#but like them incest tags will be leaving me speechless

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Me when I go to read a fic in the leon/reader tag on ao3 and I missed the incest/step dad tag

[damn-stark]

Chapter 5 Blue Winter rose

Chapter 5 of Sandstorm

A/N- it’s getting juicier!!!

Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, fluff, incest, ANGST, slowburn, suggested sexual content, talks of pregnancy and abortian.

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

Episode- 8x01

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“I had this entire speech prepared about how stupid your reasons were,” he answers your question and takes a step closer to you.

You should tell him to get away. You should stand back, listen to yourself and the restrictions you have on him. It's not good that he stands so close, that he also glances at your lips with a sense of desire.

But right now your mind doesn’t control you, your heart aches for him. You let him approach you.

“But all I need to say is that,” he continues and takes one last step towards you, leaving only a gap so small that it only need be closed with your lips. “I want you. You’re valuable to me. That’s all that matters. People can’t tell us what to do. I don't want people choosing how to live my life, do you?”

You meet his gaze with your lips parted and just gape like a fish out of water. Being left speechless is such a rare occurrence, but he is one of the few people who can cause such an effect.

“Since the moment I met you my life finally feels right, like I’m no longer in the shadows,” he continues to say, only making your heartache deeper, only erasing what you had told yourself about him. “Since the moment I met you, you never felt like a stranger, it’s felt like…we’ve lived—”

“Shut up,” you finally find yourself being able to speak and then close that gap left by crashing your lips on his. No more holding back, no matter debating and overthinking.

And just as expected Jon’s pink lips are soft, his kisses are sweet as he is. He’s not rough and impatient, he’s gentle and caring.

“Are you sure?” He asks as he pulls back.

You cup his hands that are cupping your cheeks and don’t overthink it, you don’t think about the potential match he could have with your aunt, you don't think about anyone but him and you.

“I won’t let people control my life. Not when it comes to you, Jon.” You say, “I just want you.”

Jon smiles softly and presses his forehead against yours, making you grin softly and cup his jaw. He doesn’t rush to bed or to kiss you, he doesn’t rush to take off your clothes, he lingers there in your presence as if he’s trying to remember every aspect of you.

It’s sweet, but now it makes you impatient.

“You do know how to do this right?” You tease him. “I can start taking off my clothes if you don’t know.”

Jon scoffs and pulls back to meet your gaze. “Shut up,” he snaps back quietly before he presses a kiss on your lips, and then takes you in with a tender passion that you’ve been missing in your life.

He lights a fire in you so bright and so hot that you didn’t know was left cold and untouched.

Eventually night turns to dawn, and even still he leaves you craving for more. And not in a bad way, where he was selfish the entire night and didn’t meet your needs, no, that wasn’t him. Jon left you craving for more in the best way possible, in the way that made you want to start again and again because you can never get enough of him.

However, people would ask questions, so you just have to enjoy the little time you have left.

“Maybe,” you whisper, “we can say that I’ve fallen incredibly seasick. Or maybe that we left on dragonback, hm?”

Jon keeps his eyes closed as he tries to gain some sleep. “Are you not supposed to be sleeping?” He grumbles.

You shift around on your bed to face him. “I tried,” you whisper and rest your palm on his chest to trace the scars on his chest. “But I started dreaming so I woke up.”

Jon slowly opens his eyes and shifts them over to meet your gaze. “Was it bad?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No. It was a good one…I think. It feels that way anyway.” You sigh. “It was the same one I’ve had the past nights, the one I have painted over there,” you point to the painting of the Blue Winter rose.

Jon turns his head to look, you see him slightly narrow his gaze to study it for a moment before he finally parts his lips to speak. “A Winter rose? And the Heart tree from Winterfell?”

You lift your head off your pillow and peel your eyes back wider. “That tree? How do you know?” You probe.

Jon looks up at you and answers, “I have walked those grounds all my life, I would know them blind.”

You look back at the painting before you get out of bed without bothering to put your clothes back on, and examine the painting from closer. “This,” you point. “This is the Weirwood tree from your home?” You look back at him and see his eyes roaming your body. “Jon?”

He snaps his eyes up and nods.

“Okay,” you breathe out and step back from the painting to think.

The tree is the same one you painted on the painting of the dead around the weirwood tree, the exact same one, so it means that whatever this new dream means has something to do with Winterfell as well.

What does it mean exactly is the dilemma.

Fuck.

“What does it mean?” Jon breaks you from your thoughts as you hear him sitting up.

You shrug. “That's what I want to know too…” you trail off and then groan.

“Come on don’t break your head over it, you’ll figure it out,” Jon tries to comfort you.

You blink and look up before you sigh and turn to face him. “I wish I could know now. It would help me stress out less.” You sigh and walk back to bed, but now walk to his side to climb over him.

“You’ll grow white hairs if you stress out too much, you know that?” Jon teases you as he caresses the side of your head.

You feign a laugh and shoot him a pointed glare. “Well it’s a good thing that I have silver hair then,” you grumble.

“Aye.” He smiles that charming smile that you can’t stay upset at.

“At home,” he continues. “We have a glass garden, and in it are Blue Winter roses, the most beautiful roses in the entire world. I’ll make you a crown from them, it will look beautiful on your silver-white hair.”

You begin to grin softly and whisper back, “you better.”

Jon slides his hand down to your cheek to caress that instead, letting you press a kiss on his palm before you bring up something that you thought about earlier.

“This that we have, I need you to keep it a secret,” you share, and make his smile disappear. “Not forever, just until I’m ready to tell Daenerys and everyone else.”

Jon swallows thickly. “You want me to lie?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Just omit the truth for a bit. Because I don’t know how Daenerys will take it. I mean she’s already so sensitive. What if she takes this the wrong way? What if she sees it as some sort of betrayal?”

“Why should she?”

“Just please,” you plead softly. “My relationship with her is still so new, I don’t want to strain it, just please do it for me.”

Jon let’s out a deep sigh and averts his gaze. “So are we not going to see each other anymore?” He asks.

You smirk and tilt your head to the side to meet his gaze. “Of course we are, I never said we had to stop. I just need to figure her out, and figure out what it will mean if we choose not to hide because unfortunately we don’t live simple lives.”

Jon hums in agreement.

“Just know you do make me happy,” you whisper.

Jon offers you a soft smile and presses a kiss on your lips before he assure you, “all right, I’ll do it, I will keep it a secret.”

——

*A MONTH LATER*

“Oh by the gods,” you groan and step back to face the mirror. “I feel very bloated…” you trail off and look at yourself, but see nothing different.

“Maybe that time of the month is coming soon,” Daenerys mentions.

You hum in agreement and don’t think much of it, instead you return to the dress options you have laying on your bed. “The black dress, or the gray one?” You ask and tilt your head slightly; they’re both somewhat similar, the gray one just offers more cover, whereas the black one is off the shoulders, but paired with gold necklaces.

They both have fur inside the dress, but the gray dress has tight sleeves, whereas the black one has long sleeves. They’re both long and very elegant, they’re both paired with golden armor that just covers the breasts, so it’s more of a piece of jewelry. They’re both beautiful.

“The black dress,” Daenerys suggests.

You smile and nod in agreement. “Good, I was thinking that exact same thing.” You grab the dress off your bed and hide behind your divider to put on your dress and light weight armor. Finding in that moment that it felt a bit smug against your breasts.

“Could someone help me tie this armor,” you interject and walk out.

Without question Missandei leaves Daenerys' side and helps you tie the tight armor, letting Daenerys approach you to brush back the strands of silver-white hair behind your ears.

“Never a dull moment,” you says with a soft smile.

You scoff. “Life would be boring if I lived that way.”

Daenerys laughs and nods. “I like that about you, you know that.”

You meet her gaze as you shift the golden chains that hang down your chest. “Now I do.” You shoot her a smug smile.

Once you feel Missandei finish tying the armor you thank her, and walk to your desk to pick up the golden cuff bracelet that has golden chains connected to rings and put it on quickly before you rush to the door.

“Y/N,” Daenerys calls out just as you’re going to open the door.

You look back and hum to probe.

Daenerys walks over to you and stops inches away to study you, keeping her gaze on your chest for a lingering second before meeting your gaze and fixing your necklace.

“Uh,” you laugh breathlessly. “Thank you…uh, now I have to go check on my child.” You offer them both a smile and bow your head before opening the door and walking out to the deck where Rhaenar already is watching the approaching snow covered land.

“Rhaenar,” you call, causing him to pull away from the side and turn to face you.

He meets you halfway and immediately frowns.

“What is it?” You ask and see that his hair is already styled, and his clothes are straight, as if someone helped him.

Rhaenar lets out a deep sigh before he shares, “it’s colder than I thought it would be. The furs under my clothes aren’t helping.”

You examine him and see he’s not wearing his cloak. “Where’s your cloak?” You ask.

“It’s heavy, it weighs me down. I can’t move as freely with it on.” He says and doesn’t seem like he’s going to run to his cabin to put it on.

You hum and watch him step back from you as footsteps approach from behind you. When you look back you see Jon joining your side. And right away you see his eyes slowly wander your body before you lock eyes and share a faint smile.

“So,” you add and look back at Rhaenar. “Who helped you get ready? You usually still have everything crooked even if you say you’re ready.”

“Ser Jorah,” he reveals. “He’s very nice to me. He’s like how I imagine a grandsire would be like,” he says without hesitation, making both Jon and you laugh.

“That’s,” you clear your throat. “Very nice. I’m glad you’re getting along. Now, do you want to ride on horseback to Winterfell, or ride in a carriage with Tyrion and Lord Varys, hm?”

Without as much as even thinking about his answer Rhaenar responds, “carriage, it will be somewhat warmer in there. Now,” he adds as he begins to step away. “I’m going to grab Helios, we’re about to dock.” Without anything else to add he runs off to go do what he said, letting Jon walk over to stand before you.

“You’ll be cold,” he points out with a very faint smirk.

You shrug his concern off. “I don’t mind it, don’t worry.”

Jon scoffs. “I worry, you’re a Southern girl who grew up in one of the most hottest places of the Seven Kingdoms, the North is the opposite of what you’re used to.”

“Maybe, but when else could I wear this dress?”

Jon rolls his eyes and tries to take a step closer, but as he sees more people fill the deck the closer you get to the dock, he keeps his distance.

“I am…” you continue a bit quieter. “Quite nervous,” you admit and clasp your hands together. “Being here, walking amongst all the people. I just…I’m not used to really being the center of attention. I used to hide, you know, I would dye my hair and keep a distance for my own safety. I’m not used to this sort of attention anymore.”

Jon lets out a soft sigh and offers you an assuring look. “Yes, the Northerners don’t much trust outsiders, but they aren’t as rowdy as the people from King’s Landing.”

You begin to grin in amusement and poke at him. “And this is based on what knowledge? The one time you went to the Capital?”

Jon scoffs and shakes his head. “I just know.”

You scoff softly and nod slowly. “All right, well I’ll trust you, Jon Snow.”

Jon holds your gaze thereafter before he looks around you to make sure no one is looking before he leans in closer to lower his voice. “I hate it that I can’t kiss you right now.”

Your heart skips a beat and your smile turns all shy. You part your lips to add something, but in that moment you see Qhono pass by, making your words get stuck in the back of your throat.

However, you aren’t going to shame yourself because you shared two nights of…passion, if you can even call it that. So instead you meet Jon’s gaze and offer him a smile with confidence, making sure Qhono saw.

Maybe it’s a bitchy to do, but you don’t care. At least you don’t care if he sees and figures out what Jon and you have, because if Daenerys or anyone else of importance were to find out at this current moment, the news will probably wouldn’t be taken lightly, at least not from your side.

Who knows how Jons family would react.

“I will talk to Daenerys and the others soon,” you assure him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jon assures you.

You offer him a quick smile before you look past him and watch the ship dock. Disembarking the ship happens quickly after that, people whisk you away and take you to your horse that’s already lined up behind Daenerys and Jon. And the moment you mount that horse is the moment that stares begin to pass from the townsfolk; they’re not pleasant or welcoming looks either.

The looks that every Northern gives you and everyone else that you came with are hard pointed gazes, judgemental, and bitter. And it seems that those looks are more obvious when the people notice the typical silver-white hair that your Targaryen family is known for. It’s like they’re looks are filled with hate when they figure out who you and Daenerys are.

The distrust may be justifiable but it doesn’t make it any less unpleasant and uncomfortable. And the entire ride is like that, even as you reach the town outside of the castle. It makes it hard to really take in every perimeter you pass.

You do your best to ignore them and not let it get to your head. You’re here to help after all, their outlook on you and everyone else will change when they see. Furthermore you would have behaved the same way if strangers had gone to Dorne too.

Albeit, as understanding as you are trying to be, that understanding quickly falters as Drogon, Eraxis and Rhaegal screech out from the sky and let everyone know that the rumors are true, dragons are reborn.

As Drogon flies past, Eraxis quickly follows at tow, causing you to look up and beam at her; Rhaegal soon follows the other two, and chaos ensues amongst the townsfolk. Their once judgmental faces turn to horror, and that kind of gladdens you.

It’s cruel, sure, but you’re only human.

Regardless, the ride to the inside of the castle isn’t long thereafter, Jon rides ahead once you reach the courtyard, leaving Daenerys and you to get off your horses.

While she waits to be introduced you walk over to the carriage that carries your son, and watch him climb down with his dragon on his shoulder.

“Smile, remember,” you whisper to him as you grab his other shoulder and walk him over to join Daenerys' side.

And without a second to spare, before you can take everything in, Jon then signals all of you over with his look alone.

And the first one to walk over is Daenerys.

“Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen,” Jon introduces your aunt to his sister, Lady Sansa Stark, his brother Brandon Stark on the wheelchair, and everyone else that was formed behind them.

He then meets your gaze and adds a faint smile to your introduction. “Princess, Y/N of House Targaryen and House Martell.” His gaze then shifts, and you nudge Rhaenar forward. “And the Queen’s chosen heir, the Princess’s son, Prince Rhaenar Targaryen.”

All eyes shift to the boy and his orange dragon, and they all give them both questioning looks, whilst out of courtesy Rhaenar bows his head as a greeting, making Sansa smile before she only briefly meets your gaze since Jon then steals the attention.

“My sister, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell.”

“Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark,” Daenerys interjects with a gentle smile. “The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you.”

You shift your gaze to Sansa and see her look Daenerys up and down first with that same obviously feigned smile anyone could read from miles…

Well the observant people anyway.

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace,” Sansa says in that same feigned politeness.

Honestly, it reminds you of Cersei when she talked to your uncle and Ellaria. They both share that same way to display their politeness in such a clever and menacing way.

Yet how can you blame Sansa for behaving like her? She was a wolf raised by lions. She had to adapt to survive.

Be that as it may, when her eyes fall on you her lips do slightly twitch to display a more genuine smile.

“Your hair is different,” she says.

You scoff softly and smile wider. “You’re alive.”

She looks older, wiser, more beautiful, less sad, and more threatening. Then again she’s now in the comfort of her home.

“I’m glad.” you add

Sansa offers you a faint smirk and you mirror it. And just as you see Jon’s happy smile, you also catch Daenerys discreet side glare.

“We don’t have time for all this,” Bran suddenly cuts in. “The Night King has your dragon,” he continues, making your smile fall and your gaze drift to Daenerys to catch her own frown.

“He’s one of them now,” Bran adds. “The Wall has fallen, the dead march south.”

——

*LATER*

“As soon as we heard about the Wall,” Sansa speaks to the people gathered within the hall. “I called all our banners to retreat to Winterfell. Lord Umber…”

Seconds later a boy that looks no older than Rhaenar pops his head out.

“…when can we expect your people to arrive?” Sansa asks.

The boy stands up and walks to the center of the hall to face the table you were sitting by in between Daenerys and Tyrion.

“We need more horses and wagons, if it please my lady,” he says nervously. “And my lord.” His eyes then shift again to the woman beside you. “And my Queen.” He looks over at you now to address you too. “And my Princess. Sorry.”

You offer him a gentle smile and assure him softly, “it’s okay.”

The boy nods with gratitude before Sansa speaks. “You’ll have as many as we can spare. Hurry back to Last Hearth and bring your people here.”

The boy bows before he walks out, letting Jon interject now with more orders. “We need to send ravens to the Night's Watch as well. There’s no sense in manning the castles anymore. We make our stand here.”

