#first trimester exercises | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mercurycft · 14 days ago

Text

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 — 𝐋𝐖

## the bubble universe - leah x reader !!

guyyyys! i am feeeeding you all of the fluffy goodness of the bubble universe!! and i am absolutely loving writing this so bloody much! how have you all been!? lmk how you’re all feeling about my new stuff and the BU! i hope you all love this one as much as i do! love always - RGx

find THE BUBBLE UNIVERSE — here

early pregnancy - the first trimester, hints about fears of miscarriage, anxiety language, fluffy loved up ness, leah being the best partner ever, morning sickness and ultrasounds, angst if you squint haaard, some technical language about scans and pregnancy tracking. not proof read because again, fuck that.

6k words.

“we’re fully booked this week,” the receptionist on the other end of the line says gently. “but we can fit you in next tuesday. we’ll want to run a few blood tests first before we look at scans.”

a week.

you hang up with shaking hands and a strange tightness in your chest. it’s not panic exactly, just that familiar, coiled kind of hope. the kind that still knows how to brace. leah’s still brushing her teeth when you find her, sleep-creased and messy-haired. you lean against the bathroom doorway and wait until she sees your face in the mirror.

“they can’t see us for a week,” you say softly.

she spits toothpaste into the sink, rinses, turns. “okay,” she says, and wraps her arms around your waist like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “so we wait.”

the days between the ‘official’ positive and the clinic appointment are tender in ways you didn’t expect. leah treats your body like it’s made of glass now. a good kind; expensive, delicate, museum-worthy. she reads every label on every food item in the fridge. she stops drinking caffeinated coffee, even though you tell her she doesn’t need to. every morning, she pours you both tea and says “cheers” like it’s still fun.

you try not to overthink. try not to look at the toilet paper every time you pee. try not to google every ache or twinge. but sometimes you cry for no reason, and sometimes for good reason, like the night you dropped a full tub of blueberries on the floor and just sat there in the middle of the kitchen, hands in your lap, trying not to fall apart.

when leah found you there she didn’t laugh, didn’t fuss. just crouched beside you and helped pick up every single one. “that’s our baby’s vitamin C gone,” she whispered, joking, and kissed the tip of your nose. you laughed together, a little broken, and then cried again.

when the appointment finally arrives, it feels too big. like a checkpoint in a video game. like a door you have to knock on with both hands.

it’s raining. leah insists on driving even though you could’ve taken a cab. she says it’s about control. you don’t ask questions.

the clinic feels smaller than you remember. less sterile. more.. waiting. there are other couples in the chairs. quiet conversations. someone holding a tiny pair of socks in her lap. when they call your name, leah squeezes your hand and stands first.

they take your blood. they ask about symptoms- nausea? fatigue? any spotting? and leah answers half of them for you, like she already knows everything. the nurse smiles. she tells you the hcg levels look “very encouraging.”

then she says it:

“you’re probably around three, maybe three and a half weeks. it’s very early. too early to scan, we won’t see much yet, and we don’t want to cause unnecessary stress.”

you nod. you feel small.

“we’ll bring you back in at six weeks for a scan, we’ll maybe even be able to see baby’s heartbeat.” she says with a smile, it reads genuine, but you can’t help the nerves that stir in your ribs. “it’s important that you rest between now and then. no heavy lifting, no high-impact exercise. stay hydrated, take your prenatal vitamins daily, and try to limit stress where you can.”

then the part you were expecting, but still hate hearing:

“we recommend waiting until the twelve-week mark before telling anyone outside your very inner circle. early pregnancy is… fragile. we just want to give this the best possible chance.”

you nod again. you feel leah’s hand press against the small of your back, grounding you.

in the car afterwards, it takes you a while to speak. the rain dots the windows gently, a rhythm like static. leah rests her forehead on the steering wheel and exhales.

“three weeks,” she says finally. “jesus. that’s.. so tiny.”

you let out a breath. “i know.” she turns to you. eyes soft.

“but it’s there.”

you nod. “yeah. it’s there.”

she cups your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye. “we’ve got to protect it now.”

and you know she means all of it — your body, your heart, the tiny new life waiting somewhere inside you to be believed in.

for weeks, nearing months, you don’t tell anyone. just like the doctor suggested.

not yet, at least.

not because you’re hiding it, but because it feels like a secret the universe whispered just to you. something still forming, still blooming in the dark.

it belongs to the two of you.

leah keeps a list of names in her notes app. you’re not allowed to see it. you write little letters to no one in your journal. sometimes you fall asleep with your hand on your belly, even though there’s nothing to feel yet.

you’re not showing. not at all. but leah still tugs your shirt down gently when it rides up, like she’s shielding something.

she takes a picture of your stomach in week four. kisses it after.

“in case we forget how small you started,” she whispers, not to you, to your stomach.

you know you won’t forget. you don’t think you ever could.

you start noticing the shift around the end of week four, not that you’re counting (you definitely are.). it’s nothing major, not like the movies where someone throws up into a bin dramatically and knows instantly, it’s more like your body is turning the volume up on itself, bit by bit.

food starts to smell different. leah’s aftershave, the one you usually love, makes your stomach twist if she sprays too much. you’re exhausted in a way that feels bone-deep.

“you’re growing a whole organ,” leah says one night when you apologise for dozing off halfway through a film. she doesn’t look annoyed, just kind of awed by it. “like… your body’s making a new body part. the placenta. that’s mental.”

you blink at her. “did you google that?”

she shrugs, but her ears go a little pink.

“maybe.” and she does more than google. she orders two books and downloads an app that tells her how big the baby is each week along with little facts about the growth, she reads them out loud when you’re half-asleep and screenshots bits she wants to talk about later.

she’s taking it seriously. more seriously than you expected, if you’re honest. not in a rigid or panicky way, just like she’s trying to learn the shape of this with you.

she still kisses your belly every night before bed, despite the lack of bump, lack of evidence there is even a human growing inside you. sometimes you laugh and tell her she’s being ridiculous, but you don’t mean it. not even a little. it’s becoming your favourite part of the day.

as the fifth week draws to an end, the nausea starts properly.

you don’t throw up exactly, not every day, anyway. but it’s there, constantly, like a low hum in the back of your throat. toast helps. sometimes ice water with lemon. sometimes laying down in a dark room while leah rubs your back in slow circles until your breathing evens out.

“i feel useless,” she says one night, crouched on the bathroom floor beside you. your forehead’s pressed against the cold porcelain of the bathtub, your eyes watery.

“you’re not,” you mumble. “you’re- you’re here.”

she brushes hair from your face, careful and soft. “i just hate seeing you like this.”

you reach for her hand and squeeze.“you’re doing everything right.”

she makes you soup. it’s too salty but you eat it anyway.

she buys ginger chews. you spit one out immediately.

she gets sea sickness bands, the elastic kind with the little pressure bead. they actually help. she doesn’t say i told you so.

you fall asleep in the middle of a conversation and she just pulls the blanket up over you and finishes your sentence to the empty room.

you cry at a dog food commercial and she doesn’t even blink. just grabs the tissues and climbs into bed beside you like it’s all normal now.

you haven’t told anyone yet, just as discussed.

but there’s a shift in how you exist in the world, its small, but it’s there. like you’re holding a glowing ember behind your ribs and everything feels a little warmer for it. you catch yourself with your hand on your stomach in the middle of the grocery store. leah orders decaf at brunch without even looking at the menu.

when her mum calls, leah presses her phone tight to her ear like she’s afraid something might spill out of her mouth if she relaxes too much.

“do you think they’ll be excited?” you ask one night, curled into her on the sofa.

“my mum?” leah pauses. “yeah. i think she might cry. dad definitely will,”

“what about your brother?”

she laughs softly. “he’ll probably make some rude joke and then go out and buy a full arsenal baby kit the same day.”

“that’s kind of sweet.”

“it is,” she agrees, and then, after a pause: “you don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready. not even our families. not even mine.”

“it’s not just about me, le, this is our news.” you say, looking at here through your tired yes. she doesn’t reply, but you know what she’s thinking. you both want to. soon. scared it will eat you up if you don’t.

but still you don’t, not even your parents. not until that six-week scan, not until someone confirms that this flicker inside you is really doing what it’s meant to do. but the want is there. it bubbles up in you sometimes, surprising and bright.

you want to see her mum’s face. you want to hear her brother’s jokes. you want this tiny, invisible thing to be something other people believe in, too.

you fall asleep with your head on leah’s chest and her fingers drawing slow circles against your shoulder blade. she’s humming, something low and wordless, and it makes your chest ache a little.

six weeks arrives quiet and early, folded into a tuesday morning like it’s nothing special. but it is.

you wake up before the alarm, stomach already fluttering with nerves and nausea that you try to keep at bay with deep breaths and sips of water.

leah moves around the house quietly, content, soft-footed and serious. her voice is low, even when she’s just asking if you want toast. you nod and manage a bite before giving up, the nausea still curled somewhere behind your ribs.

“you don’t have to be nervous,” she says, slipping into the space beside you on the bed, balancing the plate on her knee.

you give her a look. “yes i do.”

she pauses, takes a deep breath. “yeah. okay. me too.”

the car ride is quiet. your fingers twitch against your thighs until she reaches over and laces them with hers, like she doesn’t even have to look. the city rolls past in grey and green, the roads slick from an early rain. everything feels sharper. heavier. like the world knows what you’re carrying.

you check in, fill out a few forms with hands that shake just enough to smudge your signature. and then they call your name again, his time for the scan.

the room is dim. clinical, but not cold. leah stands beside the bed, eyes trained on the monitor before anything even begins. the nurse is kind. her name is carla. she explains every step, even the ones you already know.

before the scan starts, leah gently clears her throat and asks, “would it be okay if i film for a minute? just to get our reaction? just on my phone? so we have it. to watch later.”

carla smiles warmly. “of course. just keep it respectful, and try not to interfere with the equipment.”

you squeeze leah’s hand, grateful. your heart is pounding, nerves twisting in your stomach.

