ALSO GOODMORNIGN!!!! ily how are u ^__^ hope its not too cold today
HELLO!!! happy very-late-morning-now-it’s-the-evening-sorry!!! it wasn’t TOO cold out today but because i’m an idiot i didn’t grab a jacket before i left and a button up is unsurprisingly not very combative against the cold . i’ve learned from my mistakes though it’s OK. and i’m doing pretty good!!!! how r U??
i have no idea how strong the last edible i had was (it was homemade and i forgot to ask lol) but it was so strong it made me gag. i was high for like twelve hours
Gfjfkslrlskfjdbnfj one time in high school i took way too much of an edible so i threw up and passed out right in front of the puddle. Right before that my mom walked in and asked why my eyes were so red and i was like “i was just watching something really sad :(“ and she believed me
AJ, AJ, what can I write that hasn’t been said before? I admire how strong you are- your brain gives you shit sometimes, yet you look at the bad mood in the eye and give it the middle finger and go on. You are also one of the nicest people I’ve meet, always trying to cheer people up, always supportive of everyone around you, and I’m glad to count you in my group of friends 💜
a/n: this was supposed to be a short drabble. haha. that didn’t happen. this is all on you, Zoe! i hope you like it :)
very first contribution to the ship and the fandom. also, completely show!verse.
send me a prompt
Jon shouldhave seen this coming. Really. However, with everything that has happened thesepast few months… Gods be good.
She’dseemed to be alright at Castle Black – well,as alright as one can be after escaping a monster like Ramsay. And oh, how he’d longed to beat him todeath, not only for little Rickon but for Sansa– sweet Sansa, who’d done nothing to deserve such a fate.
But.
No, that lifehad not been his to take, as much as he’d wished it. As much as he’d craved it - Sansa had deserved closure.
It rankleshim still, knowing what that monster—what those monsters—did to her.
Rememberingthe whispered conversations they had those last few nights at Castle Black, theway her voice would break sometimes as she spoke in the vaguest of ways whatshe suffered since they’d left Winterfell; the way she trembled even as theysat in front of the fire, hands pulling the cloak he’d lent her tighter aroundher.
There hadbeen nothing specific about the content of their conversations. Jon has theunshakable suspicion that they’d both dreaded and hoped the other would ask – for details, a thorough recount –but neither did. Neither could.
Because whilethey had spent the evenings at Castle Black getting to know each other again –rediscovering old bonds, giving it a new shape, growing closer than they’d everbeen before – all that had to be put on hold once they’d begun travelling theNorth in hopes of rallying the Bannermen to their cause.
A fortnighthas passed since retaking Winterfell, even less since the Northern Lords haveproclaimed him King in the North.
And now JonSnow stands in the threshold of Sansa’s chambers, watching helplessly as sheclutches her furs, frame trembling and breath coming out in short, painfulgasps. She has yet to realize his presence and he remains frozen where hestands, hesitating, never having been that well versed in comforting people.Ghost, however, suffers nothing of the sort as he saunters over to her bed andclimbs onto it.
It breaksthrough her nightmare-induced stupor; Sansa embraces Ghost with a desperatewhimper, clinging to him as if the great direwolf were all that keeps her tetheredto reality. Jon watches, unmoving, in silence, and wonders how many nights… howmany night has Sansa been waking upfrom night terrors? Has kept quiet about it? He struggles, trying to rememberif there have been signs…
No, he can’thave missed it – he’s not been so absorbed in his current tasks as to miss herdistress. Sansa, she’d tell him, shewould…
Except shewouldn’t, not wanting to bother him.
Silly girl, thinks Jon, feeling a tentative tug at thecorner of his lips that doesn’t get to be a proper smile.
Closing thedoor to her chambers gently, he takes a fortifying breath before slowly makinghis way to her. Each step brings him closer to Sansa and Ghost, her whimpers asoft echo within these walls, and suddenly it is clear – the reason for hernight terrors.
Gods, of course.
For a briefmoment, after reaching her side, Jon thinks of pulling her into his arms,comfort her the best way he can because he’s so very bad with words – but hedoesn’t, instead he kneels by her bedside and waits for her to notice him.
When shedoes, she’s stopped crying, Ghost has stopped whining softly within the cradle ofher arms. She lifts her head from where it was buried into Ghost’s furry neckand looks at him; tear-stained cheeks, red-rimmed eyes, a heart-breaking visage—hervoice is barely a whisper.
“Jon…?”
“Sansa,” heoffers her his hand and is incredibly happy when she takes it, even if it’sonly to squeeze it with all her might.
“Jon.”
Sansa tugsat his hand, again and again until he’s sitting next to her on the bed, leaningagainst the headboard; Ghost moves around a little to rest his head on Sansa’slap, content to stay there and let her pet him. Jon raises their linked hands,places a small kiss to her knuckles.
“I’m sorry,”he says, the words partly muffled, as he’s yet to remove her hand from hislips. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?”
“I shouldhave… Sansa, I should’ve known comingback wasn’t going to be easy… after… I didn’t even realize until Ghost broughtme here tonight and…”
Words failhim, but he needn’t have worried; Sansa hums softly before bringing theirlinked hands to her lips this time, placing a gentle kiss on his. She takes adeep breath, waits a moment, then exhales.
“It’s notyour fault, Jon, you know it isn’t,” a pause, she leans on his shoulder. “Iexpected – it’s been months, I didn’t thinkit would still… I’m sure it’s because today was particularly stressful.”
Jon frowns;he remembers seeing her talking with Littlefinger before one of the manymeeting they had to attend to daily. Remembers her stoic demeanour and the smugsmirk on Littlefinger’s face – how he’d wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.
He wants toinquire about it, about whatever that loathsome man wants that keeps him inWinterfell, but doesn’t. They’ve already agreed to trust each other, and whileJon will always prefer to go straight to the point no matter the situation –something Sansa is trying to curve on his behalf, and rightly so as politics isn’tas simple and clean as he’d like. He knows Sansa needs to process things first,think it over and over until she can decide a course of action.
She’ll cometo him when she’s ready to talk, he knows this.
Yet knowingthis doesn’t stop him from wishing for simpler times; back when she used towear her heart on her sleeve, just as he does, still. It doesn’t help that shelooks so vulnerable right now, bundled up under layers of furs and leaning onhim, clinging still to his hand as she clings to Ghost. She looks so much likethat little girl who used to hate scary stories. That little girl who spentseveral days clinging to him, her bastard half-brother, much to the displeasureof her Lady Mother, when Robb thought it was perfectly fine to scare her.
Funny, howeven though she used to be less that nice to him more often than not, she couldalso be the nicest when she wanted to – when her Lady Mother wasn’t watching.Arya might have been his favourite, but it was Sansa the one he forgave the easiest.
Perhaps,Jon thinks, it’s because he alwayswanted her acceptance – her attention.
But neverat such a high price.
“How can Ihelp you?” asks Jon, dreading the answer he already knows but needing to offersomething. “How can I make it better, Sansa? I’ll do anything… so, please, let me help you.”
She sighs, pressingcloser into his side. “Just… stay with me.”
His answerstumbles past his lips even before he can properly process it, even as he wrapshis free arm around her shoulders – even as he tilts his head to press a kissto her temple.