“At once, Your Grace,” a man says before footsteps recede and the sound of chains echo away.

“Your Grace,” a young voice cuts in, drifting your eyes to the crowd where you see a very small young girl stand up and face the table. “But you’re not. Are you? You left Winterfell a King and came back a—I’m not sure what you are now.”

You smile faintly at her bluntness, and admire such boldness.

“A lord?” She continues. “Nothing at all?”

“It’s not important,” Jon says.

“Not important?” She rebuttals. “We named you King in the North.”

The people exclaim in support of the Lady’s words, making Daenerys and you share a brief look. However, she seems more upset than you.

“You did, my Lady,” Jon continues to add. “It was the honor of my life, I’ll always be grateful for your faith. But when I left Winterfell,” he says as he stands up. “I told you we need allies or we all die, I have brought those allies home to fight alongside us. I had a choice, keep my crown or protect the North. I chose the North.”

People murmur amongst each other over the news, and none are whispers of support but rather complaints over actions he thought were right for his own people. He risked his life to show the enemy in the South proof, he risked life to show Daenerys proof too, they had to know that.

It’s why you interject.

When Jon hears your chair scrape, and catches you standing from the corner of his eye, he fully turns his head to look over at you. You briefly glance over at him and share a discreet soft look before you look at the crowd and speak in his defense.

“If anyone survives the war to come, we’ll have Jon Snow to thank. He risked his life to show us the threat is real. Thanks to his courage, we have brought with us the greatest army the world has ever seen. We have brought three full-grown dragons. And with me a small Dornish army prepared to give their lives for this battle to come.”

The looks don’t change from their hard judgmental stares, but there is no protest now.

“And soon,” you hear Tyrion interject, letting you sit back down and watch him walk to the center of the room so he can be seen. “The Lannister army will ride North to join our cause.”

Or so he hopes.

Furthermore,the people aren’t too happy about that news either.

“I know, I know our people haven’t been friends in the past,” Tyrion tries to assure them. “But we must fight together now, or die.”

“May I ask,” Sansa cuts in, earning everyone’s attention. “How are we meant to feed the greatest army the world has ever seen?” She asks. “While I ensured our stores would last through winter, I didn’t account for Dothraki, Unsullied and three full-grown dragons. What do dragons eat, anyway?”

Why does she have to sound so mean? Sure she has every right to ask, there are hundreds of people she has to feed, but there’s no need to be so hostile.

“Whatever they want,” Daenerys snaps back.

That’s the wrong way to answer too, Sansa is afterall looking out for her people.

That’s not to say you don’t like Daenerys’s response, you do, it fills you with pride, but just as you thought of smirking or just being snarky, suddenly you get hit with a sudden wave of warmth all over your body. Here in all places, after just feeling chilly in front of the fireplace.

You ignore it though. Just like you ignore the beads of sweat that you feel forming on your forehead, and dampening other parts of your body.

“Not so long ago, the Lannister stole from the Reach,” you cut in to ease Sansa’s stress. “We counterattacked and made sure to save as many wagons of wheat and other food as we could. Some food was also brought from Dorne, it should be enough to feed our army and add more to your stores for the winter, my Lady.”

You look over at Sansa, and she glances over at you to offer you an appreciative nod.

Soon after that the meeting is disbanded, and as much as you would have wanted to talk to Jon now after not speaking since the morning, you let him be and instead follow Daenerys to her quarters. And the entire way there all you feel is the sudden warmth just basking your entire body, making you feel quite uncomfortable.

“Mother,” Rhaenar speaks just as you reach Daenerys' room.

You swallow thickly and hum.

“May I go out and explore?”

You stop just before you can walk inside after Daenerys and Missandei, to face him.

This place was new, filled with people that didn’t like your family, you would prefer he stayed close. But to keep him locked away would only make him rebel, and it’s better if the people see him out amongst them too.

“Uhm, fine, but don't wander too far, and don’t take too long we’re going to try and get some teachings before dinner.”

Rhaenar nods eagerly before he turns and runs off,

“Please don’t lose your guards!” You yell after him.

“Of course not mama!”

You sigh and watch him until he turns the hall, letting you join Daenerys in her room.

“I don’t think Jon’s sister likes me all that much,” she points out once the door is closed.

Without waiting a moment longer you walk to the nearest window to open the shutters so the cold breeze can refreshen you.

“You just have to give her time,” you assure Daenerys as you turn away from the window to watch her pace. “She’s the lady of Winterfell. She has every right to be skeptical.”

Daenerys scoffs. “I’ve come to save the North, she has the right to be grateful.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “We’ve come to help defeat the army of the dead for all of Westeros,” you correct her. “And the North. Remember if you don’t they only get further South, we’ve come to help.”

Daenerys stops walking and snaps her head over to you to stare at you with a cold gaze. She doesn’t add anything, she just shoots you a cold glare before she then looks at the open shutters and points that out.

“Are you not cold enough already?”

You drop your gaze and scoff in disbelief of your own. “You’d think, but in all honesty I’m feeling quite…hot,” you whisper and sigh.

Footsteps approach, and as you look up you see Daenerys get close to stare at you with a more curious look. Yet you don’t question her and just share an incoming thought. “We should have dinner with the Starks, it will be nice to break the tension, don’t you think?”

Daenerys keeps her eyes lingering on you for a second longer before she scoffs and then shares a look with Missandei, and paces again. “Are you sure they’ll like that?” She retorts.

You giggle and rebuttal, “sweet Dany, we have no hostility against them, all right? They’re allies. And my uncle always said that we treat our allies the same way we treat our friends. This will be us doing that.”

Daenerys stops in her tracks and snaps her gaze to you to shoot you a pointed look. “Are you talking to me like you talk to your son?”

You shoot her a teasing smile and shake your head. “No. I’m advising you.”

Daenerys hums and turns away to then sit at the end of her bed. “Well then I advise you to talk to a maester about the sudden hot flash you had,” she counters.

You walk away from the window and scoff. “Why would I? I’m probably going to start bleeding soon. That’s why.”

Daenerys looks at you up and down and hums softly in comprehension, catching your attention, but not enough to let you question her tone, instead you just excuse yourself and walk off to your own chambers. Which isn’t far from her room, and that’s quite an unfavorable thing for when Jon visits you in the night of the owl, or when you go to his quarters; she…isn’t much for sleeping too long and you aren’t quite ready to tell her.

What will you do now then? Will he have to sneak through the large window like if you’re a pair of teenagers? Or are there secret halls here behind the walls? Maybe Eraxis can give him a lift.

Or…you can tell her, he’d say, you can hear his deep voice and Northern accent already in your head.

But, not yet. Soon.

How though?

You groan and throw yourself on the bed to stare up at tall the ceiling to think.

Yet once you feel the mattress under your body, and feel your body finally return to its normal temperature you’re suddenly overcome with fatigue. Like if you haven’t slept for days.

You try to brush it off, you stand up and pull out the paintings you brought with you, you step towards the window to look out at all the towers that can be seen from your room. But the cold air doesn’t wake you up, nor does the sight of white sparkling snow excite you, instead you end up returning to bed to just rest your eyes. Just for a few minutes and then you’ll go out and walk the grounds….

Nevertheless, you don’t keep track of time, you only wake up because of the knock that raps on your door before it opens.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice whispers.

You let out a deep yawn and sit up, noticing Jon poking his head inside before he walks in. Your eyes still feel heavy from all the grogginess, but you don’t fail to shoot him a happy grin before you slide off bed, making sure he closes the door before you run up to him filled with excitement.

“Jon,” you utter happily.

Said man offers you a happy smile and meets you half away, making sure to immediately cup your cheeks and just admire you.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he shares. “Rhaenar told me you were in here sleeping.”

Your smile falters, and just as you peer out the window you notice that the sun is beginning to set now.

“Oh, damn,” you mutter. “We were going to try and get some teachings in. Where is he?” You ask and meet his gaze.

“Last I saw of him, Greyworm took him to train,” Jon shares.

And the boy of course didn’t try to wake you. At least he’s doing something productive.

“Where have you been?” You probe sweetly and cup his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard on your palm.

Jon sighs. “I met with my sister Arya in the Godswood.”

You offer him a soft smile as you begin to caress his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “How was that?” You quiere since he’s mentioned that it’s been years, and he had thought she died.

Jon’s eyes wander your chambers before he lets out another sigh. “She’s older. She’s changed.”

You scoff softly. “That happens.”

Jon drops his gaze to shoot you a pointed glare that makes you laugh.

“I missed you,” you interject to change that frown.

And as expected his lips tug just slightly.

“I saw you not long ago,” he mutters a bit flustered.

You giggle. “Tell me about it.” You then lean in and press a sweet kiss on his lips.

He pulls back briefly to smile wider before he pulls you in for a deeper kiss that you melt into.

However, as in sync as you both are, he doesn’t let the kiss develop into anything else, he pulls away and goes a bit more serious. “How are you liking Winterfell so far?” He asks.

You let your smile fall as you shrug. “I couldn’t give you an answer considering I haven’t had time to see anything,” you say.

Jon hums and pulls away from you. “Well,” he adds. “Come on then.”

You beam at him and follow him out of your room. It’s not longer after that, as you’re walking down the halls that you ask your first question. “I do have a query, how does the castle stay warm? Especially in the cold weather?”

Jon glances at you and then looks ahead before answering. “The castle was built over natural hot springs. That water is piped throughout the castle, making the water warm and the rooms comfortable to stay in.”

You hum softly in comprehension and glance around at the gray stone walls, finding what he said quite interesting. Also finding a mischievous thought growing in your mind.

“And these hot springs are there anymore around Winterfell? One where someone, or two people can dip into?” You probe and clasps your hands back as you look at him with a sweet smile.

Jon eyes shift to you, but there behind those dark eyes you don’t see that he’s understood what you mean, making it a lot more funnier.

“Yes,” he answers. “Many.”

You would have shared your true meaning but it’s too dangerous inside the halls, who knows who’s lurking or just coming around the corner, so instead you smile and see that he’s walking outside to a less busy area that isn’t overrun by all the people.

“Where are you taking me now Lord Snow?” You investigate as you walk in between stone buildings, noticing that as far as castles go these towers aren't tall, but the walls that surround the castle are; in the day they most likely cast shadows over most of the grounds and most buildings.

“Glass garden,” Jon shares and grabs your hand as he sees no one around. “Inside it’s probably the kind of warmth you’re used to,” he continues to add. “The hot springs provide the earth with warmth, letting us grow fruits, vegetables, flowers and different plants.” He opens the door and lets you walk inside first.

Right away as you walk in you’re hit with a rich earthy smell that overpowers the smells of mud and smoke that fills the air outside. Right away you take note of the beams of dimming light that reflect inside and bask the greenhouse in a beautiful twinkling hue. Right away you also know he’s right, it is hot inside—it’s a good that you aren’t covered in furs, or having those hot flashes at the moment; you’d be melting.

Moreover, you’re completely overcome with awe by everything, by how big it is inside; there’s rows of different vegetables being grown; tomatoes, carrots. There’s fruits. Not as excotic as the ones grown in Dorne, but it’s fruit nonetheless; like melons, different rows of colorful berries, green and red apples that cause this unfathomable craving within you.

At the other end is a tall tree with small pink flowers that tower over every other plant inside.

“What’s grown from the pink tree?” You ask as you follow him down rows of smaller plants that are all grown in different pots on tables.

Jon interlaces his fingers with yours and shares the answer, “peaches. I suppose they’ll be blossoming soon.”

You hum with interest and glance at the upcoming apple tree, finding yourself biting your lip just a bit.

Jon notices your dilated pupils and lets your hand fall to your side so he can pluck a ripe red apple from one of the small trees.

“Here,” he says when he falls before you again. “Taste it, it’s sweet.”

You hold his gaze as you take the round fruit from his gloved hand, and only glance down at it as you bring it to your lips. Before you take a bite though you breathe in a whiff and smell the sweetness of it already.

But once your teeth sink into it, as the juices rush into your mouth and make your tastebuds dance with the sweet, sweet taste. Once you bite and all you can hear is the hard crunch before you swallow, you get overcome with joy

“That is,” you grin brightly. “Delicious. Satisfied my craving.”

Jon’s eyes soften and his smile does as well as he watches you take another bite. When you notice him you smile and push it towards him to offer him a bite.

He albeit turns you down and grabs your other hand to continue you walking down. “Sansa seems to like you,” Jon mentions.

You hum and cover your mouth to swallow before interjecting. “There’s a difference between you thinking it and facts, my love…”

Jon smirks at the sound of the pet name you utter without thought, but chooses not to comment on it.

“She could make it seem like she likes me, but she really doesn’t, you get what I’m saying?” You finish saying.

Jon hums and looks down before he shakes his head.

You sigh and take a bite from your apple before you explain it. “It’s just…hm,” you swallow your apple. “Nevermind. All I’ll tell you is that I do want to be her friend, and I hope it happens.”

Jon lifts his gaze, but doesn’t add anything in the regard.

“Actually,” you continue as he keeps walking you down the greenhouse. “I had the idea that maybe we can have dinner. Your family and mine. I think it will be good to meet one another more, break the tension.” You meet his gaze and press for an answer. “What do you think? I mean I think it might be late for dinner, but we can break fast together before we get to work.”

Without debating Jon nods. “I think that is a great idea, I’ll tell my siblings and set it up.”

You shoot him a happy smile and feel him begin to caress the back of your hand with his thumb. You finish your apple and try to add something else, but you then go speechless when you see beautiful bushels of blue roses.

“It’s the Blue Winter roses I told you about,” Jon cuts in through the silence, choosing to let you go so he can walk over to the bushel and pluck a single Blue Winter rose. He then returns to you and grabs your hand so he can wrap your fingers just under the bud.

“Careful,” he warns softly. “It has thorns.”

You scoff. “Thorns,” you mock his voice. “Whatever will I do?” You laugh and shoot him a playful smile before you drop your eyes and admire the Blue Winter rose.

You pull it up to your nose and breathe in a small whiff of the sweet fragrance. You then pull it down and twirl it slowly in your fingers to admire the deep blue petals, and the violet and light blue veins that make it that much more beautiful.

“Here,” he whispers and takes the rose from your hand to snap the stem off. “It goes beautifully with your silver hair.” He proceeds to meet your gaze as he raises the rose, and tucks your hair back behind your ear to place the rose behind your ear. “Beautiful,” he coos and caress your arms.

You flash him a flustered smile and throw your apple core aside to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close to you.

“You’re beautiful,” he continues to tell you in a sweet way.

Your heart begins to do flips in your chest and your lips tingle with the craving of his taste, so before he can say anything else you crash your lips into his.

Jon smiles and doesn’t hesitate to cup your face and deepen the kiss, making sure to be sweet and gentle, yet passionate at the same time.

Once again you begin to burn, but this time it’s because of him. Because you want him. But considering where you are you can’t let that develop, instead you pull back, making sure to tug his bottom lip just slightly before you giggle and press your forehead against his.

Neither of you say anything, you linger in the comfortable silence, you bask in each other's company, and find solace in each other's arms.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Oh.

This doesn’t look appetizing.

The tart, and especially not the strawberry jam. The smell of it swirls in your nose and causes your heart to race, tiny beads of cold sweat to break on your forehead, and saliva to fill your cheeks.

Vomit…that’s what is trying to come up.

You swallow down the clump of saliva and push the plate of tart back, instead you grab the orange juice that was made thanks to the oranges that were brought from Dorne.

“Mother,” Rhaenar whispers.

You hum and drift your eyes to the side. “Yes?” You whisper—As if that would disrupt anything going on around the table, it’s been utterly fucking silent since they served breakfast, it’s like everyone had their tongues cut off.

“Are you alright?” Rhaenar asks, making you put the cup down and hurry to swallow the liquid—“you didn’t eat your tarts.”

You offer him a gentle smile and assure his concern. “Yeah, I'm just….”

Just what? Oddly nauseous and disgusted over something you like?

“…I'm really not hungry for them. Eat them if you like.”

Rhaenar shakes his head. “I was worried, that’s all.”

You scoff softly and ruffle his hair.

“Y/N,” Jon finally breaks the damn silence. “Has dreams that come true sometimes.”

You grab your cup and offer everyone a partial and awkward smile.

“Is it true that in Dorne women are allowed to fight?” Jon’s sister, Arya, blurts and changes the subject.