“we’re going to do a transvaginal scan today — it’s clearer this early on. nothing to worry about. you might feel a bit of pressure,” carla continues.

you nod, biting your lip.

the cold wand presses gently, and the screen flickers to life in grayscale and static and then,

“okay,” carla says softly. “let’s see what we’ve got.”

leah lifts her phone carefully and starts recording, her lens catching the flicker of light on the screen despite the dim room, but mostly it focuses on you: one hand tucked behind your head and the other holding leah’s just in the frame, the wide eyes, the breath caught in your throat, the tears that come unbidden.

it takes a second. one heartbeat. two.

and then: a tiny, flickering light in the middle of a grainy blob.

“is that?” leah whispers.

carla smiles. “that’s the heartbeat.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. it stutters a little, catches halfway in your throat, and then comes out wet. tears spill down your cheeks before you can stop them. you blink hard.

leah keeps filming, voice soft, “it’s real. we’re really doing this.”

carla taps a few buttons. “baby’s measuring right on track. six weeks, one day. strong little heartbeat. 118 bpm. everything looks perfect.”

you keep watching the screen, the flicker, the pulse — the little life inside you.

leah lowers her phone and wipes a tear from your cheek, her own eyes shining.

“you okay?” she asks.

you nod, overwhelmed. “are you okay?”

“no,” she says, laughing through a sob. “but in a good way.”

as the scan continues, carla poking and prodding around to do her checks, you find yourself asking questions quietly, “so, i know it’s early but is it possible to know the due date, roughly? and will we need more appointments soon?”

carla glances at the measurements on the screen and smiles gently. “based on today, you’re about six weeks along, so your due date would be around late november, but we always take that as an estimate at this stage.”

you nod along to her words as she taps the keyboard and pulls up some notes. “you’ll definitely need another scan around 10 to 12 weeks, that’s when we get a clearer picture and check on development. in the meantime, you’ll have regular blood tests and check-ins to monitor everything.”

she leans in, voice soft but serious. “early pregnancies from IVF can sometimes need extra monitoring, so it’s important to take care of yourself and come to all your appointments. but for now, everything looks very good.”

you nod, heart racing but comforted by her calm. leah squeezes your hand, her eyes on you.

at the end of the scan, she prints out a strip of little photos for you. a blurry, smudged, grey-and-white miracle that doesn’t look like anything but means everything.

leah carries it out of the clinic like it’s worth a million pounds. back at the car, you’re both a mess of giddy-nerves. chatting absentmindedly with eyes glued to your new prized-possession. the pair of you stare at the pictures for a while, before you prop up your phone and snap a series of pictures. you and leah on either side of the middle console, the strip of pictures held between you - smiles beaming.

“it’s real,” she says once, so quiet you almost miss it. you turn your head to look at her. she’s staring at the print like it’s magic.

“we saw it,” you whisper. she leans in and kisses you, slow and certain, which ends in a fit of giggles and tears.

then, you hit seven weeks.

it passes without much fanfare, no new appointments, no major changes, just steady and private unfolding.

you wake up to leah curled around you, her hand resting soft and flat over your stomach. it’s barely grown, actually not at all, but she touches it like she’s memorising it already. like she’s grounding herself to the fact that something’s there.

you’re still keeping everything quiet. it’s become a kind of game between you, pretending nothing’s changed when people check in, dodging questions about nights out and dinner plans and why you haven’t been seen at the pub lately. but inside your little home, it’s all you talk about.

you find yourself looking at the fridge more often now. the scan pictures are still up, soft and fuzzy, like little grayscale ghosts. but they’re already worn at the corners from how often you handle them.

sometimes you catch leah just standing there, arms crossed, staring at them like they might shift or change if she watches closely enough.

you start writing things down. small notes in your phone about how you feel each day. about the wave of nausea that hit in the middle of brushing your teeth, the dream you had where the baby had leah’s exact smile, the smell of toast suddenly making you gag. it helps. to make it real on paper.

leah’s been reading. not obsessively, she knows how overwhelming it can get, but every now and then, you catch her scrolling quietly through articles on her phone and when you ask her what she’s found, she tells you softly, “you’re doing everything right.”

at eight weeks, the nausea peaks.

your body feels like it’s in revolt some days. food aversions come out of nowhere, one morning you cry because your favourite cereal suddenly tastes like metal. leah doesn’t flinch. she kisses your forehead and brings you toast and a banana instead.

“you okay?” she asks, brushing your hair out of your face as you sit slumped on the bathroom floor once more.

“not even a little,” you whisper, and she smiles, pulling you gently into her arms. “but we’re doing it.”

the fatigue is worse now too. afternoons blur into evenings without you realising, and sometimes you nap so deeply it’s like falling through water. but leah never makes you feel guilty. she just tucks a blanket over you and lies beside you, turning up the tv or reading aloud from whatever book she’s into, her voice steady and soft like waves against sand.

some nights, when you’re both still awake and the house is quiet, she talks to your stomach. not in a big way. not like a movie. just these soft, half-silly, half-sincere whispers; telling stories, sharing thoughts, asking questions like the baby could already hear her.

and it’s in those little moments, the in-between ones, that you realise: this is what growing looks like. slow. sacred. and full of love.

nine weeks arrives like breath on glass; close enough to see, not quite close enough to touch.

the days feel quieter now, though your body is louder than ever. nausea still clings to your mornings, sometimes your nights too.

your emotions ride in strange, wild arcs. you cry at the sound of a baby laughing on the telly, then again when the post doesn’t come on time. you feel both ridiculous and entirely valid all at once.

leah doesn’t flinch. not once. she’s gentle with you, patient in ways that make your throat ache. she’s learned the exact right way to tie your hair back when you’re slumped over the sink. how to hold your hand when you’re just done for the day. how to make you laugh when you can’t see anything but grey.

she starts calling you “mama” sometimes, under her breath, like she’s talking to the baby but too sacred to say out loud just yet.

one night, at the end of week nine, you’re lying tangled together on the sofa, the telly flickering forgotten in the background, your head on her shoulder. she’s got one hand curled over your belly and the other resting on your thigh, and you can feel the rhythm of her breathing, steady and soft beneath your cheek.

“i keep thinking about what they’ll be,” she says. “like, what if they’re wild like you, or quiet like me? what if they’re both? what if they hate football?”

you laugh, exhausted but warm. “we’ll love them anyway. probably still make them wear a little arsenal kit though.”

she kisses your forehead and murmurs, “obviously.”

by ten weeks, there’s a quiet shift.

the nausea begins to fade, just enough to function. you’re still tired all the time, but some mornings are brighter now, you wake up without that heavy weight in your chest, without the dizzy ache behind your eyes.

you both know the next appointment is getting close. the 12-week mark hovers just ahead, a checkpoint you’ve been inching toward with cautious hope. it’s all still private, still tucked into the corners of your flat, the notes app on your phone, the soft drawer beside your bed where you’ve started to collect small, hopeful things. a book about names, a pair of tiny socks leah found and couldn’t leave behind.

your body feels different now, too. not obviously, not to anyone else but you know. you feel bloated constantly, so your jeans don’t quite button right anymore. your chest is sore in a way that makes even brushing your arm against it feel like punishment. and your stomach.. it’s still mostly soft, the same shape it always was, but there’s a new kind of weight to it. like your body’s holding a secret.

leah notices, of course. she always does.

“stand still,” she says one night, pulling you gently into the light of the bedroom lamp.

you’re wearing one of her t-shirts, oversized and stretched slightly at the middle now. she runs her palms over your stomach carefully, reverently, like she’s reading braille on your skin.

“turn to the side.”

you roll your eyes, but you do it. she crouches a little, squinting, then grins.

“there’s something there. tiny, but definitely something.”

“it’s probably just bloating,” you mumble, embarrassed.

she shakes her head, standing again. “nah. that’s our baby. starting to show off.”

you let her hold you like that for a while, her hands soft over your hips, your back tucked against her chest. you feel silly for how emotional it makes you — but she doesn’t tease. she never teases.

instead, she murmurs into your hair, “you’re doing such a good job.”

you spend more time in your little nest of a flat now. part of it is the exhaustion, ten weeks of growing a human has you completely undone by 3pm most days. but part of it is choice. safety. you’re still not ready to be in the outside yet, the world feels too big, too full of questions you’re not prepared to answer.

so you stay in. wrapped in soft blankets, living in oversized jumpers, binge-watching crime documentaries you’ve both seen before. leah makes a new habit of placing her hand over your stomach while you sit curled into her, like she’s trying to catch the baby doing something early.

“you think they can hear us yet?” she asks one morning, voice low and quiet.

you shake your head. “not for a few more weeks.”

“shame. i’d want them to know my voice.”

“they will,” you say, resting your hand over hers. “they’ll know it inside and out.”

you’re lying on the sofa, half-asleep on leah’s chest, the telly playing some old rerun neither of you are watching. her fingers are tracing lazy shapes over the curve of your stomach through your jumper.

"they're about the size of a strawberry now," you murmur, eyes still closed.

“all snug and round in there, floating about like a little bubble.”

you smile before you can stop yourself, the word ‘bubble’ fizzing quietly in your chest. it’s silly, but it fits. it fits the way your world’s shifted around this new centre. it fits the way you’ve started speaking in we instead of i. bubble feels like a word that holds wonder without pressure. soft edges. a bit of magic.

"bubble," you repeat, letting it settle on your tongue absentmindedly.

leah leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. “little bubble,”

after that, it sticks. bubble becomes the quiet name passed between you in sleepy morning whispers and warm belly rubs, in phone notes and food cravings. you start talking about “bubble’s room,” “bubble’s heartbeat,” “what bubble might be dreaming about.”

and somehow, bubble makes you feel less afraid. less like it’s unknown, more like excitement.

week eleven is a blur, less of a milestone.

like the baby, like bubble, is curled up somewhere deeper than before, almost unreachable.

your symptoms haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted. morphed into something gentler. you’re still tired all the time, still weepy over weird things; a charity advert, a kid’s drawing in the post office window, the sound of leah humming in the shower, but it feels more like… endurance now. like you’re running a long, steady race with your body instead of trying to survive it.

but it’s still hard to believe there’s a tiny person growing inside you.

