of imagined he would.

He was not cruel or cunning and yet too you he was.

To you he was a neglectful man, and absent father and a terrible husband.

He would be the first to admit that part was true.

But he was a good king, that had to account for something?

But now you had found love as he once had, but with his own brother and no part of him wanted to stop it, though he craved the idea of him in Jons place, as he was sure a part of Jon craved his own place.

He watched you both, how your eyes danced with one another in silent conversation only you both understood, how your hand was always touching him or his was always touching you.

That he thought he could live with, he himself a cheating husband. First a mistress now whores in brothels.

A wife having and affair with his brother was fine, as long as they were happy.                                                                      

Even after he had caught them in bed, or as she told him of the babe in her belly.

But then he started to watch you both carefully, how you interacted together in public and in private, of the makeshift marriage you had made, and of how Jon had become what he had failed at.

And he realised just how bad of a father he had become.

“father!” Cregan shouted in greeting, but not at him, at Jon.

He hadn’t even seen him, and had ran straight for Jon, who had swept him up in his arms and placed a kiss to his cheek.

It wasn’t his first time calling Jon father, and Robb was sure it wouldn’t be the last, not as you walked over, Edric in your arms, only for him to say “papa” at the sight of Jon.

He swallowed harshly, storming out of the room before they could see or hear him.

And he suffered the harsh reality that you once had, but this time, it was deserved.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @chimmysoftpaws @arieltwvdtohamflash @moodyblueberrytree @aaliyah @delaynew @12thatsanumber @haydee5010 @valiendokk @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @random-human02 @f1wh0recom @arieltwvdtohamflash @pet1t3

to be added to taglist

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

✎ masterlist ✎

this is a collection of all my one shots. more will be added as i continue to write. requests are closed!

[ key: ]

🌷 ≈ fluff

🍑 ≈ smut

🌪️ ≈ angst

💻 ≈ work in progress

!LATEST! — from the flames | b. blake 💻🍑

•finnick odair•

— the five stages » 🌪️

— hungry eyes » 🍑

— love(rs) and war » 🍑

— what friends do » 🍑🌷

— lionfish, seahorses, and dolphins, oh my! » 🌷

— beautiful mess » 🌷🌪️

— two souls, one heart » 🌪️

— nsfw alphabet » 🍑

— flower therapy » 🌪️🌷

— bad idea, right? » 🍑🌪️

— red wine: part 1, part 2, part 3 »🌷🌪️

— forbidden fruit » 🍑

— a darling and a virgin » 🌪️🍑

•bellamy blake•

— from the flames: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 » 💻🍑

— close call » 🍑

— bioluminescence » 🌷

— pretty fixation, wicked temptation » 🍑

•gally (the maze runner)•

— relationship headcanons pt. two » 🌷

— relationship headcanons » 🌷🌪️🍑

• (more characters to be added)•

[lovernanaminn]

they should've been at the club :(

[dipperscavern]

i feel like jon would be the most likely to pull a Tyrion Lannister and fall in love with a prostitute after stepping one foot in the whorehouse idk… i need that little virgin man

no because you’re so right !!

he goes with the intention of losing his virginity, nothing else. “becoming a man” as theon called it. he planned to be in and out, nothing short of discreet, but then he met you. he’s immediately captured by everything about you, the color of your eyes, how gentle you were, your soft smiles & even softer touches. and once you start touching him, he knows he’ll never want to be touched by anyone else.

he becomes a regular, under the premise of you “teaching” him. eventually, his visits arent always sexual, sometimes just wanting to hold you or speak about your day — & eventually you stop charging him <3

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is pt.2: deciding you’ve read enough fics for the moment and swiping out of the app just to re-open tumblr or open wattpad/ao3

[winnysplayground]

“i can fix her, i can fix him, i can fix them”

i think we need to work on you first.