You lower your cup and smile with more pleasure now as you drift your eyes to the girl that looked very similar to Jon.

They have the same hair style, albeit her hair is lighter. They carry the same rugged Northerner look that Sansa nor Bran share. Arya does have lighter eyes though, and her look is much more menacing.

“Yes,” you nod. “Well…highborn ladies aren't really allowed to train, but I made it so I could train too just like my sisters and my cousin.” You begin to smirk. “Albeit I was both of my uncle's favorites so they spoiled me. But yes women can fight in Dorne.”

Arya lets out a small interested hum and shoves in a piece of bread in her mouth kind of sloppily, causing Sansa to curl the corner of her lip in disgust.

“You,” you point to Arya. “Jon tells me you're a warrior yourself. How did that come to be? I mean considering the men of Westeros are against everything we women do,” you jab.

Arya smirks, and Sansa scoffs amusement.

“I had to cross the narrow sea to be taught well,” Arya shares.

You hum and sip from your juice before asking her a question. “By who? May I ask?”

Arya cuts her food and looks down before answering nonchalantly. “No one.”

You part your lips to comment, but Rhaenar beats you to it. “Were you taught by a Faceless man?” He asks eagerly.

Arya narrows her gaze out of curiosity and nods. “Yes, that’s right. Have you heard of them?”

Rhaenar nods as he places his fork down. “Yes, my uncle Oberyn told me about them. He traveled a lot so he had many stories all the time. The God of Death is very interesting. Could you show me a move?!”

Arya smirks and reaches down, but Sansa quickly cuts in. “Later, please Arya. We’re eating.”

Arya meets your sons gaze and leans in. “Meet me by the training yard later, I’ll show you a few things.”

Rhaenar flashes her a grin and nods, making you smile in content before you look over at Jon to share that emotion, to share the fact that your family was getting along.

Jon’s gaze albeit first went to Rhaenar before it then bounces to his sister, and lastly finds you to share that same content smile.

Thankfully no one catches it. At least not Daenerys. As to any of the others, well it’s not like you’re being discreet, just a bit foolish.

Regardless, silence follows after that, that same awkward silence. You want to involve Daenerys in a conversation, but it seems that neither she nor Sansa are so eager to speak, if they do it’s dry and short. Thankfully, Ser Jorah and Jon share a conversation, but that too is short and doesn’t do much to build up any other conversations after.

“Mother,” Rhaenar cuts in. “Why don’t you tell them about the story when you got stranded in the desert.”

All eyes fall to you, and Daenerys is actually the first one to press on the matter. “Please do.”

You let out a breathless laugh and nod. “Okay,” you give in and push your main plate back. “Well when I was young I was given many lessons on being a ruler and whatnot. One of them involved me being stranded in the desert.” You scoff. “It was a good lesson, taught me survival after being pampered all my life, it showed me how it feels to feel truly desperate for basic needs. To feel what those unfortunate souls who can’t afford much feel everyday.”

“But you’re princess,” Arya says. “You’re basically an heir. Why would they risk your life?”

You hum and explain. “Well, I think there were people close by in case something did happen, but my uncle wanted to teach me a harsh life lesson. I only understood that after, when I got home with both of my feet all blistered, my hands full of splinters from the thorns I had to pluck from the cactus so I could eat. I appreciated my people’s life more, I appreciated life even more.”

“What about Eraxis?” Daenerys asks. “Did she not come help you?”

You shake your head. “No. Even if she did, I wouldn't be able to accept her help. Those were the rules.”

“That’s harsh, but valuable nonetheless,” Ser Jorah interjects.

You hum and nod in agreement.

The rest of breakfast is passed the same, quiet, it makes it almost relieving to finally be done and be out of the hall. Albeit you can’t fully come to bask in that feeling, when you break off alone since Jon is whisked away by some of his men, and Daenerys has to deal with her own things, all you can do is worry about your recent symptoms.

The hot flashes, the bloat, the nausea…There can only be a few reasons. One really—

“Y/N?” A feminine voice breaks you from your thoughts, making your shoulders jump.

You look back and see Sansa walking up from behind you.

“I’m sorry,” she says with a faint smile. “Did I startle you?”

You let out a small sigh and then nod softly. “A little, but it’s all right. I was just lost in thought.” You watch her until she falls by your side.

“May I?” She asks.

You scoff softly. “It is your home, so of course.”

Sansa scoffs, and then proceeds to look out at the snow covered trees past the gray stone wall you had lost your eyes. “What were you thinking about if I may ask?” She probes.

You follow her line of gaze and smile softly as you come up with a lie. “Home. The sun, the watergardens, the warmth…” you trail off and sigh. “I think I might spend my time in your Glass Garden.”

Sansa's eyes slowly drift to you and her eyebrows knot together in confusion. “You’ve been already?” She asks.

You swallow thickly as you realize what you said and nod slowly. “Your brother showed them to me. They’re beautiful.”

Sansa lets her eyes linger on you and hums, but doesn’t question you any further even if her mind already begins to connect things together.

You then proceed to turn and face her. “May I just say that you have a very beautiful home. I love it here,” you share.

“It looks much better when the castle isn’t filled with so many people,” she adds with a very faint smile. “I hope you will be able to see it then, when it’s quiet and the snow falls over the grounds.”

You hum softly and look up at the white sky. “All I want to see is snow. I have come North already to help your brother beyond the wall, but I didn’t get to really relish it. My uncle says that each little flake has delicate forms to them, like if they were carved by the gods themselves.”

Sansa turns to face you and her smile widens as she nods. “I never much appreciated the snow before, not until I returned from the South, so if you had asked me when we first met, I would say I wouldn’t know. but now I can confirm that it is true.”

You grin brightly and then face the scenery again hoping that the snow would fall at that moment.

But it doesn’t.

“It’s true then,” you mumble. “It’s only once you’re gone from the home you wanted to get away from that you finally learn to appreciate everything you had.” You glance over at her and her lips begin to fall as her eyes begin to express that same sadness. “I had never been away from Sunspear for so long, not until now, and before all I wanted to do was get away. I wanted to really come home, but now,” you scoff softly. “I actually miss it. I miss everything about it. The scratchy sand that would get everywhere, all my sisters, the chilly nights, the water gardens.”

Sansa lets out a deep sigh and nods along softly. “It’s true.”

You hum and lean forward to rest your arms on the railing and let your hands dangle off the edge. “These gray, black and white colors suit you by the way,” you add with a bit more of a lighthearted tone. “It makes you look….”

“Less sad?” She teases you.

You glance over at her and scoff. “More you,” you correct her. “More like Lady Stark, but now that you said that yourself, yes,” you nod. “You do also look less sad. It’s good.”

Sansa hums and adds a comment of her own. “You look less angry.”

You giggle. “Could you really tell? Was it that obvious?”

Sansa can’t help her smile and nods. “Yes, painfully so. At least to those really looking.”

“Well,” you interject. “I come home after decades and see lions and stags everywhere. I see the man that ordered my mother and siblings murdered sitting there without remorse, I was angry I couldn’t take Eraxis with me to burn them down.”

“You should have,” Sansa deadpans. “Regardless.”

You snap your eyes to her and grin in amusement to her bluntness.

Before when you first saw her you thought she might be like every other lady from the capital, pompous and proud. But now that she’s here, in the comfort of her home she’s different.

“I imagined it, everytime Joffrey spoke and belittled someone, I played it over and over in my mind,” you share. “I applaud and admire you for surviving that long with them. I don’t know if I could.”

There’s a moment of silence, Sansa lets out a sigh and returns her gaze back to the trees to watch them for a few more seconds before she speaks. “I barely did.”

You follow her line of gaze and comfort her. “But you did, that’s what counts, regardless of all they did you made it out, they didn’t. That is brave and admirable, and worth being proud over.”

Sansa’s chest falls slowly as a small breath unfurls from her nose, bringing silence with her once more. It’s less tension-filled than before though, and more comfortable. It’s nice.

That is, it was nice for that little time it did last before it was interrupted.

“My Lady,” someone breaks the silence, pulling the attention of you and Sansa back to the maester that stood with his hands tightly at his sides. “Princess.” He bows his head as his gaze falls on you.

You offer him a tight lipped smile and remember your concerns you had been thinking—more so, worrying about.

“Your presence is requested, my Lady Stark.” The maester shares and focuses on Sansa.

Sansa nods stiffly and then turns to face you. “Will you be alright on your own, or do you want me to take you somewhere?”

You offer her a faint assuring smile and shake your head. “I can navigate on my own, I think I know my way to the back gate, if not then I will enjoy exploring your home.”

Sansa scoffs, “okay.”

You watch her leave and once you don’t see her bright red hair anymore you begin to head towards the back part of the castle where everyone else is. Your mind begins to wander to the possibility that might be a fact based on the recent symptoms that have plagued you.

Yet you chose to bring that to an abrupt stop so as to not stress too much, instead you think about Jon, you wonder where he is since you do know that Rhaenar should be reading now. You think about Eraxis and the fact that you haven’t seen her since last night.

Maybe flying will help clear your mind, at least for a bit since the pending problem isn’t avoidable, unfortunately.

And fortunately you do find your way towards the back gate, all you had to do was follow the cluster of people, and the dirt path that already led that way. And actually on your way towards Eraxis you come across Lady Brienne.

“Lady Brienne,” you call, and immediately grab her attention away from the men she was watching train.

“Princess,” she bows her head as you approach her. She actually bowed, ha, nice.

You smile. “You remember me?” You ask.

Lady Brienne nods. “Of course.”

“Well that’s good because my offer is still on the table,” you say, and catch Jon in the distance helping some of his men. “Now, albeit I can offer you the title of Knight, I could talk to the Queen and have a spot open for you. I have only heard more great things.”

Lady Brienne swallows thickly and parts her lips as she blinks rapidly in disbelief. “That’s quite generous of you, Princess. Thank you.”

You shoot her a smile. “Think about it,” you tell her. “Once you have made up your mind, come talk to me.”

Lady Brienne nods in comprehension letting you now head towards Jon next before going towards Eraxis.

And from what you can see, he seems to be helping some of men with the trench, so he doesn’t see you coming. It leaves you with the chance to surprise him, but the men that were around him, those not used to your presence, those who hate the color of your hair stop what they’re doing to stare at you, giving away your presence and making Jon look back and notice you.

“Princess,” he greets and drops what he’s doing to meet you halfway.

You offer him a small smile and mutter, “Lord Snow.”

He comes to a stop a few inches away and smiles as his eyes soften—“you’ll freeze,” he inputs.

You roll your eyes. “I will be fine,” you scoff and tilt your head to smile softer at him. “I came to offer my help but it seems I repel everyone away.”

Jon glances around and sees everyone obviously trying to avert their gaze, or actually staring daggers in you.

“Just give them time,” Jon assures you. “Once they see who you really are they’ll warm up to you.”

You roll your head up and glance down to check what he was doing, noticing an abandoned piece of log on the ground.

“You know, maybe I should let you get back to work.” You smirk as you interject smugly. “I can watch fine from here. Just to make sure that you don’t get hurt.”

Jon’s lips turn to a smirk and he tries to reach for your arms, but when he remembers that there are eyes everywhere he just rests his arms back at his side before responding back. “I don’t know how that seems fair.”

You bat your eyelashes and get ready to talk back, but then his smile fades as his eyes drift to the side. You follow his line of gaze and notice Daenerys walking your way.

She sees that you both notice her now and offers you both a small smile.

“Dany,” you greet.

“Where have you been?” She directs at you as she reaches your side.

You continue to walk towards your dragons, and they both follow you now. “I was just walking around the grounds before I came to Jon. I ran into Sansa and I talked to her before that,” you share and glance at Jon to share a discreet smile. “It seems we got along quite well.”

Jon mirrors your discreet smile as he feels joy that his sister and you, his…lover? Paramour? Whatever, were getting along.

Yet, nevertheless that joy dies as soon as Daenerys adds her own comment on that same matter. “Your sister doesn’t like me.”

Jon brings you both to a stop to face her and address her now. “She doesn’t know you. If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t like me either when we were growing up.”

You try to smile as you feel intrigued, you want to learn more, but Daenerys interjects.

“She doesn’t need to be my friend…but I am her Queen.”

That’s true…but she doesn’t need to say it in such a threatening tone.

Jon notices her tone too, but of course he doesn’t say anything about it.

“If she can’t respect me,” Daenerys adds with a narrowed glare. Yet she doesn’t get to finish since the sound of men speaking Dothraki catches her attention and takes her towards them as they approach on their horses. Both Jon and you follow in tow—mostly you do because they’re coming from where the dragons are.

And once you reach Daenerys, you see that she and Qhono are sharing a conversation that seems quite serious, but you can’t understand.

Once Qhono and the other Dothraki begin to leave, he glances at you, but you avert his gaze and step closer to Jon as you talk to Daenerys.

“What’s the matter?” You ask.

“The dragons are barely eating,” Daenerys comments before she walks off and leads the way towards them.

Whilst she leads the way though, you don’t feel like running up to catch up to her, so you stay back and walk along with Jon.

“Tell me, why is it Sansa and you didn’t get along?” You queire.

Jon sighs and looks at the ground as he answers. “Because I'm a bastard, and because her mother didn’t like me, so it just became that way I suppose.”

You hum and let your arm brush against it. “And now? From the looks of it, it seems she likes you.”

Jon lifts his gaze and shoots you a smirk. “There’s a difference between you thinking it and facts…” he trails off before he can add the pet name you had said to him as he remembers about Daenerys.

“Oh,” you scoff and roll your eyes. “Haha. Actually,” you snap. “I am quite smart so it’s okay to quote me.” You shoot him a beaming smile that makes him smile.

And then since you can’t wait any longer you proceed to run up the hill as the dragons were just past it, regardless if you had dreaded it before. And as soon as you reach the top, beside Daenerys two dragons you see a saddle and two long horns sticking out of the snow, and just that since your dragon's body is hidden under the snow.

“Eraxis,” you call excitedly as you slowly make your way towards her. “<Where are you my love?>” You ask in high Valyrian.

The snow over her body begins to tumble down, and two dark gleaming eyes stand out against the snow as she pulls her eyes open while she stands up.

“You hide so well in the snow,” you tell her as you approach her.

It’s almost like she was made for it.

Regardless, the she-dragon then leans her large head towards you, letting you place your palms on her snout and slide them along her jaw to embrace her.

“What’s wrong with them?” You hear Jon ask Daenerys.

“They don’t like the North,” she answers bluntly, making you pull back from your dragon to snicker at Jon.

He actually proceeds to glance over at you to meet your gaze, he parts his lips to ask something, but then the sight of Rhaegal leaning towards him startles him.

“What about yours?” Jon interjects loudly over the noise of the dragons. “Does she like it here?”

You begin to walk to her side to grab the small spikes on her side, and climb up to your saddle—“I suppose she does, she hides well here.” You give Jon your answer once you’re sat on top.

Jon glances at you and then at Daenerys as Rhaegal stays by him.

“Go on,” Daenerys encourages him to climb on Rhaegal, much to your surprise because that’s not how it really works, dragons don’t just let anyone ride on them.

But then again she is their mother so maybe it is different for her dragons.

“I don’t know how to ride a dragon,” Jon snaps back with concern.

Daenerys glances over at you to share an amused and teasing look, but you keep your eyes on Jon as you grow concerned.

“Nobody does,” Daenerys says. “Until they ride a dragon.”

Jon meets your gaze so you can maybe counter, but she is right so you just offer him a partial assuring smile. Which doesn’t help ease his worry.

“What if he doesn’t want me to,” Jon asks and looks at Daenerys.

“Then I’ve enjoyed your company, Jon Snow,” Daenerys remarks.

Jon glances back at you and lets his eyes linger as he debates climbing on the green dragon. He then looks down and sighs before he finally breaks away from his spot and walks over to Rhaegal’s side.

As he begins to climb, you lift yourself off your seat and watch with concern. It’s not until he’s on top of the dragon and doesn’t get shaken off that you relax back down and finally begin to grin.

“What do I hold onto?” He yells out.

You lean over the saddle and grab onto your handles. “Whatever you can,” you tell him.

Jon looks down briefly to hold onto some of Rhaegal’s spikes over his neck.

You shoot him a soft enamored smile you can’t hide seconds before Rhaegal shoots up into the sky with Jon still on his back. And the sight of him riding on the dragon only makes your heart more happy, and it makes Eraxis run forward to then fly up after them.