“a person with a spine,” you whisper once, reading from the pregnancy app, your thumb grazing the little cartoon fruit illustration. “and fingers.”

leah’s lying beside you, arm tossed across your middle. “bubble’s got fingers?”

you nod, handing her your phone. “and toes.”

she holds it like it’s a sacred text, then presses her cheek against your bump. “well done, bubble. keep going.”

the lead-up to the 12-week scan has a strange weight to it. like you’ve been holding your breath since day fourteen, and now someone’s telling you: soon, you can exhale.

you get a call from the clinic on wednesday morning, polite, clipped tones, confirming your scan for the following week, walking you through what to expect.

“bring water,” the doctor says over the phone. “a full bladder helps us get a clearer picture.”

you hang up and relay the instructions to leah while she butters toast, explaining the details you had retained about meeting your midwife and things. she doesn’t respond right away, just quietly flips the kettle on.

“you okay?” you ask, watching her.

she nods too quickly. then pauses. then shrugs. “yeah. just, it’s a big one, isn’t it? twelve weeks.”

you move to her side, press your hand to her back. “yeah.”

“i keep thinking about what they’ll see,” she says, quieter now. “like, if bubble’s okay. if their heart’s still beating.”

you nod, stomach turning in that too-familiar way. “me too.”

she leans her forehead against yours, eyes shut. “i didn’t think i could be this scared and this happy at the same time.”

you let out a breath against her cheek. “same.”

you spend the rest of the week preparing in little ways, folding laundry, printing off your appointment letter, standing at the fridge and staring at the scan photo like it might offer you clues.

leah puts together a list in her notes app titled questions for the Scan (aka don’t forget to ask these). you peek over her shoulder and read things like:

still measuring okay?

any signs we should watch for??

can we hear the heartbeat again??

is bubble okay in there????

will they let us keep another print?

you don’t say anything. you just kiss her shoulder and whisper, “we’re gonna be okay.”

the night before the appointment, you both lie in bed and watch old football highlights on her laptop, the volume low. her hand rests over your bump. it’s almost second nature now.

"i want bubble to love football," she says dreamily. "but not like… feel pressured to."

you smile, eyes already heavy. “they can love it. or dance. or, like, insects.”

“bubble the entomologist,” she says, half-laughing. “we’ll support it.”

“big word for you,” you laugh, no matter what the scan shows, no matter how big the world starts to feel again tomorrow. right now, in this room, bubble is safe. and so are you.

the morning of the 12-week scan begins with soft light filtering in through the bedroom window.

your alarm goes off just after half six, but you’re already awake, lying still in bed with one hand on your stomach. the duvet is warm, leah pressed up behind you, arm slung across your waist, breath slow against the back of your neck.

you stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to name the feeling swelling in your chest. it’s not quite fear, not quite excitement, just a kind of knowing. you’re about to see them again. bubble.

leah shifts as the alarm buzzes again, groaning softly before leaning up on one elbow. “today,” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

you nod, turning to face her. her eyes are puffy, hair a bit wild, but she’s grinning.

“you okay?” she asks, brushing her fingers over your cheek.

you nod again, but the breath you let out is shaky. she kisses your forehead and climbs out of bed, already mumbling something about toast and tea.

an hour later, you’re in the car, appointment letter folded neatly in your lap, leah’s hand resting on your thigh as she drives. the roads are quiet, mid-morning haze making everything feel softer.

the nerves don’t really hit until you pull into the clinic parking lot and see the familiar sign. you sit in the car for a second, staring at the entrance.

“it’s gonna be okay,” leah says gently.

“we’ve made it this far.”

you nod, but you still reach for her hand when you step out of the car.

you’ve been in this room before, weeks ago, when everything still felt delicate, when the screen showed more potential than shape. but now, it’s different. the lights are dim again, the air quiet, soft beeping from machines blending with the low hum of anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.

leah’s next to you, perched on the small chair by your side, thumb tracing slow circles over the back of your hand. she hasn’t let go of you since you walked in.

emily, today’s ultrasound tech, is all calm confidence and easy smiles.

“you ready?” she asks, gel already in hand.

you nod, your shirt already tucked up beneath your chest, jeans slightly unbuttoned.

the gel is cold. you flinch and laugh at the same time. leah squeezes your hand.

emily glances at the two of you. “if all goes well today, you’ll be able to see so much more than before. baby’s usually moving around quite a bit at this stage.”

“moving?” you ask, already breathless.

“yep. they’ve got limbs now,” she grins. “might even wave if we’re lucky.”

the machine whirs. the screen flickers.

and then, there.

you can’t speak for a second. it’s too much. a real little person. head, arms, legs curled in just slightly, spine arched like a comma. nothing like the blur from before. they’re bigger now, somehow both tiny and huge.

you gasp softly, covering your mouth. leah shifts in her seat, leaning forward, eyes wide. “oh, wow…”

your own eyes are already wet. emily makes a few gentle adjustments, tapping keys, taking measurements. “heartbeat’s strong. looks beautiful.”

you glance at leah, and she’s staring not at the screen, but at you. watching the way you’ve gone completely still. the way your jaw trembles.

“do you want to know your estimated due date?” emily asks gently.

you nod.

“going off baby’s measurements today, i’d place you right around november 25th.”

leah breathes a quiet, amazed little laugh. “a scorpio baby.”

“or sagittarius,” you murmur back, still dazed.

emily turns the screen slightly and clicks a few more buttons. “we’ll print some pictures for you, of course. and based on how everything looks, you’ll be booked in for the next big scan around 20 weeks.”

you swallow thickly. “and everything looks okay?”

“it looks really good,” emily says without hesitation. “healthy. active. right where they should be.”

you nod, lips pressed together hard, trying not to cry too much. it’s all bubbling up. relief, joy, disbelief. you don’t think you’ve ever loved something you couldn’t touch quite this much before.

leah runs her fingers along your wrist, her voice low. “sorry, can i ask you something?”

emily pauses, waiting.

“we haven’t told anyone yet,” leah says softly. “we’ve been waiting. we just didn’t want to.. rush it. but now..” she trails off, looking at you. “do you think it’s okay to start telling people?”

emily’s expression softens. “a lot of people choose this milestone, 12 weeks, as the safe point. risks drop, baby’s developing well. of course there are no absolutes, but from what we’re seeing today? it’s looking really promising. if it feels right to you, then yes. now’s a good time.”

you feel something in your chest unclench. a long-held breath, finally exhaled. leah leans down, presses her lips to your temple.

“you hear that?” she whispers.

you nod, unable to speak.

after, you’re introduced to claire, your midwife going forward,and she feels like the kind of person you could talk to about anything.

she’s older, warm-eyed, a cardigan over her scrubs. she pulls her chair close to the desk and opens a folder with your name on the front, already scribbled with dates and initials.

“you’re both doing so well,” she says after flipping through the paperwork. “and baby looks healthy. we’ll go over diet, appointments, what to expect next. but honestly, the most important thing you can do right now is keep looking after yourself. one day at a time.”

you and leah exchange a quiet smile.

after a friendly discussion, claire jots down your next appointment, circles the 20-week mark in pen. “we’ll see you again for the anatomy scan around this time, usually between 18 and 21. maybe before that for a few check-ins.”

she hands you a packet, more leaflets than you can count, and a little slip with her personal work number. “you’ve got me now,” she says. “any time you need something. seriously.”

you tuck it all into your bag like it’s treasure.

the car feels warm from the little bit of sun, the windows slightly cracked, scan pictures clutched in leah’s hand like they’re sacred. neither of you are in a rush to drive yet, just sitting in that stillness. hearts full, the engine off, world outside blurred and quiet.

leah taps the corner of the photo strip against her thigh. “they look like a little gummy bear,” she says, grinning.

“a really cute gummy bear,” you reply, still dazed, leaning your head back against the seat. “with stumpy legs and a big head.”

“bubble the gummy bear,” she muses. “trademark pending.”

you laugh, then wipe at your eyes again, even though the tears aren’t really sad ones. just full ones. bright and aching and everything all at once.

there’s a pause. the kind that feels like breathing space. then leah says, softly, “we’re in the second trimester now, aren’t we?”

you blink at her. “are we?”

“almost,” she nods, lifting her phone and pulling up a pregnancy tracker app she’s secretly had downloaded for weeks. she tilts the screen toward you. “says here week 13 marks the start. and we’re basically there.”

“oh my god,” you breathe.

“i know.”

there’s a silence then, big and gentle, before leah speaks again.

“i think.. i want to tell people.”

you turn to look at her. she’s already watching you.

“you think?” you whisper.

“i do,” she says, voice catching slightly. “i know we’ve been so careful. so scared to jinx it. but bubble’s measuring perfectly, your body’s doing exactly what it needs to, and.. god, i just want everyone to know how proud i am of you. of this. of bubble.”

your eyes sting all over again. you blink fast. “you’re gonna make me cry again.”

“you’ve been crying all day.”

“okay,” she laughs, breathless and warm. “we’ve both been crying all day.”

you both sit there for another minute, just letting it wash over you. the day, the words, the tiny gummy bear bubble inside you that has suddenly made the world feel huge and sharp and entirely new.

leah turns in her seat to face you properly, hand curling over yours on the middle console. her voice is quieter this time. steadier.

“now,” she says, smiling through it, “we have some news to tell some very important people.”

and your heart stutters in the best way possible. because you do, and you’re ready.

191 notes · View notes

t-lostinworlds · 1 year ago

Text

Big, Hormonal Heart | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), fluff fluff fluff

》 SUMMARY: It'd probably take more than one lifetime for Bucky to list reasons why he was so lucky to call you his wife. He was certain your big heart was one of them. One that grew even more with pregnancy hormones. It was sweet, how you to got so upset when they got his order wrong. Your meal was perfectly fine. But when his wasn't? Oh it was a crime.

》 WARNINGS: pregnancy, a dog named Snow and Alpine the cat, pet names (doll, baby, my love, sweetheart), emotional!r (she cries. like, most of the fic), husband!bucky being the sweetest, domesticity and just overall fluff (pretty tame fic ngl)

》 WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

A/N: this idea was super random. i saw an insta reel of a pregnant woman having mood swings over some food and then everyone was sharing their experiences in the comments and i got inspired so here ya go alksalkss. DISCLAIMER! I'm not pregnant nor have i ever been lol. I did as much research as i could but still, don't count on me to be 100% accurate.

++ ALSO this was written in just a few hours. this isn't my best work. just something i wanted to write as an exercise since i haven't written anything in months. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

If someone had told him years ago that he was going to live in a quaint home in the suburbs, a lovely backyard space for a dog and a cat to enjoy, and that he'd be married to the absolute love of life, an angel on earth who was now carrying his first child—

He honestly would've stared at them dead in the eye, wondering how someone could make such a cruel joke.

Yet here he was, actually living it, a life that seemed so much like a dream.

Though he was quickly reminded of how real this was as he stood in the nursery, glaring at the manual that came with the crib you two had bought from the furniture store.

It looked simple enough at first—putting together ready-made pieces should be easy, right?

Wrong.

Not when you have countless amounts of screws that more or less looked the same but were actually not because each served a different purpose.

He was in the middle of figuring out how to install the legs to the main base when you walked into the room with your two bodyguards—Alpine the Cat and Snow the five-year-old Samoyed—in tow.

"How's it going, handsome?" you hummed as you reached his side, arms wrapping around his waist, your warmth immediately easing the frustration he had about this goddamn crib.

"It's…" he sighed, gesturing at the wooden pieces scattered around the floor. "Going."

You laughed at that, kissing his clothed shoulder before standing in front of him.

Bucky held your waist then, pulling you as close as he could given that your baby bump was in the middle of you both.

He honestly couldn't begin to express how much comfort and warmth covered his whole being every time he was met with the absolute love in your eyes.

And Bucky was sure his gaze shined the same.

So many people have pointed it out on numerous occasions, the twinkle in his eyes every time they land on you—his beautiful wife.

"I was thinking," you murmured, resting your hands on his chest, moving up his shoulder and down again in a sweet caress. "How about a quick break while we order some food?"

It was only about an hour after lunch, so Bucky wasn't particularly keen on filling his stomach some more.

But you, on the other hand, were nearing the end of your second trimester. It wasn't out of the norm for you to be hungry at this time, given you were eating for two. Plus, there was an added layer that your little peanut probably had some super soldier serum in their DNA—the baby's appetite could be enhanced for all he knew.

Other than that, the last thing Bucky wanted was an angry and hungry pregnant wife. So it wasn't really a hard decision to make.

"Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said.

Ever the observant person that you were, you quickly noticed his choice of words.

"For me?" you asked, brows furrowed. "You're not hungry?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really."

Your bottom lip went.

He instantly knew he said the wrong thing.

"But I'm hungry," you murmured, eyes starting to glisten.

He could never explain it even if he tried, but whenever you got upset, your bodyguards always seemed to notice it. The two have always been protective of you and that only grew tenfold when you got pregnant.

Today wasn't an exception.

Snow barked at him, whining his complaints as he put his fifty-pound body between your legs, slightly pushing Bucky back. The furball was well trained though, so his protectiveness never went too far beyond being vocal about it. Alpine, on the other hand, was sitting a foot away, glaring at Bucky—quite the traitor given that she was supposed to be his cat, but he couldn't blame her for loving you, either—as if she knew it was his fault you were upset.

But still, Bucky wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong.

"I know, sweetheart," he said slowly, a little confused, trying to navigate around Snow who was pawing at his leg as if trying to push him further away. "I'll order some food for you."

"But you're not hungry," you repeated, body slumping with sadness.

"I'm not," he agreed, quickly cupping your face when a tear slipped from your eyes. "But hey, hey, that doesn't mean we can't still order food for you, doll."

"No, I know," you sniffled.

"So, what's making you upset, hmm?"

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath as you said,

"I don't want to eat alone."

Bucky paused, pressing his lips and swallowing down a laugh because he couldn't have you thinking he was making fun of you. He wasn't. But you were so adorable it made his chest ache.

"Okay, okay," he hummed, kissing the side of your head as he rubbed your back in comfort. "I'll order something for me, too."

•••

A few minutes later, your little family migrated to the living room. You both were sitting on the couch together, the two furballs sprawled at your feet as a random show played on TV. Various take-out bags covered the coffee table, way too many for two people but hey, that's what fridges and microwaves are for.

Fondness filled Bucky's bones as he watched you settle your food on your lap, doing what he called your Cravings Satisfied Wiggle.

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, words a little muffled with your mouth full. "What?"

"Happy?" he asked, reaching over to wipe the sauce on the corner of your mouth.

"Very much," you giggled, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

Even after all these years, the sight of your pure joy still made his heart stutter, chest growing warmer when you leaned closer with a pout.

Bucky met you halfway for a short yet sweet kiss.

"Thank you," you hummed, even though there was no need for you to thank him for ordering you food.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Reaching over the table, he took the one and only paper bag that was for him, because again, he wasn't that hungry.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" You turned to him in concern.

"It's not a big deal," he reassured with a smile, shrugging because it really wasn't. "They got mine wrong."

You frowned. "You didn't get the nuggets?"

"No, they give me the burger meal," he said. "They must've misheard me.

Bucky immediately perked up when your lips started to tremble.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, cupping your face to wipe away your tears.

"You—" you sniffled. "You didn't get your nuggets."

Bucky pressed his lips to stop a smile.

God you were so fucking cute.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed. "I'm fine with a burger, too."

You cried even harder.

Snow and Alpine quickly stood, all alert and concerned as they nudged your leg.

"You wanted the nuggets, Bucky," you insisted, choking back a sob. "But you didn't get it."

He carefully pulled you closer, rubbing your back in comfort as you laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, but it's okay—"

"No, it's not!" you protested, all teary and frustrated, pulling away to glare at him. "You deserve to get what you want. Y-You deserve all the good things after e-everything."

Bucky might honestly start crying too with how sweet you were being.

"Oh doll, come here," he placated, pulling you in for a hug while trying to navigate the food on your lap.

He could take it away for safety, but he'd already learned his lesson the hard way. Taking food away from a pregnant woman was a death sentence.

"I want you to be happy," you sniffled, burying your face against his neck. "You wanted the nuggets and they disrespected that."

It took so much for him not to let out a chuckle. Because as much as Bucky hated to see you crying and upset, he couldn't deny how adorably funny this whole conversation was.

But you'd always had the biggest heart. Whether that was crying over those rescue animal videos, emotional scenes in movies, to feeling upset over something he was experiencing—your empathy was always high.

What more with the pregnancy hormones in the mix?

"How about I ask them to change it?"

Again, wrong thing to say.

He needed to get better at this.

"But they're probably so stressed and overworked already," you sobbed. "A-And it's about to rain. I don't want the delivery guy to get wet in the rain. T-They already don't get paid enough."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he hummed, rubbing your back. "Will you look at me, my love?"

You lifted your head then, Bucky's heart aching at the absolute distress on your features—pout in full play, eyes a little bloodshot with tear stains on your skin.

He cupped your cheeks with a soft smile, placing gentle kisses all over your face, unrelenting until you let out a whine of protest. He stopped then, thankful to see that you'd calmed down now.

"I promise you, the burger meal is perfectly fine with me. I'm not mad or upset about it. I don't mind it at all," he said.

You took a calming deep breath and nodded. It only took a second for you to look at him sheepishly.

"Sorry I overreacted," you whispered, embarrassed.

"Hey, none of that," he lightly scolded. "All the emotions you're feeling will always be valid."

You smiled, small yet sweet, leaning in and kissing him with as much gratitude as you could muster.

"Besides, it makes me feel so honored to know that you're willing to fight for my chicken nugget rights."

"Shut up, Barnes."

•••

You and Bucky always had a nightly routine and it usually consisted of the two of you getting ready for bed in your own different ways. They were intertwined, but not exactly the same. Like you'd be doing some skin care in the bathroom while he would be brushing his teeth.

But ever since you got pregnant, your routine became more in sync.

It usually started with a bath that he'd run for you. Most of the time he'd end up joining you, the length of said bath varying since that usually depended on what mood you were in. Bucky was always at the service of meeting his wife's needs, after all.

Recently, now that your bump wasn't particularly easy to navigate, he'd helped you get ready for bed. From getting dressed to your skin care, including rubbing some moisturizer on your stomach. That part was one of his favorite things to do.

Then it was the typical things, getting dressed, brushing your teeth—this one you stopped him from doing it for you even though he was more than willing—and overall just getting ready for bed.

Once you’d settled on the pregnancy pillow that Bucky fluffed up for you, he'd sit near the foot of the bed to give your sore feet a massage while you read a book.

Tonight, right when he was in the middle of doing that, he heard you sniffle.

Bucky looked up in concern, catching you already staring at him with tears already in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking you over. "Does something hurt?"

"No, I-I'm okay. I just—" You cut yourself off with a sob.

Bucky quickly moved beside you, pulling you onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your form. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, body shaking as you cried.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," he murmured against your hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just—" You let out a shaky breath. "You're always taking care of me."

"Of course, sweetheart, you're my wife," he said. "And not only because it's my duty as your husband, but because I love you so much."

That made you cry even harder.

"I l-love you too, so much," you sobbed. "But I haven't been able to take care of you lately and that's not f-fair."

Bucky felt his heart grow as if it wasn't already bursting at the seams.

How could someone be so selfless and sweet?

"You're pregnant, my love," he stated the obvious reason as to why. "Besides, I'm capable of taking care of myself. It's alright."

"No, it's not," you argued, pulling away slightly to face him. "You deserve to be taken care of, too! You deserve to get pampered a-and a break but you're always fussing over me and taking care of me instead. I'm not helping with any of it. I'm just making it harder for you."