Since Eraxis is bigger, and a couple years older, it only takes a couple flaps before she catches up to them as they fly over the castle.

When Jon notices you at his side you shoot him a smirk before you let go of your handles and sit up to throw your arms out. His face twists with deep worry, but you giggle before Eraxis flies faster, causing some snow on the roofs of the castle to be brushed off.

You then grab your handles again and look back to try and look at Jon again, but in that moment see Daenerys and Drogon fly down and pass you. You laugh but Eraxis then takes that as a challenge and begins to fly up. As she flies over them and casts a shadow above them, Drogon shoots up too.

“<Come on girl, let’s show them how it’s done,>” you encourage her in High Valyrian.

Eraxis listens right away and flaps her wings twice, managing to get ahead of Drogon. He tries to quickly surpass her, but she then tucks her wings back and dives down towards the white woods. Just before she can hit anything she straightens herself forward and continues ahead towards what seems to look like some canyon.

At that moment as you approach the canyon, Drogon and Daenerys manage to begin flying at your side. When you look over at her you shoot her a smile before you both look back and see Rhaegal and Jon way back.

You chuckle at him even if he can’t hear.

Furthermore, just as you reach the canyon, you look back ahead and begin to grin with excitement. Eraxis tucks her wings back again and dives down at the same time Drogon does. And since you know Jon and Rhaegal are approaching, just before Eraxis can fly straight ahead again, you begin to snicker and yell out, “Dracarys!”

Eraxis draws in a deep breath, making you rise up as her back rises before she opens her mouth and blows out a cloud of fire, letting her chest fall back down.

As she passes the fire and makes sure you don’t get caught up in it, you look back and see Rhaegal fly further down to avoid getting Jon burnt before he swings back up.

You laugh softly at Jon’s contorting faces, and just as you come approaching the end of the canyon you look ahead, catching Drogon and Daenerys fly out of it first as they get ahead. You try to surpass them, but just as you both fly up and ahead, Jon and Rhaegal turn and fly down, stealing your attention and making you follow him instead towards the ground.

When he gets down from Rhaegal he then walks over to Eraxis’s side and offers you his hand as you begin to climb down. You gladly take it when you can and let him help you reach the snow covered ground.

“Thank you,” you tell him and offer him a sweet smile.

You want to let your hand linger in his, but Drogon then lands so you slowly pull your hand away and let Jon lead you forward. Once Daenerys climbs down from her dragon and catches up Jon begins to lead the both of you ahead.

“You’ve completely ruined horses for me,” Jon says.

Daenerys and you laugh, but your laugh quickly dies down as you see the wide waterfalls ahead of you. They’re beautiful, utterly beautiful as the rocks and the land is covered in snow, as the smaller body of water falling on top only feeds the larger body of water at the bottom; as the lake below glistens an icy blue.

“We could stay here a thousand years,” you mumble with disbelief, forgetting Daenerys was nearby. “No one would find us.”

Jon’s lips twitch to a smile. “We’d be pretty old,” he comments.

You chuckle softly and turn around to look at him, but that’s when you see Daenerys and stop yourself from reaching him. Instead you spin back around and head for the falls.

“Are there caves behind the water I wonder?” You ask out loud and carefully run ahead, even if you can already feel this new yet familiar exhaustion on your bones.

“Y/N,” you hear Jon call out. “Be careful not to fall in.”

You yell back, “of course!”

You then reach a thin running creak and crouch down to dip the tip of your fingers in the water, feeling the heat warm your cold fingers. Footsteps begin to approach you so you look over and only notice Jon approaching you whilst you see Daenerys walk back to her dragon.

“Where is she going?” You ask and stand up.

“Back to the castle,” Jon answers. “I said I would stay here with you.”

You begin to smirk and stay in place to watch her fly off first. Once her dragon's shadow doesn’t loom over you, you finally meet Jon’s gaze and offer him a deeper smirk before you run over to him and throw your arms around him.

“You have me here all alone, whatever did you do?” You tease him.

Jon grabs your waist and scoffs softly. “Lure you here, it was easy,” he plays along.

You giggle and then lean in and press a kiss on his lips, making sure to deepen it right away, but savor the taste of his sweet lips as if you’re afraid you wouldn’t kiss him again.

Jon groans and presses you tighter against him, making your body blaze with desire.

However, before you can lead him towards the hot water warmed up by the hot spring, you first speak a truth you’ve felt lately.

“Jon, I…” you pause and swallow thickly. “When I’m with you…I feel happy. The happiest I felt in years. I don’t feel alone anymore, and for so long that’s all I’ve felt. Alone. Until I met you.” Your smile begins to wobble and your voice softens. “I know we’ve only known one another for a short time, but…”

“It’s as if we’ve known each other for a lifetime,” he finishes your sentence.

You laugh softly and nod. “Yes,” you whisper. “Exactly. I'm sorry for being so hard before, I just get in my head too much.”

Jon smiles softly and shakes his head. “It’s alright,” he assures you as he lifts his hand to caress your cheek. “Don’t worry.”

You let out a soft sigh and let the silence linger as you hold each other for a moment before you rest your forehead on his and find solace in his arms.

“Promise me,” you whisper. “That you are mine. For however long we have.”

Jon cups your cheeks with both hands and nods softly. “I promise,” he whispers. “Can you promise me the same?” He asks.

You grin softly and nod. “I promise you, my love, I am yours. As you are mine.”

Jon pulls back to pull you in for a deep passionate kiss on the white snowy lands, by the beautiful running waterfall.

——

*LATER*

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

It can’t….

The door opens and chains clink together as the maester walks into his working quarters. You stop pacing under the moonlight reflecting in through the shutters and clasp your hands together.

“Princess,” he gasps softly and freezes just in front of his closed door.

You blink rapidly and let out a deep breath before you break your silence. “Maester I’m sorry, I just need your help.”

The maester swallows thickly and nods. “Of course. Anything.” He averts his gaze and points to the small bed in the middle of the quarters. “Sit please.”

You glance at the bed and then look at the door whilst the maester begins to walk towards the side of the bed. Once you don’t hear any footsteps echoing nearby you make your way to the bed and take a seat, but sit very stiffly.

“What’s been wrong Princess?” The maester asks.

You glance at the dancing flames burning the logs in the fireplace across the bed, and begin to fiddle with your rings as the concerning symptoms become prominent in your head. “Well…over the past week…I’ve felt oddly and concerningly fatigued…more than usual. I…have begun to feel cravings…and nauseous over the smell of certain foods...” you pause and draw in a deep breath. “And I have had hot flashes even if it’s very cold here. And lastly…I've noticed that my breasts have been swollen…” you trail off and blink to look up at the maester who seemed to be looking at you with no judgment.

Yet you know there is some, generous servant or not, you’re an unmarried woman and people on this side of Westeros don’t like that.

“When was the last time you bled, Princess?” The maester asks.

You hum and think.

After the last time you lay with Qhono on the boat ride to Dragonstone you did bleed, you remember that. And then later on, after you lay with Jon for the first time…well…

Even after your own protests to not be with him, once you finally did accept those feelings, once you lay together you couldn’t get enough, you were too distracted to notice that you hadn’t—haven’t bled since then. Since being with him.

“A month ago,” you reply quietly and drop your eyes back on your fingers.

The maester sighs and pulls his sleeves back before he interjects. “May I?” He asks without really referring to what he intends to do since you know.

You meet his gaze and nod. The maester then takes one careful step closer and gently begins to feel one of your breasts, making you twist the ring on your finger much faster.

“Okay,” he breathes out and pulls his hand away to step back. “Well…it seems that you are with child, Princess.”

You didn’t want to believe it before, you had come up with the conclusion that you weren’t. But, even so, you had felt it all before so it’s hard not to know right away. But now that he confirms that truth the reality completely sinks in.

And it’s not joy you feel right away. Regardless if you know the baby is Jon’s, regardless if you do love him, it’s just…if he doesn’t want it…

And then there is Daenerys to consider. The Queen.

The maester notices your uneasiness to the news and lets out a soft sigh before he whispers, “if you want to…end the pregnancy, I can offer you Moon tea. You’re still early on, it will work.”

It’s tempting. Very much.

But it must be his choice too. Only because you do love him, and there is a part of you that does want this baby with him. But if he doesn’t want it then you won’t either. You won’t fight it.

“I’ll…talk to my…I’ll talk to the father first,” you say and meet the maesters gaze.

The maester nods in comprehension. “Okay, but I do suggest that the choice be made soon. Once the baby begins to develop further the tea won’t take effect.”

You swallow thickly and let your rings go. “Yes, I understand,” you mumble and then very quickly, like in a snap of the fingers you grow serious and menacing. “I do hope you know to keep this a secret.”

The maester clasps his hands together and bows his head in understanding, letting you feel assured enough to slide off the bed and head out.

Now to talk to Jon before you can prolong the news.

However, when you walk to his chambers he isn’t there. You take a quick look out at the people working on the trench but he isn’t one among them. You then go to the main hall where the meetings with the other lords take place, but he isn’t there. Albeit, in search for him, you do find Bran outside on his chair under the dark night.

“Lord Stark,” you greet.

Said boy blinks and looks up at you. “Princess,” he greets back. “Are you in search of someone?”

How accurate.

You nod. “Yes, in fact. Your brother.”

“He went down to the crypts, you may go,” he shares.

“Thank you,” you mutter, and before you can go you add one more question. “Do you need help getting inside? It’s quite cold out here.”

Bran shakes his head and remains serious. “No, I’m quite fine. Thank you. I’m waiting for an old friend.”

You draw in a small breath, and nod in comprehension whilst you slowly sigh and break away to now slowly head to the crypts just ahead.

However, once you take note of the stone wolves that stand guard outside the entrance you hesitate. Maybe…it’s best if you wait for him here.

Maybe—

You let out a deep sigh and let your hand hover over your belly.

He needs to know.

You enter the crypt and let your hand slide down the stone wall as you carefully walk down. And once you make it past the hall you see a very softly lit hall lit by candle fire, on your left is a long pathway that is lined up by statues of different Lords that lived here not so long ago, those of who lived here hundreds years ago, and those who lived here thousands years ago. All of them had a stone wolf on their side and a sword in their hand.

“Y/N?” Your name is called.

You snap your eyes away from the statues and see Jon ahead in front of one.

You offer him a faint smile and walk towards him as he walks to you to meet you halfway.

“Hey,” you whisper sweetly. “I’m sorry for coming down here, I know that I shouldn’t, but Bran said I could come in.”

Jon offers you an assuring smile and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, actually now that you’re I want you to meet my father,” he says and grabs your hand to pull you towards the statue of the Lord he had been in front of before.

“I may not have his name, but he always made sure to be my father,” Jon says.

You grab onto his arm with your other hand and press your cheek agaisnt him as you study the statue of the great Lord Eddard Stark.

He has his hair carved to his shoulders, a full beard, small carved eyes, and a wide nose. In his hands is a great sword, and beside him is a wolf. Nothing can be said of his looks since he’s only a statue now but him as a person though. It was said that he was one of the most honorable men of all the Seven Kingdoms, even if he had a son with another woman. His death also ignited a war that led to a lot of tragedy to his house. But he was a great man. Or so it’s said.

You believe it to be true since Jon is good. If he wasn’t that would say a lot about his father.

“You kind of look like him,” you interject.

Jon drifts his eyes to the side and presses your comment. “Do I?”

You giggle softly. “Yes. I see the resemblance.”

Jon hums and looks back to his father, letting your smile fall as your news only becomes more persistent now. To the point you can’t hold it back anymore.

“I need to tell you something,” you whisper and pull away from him to face him with a small frown and a sad look.

Jon shifts around and faces you with a concerned look. “What’s wrong?” He asks.

You begin to fiddle with your rings and avert your gaze. “It’s about us. Me…I suppose…” your heart begins to race and your stomach begins to twist, making you begin to feel nauseous again. “I know—oh gods. This is hard.” You sigh and slowly let your eyes flicker up to meet his dark concerned filled gaze.

“Lately,” you continue in a different way. “I have been feeling sick. At first I thought nothing of it, but as time has been passing I have come to realize that what I feel is not because I’m sick...” You let out another sigh. “I talked to the maester, he confirmed it. Jon…I’m…with child.”

You quickly drop your gaze to avoid his reaction, you can’t handle it if he’s upset.

“I'm sorry,” you mutter and feel tears well in your eyes. “I know how you feel about having a bastard of your own, so I can drink—”

“Y/N,” he cuts you off.

You close your mouth and slowly lift your gaze, noticing a soft gaze brightened by the candles flame beside you. You see a soft smile too on his lips. Yet you don’t feel comforted quite yet.

“Say something,” you mumble.

Jon approaches you and right away cups your cheeks and lets his gaze linger on you before he wraps you in an embrace. “Don’t apologize,” he assures you. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“Isn’t it?” You question and pull back to meet his gaze. “We’re not married, if the baby is born it will be born a bastard. I am fine with it, but I know your feelings, and I can’t obligate you to be fine with it.”

Jon shakes his head and grabs your hand to press a kiss on your knuckles. “Then we get married,” he inputs right away. “Tomorrow.”

Pity marriage.

You scoff and furrow your eyebrows as you narrow your gaze on him. “No,” you counter and step back. “I don’t want a pity marriage. You can’t just marry me because of the baby. Honor or not, I don’t want that.”

Jon steps toward you and continues to try and assure you. “No. I want to marry you. I swear that to you. I mean I was planning to wait, hope that I could ask you after we fought the Night King, but…now with the baby, it feels like a sign that we shouldn’t wait. Marry me.”

You share a breathless but happy laugh as you feel an array of happy emotions overflow you. But that quickly gets dampered by the thought of Daenerys. What would she think? What would they all think?

“What about Daenerys?” You ask. “Your people? Your family? No one is going to approve.”

“I don’t care,” he snaps. “For once I don’t care. Besides, Sansa likes you, you said it. Arya might look tough, but I’m sure that it won’t be hard for you to get along. And Bran…well…he doesn’t say much anymore.” He cups your cheeks and wipes the stray tears that roll down your cheeks. “And as for my people,” he continues. “They will have to learn to accept it won't they?”

You offer him a wobbly smile and press your forehead against his. He smiles and reaches over to gently place his hand over your belly. Albeit it’s a bit too high.

“Here,” you giggle and grab his hand to slide it further down. “Right now the baby is probably as big as a little pebble.”

Jon laughs softly and looks down at your belly. “You, me, Rhaenar, and our baby, we’ll be a family. A true family,” he whispers softly.

He so easily accepts that new reality. Maybe because he stubbornly thinks that he’s not truly a part of the Stark family, even though he is. So now in his own mind he is going to have his own family. A true family.

It makes it kind of hard not to get wrapped up in his dream when he says it. When you think about that fact.

“We will,” you whisper and wrap your hands around his neck.

“What do you say?” He questions. “We can marry tomorrow night. Under the Heart tree. It can just be us, your son, and my siblings. I know my family will accept you, because I love you. And we don’t have to tell anyone about the baby until after.”

Your smile trembles but you don’t cry, you just grin happily as you feel your heart flutter.

“Let’s do it. Just us,” you whisper against his lips. “Let’s not tell Daenerys or anyone from my side yet. Not until after.”

Jon grins happily and nods in agreement.

You mirror his grin and now relish in that excitement. In your own excitement to grow your family after losing so much already.

“Tomorrow night then,” you mutter and pull back to grin brighter. “I have the perfect dress.”

Jon squints his gaze and shoots you a perplexed gaze. “Oh. So you came prepared to marry?” He retorts.

You scoff and nod. “Well, I had to be prepared, sometimes good alliances come because of a marriage proposal. I had to be prepared in case.”

Jon hums and his lips once again turn to a smile. He parts his lips to say something, but then the sound of someone tripping and groaning steals your attention.

You and Jon then pull away from each other, and you follow him out towards the hall. That’s when you see a bigger built man that Jon calls, “Sam.”

His friend that he’s talked about before. The one from the Night's Watch.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to be down here,” Sam interjects.

Jon breaks away from your side to rush over to his friend and embrace him tightly.

When they pull away Jon looks back at you with a smile. “Y/N,” he says and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. “This is my best friend Sam.”

Said man’s eyes fall on you and a long frown forms on his face.