"No, absolutely not," he stated firmly, holding your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "I love taking care of you. It honestly makes me feel so fulfilled and happy when I do."

"Really?" you sniffled.

"Yes. It's the least I could do with everything that you've been going through right now," he said truthfully, adding with a chuckle, "Hell, if I could carry our baby so you wouldn't have to go through all the pain I would."

That earned him a small laugh.

"But I want to take care of you, too," you admitted after a deep breath.

"You already are," he hummed, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. "You're taking care of our baby and my heart, and those are very important to me."

You scrunched up your nose adorably.

"That was so cheesy."

"But it's true, though."

You smiled, cupping his face. Bucky turned his head to kiss your palm.

"Thank you," you sighed fondly. "For putting up with me and for everything."

"First off, I'm not putting up with anything," he reassured, kissing your other palm before adding, "Second, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. Never."

You nodded, leaning closer to press your lips against his, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. Bucky kissed you back with the same fervor, never needing words to express what you truly feel for each other.

He felt so content—feeling your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, and your little peanut asking for attention too, kicking the second Bucky rested hand on your bump.

When you let out a soft, needy whine, he was ready to take the kiss even further.

That was until a wet tongue met his cheek.

Bucky groaned in annoyance, pulling away to see Snow giving you a kiss, too. He couldn't be angry at the dog for ruining the moment when your lovely laugh echoed in the air. Alpine jumped on the bed a second later, nudging her head against Bucky's chin before walking over to place a loving paw on your bump.

His smile was as bright as it could be as he watched the scene before him.

A wonderful home, a wholesome family that involved his beautiful, loving wife and two furballs, his family that was only getting bigger in a few months—

Yeah.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#bhh #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert #sebastian stan #my writing

956 notes · View notes

rise-my-angel · 5 months ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

A Jealousy of Infighting

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

Length: 19k

Warnings: modern!au, angst/hurt comfort, suggestions of baby trapping, jealousy and possessive issues, pregnancy and talks of pregnancy, mild illness, smut, p in v, breeding kink

Notes: Thank you so, so much for your pateince I am sorry this took so long to come out. But these chapters are so much less common and I wanted to make sure it was worth while. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Jon had yet to figure out what exactly the looks he was getting meant. Some were more curious, as if wondering why he was so consistently there, but others he wasn’t so sure. Or, perhaps he was but would rather not think about either direction that thought could go. He stood off to the side, your jacket draped over his arm as he waited for you, by what he could tell the classes were going well.

Maester Luwin had given you both at your latest appointment an extensive list of classes available to take, and you had to talk Jon out of you taking all of them. He just wanted to be sure, if not for yourself then him. He knew a bit, but he didn’t know the ins and outs of such details of pregnancy in this manner. It didn’t matter as much when he was a bystander on the side, but this was different. He had to know everything he could, so he could be ready for whatever you needed. Regardless of what you told him he didn’t need to do. Muttering in the car after the first class that he didn’t need to feel obligated to come to these things.

But, as Jon stood there now he could only think that there was no where else he’d rather be. He saw a few of the other women’s husbands attending last week that didn’t join this week, and others mentioned a husband he never saw at all. Even the husbands who were there, were silent. Some waiting off to the side on their phones and some only passively paying attention. They were never engaged the way Jon assumed they would be.

That part Jon could not grasp. Why they weren’t interested in learning these things as well.

The subjects all for the first trimester of a pregnancy, it too was a way for Jon to learn exactly how to take care of you. Now as he waited off to the side, not wanting to stand in the way of where everyone else was gathered around the board, Jon could properly compare. Most of the women were noticeably pregnant already, whereas you clearly weren’t. You looked no different to the little over a month prior when he got you pregnant in the first place, your presence in this class was the only proof Jon could see with his own two eyes that it was true.

Perhaps these men were on their second child and felt no need to awe over their wife, or they simply were never in awe in the first place. But Jon couldn’t imagine not looking over at you, your hand raised tapping at your tips with your face slightly scrunched up in thought as you looked over what exercise practice to sign up for. You insisted that you could do all that at the house, but Jon gently turned you by the arms. Guiding you to move over to the board while muttering that it would be good for you to spend a few hours every week with other pregnant women. You had begrudgingly agreed, mostly to make him happy.

Whatever harmony Jon found himself in watching and waiting for you was ruined by the grating voice of one of the men making their way to Jons side. “Don’t worry, bringing you along will lose it’s charm by the third or fourth class.”

Eyes narrowing, Jon turned to face him with no words. Only a question and a tinge of annoyance in his eyes that the man didn’t pick up on. Following his gaze as the man gestured to the group where you were more easily able to be indicated towards as the other women begun to leave. Already Jon felt himself more on edge, the passive way the man already seemed to speak about you as if assuming Jon would ever be the same.

Continuing on he elaborated much to Jons dismay. “Your wife. Eventually dragging you to every class and appointment stops when she realizes you’d much rather be anywhere else.” He didn’t turn to look back at him right away. His hand hidden under your own jacket curling into something tense within its hold as the agitation rose. Why in seven hells wouldn’t he want to be here?

If the man picked that feeling up in Jons expression, he seemed to pretend as if he hadn’t. Looking towards him as if waiting for a laugh of agreement, when rather Jons grey eyes darkened a bit as he slowly peeled them back towards the man, a lower rough tone in his words as he spoke low enough to ensure you didn’t pick up on this conversation. “Why are you here then?” Only responding with a huff of a laugh that it was his second child, and his wife insisted he come to the first few classes just to brush up then he didn’t have to anymore. Jons dark gaze flickered between him and you, only spotting briefly that you stood up on your toes to sign up for something, finally having settled on an activity. “You don’t think you need to know these things?”

Shrugging his shoulders, the man let his hands sink into his pockets. “As long as we can still have sex, I don’t know what I need to learn she doesn’t already know.” Before Jon could even consider retorting back, the man changed topics. As if they stood there, two pals chatting about how much they hated being with their partners. “Your accent’s not from around here. You a Northman?” Jon only nodded, his eyes noticing to the side that you approached and hoped the man would stop talking before you reached him. “Seven hells, more reason to convince her to not make you come anymore. Save you the what? Least an hour drive here and back? Give you more time for whatever you people get into up there.”

That time the man certainly noticed with more of an awkward stammer into silence, that Jon did not laugh with him. Only muttering a hardly polite “Excuse me.” Before brushing passed him as he shifted your jacket, gesturing for you to turn around and let him help you put it on. Asking gently in your ear, “What did you settle on?”

Turning around you fussed with the front, the thought only briefly hitting Jons heart with pride that sooner or later he was going to have to take you to buy new clothes when you started to show. Pushing it back down for now how much he was truly looking forward to that. “Swimming. One of the other women said the water can help when I start to get heavier. Half an hour in the pool, half an hour break then another half an hour in.”

Guiding you towards the door, Jon ignored that the man was giving him a confused look. Wondering why his new so called friend, didn’t care to acknowledge a single thing he had told him. His hand first on your lower back to guide you down the hallway to the front doors, before running up your spine gently and settling on grasping at the fur lining around your jacket’s collar just under the back of your neck. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in the water in years.” Responding back playfully that there weren’t an abundance of pools or lakes around Winterfell right now that weren’t freezing, Jon chuckled deeply. “Arya and Bran used to beg my father to at least get an above ground pool, but he knew better. Would cost him more to clean up the water they’d purposely get everywhere then the pool itself.”

Guiding you through the parking lot, he without thinking opened your door for you first before you turned to him, grasping at the top of the car door with a curiosity in your eyes. “Did you make any friends? I saw you chatting with Lena’s husband.” Jon only grunted as his face fell unamused, not even bothering to answer beyond that before closing the door for you once you got inside. Circling around to get in himself as you continued, a little more confused. “I’m sorry, I thought-” Cutting yourself off, Jon paused after clicking his seatbelt into place watching you turn away with your confusion now melting into a guilt which your skills did not include being good at hiding from him. “If you want to keep coming, I was hoping you’d get along with one of the husbands, give you something to do, someone to talk to every week.”

Jon turned in his seat, the thought crossing his mind that perhaps he was not the only one getting talks about how normal it appeared to be for the men to suddenly drop off of coming the longer the classes went on, and how much you were hiding that you didn’t want that. Saying your name firmly, his arm came up partially to rest along the back of your seat to implore you to look at him. Which you only partially did with an apprehension. “I’m here for you and the baby, not to just stand around and wait for you to be done every week.” Biting your lip, Jons expression shifted softer, his posture easing up in tenseness. “Hey,” his hand moved, turning you by the cheek to look at him. “I told you, as long as I can come, I will. I can’t take care of you if I don’t learn this stuff too.”

He knew you were about to say he didn’t have too, instead choosing to interrupt such a thought process by ever so gently capturing your lips with his. Feeling you melt into him right away, he couldn’t imagine not caring enough about you and the baby. Pulling away, he ran his nose down the length of yours before you merely nodded. Understanding that you had nothing else to argue at that moment against the idea.

As he drove you both home, Jon in that comfortable silence could let his mind drift. Both classes, comments were made to him akin to asking were he dragged there. He knew those men weren’t even paying attention with that question. If they had, they’d know how often Jon spoke up. Glancing to you with your eyes squinting in thought as he translated within his mind what you were wondering, then would ask for you. If Jon were not so sure his memory was as reliable as it was, he’d have taken notes just to ensure he didn’t forget. But he knew he could commit this to memory, it if had anything remotely to do with you, or anything even remotely to do with the baby, Jon was all over it.

Jon wasn’t the one most in his family would think was to be ready so quickly for a baby, but yet they all watched as he was the most comfortable with it all. Almost gently guiding you into being comfortable with the idea still, but he knew it was the lingering trails of doubt from before. The terrifying fear that he didn’t want this, that your minor miscommunication meant that nothing of his joy the night he found out was real or would stay. Jon may take all of this seriously, but he never wanted that to diminish the image of how happy he was.