“Sam,” Jon continues and looks to his friend. “This is y/n.”

You offer Sam a happy smile. “It’s a pleasure,” you say. “Jon has spoken so much about you.”

“Princess,” he greets and bows his head. When he looks back at you all he musters is a partial and nervous smile.

“Were you hiding from me?” Jon asks Sam as he doesn’t notice his distress.

“Of course not,” Sam tells Jon and focuses on him.

“What are you doing in Winterfell?” Jon asks his friend. “Or did you read every book in the Citadel already?”

Sam doesn’t mirror Jons happiness, he remains serious. And finally Jon begins to notice.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asks him. “Gilly? Is she all right?”

“She’s good,” Sam mutters.

“Little Sam?”

Sam nods and takes one more nervous glance at you, giving you the clue to pull your hand away from Jon’s and excuse yourself so Sam can be at ease and share what he’s obviously holding back.

“I am going to check on my son,” you interject with a soft smile. “Good night.”

Sam bows his head and Jon steps toward you to rebuttal. “Are you sure? I can walk you to your quarters in a moment.”

You nod and assure him, “I’m sure. I’ll be fine walking on my own.” You shoot him a more happy smile before you turn around and begin to walk out.

“I’ll come by in a bit,” Jon says after you.

You wave back. “All right!”

Once you’re outside, under the stars all you can think about is tomorrow night….

Wait…

Is that what your dream means? The wolf and dragons song at night. The Blue Winter rose in front of the weirwood tree. Is the dream about him and you?

No. The dream is about Jon and you.

About your union. Tomorrow night.

.

.

.

.

A/N: I promise that the pregnancy is gonna be relevent to the plot!

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms

[writethelifeyouwant]

Show Me - Part 1

Pairing: Sam x Jack Rating: 18+ Part Tags: Bi!Jack, Bi!Sam, Age Difference, Pseudo-Incest, First Kiss, Mutual Masturbation, Pining!Sam, Eventual Dom/Sub Relationship, Dom!Sam, Switch!Jack Word Count: 3k Created for: @winklinebingo - Bisexuality | @spnkinkbingo - JackSam | @samwinchesterbingo - SAMasturbation

Beta: @raidens-realm Thank you so much for all your feedback going through this series, it has been so valuable ❤️

A/N: @jackandthesoulmates commissioned this piece and I’ve had so much fun coming up with all these sexy scenarios 🖤

Mini Series Masterlist

“Sam? Dean?”

“In here kid!” Dean answers Jack’s call loudly, taking another sip from his coffee mug, eyes not leaving the newspaper he’s reading. The boy bounds into the kitchen with the usual spring in his step, giving Sam one of his stationary waves in greeting when he enters. Sam nods and smiles at him, eyes dropping back to his laptop as he speaks.

“There’s more coffee if you wanted some.”

“Thanks,” Jack chirps and Sam hears him pouring himself a mug. He resolutely does not look up while Jack’s back is turned toward him. Jack takes a seat in the chair at the end of the table, looking between the brothers and their respective research efforts. He catches Sam’s eye and Sam looks up at him. Jack looks weirdly nervous, and Sam has a feeling he knows where this is going. He wants to come on whatever hunt they’re leaving for (as soon as they find one worth going on).

“Somethin’ on your mind, Jack?” Dean breaks the ice, folding his newspaper and pushing it aside. Sam braces himself to give Jack yet another gentle rejection, praying it doesn’t upset the kid too much.

“I want to known about sex,” Jack forces the words out into the open, and Sam opens his mouth ready to say ‘no’, but winds up gaping instead. That was so not what he was expecting. Dean clearly wasn’t ready for that question either, because he just barely stops himself from spitting coffee all over the table in surprise.

Dean eventually manages to swallow. Sam is still speechless. Jack looks awkwardly between them.

“Would– could you guys, maybe, um, teach me?” Jack looks down, playing with his fingers in his lap. Sam’s thoughts are going about fifty miles a minute, clogging up his brain to the point where nothing can get through the neural pathways that would result in actual words leaving his mouth. Dean notices and, probably assuming Sam is being a prude, steps up to bat, clearing his throat.

“Whaddya wanna know?”

Jack’s head shoots up, swivelling toward Dean, eyes full of hope. Sam is instantly bitter that Dean is the one on the receiving end of that look.

“Uh, everything,” Jack shrugs, and then the questions tumble out. “Like, how do I tell if someone wants to do it with me? Or, if I meet someone I want to do it with, how do I ask them? And, I suppose, how to actually... do it,” he finishes with a blushing glance at Sam, then looks back to Dean. “I asked Castiel, but he said you two would be much better suited as instructors.”

Dean scoffs and laughs under his breath. “Yeah, he’s not wrong about that. Dude’s only got laid like, one time.”

“So, you’ll show me?” Jack asks hopefully, looking between Sam and Dean, but Dean seems to be at a loss for words now, suddenly hesitant. Against his better judgment, Sam reaches out and clasps Jack’s shoulder bracingly, fingers curling into the warm cotton of the boy’s t-shirt.

“Sure thing, Jack,” Sam smiles, and he knows it was the right answer when Jack beams at him gratefully and his heart flutters in his chest.

“Hang on now, kid. I don’t know about showing you everything. I can show you how to pick up chicks and tell if they’re into you, but you wanna watch sex, just google porn,” Dean says gruffly.

“But what if I have questions about the porn?” Jack asks seriously, and Sam laughs at Dean’s horrified expression.

“How about this Jack, Sammy here will answer all your questions, and when you’re good and ready I’ll take you out and teach you how to talk to girls, and we’ll find you someone to try out all your new skills on,” Dean suggests.

Sam feels his chest tighten for a variety of reasons. He’s glad Dean doesn’t want to be the one walking Jack through how sex works, because the sick, twisted part of his brain very much wants that job to be his, but the idea of the two of them going out to pick up some stranger for the boy to lose his virginity to… Sam’s not such a big fan of that thought.

“What if I want to do it with a guy, and not a girl?” Jack asks innocently, and Sam’s heart sings. Dean takes a moment to consider and shrugs.

“Gay dudes are kinda like chicks, same shit should work on them.”

Sam drags a hand over his face in exasperation. “Dean, you cannot just say shit like that.” Honestly, sometimes it escapes him how he and Dean are even related.

“Whatever,” Dean shrugs, turning back to Jack. “It shouldn’t be that different. You into dudes, then?” he takes a sip of his coffee, curiosity on his face. Now it’s Jack’s turn to shrug.

“I don’t know. Do I have to decide?”

“You can like boys and girls, Jack,” Sam says gently, and Jack smiles. “I do,” Sam adds after a moment of deliberation. Jack smiles even wider.

“You do?” Jack blinks amazedly, and Sam nods. “So you’ve had sex with both, too? You know what it’s like?” he questions intently.

Sam laughs and nods again. “Yes, I know what it’s like. Anything you want to know, just ask.”

“But not in front of me,” Dean grunts and pushes back from the table. He brings his mug to the coffee pot and pours another cup for himself before walking toward the door. “When you’re ready to go take yourself out for a test drive, come find me.” Dean salutes them with his mug and walks off, leaving Sam and Jack sitting at the kitchen table.

“So, can we start now?” Jack asks eagerly, and Sam shrugs. They hadn’t found a hunt yet, so he supposes now was as good a time as any. He tries not to be too noticeably excited.

“Course, Jack. C’mon.”

Safely situated in his room, no chance of Dean overhearing conversations he doesn’t want to hear, Sam shuts the door and turns to face Jack. The younger boy is sitting on the end of Sam’s bed, cross legged, eyes eagerly upturned towards his teacher. Sam can’t choke back the smile that the sight brings to his lips.

“Okay,” Sam claps his hands together, just for something to do with them; so he doesn’t reach out and run them over his young pupil like a very large part of his mind is telling him to do. “What, uh… what do you want to know?” It’s a bit lame, but Sam figures it’s as good an opener as he’ll come up with in his current state.

“Um, I don’t know, really,” Jack starts after a moment of consideration. “It’s like, I know I don’t know much about sex, but because I don’t know about it I'm not sure what to ask. Does that even make sense?” he cringes, clearly embarrassed, if the flush now staining his cheeks is an accurate indicator.

Sam smiles sympathetically, heart melting a little at the earnest vulnerability Jack is trusting him with. He remembers being this scared of sex once, awkwardly fumbling his way through asking Dean how to kiss, and Dean just throwing a couch cushion at his head and telling him to pucker up. He would do better for Jack.

“Okay so, start at the beginning, I guess,” Sam laughs under his breath and sits on the bed next to Jack, bringing one leg up under himself to get more comfortable. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” Jack shakes his head ‘no’, but the response is free of embarrassment. “Is there anyone you have in mind that you think you’d like to kiss?” Now the embarrassment comes back, flushing Jack’s skin a ruddy shade of pink.

“There’s um, there’s this girl,” Jack stutters, clearly struggling with the words. Sam feels his heart sink in his chest, but he fights to keep a smile on his face and ignore the wrench in his gut.

“You don’t have to tell me who, it’s okay,” Sam assures Jack, giving his leg a comforting pat. Jack stares down at Sam’s hand fixedly.

“Will you show me how?” he blurts out, eyes jerking back to Sam’s face, apprehensively awaiting his response. Sam is dumbstruck. Two sides of an argument arm themselves in his mind, preparing for the ensuing war, but before any attack can be launched Sam subconsciously declares the victor. He nods. Jack’s smile of gratitude obliterates the moment of guilt he’d felt.

“C’mere,” Sam scoots a little closer as he speaks, beckoning Jack into him. The boy comes eagerly, knee knocking against Sam’s as he inches across the bed. Sam’s hand goes to Jack’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone tenderly, holding this moment temptingly between them, and letting the anticipation build until all he can hear is the sound of his own heart drumming in his ears. He wonders for a moment if Jack can hear it too. Then he kisses him.

The lessons with Sam are going well. Jack and him had practiced kissing for ages the day before, and Jack had found that he really, really likes kissing Sam. Dean had interrupted them around lunch time – just as Sam had been explaining what ‘first base’ was, and how it would make more sense why it was a big deal when he tried it with a girl – to retrieve Sam for the hunt he’d managed to track down.

Sam had left him some homework for their ‘lessons’, to help Jack pass the time, which he was now eagerly completing. Laptop on the bed before him, Jack pulls up the first article Sam had found for him and begins to read. It’s all very clinical, very scientific. Jack understands a bit more about everything when he’s finished, but it hasn’t answered his most burning questions. He still wants to know how it all feels. And how to actually do everything the article is telling him about. Some of it he still can’t quite picture. But now, at least, he has a better idea of what questions to ask Sam when he returns.

Sam and Dean are back a few days later, in relatively good spirits considering they waltz into the bunker covered in some kind of monster goo. Jack greets them with a wave and a ‘hello’ when they make their way to the kitchen and crack out their celebratory beers. Sam gives one to Jack too, and he thrills at the small brush of Sam’s fingers against his own when he hands over the bottle. He’s missed those fingers; wants to feel them on his face again; in his hair; on his skin…

“So, Jack,” Dean finishes his beer with a smack of his lips, “I was gonna hit a bar, see what I can see. You wanna come?” He gives Jack a lecherous grin, and Jack looks to Sam, who’s shaking his head in amusement at Dean.

“I think I might need more time before I’m ready to go on a date,” Jack turns Dean down politely, and out of the corner of his eye Jack sees Sam smile.

“Suit yourself, see you two later.” Dean twirls the keys to the Impala around his finger as he hops up the kitchen stairs back towards the garage, and a fun filled night of fornication.

“So, did you have any more questions?” Sam asks as soon as Dean is out of earshot, and Jack turns to him, grinning.

“Yes,” Jack nods assertively. Sam chuckles, low and warm.

“Alright, I’ll grab us a few more beers and we can go back to my room.”

Jack can barely contain his excitement. “Are we gonna practice kissing again?”

Sam pauses for a moment, his back to Jack as he reaches for more beer from the fridge, but when he turns back around he’s smiling. “Yeah Jack, we can practice more.” He takes a deep breath and kicks the door to the fridge closed behind him. “Maybe we can practice some other stuff too.”

Sam knows he’s awful. He’s a horrible, manipulative, horny-as-all-hell guy who is taking advantage of what could have been a perfectly innocent situation. But he can’t help it. Once he’d gotten a taste of Jack on his tongue, he knew he was lost for good. What’s the point of trying to find his way back out of this dark, twisted maze if he knows he’ll never make it? Might as well enjoy it since he’s here now.

“Did you read the article I sent you?” Sam checks when they’re safely ensconced in his room again. Jack nods and settles himself on the end of Sam’s bed, just like last time. Sam feels his heart jump in his chest, rhythm beginning to race. His mouth feels dry when he goes to ask his next question, so he takes a sip of his beer and tries again.

“Do you touch yourself Jack? The way it talked about in the article?”

Jack shakes his head, and Sam’s breath catches in his throat. Fuck, why was that so hot?

“Okay, I think that’s what we should practice next.”

“Okay,” Jack agrees quickly, eyes bright and excited.

“Come up here with me,” Sam moves to the top of his bed and props his pillows against the headboard, to give them something to lean on. Jack follows him and lays back on the bed, copying Sam. Sam feels his soul descend one more step down the ladder towards Hell, but he pushes the feeling away for now.

“Now what?” Jack asks.

“I want you to think of that girl you like, okay?” Sam starts, glancing over at Jack and seeing him nod. “Close your eyes, and imagine what kissing her might feel like. Think about how it felt when we were kissing.”

He sees the colour beginning to rise in Jack’s cheeks, notices his breath hitch on his inhales. He traces his eyes lower down, to focus on Jack’s waist, hips, groin. Sam reaches out and takes one of Jack’s hands in his own, then carefully places it over the boy’s lap.

“Now I want you to keep thinking about kissing that girl, and I want you to start rubbing yourself right here.”

Jack makes a small whimpery noise, and Sam’s eyes flick to his face. His cheeks are bright red now. Looking back down to the boy’s hand, Sam can see he’s following his instructions, and a bulge is already beginning to grow beneath his hesitant touch.

“Does that feel good, Jack?” Sam asks, voice a little scratchy. Jack nods, eyes still blissfully shut. Sam can’t hold back any longer, and drops his own hand to his lap, where he’s already well on his way to being fully aroused.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers between them, and Jack looks his way. His pupils are so large, the normally blue eyes are nearly eclipsed in black. “Watch me,” Sam breathes.

Slowly, Sam unzips his jeans and dips his hand inside. Giving his cock a squeeze, he lets out a short moan, bucking into his own grasp. After this moment of indulgence he shifts his hips, gets the clothing a little farther down, out of the way, and pulls himself out, on full display. Jack’s eyes are fixed on him, mesmerised by the movement of his hand up and down over the flesh. From the corner of his eye, Sam sees Jack fiddling with his own zipper nervously.

“Take yours out too. Show me,” Sam’s voice is gruff. Jack complies, and a thrill shoots through Sam at his easy obedience. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight of Jack’s erection in his hand. The things he wanted to do with that cock… but he takes a breath, pulls his focus back to the present. He starts to jack himself off, watching Jack’s hand brushing gently up and down his own dick while he does, to make sure he’s doing it right, Sam tells himself weakly.

“Oh my god,” Jack moans, speeding his hand up a little to copy Sam.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?” Sam chuckles, fingers teasing the tip of his cock. Jack makes a pretty little whimper when he tries the same thing.

“Is this what sex feels like?” he asks breathlessly.

“Sex feels even better,” Sam admits through a groan, his dick twitching in his hand. “Pushing your cock inside something warm, and wet, making it yours…” he trails off, reaching his other hand down to cup his balls while he bucks into his fist. “Fuck, Jack, it feels incredible.”

“Holy… shit,” Jack swears, gritting his teeth over the word, and Sam has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. The boy’s face is a wreck, bright red, and straining with pleasure.

“Jack, look at me,” Sam instructs gently, and Jack turns his head to Sam obediently.

In the same moment, they both lean forward to kiss. Jack pokes his tongue out, traces it over Sam’s lips the way Sam had shown him, and Sam lets him in, sucking the boy’s tongue between his teeth and tangling it with his own. Jack moans and whines, and Sam can feel his hips bucking and shaking the bed each time they land.

“Sam,” Jack groans, voice trapped high and tight in the back of his throat. “Sam, something’s…” he gasps, hips bucking again. “Sam, what’s happening?”

“Just let it happen Jack,” Sam breathes, eyes glued to Jack’s face, which is screwed up in anticipation of his coming climax, though he doesn’t know that’s what it is. “It’s gonna feel so good baby boy, just keep going. Let it happen.” He hadn’t meant to call Jack ‘baby boy’, but it was out there now, and he wasn’t taking it back.

“Saaaam,” Jack whines again, hand flying across his dick, every other muscle in his body pulled taut, waiting.

“Cum for me, Jack,” Sam whispers against his lips. “Just let it go. Want you to cum for me, baby boy.” Sam hears Jack’s strangled yell, and knows what’s happening. Looking down just in time, he sees the final spurts of Jack’s orgasm leak out over the boy’s hand, just as he feels his own hit hotly against his skin.

Part 2 coming to Tumblr on November 13th or read now on my website!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @jackandthesoulmates @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore @drakelover78

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @alaufeyson @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

[barnesandco]

Ayesha’s 1k+ Writing Challenge!

Writing Challenge Submission Masterlist

Hey, everyone, I'm so happy to be back online - I think I was only gone for a week so that announcement was very extra of me - and to be introducing my first writing challenge! I'm so honored and flattered that so many people enjoy my work, and I'm incredibly grateful for your support since I joined this community. Tumblr is my greatest escape, and you've made it a very welcome and comforting one. 

A sense of community and friendship is particularly important in these trying times, and I extend my heartfelt prayers to everyone struggling right now. I'm here to listen if there's anything you need to say, and I'm sorry I can't do much more than be a metaphorical shoulder to cry on, and to offer this distraction as a brief reprieve from whatever you might be going through.

In order to present a gift of relief, and to share and create more stories of heroism - not that any of it can ever compare to the courage displayed by our health professionals and essential workers these days - and to honor and promote our collective of Marvel fanfic writers, I've decided to host a writing challenge. You don't have to follow me to participate - although that would be appreciated - you just need to follow the rules I've outlined under the cut. If you need clarification on anything, don't hesitate to ask! I hope you'll join, and I look forward to seeing what everyone comes up with. 

Rules:

Your fic can be about any character(s) from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. You can also include original characters that you create. If you want to write a romantic fic, I think it goes without saying that it shouldn't be underage (or having an excessive age gap), non/dub-con, incest, abuse, power imbalance/manipulation (e.g. employer x employee or teacher x student), etc. 

The sky’s the limit when it comes to the type or genre of the story, so let your imagination fly! You can write reader-inserts, pairings of pre-existing characters, OCs, or even just solo fics about the character you've chosen. I'm open to canon fics, AUs, fluff, smut, angst, romance, platonic fics, and whatever else you guys can dream up. (If you're writing smut, please let me know, as there are some additional guidelines I'm setting for that.) 

Word count is minimum 250 words, and anything above 500 words must have a keep reading tab. Multi-chapter fics will obviously be accepted - and with a lot of enthusiasm! - but please make a masterlist for any such series.

Kindly include any and all warnings that apply to your story.

The deadline for submission is the 31st of December, 2020.

Please tag me @barnesandco​ in the completed fic - and in every chapter of a series if you've chosen to write one - and also tag your work with #ayesha1kwritingchallenge. If I don't acknowledge that I’ve seen your work within a week of you posting it, please DM me.

One entry is allowed per participant, and you can send in an ask or a DM to participate, in which you should mention the one prompt you would like to use and for which character(s) from the list below.

Prompts

Dialogue Prompts:

"You fell asleep on me." --Taken by @lancsnerd

"Screw you." --Taken by @need-a-fugue

"I've got this." --Taken by @filia-sapientiae​

"I'd never forgive myself for it." --Taken by @oreostars​

"I trust you." --Taken by @readerandcinephileingeneral

"Oh, I'm so offended." --Taken by @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall​

"Who, me? I would never." --Taken by @kaunis-sielu

"I don’t want to hate her/him/them." --Taken by @suz-123

"I can't explain it, but loving her is just… easy." --Taken by @littledarlinwrites

"You're my everything." --Taken by @chrisevansdaddycap​

"Leave me alone." --Taken by @constantaking​

"That's disgusting." --Taken by @ruffalomakesmyday​

"What on God's green earth was that for?" --Taken by @sweetwritesx​

"Is that a threat?" --Taken by @glxy-otter​

"Promise. Please just- promise me." --Taken by @blue-like-barnes​

"Oh, I could kiss you right now, you brilliant, brilliant woman/man/person!" --Taken by @megthemewlingquim

"You know that'll never work on me." --Taken by @allaboardthereadingrailroad​

"I'd let you if you asked." --Taken by @wordywarriorwrites

"___, I swear to God, if you do that again, I'll feed you to Tony's stupid robot." --Taken by @nekoannie-chan

"You can't do this." + "Then I'll die trying."

"You're stronger than anyone I've ever known." --Taken by @companionjones

"How did I get here?" --Taken by @thestorydetective​

"Why are you smiling this wide this early in the morning?" --Taken by @tinymalscoffee​

"What's the worst that could happen?" --Taken by @phant0m-queen​

"I can't believe they haven't caught us yet." --Taken by @indyluckycharlie​

Song Prompts:

Watermelon Sugar - Harry Styles --Taken by @softpeachbarnes​

Finally//Beautiful Stranger - Halsey --Taken by @shield-agent78​

To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra --Taken by @whistlingwillows​

Floating - Alina Baraz ft. Khalid --Taken by @chuuulip​

Summertime - Ella Fitzgerald

Wind Beneath My Wings - Bette Midler

To Die For - Sam Smith --Taken by @hailhydra920​

I Scare Myself - Beth Crowley

Speechless - Dan + Shay --Taken by @captain-kelli​

Growing Pains - Alessia Cara

Levitating - Dua Lipa --Taken by @samingtonwilson​​

Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers --Taken by @mermaidxatxheart​

Human - Christina Perri

10 000 Hours - Ella Mai

Despacito - Luis Fonsi ft. Daddy Yankee

Let's Do It - Ella Fitzgerald --Taken by @smediumsmeatbae​

Honey - Raveena --Taken by @opalsandlace

Talk Too Much - COIN --Taken by @subtlebucky​

Put a Little Love on Me - Niall Horan --Taken by @buckysbest​

Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran

Meet Me on the Battlefield - SVRCINA

Centuries - Fall Out Boy

Titanium - David Guetta ft. Sia

Stay - Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko --Taken by @jalapenobarnes-main​

Eyes Open - Taylor Swift --Taken by @helahades​

One-Line Prompts:

Recovery is tender, straining yellow-blue over his/her/their shoulders and delicate in the shadow of his/her/their smile. --Taken by @iced-capsicle

Laughter tastes like cotton candy. --Taken by @rogersumbra

" All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages." -As You Like It, William Shakespeare --Taken by @shakespeareanqueer​

How do you miss something you never had? --Taken by @shellbilee​

They're stuck, and it's all ___'s fault. --Taken by @buckybarney​

Gabe Jones' French skills come to good use. --Taken by @raindroptv​

Self-discovery is a path nobody likes taking, but sometimes, there is no other choice.

"Demons run when a good man goes to war." - Doctor Who, Steven Moffat --Taken by @harley-sunday​

Star-crossed lovers find a galaxy to take refuge in from the rest of the universe. --Taken by @sgtjbuccky​

The Second Law of Thermodynamics states that everything goes from order to disorder. --Taken by @alyxkbrl​​

One-Word Prompts:

Sacrilege

Bibliophile --Taken by @nacho-bucky​

Soldier --Taken by @writing-mermaid​

Chrysanthemum(s)

Schadenfreude

Deja Vu

Picasso

Self-Partnered

Petrichor --Taken by @redhairedfeistynerd​​

Serendipity --Taken by @xoxoeeveewritez​​

Momentum

Equilibrium

Entropy

Resplendent

Anemone(s)

Effervescence

Sweetheart

Absolute

Echo --Taken by @wintersoeldiers​​

Nefarious

Picture prompts:

1. Taken by @infj-slytherclaw​

2. Taken by @starrysebastians​

3. 

4. 

5. Taken by @corneliabarnes​

6. 

7. Taken by @bucky-smiles​

8. Taken by @monarchofallisurvey​

9. 

Special thanks to the following authors, who not only inspired and initiated my desire to write, but then encouraged me, supported my work, and were - and still are - tremendously helpful. Others in the following list I befriended later on, and I'm so grateful that I did, because they've helped transform my experience on this site, too. Point is, all of these people are so kind and amazing and marvellous beyond what words can describe. Thank you:

@samingtonwilson @suz-123 @nacho-bucky @evanstarff @tropicalcap @kentuckybarnes @buckyreaderrecs @mermaidxatxheart @corneliabarnes @buckyland​ @bucky-smiles​ @sebbytrash​ @jalapenobarnes​

And thank you of course to my wonderful, magical followers who comment and reblog my stories, and give me all the praise I do not deserve. Thank you for your kindness and your enthusiasm - I cherish it and do everything I can to earn it. Special mentions:

@readerandcinephileingeneral​ @notsomellowmushroom​ @sonjashuterbugjohnson​ @anjali750​ @severelytinyeagle​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @parmisaanowl @starnight-charmer​ @alyxkbrl​

I'd like to conclude by saying that I debated whether or not to host this writing challenge now, in a time like this. I decided to do so in the end because I need it. Call me selfish, but I need a reprieve. I need to feel like this disaster that has us surrounded right now isn't all there is to the world. And if I've learnt anything from being on this platform, it's that you're very rarely alone. So I hope that this activity can provide some semblance of hope for others that feel the way I do, and if not, then at least a little escape.

So my last but not least thank you goes to everyone who participates in this challenge and thereby makes this shelter from the world's storm, a little stronger, a little safer, and a little warmer. 

I’m excited to see what everyone comes up with, and I look forward to making some new friends. Thank you all and good luck!

[narukuwrites]

002. Part 8

Words: 3,592 Tags: Merman AU, Angst, Drama, Magick, and Witchery, Fluff, Mention of forced incest Summary: Ralph decides its time to give Connor and Markus some answers with regards to recent events, Josh is satisfied that Connor isn't an immediate threat and has an honest chat with North, Kamski learns that Connor has gotten rid of his bracelets and decides another visit with Amanda is needed, North realises she's driven a wedge in the friendship she has with the others and decides to make amends.

Authors Note: So here is the next part a day early! Surprises ahoy! I may edit this chapter later but we’ll see.

Ralph had watched all of this unfold quietly and it was clear that Connor and Markus, who from what he could gather was the leader of Jericho. It was interesting but not surprising that Markus had been quick to ensure that Connor was kept safe and that wasn't uncommon - there was something his friend hand, even if he was wholly unaware of it. Queen Chloe had spoken to him during the times when Connor was busy dealing with the politics and responsibilities that came with a being a royal heir and prince to a throne which would one day Connor would be sat upon.

Chloe wasn’t an ordinary mer but she had chosen that form, she had been capable of not only being able to cure and create life within the oceans, but to also have the ability to tip the balance and ensure that one who was deserving of her, would have all the success that he wanted. And when Connor had been born, almost all of that was now within him. There would be someone who her son would find worthy and noble enough to grace that being with his gift, his power. To have Connor by your side would guarantee you the success and favorable circumstances in all of that person’s endeavors and actions, but to someone who was truly deserving of it. Connor it seemed had chosen that to be Markus.

When the new merman came in, however, the dynamic in the room changed and Ralph should he need it - had his knife close at hand and would not think twice about using it. He has promised to keep Connor safe always, he would not break his promise to the Queen who had been more of a mother to him, then his own was. And so when Connor spoke seemingly dissolving the tension between them all and letting his touch soothe Markus, he felt himself relax a little but he didn't let go of his knife - that was hidden in the bag he was holding. And with his free hand sent the dark-skinned mer a cordial wave when Markus introduced him.

 "He is a friend of mine, yes, Connor this is Josh.." Markus paused to send his friend a glare ignoring the affronted look he was given and continuing on. "..Connor this is Josh and the shy blonde is Ralph, his brother.." and he felt himself let out a sigh of contentment as the brunette spoke once more in that beautiful eloquence that seemed to come naturally to the brunette.

"It's nice to meet one of Markus' friends, he speaks quite fondly of you. I hope I haven't caused any inconvenience in keeping your friend from his responsibilities. But he was showing me around your wonderful home - it truly is a marvel. Ralph and I look forward to seeing it fully...."

Josh didn't quite know how to respond to the mer, that he'd been introduced to but he felt that he didn't have to worry about anything untoward - if anything that everyone had said earlier that he had queried were indeed correct. And his gaze fell upon a blonde mer behind Connor and Markus and gave a wave back and tried not to focus on the fact the face of said mer - was scarred and damaged.

"Ah its, nice to meet you too, but please don't be sorry I shouldn't have barged in so abruptly - it should be doing the apologizing but thank you for your praise. Jericho is indeed something we've proud of.," he said and he did genuinely feel guilty for interrupting and so he was thankful when Connor and Markus too didn't hold it against him.

"We're all good Josh these things happen your worry was understandable. I won't be too much longer here but am I right in assuming that you saw I already went ahead and began processing everything with Connor and Ralph. I will need to spend a bit more time with Connor - to see how he can help us..." Markus said in a manner that you couldn't help to be drawn to.

"As I was explaining to Markus, I am happy to help in whatever way I can. I am quite adept at a myriad of things, but when Markus has a clearer understanding of things. You can be rest assured you and the others will be informed and perhaps who knows we'll work together, on exciting new endeavors.." Connor added before sending Josh a smile that was both reassuring and warm.

"Sure that sounds good. Find us when you've sorted it out but don’t rush please.." Josh told Markus before focusing his attention on the other two, Jericho's newest arrivals. "Welcome to Jericho, I hope you settle in comfortably but don't be afraid to seek out myself or the others if you need anything - we're a family here.." he added and that was true. Jericho in itself was a large amalgamation of people from all kingdoms and all levels of society - that co-existed a lot of the time peacefully, and there was the odd disagreement at times but nothing overly escalating into something that would cause a problem in the long term.

"Thank you, I'll bear that in mind Josh.." the brunette said and he felt happy hearing those words from the brunette and felt a bit disappointed when Connor's attention was focused once more on Markus. But he pushed that notion aside and nodded before swimming off and leaving his friend with the two new mer's, feeling a lot lighter and relieved than when he had entered.

Markus didn't like the fact that Connor, as used Josh's name, the sudden need to possess the newcomer to their cause, was something that he couldn't explain but he for some reason knew that the other mer felt the same. And as soon as Josh was gone he wrapped his arms around that lithe, slightly defined with subtle musculature and holding Connor close and letting out a happy sigh when those arms did the same.

"Don't worry the jealousy you felt will pass,. I meant what I said earlier, before the interruption - but I don't know to what extent that will encompass. Know that I will be here for you though..."

The change Connor felt in himself was something very liberating and he felt freer than any time before in his life and he wondered if maybe it was more then just Markus that was the cause. Ralph's words from earlier resonated deeply with him and it made him wonder just how much his friend knew. "Ralph, what you said earlier? You know something more, don't you? About me..?" he asked his friend and shifted a little to allow for Markus and him to lay down comfortably.

Ralph nodded and let out a quiet sigh, he had known this moment would come but for as prepared as he was, it was still a little terrifying but nevertheless he would impart onto Connor as much as he knew, and since it involved Markus now as well, he was the one his friend had inadvertently chosen. "I'll do my best to try to explain it, but your mother gave me something she wanted to you have as well.." he told his closest friend and almost brother as he took a small tome one that Connor would no doubt recognize and handed it over to him.

When Ralph pulled out his mother's notebook he felt a myriad of emotions go through him as he took the proffered item and held it to his chest tightly and closed his eyes and he could feel the phantom warmth of his Mother's arms wrapped around him and he let out a sob and allowed Markus to pull him closer, giving him his support. He missed her terribly and the thought of seeing his beautiful Mother, pale and gaunt as the illness took her that was not how he would remember her. No his mother was beautiful and kind.

"You should read that when you feel you are ready. Know that I had to write for her as her state deteriorated and I know you don't want to reminisce about that time, I do not want you to - but it was so you would know why the writing changes.." Ralph said and it was upsetting for him to see that Connor was a little upset but having Markus nearby helped to alleviate that from worsening.