It had only been a few weeks since you both moved into the house, and it turned out to be as good for you as it was bothersome. If Jon wasn’t the one doting on you, his brothers or father were, or his sisters were glued to your side with questions and suggestions or merely fantasizing ideas about what to do when the baby was born. It was what he wanted, people around you. Never leaving you alone if he could help it, and someone there to take care of you when things started to get more difficult. You didn’t see the use in it now, but considering when you had arrived to the class last week, down the hall Jon had spotted women leaving a separate class whom all were very pregnant, likely close to a due date by his estimation. He knew thats what he was preparing you for. You were quick and capable now, but soon you wouldn’t be and Jon didn’t want you facing that on your own.

Especially since you had not heard a word from your family since the night he and Margaery smuggled Shireen out to see you. And Jon knew exactly who to blame for your families callous silence. He didn’t say it to you, not wishing to put you in that position, but it made Jon impossibly angry that your father was no doubt the reason you were so isolated from any of your family celebrating this as the Starks all were. They should be happy, their daughter was having a baby, they were to have a grandchild, and yet? No word.

If Jons eyes were to glance over at you as he drove you both back home, he knew he’d find himself distracted too much. A soft gaze towards you, warm in nature as you sat where you had for so many trips, drives, and everything in between in his passenger seat and yet now it was different. There was a third party sitting with you and it was something which you both created together. It was something which everyone should be happy about, but they weren’t. And Jon didn’t yet know what to do about it, if he could indeed, do anything.

Your parents, or more rather, your father, was someone far above Jons pay grade to confront. Even worse, you were a Baratheon. A girl from a highborn prestigious family. Were this in ancient times, you’d have been raised and saved to pass your hand off in marriage to a suitable highborn son. It wasn’t that way now, but in truth, parts of that tradition hadn’t disappeared completely. Jons surname was still Snow. He was still a bastard, and he had gotten you pregnant only a few months into dating you. If you being unmarried and pregnant was an offence, then it was even grander bordering on an insult that the one who got you pregnant was a bastard.

Raised with his family, the Starks one of the oldest families in Westeros and highborn, but Jon technically wasn’t. He was a bastard, he had no rights to anything were inheritance still of vast importance. And no matter how much his father, his brothers and sisters, and those of the North didn’t look down on him, that did not mean that those in the south would follow suit.

He would be seen as unworthy, which boggled the mind. He had wanted nothing more then to have a child with you, and the idea of watching you have this with someone else left an ill feeling deep within Jons stomach. A heavy weight of a life he wished not to linger on for too long. Instead, he told himself not to glance at you, merely to stay paying attention to the road, knowing you would transfix his gaze should he look at you too long.

As he begun pulling onto the road which led to the main Stark property, Jon always enjoyed the sight. The lands were vast and somewhat empty until reaching the wolfswood not to far away on one side and the rolling hills on the other. With the seasons lasting in such strange, unpredictable amounts, Jon could count himself lucky that he was able to enjoy the golden hue splashing across the lush surroundings as thankfully, this had turned out not to be a short autumn.

The leaves always in a state of changing colours and teetering on falling, but all knew that they would remain that way until winter was ready to crawl in. Only with the first cold winds did the leaves fall and autumn signalled itself as over. For now, Jon could enjoy the sight. While you could still walk easily, and it was very early, he wondered how up to a smaller hike you’d be. Nothing strenuous, but he wanted you out in the wilderness he knew you both loved before it was too late and it would be who knew how long before you’d see it again.

With the weekend having come by, it was impossible to say where everyone would be by the time you both got in. His siblings always scattered one way or another, but he hoped it would be quiet enough he could get you into the kitchen without fuss. You had barley ate that morning, not that Jon blamed you.

He had felt you stir very early, earlier then you would’ve normally gotten up. The slightest movements from you in his arms could pull Jon awake with ease, and the second he felt you suddenly move his eyes begun to open. Two things hit two senses, first the brightness of the bathroom light being flickered on in the corner opposite where his bed was. His eyes still squinting with sleep as he begun to sit up, only for sound to hit his ears as the second sense and swiftly did he all but jump out of bed. As it someone had dunked him into a vat of ice water to slam all of his senses into overdrive at once.

Before he had known it, he was knelt down beside you as you threw up. He should’ve expected this would start, kicking himself for not being more prepared already. First his hands reached up, gently gathering your hair and pulling it behind you, luckily nothing had gotten stained with your sickness yet as he used the band around his own wrist for when he’d occasionally pull his curls back, and tied the long strands up to stay out of your way. His free hand once done, ran soothingly up and down your back as the final of it all seemed to come up.

Shushing you gently, Jon had tried to coax you into relaxing as he felt your muscles tense under his touch, but you seemed to only tense up more. You must have been so overwhelmed you scarcely noticed Jon was by your side until that moment, and something uncomfortable hit you rather then anything reaching out for him. All of the evidence of your sickness washing away, you had suddenly pushed up out of Jons touch. Walking over to the counter to fill your glass with tap water.

Flushing out what remained before you grabbed for your toothbrush to clean out the rest, Jon had walked back over to you. Again he reached out, that time running up your spine before inspecting his work at your hair and deciding that wasn’t anywhere near good enough. Pulling it all out, you paused mid motion to glance at him in the mirror before you saw him parting your now loose again hair into three sections, relaxing more knowing he was simply going to braid it this time.

His work finishing in time for you to wash the rest of the toothpaste out itself, his hands ran down your upper arms, hoping as he stepped closer his chest pressing against your back that his warmth provided more comfort. Your hands as everything was returned to their proper place, hung at the edge of the counter, nails mindlessly tapping at the surface. Your voice was understandably a bit more rough as you spoke as quiet as you could, “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Jon shook his head, knowing as he looked down over your shoulder at you, that your eyes were trained upward to watch him back but in the reflection of the mirror. Pressing his lips gentle to the side of your head before leaning against the spot. “Not your fault, darling. It’s normal.”

But, it was what you said next that took him off guard that morning. “I normally wake up with enough time to shut the door behind me, so you don’t get woken up by all of it.” His brows furrowed as he looked down over your shoulder more, something more stern and a bit serious filling the spaces where a gentle softness last sat, asking what you meant by that. You however, explained it both casually and yet nervously, only seen by how you begun to toy with your fingertips and nails. “It started a few nights ago. I’ve been trying to handle it without waking you up.”

Short but stern, Jon asked “Why?” But you only shrugged. Sighing deeply, Jon let his hands on your arms drift down to reach around your body. Grasping at your hands to stop the motion before tucking them against your front as he used the leverage to pull your back closer to his chest. His gaze still on what of your face he could see looking down instead of trying to meet your gaze in the mirror, knowing you’d simply try and avoid him anyways. “You should’ve told me. Why would I want you to go through this part alone?”

The answer was almost sweet in how innocent and simple it sounded, and yet tore at part of Jons heart. A side of you he had almost healed out, but still poked it’s unwelcome head every now and again reminding him of where you came from before this relationship. “I-” Your nerves grew in the mere second passing that you hesitated, speaking slow and clearly as if misconstruing what you were to mean would somehow get you into trouble. “It’s gross and unpleasant, and I don’t need to bother you to get through it, is all.” Muttering with a little confusion that it wouldn’t bother him, you muttered as insecurity now bled into your expression as well. “Maybe it should is all I’m saying.”

Sighing deeply, Jon only pulled away from you long enough to turn you in his arms. Settling you gently back against the counter before his face scrunched up in thought. Changing his mind, Jon merely used his strength to pick you up and sit you on the surface instead, your legs parting enough for his frame to come close as he cupped your cheeks.

There it had been, that insecurity without any hiding or filter to lessen it. He sighed again, turning your head downwards so he could press a kiss to your forehead. Making you meet his eyes again as his thumbs ran over the soft skin of your cheeks, your own hands gently grasping at the top edge of his sweatpants. No intention with it, merely incidental with how it could’ve looked to others. Jons voice was barley a mutter, only for you to hear. “Do you even need to me to say it?” Biting your lip before shaking your head, you opened your mouth to speak but Jon cut you off beforehand. Pressing a gentle, but lingering kiss to your lips, only pulling away enough to brush against your soft lips with every word. “Don’t apologize. And don’t be afraid to wake me up next time.”

It was too early for any lecture, and he didn’t want to rub salt in the insecure wound more then necessary. It would take time to ease you into allowing him into the more unpleasant aspects of this process, and even more time then to get it to sink into your beautiful, yet stubborn head that Jon was not put off at all by any second of it. Instead he waited for you to nod, pressing one more kiss to your lips before muttering that you had a few more hours to sleep before needing to get up.

Even now as Jon pulled into the driveway hours later, he could still recall how easily you went with him and all but curled your front into his chest, as opposed to returning to the position before. Having turned around in your sleep, so your back was once more at his chest, instead, Jon had wrapped his arms warm and safe around you. Hoping the action could fill in at least some of the blanks that there wasn’t going to be a part of this process which he’d wish to turn away from.

Which included being there for your classes of course.

Naturally, were Jon to have his way he’d keep you in the car and circle around to help you out as he helped you in, but you were still speedy at your early stage and unchanged size. A wave of something exhilarating rushed through his blood in the cool air at the thought of what you were truly going to look like when you started to show. His beautiful, pregnant girl..it was a baby he had wanted with you, but until that moment it was as if it never hit Jon that he’d get the rest of it too, He’d get to be with you every single stage of your pregnancy. And certainly too as Jon circled around to guide you by a hand on your lower back, that the instructor that day had informed all of you that through every stage of pregnancy, sex was perfectly safe.

It was still the morning and no doubt his family was inside the house, he couldn’t think about that now.

Opening the door, you both could hear sounds of the television in as you took your coats and boots off, voices scattered somewhat on the second floor but luckily none from what he could determine in the kitchen. Muttering in your ear, “Let me make you something.” It was cute to him, how you instantly looked up at him in a defiance that you could do it, but he only pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know, I’m still making you something anyways.” Before grabbing you by your arms and turning you in place to walk into the kitchen.

Well, someone was in there sitting at the smaller table, but lucky for Jon it was only his father. Glancing up from whatever he had been reading on his tablet, his eyes glanced over you both with a curiosity. “How did it go?”

Jon prompted you to sit down across from Ned, barley muttering once more that he’d handle everything. Hearing both voices behind him as he begun rooting through the kitchen with little thought on what to make. In truth, Jon had learned what you liked and didn’t look meal wise so long ago he could come up with something in his sleep that you’d like. “A little better this time. They started to go into detail finally, I assume the first session was more of an introductory overview.”

Functioning as your server almost, Jon didn’t catch the small glint in his fathers eye as he sat a glass down in front of you to drink without even saying a word, you barley having the time to thank him before he was back at the counter. Hearing his father turn his attention back to you. “I remember going to those with Cat. Information is likely better now then it was decades ago.” A huff of a laugh came from you before he continued. “They also suggested she sign up for other activities to do with the other women, they offer you the same?”

Unbeknownst to either of them, to you it was almost sweet. How Ned now was prying in a subtle way as to not come off as prying. Trying to determine whether or not this was the suitable class for you, knowing that if it wasn’t, neither of them would hesitate to seek out something better. As if the fatherly instinct turned on for both, Jon for the baby, and Ned for yourself. Sipping the juice given to you by Jon, you put the glass down with a nod. “Swimming. One of the women, this is her second child and she told me that being in the water in the later months can help take the pressure off. Just another thing to look forward too.”

You had only muttered it, but Jon knew his father caught it was he did, your lower and less savoury tone. A chuckle left the man, “Aye, I know that look. Seen Cat go through it more times then I can count, it doesn’t last long. A few months at best.” Jon couldn’t help but let out a small smirk to himself as he heard you huff. Barley glancing behind his shoulder to see that you had let your head fall into your hands, elbows propping it all up on the table, something muttered under your breath. While on didn’t catch it as it was too muffled, he could imagine the dismay felt knowing how long it was going to last, and while not that you would say it, Jon knew too you were aware it meant Jon would fuss over you for months about this.

He was over prepared, he had made it through all of the books faster then you had. Nearly memorizing everything he could, and going back to write down the rest. Even down to the food, while it cooked, already Jon made his way to the cabinet he kept your new prenatal vitamins in, setting them in a tiny glass bowl to sit at the side of your plate knowing you always needed food in you when taking them. You hadn’t felt great when taking them and skipped a meal, though that was on a day that Jon wasn’t there.

Whenever he was there he ensured you were taken care of. He knew it could be overbearing, he knew to some this may constitute as babying you, but he couldn’t help it. You were carrying his child, a child you both had created together. Something that bound you both together for the rest of your lives. It made Jon as joyful as it did worried. He’d been thinking that way more and more, hearing an echo of Robbs voice accusing him of essentially baby trapping you. Whenever that possessive feeling kicked in, too did a rising anger in his blood. That accusation that he would ever do something like that to you, take your choice away, your freedom.

Robb had never even come close to saying anything like that again, in fact, it seemed he was trying to rectify it. But Jon didn’t really care. He was still on edge, hearing biting words from the brother he trusted most, the one person who had been there for him his whole life. Maybe Robb was right in a way, maybe deep down a sick and twisted part of Jon that he had no idea where it could’ve come from did want to do that to you, but he didn’t. And Robb should’ve trusted him more to know that.

Having missed over half the conversation you had with his father, Jon only put a smaller amount on a plate for him before turning a bit. Head gesturing down to the counter with an ask if he wanted any, only to get a shake of his head in a grateful no. Luckily, you knew the routine by now. Now questioning the amount he plated for you by the time he sat down. Jon knew in time you’d only need to increase how much you ate based on how much the baby was growing, and part of Jon smiled to himself knowing he’d have a stubborn battle with you in the coming months over that fact.

The other day you had tried to bite back, playfully of course. He had quite a few very early shifts, so early he suspected you benefited from it by being able to hide your morning sickness because he’d be gone by the time it happened. So it had been the first time he could sit and have breakfast with you in days. You had been picking at the remainder of your food when Jon prompted you to finish, you had done so, but not before pausing when about to take a bite with a raised brow. “You know Robb doesn’t hound me like this when we have meals.”

You meant it as a joke, of course you did. Jon wasn’t sure if you took his response just as much of a joke, but he had moreso only grunted and muttered, “That’s because Robb is too nice about how stubborn you are.” It was the easiest path, his own dig at Robb while covering it up as if teasing you. It was incredibly petty and he felt bad for it, but Jon was the last one to let go what happened that night in the driveway, and didn’t know how he’d get passed it anytime soon.

The last he saw you, his sisters were occupying you very well.

Jon needed to finish some reports that he hadn’t gotten too. The perk of the more tedious aspects of his job, was that he could do much of it here. Jon could go in, put extra hours into the hands on parts of his job and make up for the time needed for reports by doing them here, so that he could either have you in the room, or pause and go check on you anyways. Some night when he couldn’t sleep, he’d gently get out of bed, usually prompting the now waking up Ghost to hop up onto the bed next to you, so you didn’t feel alone even in your sleep.

The room only lit by the glow of his computer as he’d type away, he’d pause and look over at you. Tucked comfortably underneath his blanket, in his bed, not even the one he first slept with you in, it was even better. The bed he spent years drifting away at night knowing he was falling in love with you. The bed that his teenage self guiltily spent many nights getting off to the wonder of what being with you would be like.

That was where his filthy habit came from. His teenage mind in love with his best friend, not knowing what else to do. He’d get up, plug his headphones in and start searching. No one was good enough to look like you. The hair was too long, too short, not the right shade, the face not close enough, their voice so loud and obnoxious that he now knew was nowhere close to how you sounded. Some nights he’d give up, some nights he would deny deny deny that it was you he was still trying to imagine when he did.

Now though? Now it was different, and yet it only had been for months. He could barley still comprehend how recent it was that he finally found the bravery to kiss you, and everything after? And how now you were downstairs in his main home, his sisters pestering you about becoming aunts? Sometimes Jon felt as if he would wake up and be once more thrown back into the world before any of this. He’d be back in the apartment, and you’d still be with Karl Tanner or Ramsey Bolton and he’d just be waiting to see when they would hurt you and step in hopefully before it was too late.

He never expected to wait for you to feel something for him. He had long since assumed you didn’t. But as blindly rageful he was hearing what Ramsey spilled out about you just to humiliate you, there was something Jon couldn’t deny. He didn’t have to wait for feelings that would never come, they were already here. Yet he could hear as he descended the stairs, your voice but no longer his sisters the ones you were talking too.

It was petty, jealous perhaps the word was? But before he’d be seen coming down the steps, Jon stopped. His eyes narrowing as he listened to the familiar voice talking low to you, not to hide secrets, but that calm tone Robb always used with you that Jon’s darker insides had come to despise.

“I already said I would, there’s nothing left to debate.” Jon could hear a huff come from you, not of annoyance but something more playful. Not able to hear your response, Jon barley took another step down as he leaned more to the banister trying to hear, and feeling rather childish for doing so. Instead he only heard Robb first, “Its not out of my way, no one is thinking that but you.”

Straining he could just barley hear you, your voice sounding not too far from wherever Robb was. “I mean I could reasonably walk there now, but...” Trailing off, Robb only mentioned that it wouldn’t be so easy later on. Jon presumed you nodded before continuing, somewhat along a different train of thought. “I don’t know how I’m going to stand it. Feeling like I will be completely useless. Already I worry I’m not contributing enough to be here.”

As it turned out, Robbs answer was the exact same as the thought which instantly had come into Jons head at that exact moment. “You’re contributing to the family by having a baby. I’ve seen my mother go through four, I know how difficult it will get. You don’t have to do anything to prove something to be here. Got it?” Robb had paused before his final ask, Jon suspecting he had to turn your head to look at him properly, and he knew you must have nodded a silent yes.

Coming down the steps finally, your heads turned to look at him, neither of you acting as if there was anything to hide. Not that Jon would ever put that on you, but his eyes darted sharply to look at Robb for the briefest of moments. Both of you were on the longer couch, you were sat facing him with your knees more pulled towards your chest as you rested more against the back armrest, with Robb sat somewhat sideways with his feet on the floor but his arm stretched along the back of the couch where if he so chose, could reach out and brush his hand against your arm. He didn’t move, thinking nothing was wrong and yet Jon forced himself to swallow that feeling, trying to sound normal. “What were you two gossiping about?”

You answered for him. “Robb was asking me what the schedule for my classes and appointments look like and some of them are on the days you couldn’t take off. He was just offering to drive me,” You turned your head to Robb with a playfulness and a raise of an eyebrow. “Despite me saying I am perfectly capable of walking.”

Both brothers chuckled at you, Jon coming up behind the couch and circling around to where he leaned down to murmur loud enough for both of you to hear. “You can, until you need help even putting your shoes on or getting up from the couch.” Pressing a kiss to the top of your head before you even had a chance to register how he was mocking you, a grin on his face as he finished his moving. Picking your legs up without a second thought, and for you draped your thighs over his lap as one of his hands innocently stroked your calf through the comfortable leggings you had worn.

His eyes only flickered to the side for a moment, looking to see Robbs arm moved and now he leaned more against the other side of the arm of the couch matching more of your posture but away from Jon. You didn’t notice the shift in the air and if Robb did, he said nothing of it. Jon knew he was being territorial for no reason but the burning in his blood spoke that he could not help himself. Robb continued as normal, adding to his brothers mocking without the hangup of wanting to glare at him. “You remember how much my mother needed help when she was pregnant with Rickon, you really think you’re going to be around all of us like that and we won’t help you?”

Opening and closing your mouth as you no doubt lost the argument, you crossed your arms over your chest. One foot reaching just slightly out enough to playfully kick at one of Robbs legs, and pulling them back up quickly as Jon almost pulled your legs and feet closer towards him to protect you from retaliation, even though you struck first. “I’m pregnant you know, not an invalid.” Both for a moment, forgot any tension with a bemused glance before looking towards you once more. Something insulted in you huffing again as you knew you could not escape Jons grasp. Merely muttering to yourself, “The novelty will wear off eventually.”