Markus knew that he couldn't really do much aside from being here for Connor and although this was a private moment he felt privileged for being allowed to share it with these two newcomer mer's - who it would seem would change a lot of things for him. And he still had fears of course but hearing that Ralph would do his best to perhaps make all of this easier to understand - that would be a start. But regardless of what or whom Connor was, Markus knew one thing, that he would not let the brunette mer go.

"She is Nyai Loro Kidul, the Goddess of the Sea.," Ralph said quietly. "She chose to live the life of an ordinary mer though when she came across your father - who sought her out and unlike the rest of her suitors wasn't scared of who she was and stole her heart. And you Connor - you were her greatest treasure and her entire world..."

Markus was speechless by what he had just heard, there were many myths surrounding the Goddess of the Sea, she was a deity they still worshipped she controlled the seas and took the souls of any who she wished for. But there were other stories and whisperings. And Connor was her son, did that make him a deity also? Was the reason he felt the pull towards him because of that, he felt confused and was pulled from his thoughts by someone's warm hands cradling his face - and all of what he had thought a moment ago was gone.

"I don't like seeing you worried and lost in thought, stay with me - I'm right here Markus.." Connor told his handsome darker tan mer that he held a great fondness and desire for. The need and want to give Markus all that he sought, regardless of the cost.

"Ralph..thank you for telling me who my mother was, but I think you will need to explain what that means for Markus and I - as well as yourself and well..." he paused and looked to his friend. Who seemed to understand and carried on explaining things further.

"I don't quite know what your Mother meant, she did her best to try to explain it to me but you hold a great deal of power within your entire being Connor, the power to control the seas, the life within it and to grant someone you know to be worthy, your boon to help them achieve what it is they desire - no matter the cost.." he paused a sadness going through him at the fact the cost was heavy for such - but Connor had the right to know and so he carried on.

"The cost of helping Markus and all of those within these walls could cost you your life Connor but truthfully I think there is a way to avoid it if you decide to limit how much you help. Queen Chloe, your mother wrote all of what that entails in her book, which you now have. I have never read any of those pages though.." Ralph added honestly and he hadn't. He would never invade Connor's privacy and he had kept his promise.

--

Elijah let out snarl at the fact that the rite he had performed hadn't given him a clear indication of where Connor was, only a rough idea of where he had been. Connor might have taken off his bracelets but it was a good place to start the search - but he would need to do a few things first. In his absence, he would have to make sure the council was bound to his will and ensure that his Kingdom, would continue to run smoothly. It would mean he would have to visit Amanda, something he wasn't particularly fond of doing but their alliance was one that had its advantages, although the cost had been rather high for the presiding King. But it was a cost he was fine with paying and it would perhaps come in handy - now that he was closer to finding where exactly Jericho's location was and getting his son back.

He had expended a lot his energy in doing so but he would stop at nothing to make sure Connor was back here with him. His son would guarantee him everything he wanted and it had been worth it, to court and woo his mother - who unbeknownst to everyone was a Goddess and she had been a beautiful and he had truly cared and loved her but that faded with time and when Connor was born, the dynamics between them changed.

The queen was still alluring of course, but it was clear that almost all of his wife's power was now within their child, and so his wife had spent all of her days secluded in the beautiful garden then she attended to. And Elijah wanted to possess all of the power available to him, that was an attractive quality he craved and sought. To have Connor disregarding the fact he was his son, as his queen and consort would ensure his Kingdom and indeed the very ocean and all within it - were his to command. And wasn't that a wonderful thing?

He smiled at the thought, his sudden anger at not being able to locate his son properly falling away as he knew that soon, he would grasp that power once again. And he would take the time to properly claim and worship it. How his son had willingly accepted given into his touches and ministrations in the library - that seemed like an eternity ago now but soon he would have all the time in the world, to explore and take all of what Connor would willingly give him. He would keep Connor safe and away from greedy, grasping hands that weren't his own.

 And with a dark smile, he stretched and lay down on the bed his son occupied and slept in and decided that a short nap would be sufficient enough to help him get back some of the energy he had expended. Dark mer magick was something that took a little bit of one's life energy each time a rite required for a spell was done, but considering it was one of the most powerful forms of mer witchery such a price was the cost - something that he had found a balance for. Those touches he had given his son over the years, along with those bracelets had ensured that any that he spent was given back to him. But now that it was no longer the case he needed to see Amanda but first he would rest and with a tired yawn let

"Soon you'll be back with me Connor.." he murmured as he closed his eyes and let the lingering yet fading scent of his son coax him into the realm of welcoming slumber.

--

"So you're telling me you left Markus there? With the two new arrivals...?" North asked a little perplexed and trying to figure out just why the sudden change had occurred. Sure it wasn't unusual for their friend to do his best to be involved in every aspect and area of Jericho - but from what Josh had told her, this felt like something more. And although she wasn't particularly keen on the fact this was maybe perhaps because of what Lucy had said, it was still good to see Markus being more pro-active. Recently she had noticed that he'd been a little lackluster with everything and she couldn't blame him - everything they planned with regards to taking back the kingdom, each plan seemed to have something which wouldn't make it successful or if it did - the cost was too high.

"Well I don't think either of them poses a threat, I mean we did want Markus to get more involved with things - so technically he's doing what we wanted him to..?" Josh replied as he took another bite of the mackerel he has bought from one of the stalls on his way back from where he had left their leader. He felt a lot more at ease now, for some reason it felt right to have Connor here. Jericho was a haven for everyone and he was sure that whatever had caused the attractive brunette mer to come to them, it must have been something pretty bad.

"You're right I guess. Say, Josh, do you think I've been a little too harsh on Simon..?" North asked it had been a few days since they had their disagreement and it was distressing for her to know that she was the reason why Simon had been avoiding being near her and Josh, the divide between them was something that had become noticeable and she found herself missing Simon's calm aura and friendly nature. Without him everything was unbalanced and it felt wrong. Simon was supposed to be with them and instead she has driven him out.

"You've been a bitch to him, yeah but I think you can still work things out. I won't be the middle-man for this though, this is something you should do for both Simon and yourself. You need to let go of the past North, you are strong and I know you can do it.." Josh finished what was left of his mackerel before speaking again. "..You can let your emotions show none of us will think you weak because of it and you will be all the stronger for it. Instead of dwelling on the past - think of the future and all the possibilities it holds.."

North listened as Josh spoke, he out of all of their little group was the one that had always balanced her out, even when they had disagreements they had still managed to find a way to make it agreeable to both of them. It was nice to have his support and until recently she hadn't really given much thought as to romance - she'd been around three mermen all her life. All of them had been her brothers in a way, but she had found herself over the last while gravitating towards Josh and with everything that had happened recently - it only made her come to realize that he seemed to spend a lot of time with her also.

She was more comfortable around these three than anyone else and many times in the past she had hung out and socialized with the many other mermaids that resided within the walls of Jericho- but found it very overwhelming, even though they had all been so welcoming, she still felt like the oddity and they were seemingly very curious as to what it was like, working in close proximity of not one but three mermen. Many of whom seemed to be fairly smitten with all three of them, but Josh, however, had been a favorite and she didn't know how she felt about that. They had admired her also, a mermaid being high up within Jericho's hierarchy even though they didn't technically have one, she was still essentially one of the three second in command that Markus had.

And so when she had been distracted by her thoughts she hadn't noticed that Josh was not sitting rather close to her with a soft, concerned almost loving look in those lovely eyes of his. "I..yeah you're right I've been a bitch and I will fix things with Simon, this divide I've created it hurts me a lot and I didn't mean to but  - " she broke off though mid-sentence when Josh reached out and took her hand, in a gentlemanly manner which made her suddenly feel very warm.

"I'm here for you North. I won't be going anywhere. Come to see me when you've talked with Simon - there is something I want to tell you.." Josh said to her earnestly before giving her a smile and adding. "..Something I've been wanting to tell you for a while but never found the time to.."

"Sure, Josh. I'll come to you after.." North replied suddenly feeling butterflies in her stomach and watching as Josh swam off in that calm meander his movements always tended to have. Taking a deep breath to calm herself she nodded and made her way towards the topmost part of Jericho - where the deep sea garden was. Here in the deeper depths of the ocean, there was plant life of course - just as colorful in its own right as those in the shallower seas. It was a place many a mer from Jericho went to enjoy the quiet solitude that all mer needed.

North just hoped that Simon would accept her apology and that Josh was right - she needed to let go of the past and instead focus on the future. But witchery and mer magick was something she would never be comfortable with - of that she was certain.

[nightfoliage]

Fic - Falling Into You

Pairing: Stanford Pines/Stanley Pines - Stancest

Prompt: Ford and Stan fall into the bottomless pit.

Summary: Ford and Stan come back to Gravity Falls in order to see their family for the summer. However, not everything is resolved between them.

Tags and Warnings:  Incest, established relationship, Ford being a creeper, obsessive behavior, watching people without their permission, toilet activity (not sexual), denial, falling (literal), light angst, and characters accepting death too easily. And kissing. More dark than I usually write, but I don’t think it’s as dark as the tags make it out to be.

Author’s Note - This is a gift for @magicalshy!!! I’m sorry it took me so long to fulfill this prompt. I hope you enjoy it~

This was written before Journal 3 came out. (I brushed the dust off, and it took me a while to edit, but it’s here now!) Might be a bit obsolete as a result. 

Word Count: ~4700

Read below or on ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12077613/chapters/27589686

 The journal falls onto the table noisily and without grace. It shakes various objects around the table with its landing, but Ford manages to steady the most important thing on the table: his coffee. He frowns at the near loss of his beverage, but that expression is wiped away when he spots the journal on the table. Ford abandons his coffee and snatches the journal up and tucks it under his arm.

 “Where did you find this?” Ford asks. He tries to keep the question light, but can’t help the suspicion creeping into the tone.

 Stan doesn’t answer, simply keeps his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

 Ford’s eyes dart to it’s last known hiding place, taped behind the bookshelf. He had been sure Stan wouldn’t find it there.

 Stan follows Ford’s look. When Stan’s eyes lands on the hiding spot, his gaze intensifies.

 “Did you read it?” Ford asks.

 Stan doesn’t answer, but his fists tighten and Ford can hear his knuckles audibly crack.

 A resounding ‘yes.’

 Ford sighs and rolls his eyes.

 Before Ford can explain the new journal, (why he’s keeping, how important it is, how Stan really shouldn’t worry about it) his twin audibly growls and leaves the cabin. From the stomping, Ford can tell that his brother is now clomping around deck, messing with the sails, fiddling with the ropes, and bring an utter nuisance.

 Ford rolls his eyes again continues to drink his coffee.

 Stan can do whatever the hell he wants, Ford is not going to go chasing after him when he’s clearly emotional. A year on a boat with his twin has taught him that sometimes it was best to let Stan’s anger ride out than to experience it head on. Sooner or later his twin will calm down and see reason.

 -000-

 Stan hasn’t spoken to him.

 Besides an odd grunt, or a look in his direction, Stan doesn’t even acknowledged him, let alone talked to him. And it doesn’t seem like Stan is going to talk to him anytime soon.

 Ford thought he could hold out, wait for Stan to come talk to him, but he’s not sure he can wait any longer.

 He’s.. lonely.

 Maybe Ford has become, dare he say spoiled with the amount of attention he’s received from Stan for the past year?

 They no longer share a bed, Stan takes to sleeping up deck at night under the stars. They don’t share meals, Stan eats at odd hours: before he wakes up, small snacks while they’re sailing, and definitely after he falls asleep.

 Most noticeably, they don’t talk anymore.

 It’s the absence of their conversations that drives the last nail in the coffin for Ford.

 Talking to Stan is easy. Even in the beginning when they were still shying away from revealing too much, from being themselves again, they could fall back into old habits. The words were mostly frivolous, they hadn’t been brave enough to talk about anything else. But they could talk enthusiastically to each other, about boat types, about outfits and rations, about who had more sailing experience.

 Arguments about the best fish bait led to sharing stories about Dipper and Mabel. For the two old men, it was so much easier to open up about the kids then themselves.

 Then it couldn’t be helped that they started to talk about their years apart. It inevitably lead to them talking about their years together. They started talking about their past selves, nostalgia thick in their voices, sharing their old memories together.

 It wasn’t all easy. Not every memory was some light hearted conversation. There were many rough nights that ended in shouts and slammed doors. (But they never touch, not when they’re angry.)

 However, the conversations- and arguments, are what they needed.

 When they had been young, they were so open with each other and completely closed to everyone else. No one could penetrate the shell that they had wrapped themselves in. In their situation it wasn't surprising that their isolation made them close themselves off to everyone, including their twin.

 Each conversation helped them air the room, open up, and heal.

 Even now a good talk with Stan can make Ford emotional. A good talk can warm his heart, make him smile and laugh, and- make him happy.

 Ford hasn’t heard Stan’s voice in days.

 Maybe Ford took for granted the attention his twin has showered on him this past year. He thought he could wait Stan out. He has been without his twin for decades.

 However, this is the first time this year that Ford’s been denied the attention of his lover.

 Although, lack of conversation does not mean that Stan isn’t taking care of him. In fact, that’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed. The ship is kept clean and in fantastic shape. Stan makes food for him every morning, and he often finds a snack for him on the table or the counter. And Stan will still point out anomalies and odd phenomenons to him.

 All without speaking to him

 What he wouldn’t give to hear Stan’s voice at the moment.

 Maybe he should try to initiate the conversation. Perhaps he should even apologize. At the very least he wants to hear his brother’s point of view.

 He tries to, but pauses right before the act. Something dark and bitter curls inside him and tells him to stop, to leave it alone, that he doesn't have to do anything.

 After all, the new journals he’s been writing, well, they’re unorthodox, but his last ones have proved useful, life saving in fact. They help him catalogue their journey. There’s no need to take action.

 Sooner or later the situation will resolve itself one way or another.

 -000-

 Perhaps Ford would be the one to initiate a resolution to the conflict.

 Stan still hasn’t spoken to him.

 Stan continues to take care of him and protects him. His brother clearly has his back in a conflict, but now Stan has barely touched him all this time.

 Stan was always the instigator of the touches between them: a slap between the shoulders, rough pats on the back, grabbing his hand to squeeze, brushing a kiss across his knuckles…

 Ford rubs the space between his knuckles absently, remembering the sensation of Stan’s lips against his skin.

 He shakes his head and tries to put it out of his mind.

 What an extreme reaction to him keeping a journal. Ford didn’t think he deserved the cold shoulder for keeping the journal. It was just data he wanted to keep and remember, something they could both look remember fondly, nothing Ford should be ashamed about.

 He repeats this to himself over and over again, especially when he aches to take Stanley in his arms.

 -000-

 Something has to give, but it’s not going to be Stanford Pines.

 The more Ford thinks about it, dwells on their conversation, mulls it over in his head, the more bitter and angry he gets.

 He imagines their talk a thousand different ways, but in the end, the scenarios he likes best are the ones where they talk about the journal. Hasn’t silence been the cause of their many problems in the past?

 So Ford refuses to break down and be the first one to talk.

 The spite and the strength of his emotions keeps him from letting his loneliness interfere with this creed.

 Instead, Ford has taken to following Stan around without his twins knowledge.

 Oh sure, Stan must know to a certain degree that Ford is aware of him, but this goes beyond  being close simply because the space is small. Ford is constantly shadowing Stan, making sure he always knows his twins whereabouts. He likes to get just close enough so that any sound that Stan makes, he can hear.

 It’s rather tiring, he hasn’t had to be this hyper aware since some of his darker days in the multiverse, but it’s also rewarding.

 He discovers that the go to song that his brother used to sing, a now old dancing number, has been replaced. Some discrete texting with Dipper reveals the song that Mabel, Dipper, and Stan sang together to defeat zombies together.

 Ford finds himself surprised when he sees that Stan is ambidextrous, like himself. He knew that his brother was strong in both arms, and rather proficient when it comes to fighting, but Stan has always favored his right hand, a habit that came from his boxing days. But now Ford knows that Stan can do more delicate work with both hands: cooking, tying a knot, texting, and more.

 Ford feels as if he can’t discover anything new about his brother, until he spots Stan opening a secret compartment in the boat by messing with one of the godawful decorations that his twin loves.

 The first time Stan does it, he’s speechless. He’s listless the whole day, and that night he can’t go to sleep until he rubs the velvet clown painting for himself to see the stash of goodies inside. There are cigars (typical), chocolates (so this was where Stan was hiding them), a stash of prunes (if he could get away with it, Ford would take some), and what looked like trinkets that Stan liked to send back to the kids. When he spots the exotic and weird sea shells and stones, Ford quietly closes the painting and removes any traces of himself.

 Over time, Ford discovers the compartments that his brother has built: in the banisters, the walls, and the crown molding. The clown painting seems to be a one off.

 No wonder Stan had found the journal. Stan probably triggered one of Ford’s secret compartments in the boat.

 It’s a surprise they hadn’t found out about each other’s secrets earlier.

 Finding the first compartment unleashes something in Ford and he looks into all of Stan’s compartments. Most of them are like the first, goodies, gifts, and mementos from the kids. A few others contain money, IDs, and mountains of pictures of their family. It says a lot about Stan that these are the items he likes to keep safe and untouched.

 (Ford wonders what that says about himself. What he hides are his journal, sketches, ideas, concepts that others wouldn’t understand. It’s an old habit, he supposes.

 But Stan isn’t everyone. Stan is someone he should be able to trust with this, especially this.)

 He pushes the thought out of his mind.

 Ford continues to watch Stan, and Stan continues to ignore him.

 Which only increases the pleasure that Ford has over watching Stan without his knowledge. He’s enjoying the chance to watch and observe Stan. He hasn’t had the chance to do this for a long time. He can take his time to observe Stan. (And he’s noticing more about his brother from observing, then by interacting with him. Interesting.)

 Then there are times where can’t observe, but can only look at Stan in awe.

 Stan is beautiful.

 From the lines of his body, to the way he moves, Stan is beautiful.

 Ford finds himself staring at Stan every chance he can get.

 (And if Ford find himself staring a little too long, a little too much, if he starts to record Stan instead of just watching him, then that’s his secret. Perhaps recording his brother was crossing a line, but watching the recording is the only way they can be in the same room with him instead of hiding behind a corner out of sight.)

 He watches Stan haul sails, call the kids, and even listens to him when he’s in the bathroom.

 (Ford is strangely fascinated by the way his brother goes to the bathroom. There is something about hearing his brother’s waste hitting the water that interests him and he wonders if it’s anything like his bowel movements.)

 And maybe he is becoming too obsessed.

 The watching, the recording, it’s not healthy, Ford can admit to that. However, admitting to having this problem doesn’t stop Ford. He’s replacing their interactions with the watching but his fixation hasn’t quite approach Bill Cipher levels, so he thinks he’s okay for now (maybe).

 They should talk to each other instead of continuing their purposeful passive aggressive ignorance of each other.

 Ford doesn’t allow himself to be the one start a conversation. This is Stan’s problem with him, therefore it should be Stan’s responsibility to solve this if he thinks it’s a problem.

 -000-

 Days have passed, the kids have been messaging them pictures of their last days of school, they’re docking at the pier in Gravity Falls and Stan hasn’t initiated a conversation.

 It’s worrying Ford. He’s reluctant to even eve consider it, but he may have to be the one to initiate the talk. Perhaps he could manage it before they reach the Mystery Shack. In the would be best, there was no way Stan would run if he was driving the StanMobile.

 Mind made up, Ford decided not to worry until the time comes to talk. He does his best to be casual and listens in to Stan’s conversation with Tate.

 “Hey Tate, you treatin the StanMobile well?” Stan says with a grin.

 (Ford twitches. Stan hasn’t looked at him let alone smiled at him.)

 “Don’t worry, Stan, the car’s going a-okay. You staying for the summer?” Tate answers.

 “Yeah, Mabel and Dipper are coming back in a few days. I’ll bring them around sometime.”

 “Tate snorts. “Maybe this time you’ll catch your own fish instead of stealing them,” Tate says, but without any malice.

 Stan launches is a tirade about he’s actually bring more business for Tate, thank you very much, and how he just happens to be a very competitive fisher. Tate, used to the ramblings of old men, nods at just the right moments and manages to steer the conversation so that by the end of it Stan is promising to bring the family over and actually pay for fishing equipment. Stan is grumbling at the result, only because he doesn’t want one of the best fishing holes in Gravity Falls to go out of business. Tate thanks Stan for the business.

 Stan goes to get the car ready and Ford is left alone, staring at his twin’s back

 When he finally looks away, Ford notices Tate looking at him. The man tips his hat and Ford gives an awkward wave back. Tate goes back to his business, thank goodness.

 Ford hurries over to the car. He fusses with their belongings and tries not to let his rampant jealousy make him do something rash.

 That’s Fiddleford’s son after all, not just anyone.

 However...

 How could Stan talk to anyone, but not talk to him?

 -000-

 The drive is tense and Ford it too wrapped up his thoughts to make conversation. Stan drives fast, even faster than usual, and they make it to the shack in record time. He parks and gets out of the car to unload the back. Ford follows Stan through the back entrance.

 Stan hesitates near the stairs. Ford looks down and thinks he knows what’s this about. Is Stan going to try and sleep in a different room from him.

 The thought gathers and boils up inside him. He tosses the bag to the side, it clatters loudly on the ground and Stan whips around to look at it. His eyes are wide.

 “Ford-”

 Ford slaps a hand over his brother’s mouth and surprisingly Stan lets him. Ford slowly removes his hand and Stan stays quiet although he’s clearly confused. Ford stalks over to his bag first and then returns to drag Stan out the door.

 Stan follows along, obedient and quiet, and somehow that makes Ford angrier. His brother hasn’t been acting himself and Ford’s going to change that once and for all. If Stan wanted an apology, he was getting an apology.

 They make their way across the grounds and away from the Mystery Shack. Stan frowns when he realizes their destination.

 “The Bottomless Pit? Sixer, you know that-”

 Ford whips around and raises the item that caused the whole mess in the first place.

 “You happy?” He yells, holding up the journal. “I’m going to get rid of it once and for all!” Ford waves the journal a little too enthusiastically and his momentum carries him backwards.

 “Ford!” Stan finally moves into action and springs forward. He ignores the journal, eyes only on Ford.

 Ford is having none of that. He takes another step back to get out of Stan’s reach and waves the journal in front of him. This is supposed to be symbolic dammit. Throwing the goddamn journal away was supposed to be another way of apologizing. His brother stopped talking to him because of it’s existence and now he doesn’t care about it? He doesn’t want it gone?

 Well Ford has already made up his mind and what he’s going to do with it.

 He moves to toss the accursed thing into the pit, while Stan moves to catch him. Ford tries to fend his brother off, while Stan desperately tries to lay a hand on him. A moment later Stan has a grip on Ford. Instead of wrenching Stan’s hand off like he intended, he stumbles and brings Stan with him.

 Then nothing matters except for the fact that they’re falling.

 Maybe in a different timeline Ford would be able to react quick enough, but he's tired, his concentration is shot, and all he can think about is the damn journal. He does not swing them back over onto solid ground with their momentum, instead Ford let them fall.

 They’re pressed chest to chest, their limbs tangled together, faces inches away from each other.

 Ford sees Stan’s eyes widen and can see him rear back. Maybe Stan could have saved them, pulled off a miracle, but Ford has a sudden thought. It’s no good if Stan manages to save them after Ford has given up. The hand that’s not wrapped around the journal, wraps around his brother’s middle.

 Ford closes his eyes as he hears Stan softly gasp.

 Now he doesn’t have to stare into Stan’s eyes as they fall for all of eternity.

 He concentrates on the wind whistling past his ears, the warmth of Stan’s body against his own, and the light behind his eyelids that disappears. When it’s gone, he knows they’ve dropped low enough that they can no longer see the sky.

 After all those years, what a way to go-

 Stan sucker punches him in the nose.

 “Ow!” Ford sees stars and grabs his nose. “Ow…” It doesn’t feel like anything is broken, but the punch had come out of nowhere. He opens his eyes and blinks. Stan is pulling away? No, he’s pulling a hand back- Ford realizes Stan’s winding up to take another punch.

 He manages to dodge this one, by hugging Stan closer, but he notes that he swing is half-hearted.

 They spin around in a slow circle, carried by the momentum of the punch. Stan mock struggles and Ford holds him tighter.

 Stan keeps wriggling even as Ford demands, “What was that for?”

 Stan struggles a little bit more and actually growls next to his ear (which makes Ford shiver) before stopping completely. Ford shifts, unintentionally rubbing his cheeks against Stan’s. The other man sighs and turns his head closer.

 Ford’s chest grows tight and he has to stop himself from clinging onto Stan.

 “Well,” Ford muses aloud, “I guess this isn’t the worst way to go.”

 Stan snorts. “Really?” He says.

 The words are soft and affectionate and Ford can feel himself warm up. He wish he could have heard that tone weeks ago, but he’ll take it now. He missed Stan speaking to him.

 Ford hums, happier than he has been in days. “I always thought that I would die by your side.”

 Stan doesn’t reply, but gently nuzzles his ear. Ford is very content with the action and relaxes as Stan wraps his arms around him. Even if this is the end, he’s glad that it’s with Stan.

 “I’m sorry,” Ford finally admits.

 “You’re saying sorry?” Stan tries to pull back, but Ford keeps him locked in the embrace. He would prefer not to look into his brother's eyes when he’s admitting he’s wrong.

 “If saying sorry was all I needed to do to stop this mess, then yes, Stan, I’m sorry.”

 The words echo an older apology, months ago. Why doesn’t he learn from his mistakes. If only he swallowed his pride and tried talking it out with Stan earlier.

 Stan is silent and still.

 Ford doesn’t blame him. He can’t stand the silence anymore and starts spilling more and more secrets into the void.

 “I know you have a- an issue against my journals,” Ford continues, “and I wasn’t thinking about your feelings when I made this one.”

 “Ford-”

 “Let me continue, Stanley.” Stan huffs and Ford can feel his skin tingle. “I just couldn't help- it's habit- to want to keep a journal on things that fascinate me.”

 Stan grumbles a bit, but Ford forges on.

 “You fascinate me, Stanley.”

 Stan’s grumbling stops.

 “The journals are a part of me, they’re part of what kept me sane-” Stan snorts at that, “-yes, they kept me sane, Stan. They were a physical object I could trust that wouldn’t be altered. I’ve always placed my trust in my journals so writing a journal about you…”

 Ford trails off, hoping that Stan will pick up the slack of the conversation, but he doesn’t and Ford has to keep going. He brought this on himself, after all.

 “Okay, maybe keeping a journal…”

 “Filled with smutty drawings of me, Sixer?” Stan interrupts.

 Ford sighs.

 “Smutty- have you been reading Mabel’s romance novels again? And for your information Stanley, I’ve poured myself into those drawings, made sure they were anatomically correct-”

 “And then you put them in a boat, a place where the kids have access too, with a journal obsessed nephew-”

 “I took that into consideration!”

 “Ford, I found the journal and I couldn’t find your other journals for thirty years. Then the kid found it the first day he was here. You do not hide the journals that well.”

 Ford knows the next step to this conversation is that he’s supposed to disagree, make a witty remark benefiting of his intellect, but all Ford can do is close his eyes and curl in closer to Stan.

 Then he starts to laugh.

 This is how things are supposed to be: arguments that later dissolve into long nights where they cling to each other. It’s perfect, Stan is perfect, and all he wants is for this moment to stretch on for eternity.

 But eventually they’ll die.

 The laughter continues to bubble up somewhere inside him and he lets go of Stan. Separated from his brother, Ford can feel the wind again, it’s rushing past his ears and ruffling his hair and clothes. This is really it. After the portal, after Weirdmageddon, after Bill Cypher, after being on the sees with Stanley, this is how he finally dies?

 “Goddammit Ford, we aren’t going to die,” Stan says, gently running a hand over him.

 Ford lets out a giggle that’s just shy of hysterical. He tries to brush his brother off of him. He doesn’t deserve the comfort.

 “But we are Stan, a bottomless pit shouldn’t be possible, but it’s possible in Gravity Falls. I mean, I didn't think we could survive everything that has happened to us and look! Now we’re finally going to end it all, but at least it’ll be by your side, I promised that, and I’m going to be able to keep that promise.” By the end of his rant, Ford is more than a little hysterical, but he hopes he got the point across to Stan.

 Stan sighs and mumbles ‘hot belgian waffles,’ under his breath.

 Hm. Not the reaction Ford is expecting after his impassioned speech. Ford lets his eyes open. He’s surrounded by complete darkness. Isn’t this a hopeless situation?

 Stan blows a breath out, “Ford, we’re going to be stuck in this whole for fifteenish minutes, then we’ll be spit right back out.”

 “Stan,” Ford says slowly, “this is the bottomless pit.”

 Ford can hear Stan scratch his head. “A bottomless pit is considered a bottomless pit if we never hit an end right?” He asks.

 “Yes, that much I can agree with,” Ford replies.

 “Soooo, Sixer, if we’re brought out at the beginning and we never met an end then it still lives up to it’s name, right?” Stan says with a huff.

 Ford blinks, then turns the words over in his head. “Yes. That does seem correct.”

 “It’s the kids all over again,” Stan grumbles. “Listen, Ford, long story short, I fell into the pit once with the kids and it spat us out of the hole, okay? We’re going to come out of this alive.”

 “Oh.”

 “Oh? Is that all you can say?” Stan says with a huff.

 What else can Ford say? He already apologized, already spilled thoughts and emotions out of his mouth because he thought they were dying. What else does Stan want him to say?

 “You’re so fucking dramatic, Ford. Can’t do anything by halves can you,” Stan says, but without any malice. His hands are running over Ford’s face gently, reassuringly, lovingly. Ford lets himself lean into the touch now that he knows that this isn’t the end. Ford thinks about putting up a token argument against the words, but is silenced by a kiss.

 “Making another fucking journal with smutty pictures of me, then stalking me, and finally this? Sixer, you dumb ass,” Stan whispers against his lips, then kisses him again.

 Ford reluctantly pulls away from the kiss. “Are you trying to apologize?” he asks.

 “No,” Stan replies. “You're the one that owes me another apology. And stop apologizing when you think we’re going to die, you better not let this become a pattern, you hear me?”

 Ford has to steal a kiss before he manages to push the words past his lips, “I’m sorry, Stan.”

 Stan snorts again. Instead of discarding Stan’s words, he analyzes them instead. Perhaps he has been apologizing when their lives are threatened instead of apologizing when he should have. It’s a bad habit he’s built.

 After he fell through the portal, there were a lot of instances where Ford could have died. In those moments, Ford has always dreamed of apologizing and making up with Stan. It was his idea of small luxury, devoting some of his brain power to the fantasy instead of his survival.  

 But now Ford isn’t in that situation anymore. He’s no longer alone, trying to get by on his wit and his ego. He has Stan now. He doesn’t have to survive, not anymore.

 He can live now.

 “I’m sorry,” Ford says again. This time the words are heartfelt and he thinks he understands why Stan wants an apology.

 “Hmph.”

 Stan doesn’t sound very satisfied.

 Ford can fix that.

 “How long did you say we had in here?” He asks innocently.

 Stan grumbles, “Time passes weirdly here, maybe ten minutes. Ten long boring minutes.”

 “How about I make it up to you?” Ford says.

 “Oh?” Stan sounds interested, good. Ford wants to be happy with Stan and he can admit the situation interests him.

 Ford  gropes around in the dark for moment, but manages to gently cup Stan’s cheek in one hand, and grips Stan’s hip with the other. He makes sure to flex the hand on Stan’s hip just how his lover likes it. Ford can feel Stan shiver against him and Ford presses his thumb in the space where Stan’s navel and thigh meets.

 Stan fists the front of Ford’s sweater reeling him in. Their foreheads meet unexpectedly, but it makes Stan chuckle so Ford smiles as well. Stan turns just so, and now they're breathing each other’s air, still connected.

 The action makes Ford’s mind go blank and he has to remind himself to keep actively touching Stan.

 “I love you,” Ford whispers, then kisses Stan hard, so he doesn’t have to hear an answer.

 Stan kisses back and lets his hands wander down.

 You’re amazing, Ford wants to say. You’re so wonderful, Ford want to whisper to Stan as they start to struggle out of their clothes. You’re absolutely perfect, Ford thinks and the words repeat over and over in head. He doesn’t get the chance to say the words.

 Later, he thinks. Later, Ford will write it all down in his journal and read it aloud to Stan.