Jon watched you with a playful smirk but soft eyes, how little you knew that was untrue. This wasn’t a novelty. This was something he never thought he would have and yet? Part of him felt that pride too, that it was his child you were having, not the brother next to him which he wondered if Robb had ever thought of.

He could only imagine what Robb was really thinking when you told him, his unwarranted suspicion of Jon aside, what hurt did he feel? What loss of a woman he now never would have? Did that feel good to Jon, having that over his brother the way he claimed? Well, if Jon refused to think deeply on it, that was what he could simply tell himself as much as he wanted. That it didn’t matter what Robb thought, this was the way it was now.

Glancing around, Jon changed topics. “Where are the girls?” Robb mentioned they had disappeared into the basement whispering after talking to you about maternity clothes and Jon raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Sighing with a bit of a laugh, he let go and his head dropped a bit back. “Well, at least they’ve finally found something to bond over.”

At least they were more mature now then they were years ago. Jon could still recall when they were both immature and young. Something of Arya’s would go missing and she’d storm into Sansa’s room accusing her and they’d squabble until it turned into a petty fight which would need to be broken up. Typically by either Jon, Robb, or their father wandering in and all but picking Arya up and either turning to wish a playful push to get out of the room, or sometimes just carrying her until she could be dumped on her bed like she weighed nothing. Now at least they were bonding over the baby, there wasn’t going to be much they could argue about in that respect just yet.

Muttering quietly that you needed to use the restroom, you pushed yourself up to move before glancing at Jon still keeping your legs effectively trapped. Raising an eyebrow with a bemused look, your tone flat as could be. “Am I still allowed to do that part by myself?” Jon had barley opened his mouth, but you read his eyes like words in a book and shook your head. More forcefully snatching your feet back to you before climbing off the couch away from him. “Don’t answer that.”

Both brothers watched as you disappeared down the hall, and suddenly the silence was staggering. They hadn’t spoken much. Robb would talk generally to Jon when others were around or even just you around, but by themselves they had hardly spoken since that night. Robb knew he made a mistake that Jon would take harshly, and it showed. The tension sat right on Jons face, his jaw clenched and his hands almost unable to stop fidgeting from a tense awkwardness. Robb however, made the attempts more then Jon did to try and mend that wound. His voice calm without any hesitation with a light playfulness in it as he spoke. “You’d think after over a decade she’d be used to this.”

Jon nodded, somewhat. Not very meaningfully and with a scowl still clear across his features. Running a hand over his mouth as he shifted trying to look as if he was sitting more comfortably. He needed to say it, and part of him wanted too but that part too fought with another part of him which said that he shouldn’t thank his enemy. Which was stupid, he knew. Robb was his brother, not his enemy. And yet...look where his brain had led him at least in verbiage. “Thanks. For offering to drive her. I wasn’t sure what I was going to-”

Robb only cut him off, it seemingly to spare him mercy in how awkwardly his strained tone sounded. “It was the least I can do. The only person I have to answer to is father, and if I wasn’t going to drive her then he would’ve done it himself.” Jons face turned downward not to look, not wanting to showcase how uncomfortable he felt and yet still both of them chuckled deeply.

Jons head rising up as he again ran a hand over his face, noting in the back of his mind his facial hair needed a slight trim before it got too long. “Aye, he would’ve done that.” It was not as if Jon was an expert conversationalist, but he knew this was painfully obvious. Trying to string together a series of words to form into a sentence which did not begin with a warning to stay away from you. “I know the amount seems excessive,” Your name coming off his lips, “I know she thinks so.”

Robb however, didn’t hold the same awkwardness. “She thinks living in the house is her getting in the way, it think it would be safe to assume she doesn’t really know what’s good for her.”

A tick in his jaw came out, something knowing what that could mean as well. And who would be better for her then the highborn brother whose always gotten everything handed to him. Eyes sealing shut he needed to stop, but he couldn’t help it. He was supposed to try and get along with Robb, if just for you and yet the second you weren’t there to remind him you were his, something in Jon latched right back into the truth of what he knew.

You being pregnant did not diminish Robb’s feelings and that aggravated Jon to no end.

“Jon.” Turning to look at him, he could say he didn’t expect it nor want what Robb was going to say. “I know things haven’t been okay since that night-”

Shaking his head, Jon pushed himself upwards to his feet. He did not want to have this talk now, you’d come back any moment and even if you didn’t, Jon wanted to stay angry. Robb might have been trying to make amends, but he was still rather close and touchy with you. Jons girl, the one Robb had feelings for, the one he’d swoop off your feet if given the chance were Jon to screw up again. He’d never be free of his stupid mistakes one week months ago and Robb was now a vulture hanging around what was not yet even the decay of Jons relationship with you to pick at the remains once the time came.

Calling his name, Jon only moved down towards the hall you disappeared into. A mutter only loud enough for Robb to hear and hopefully none else nearby or listening in. “Save it.”

If Jon heard Robb sigh deep and frustrated, he pretended otherwise. Instead finding himself looking at the restroom door open and light off, you hadn’t returned. But you weren’t hiding nearby with prying ears, you disappeared completely. Brows furrowing, Jon begun his search. The main floor of the house the biggest space aside from the actual outside of the property but found empty room after empty room. His eyes glanced to the outside, not seeing any sigh you were out there until he heard a slight low grumble from the study nearby. The door was mostly closed save for a tiny crack, Jon pushed it open.

The glow dim from only a single lamp nearby, sat on the side table next to the couch. It was that sight which finally made Jon smile. You were sat down, surrounded by three wolves. Greywind lay by your feet, or actually, on your feet. Something the direwolf did a lot to force you not to stand up so he could sleep by you undisturbed. One one side of the couch lay Nymeria, her head in your lap already fast asleep. One of your hands running gently over her ears as on occasion she’d shift to shuffle closer to your touch. On the other side of you curled up into a ball facing you was Ghost, just enough space left for Jon to sit as if the wolf knew.

You glanced up at him with a very amused expression and a pretend of exasperation. “I’m surrounded by wolves no matter where I go.”

Chuckling, Jons head dropped for a moment of that laughter until looking back up at you with wide and bright eyes and a smile forming. His voice low and soothing as if not to disrupt the peace. “You’re one of the pack now.” Making his way over, Jon barley needed to look where he stepped to climb around Greywind’s frame to expertly position himself on the couch next to you. Without even waking really, Ghost spared no time in moving to rest his head on Jons lap as Nymeria was on yours. Both of Jons hands running over Ghost’s fur and playing with his ears as a whining grumble of content came from him, matching close to the sound no doubt that caught his attention when it was Nymeria who made it. Looking at him with a questioning gaze, asking what he meant, but Jon just smiled down at Ghost before looking at you. “You’re one of us now, and they know it. Which means they’ll protect you as much as we all will.”

You didn’t say anything. A softness in your eyes that too softened Jons to follow, a thankfulness in them that didn’t get followed up with words you were ready for yet. Instead, you only shifted enough to rest your head more against his shoulder.

With wind blowing against the glass, light from the moon half hidden by the curtains and crackle of a small fire Jon knew his father must have left on by mistake, it only added to the feeling. A calm after he had walked away in anger. You were one of them now, but the pack wasn’t just one. You were Jons, carrying his child, and it was you both with the future together. And that calm only reminded him further that your future lay with him, not Robb.

No matter how much his brother might pretend he felt otherwise.

Jon wished he could better convey how little he was in the mood to be hounded about this at that moment. His eyes starting to strain from staring at the screen of his computer for so long, he was close to finishing his report and would’ve much rather avoided the attention he was about to get. They meant well, they were his friends, but it didn’t mean it didn’t aggravate him. He had wanted to finish his report, then go outside to call you, see how you were feeling when shadows hovered over his desk.

Trying to ignore it, he could hear Grenn one of the figures behind him trying to simply catch his attention. “Jon.” Muttering a what, he didn’t stop typing nor turn around until an arm reached over to sit on top of his desk before his keyboard. Glancing down at it, it was a smallish box. No bigger then perhaps the size of an apple. Nothing about it stood out save for the well tied ribbon around each side of it coming together to seal it off without much fuss. That had Jon turn around somewhat, raising an eyebrow with a confused expression to follow in a silent ask of what this was.

Sam, Grenn, and Pyp all stood by. Pyp circling around the rest to sit atop the empty edge of Jons desk, as Sam sat in his next to him and Grenn hovering with a hand over Jons chair. Pyp held the enthusiasm. “Well go on, open it.”

Jon said nothing, only glancing between them and then to Sam who gave little away. Slowly pulling the ribbon lose, and opening the box. Tissue paper sat to hide what was inside, pulling it away sat something that took him off guard. So far while his mates were happy for him, a lot of it had been teasing and jokes. Nothing serious. But as he pulled it out, it looked like a smallish toy. Almost like a charm bracelet but large for an infant to hold safely and play with. Made of a smooth wood, sturdy non moving charms hung from little spots all around it. A swap between a small wolf head, a stags head and antlers, and what seemed to be one he didn’t understand.

A small snow globe with indents in the carving to look as if inside was just falling snow on a wooden landscape. His eyes couldn’t quite take off of it, until he heard Sam explain from beside. “It’s for the baby, whenever they’re born. Pyp and I wanted to do something to celebrate, and thats what we came up, and Grenn carved it.” Jons eyes softened a bit but hadn’t stopped looking at it yet. Sam leaned forward pointing to the specific choices of charm throughout. “The direwolf were the symbols of the Starks when a highborn house was structured differently, and the stags head for a Baratheon.” Jon tapped gently at the last one.

Sensing the glances between it seemed they were suddenly not confident in what they had done. Pyp took the reigns on it. “The baby will be both, but we also figured that they should remember their own name. Snow.” Jon glanced up to him, an unreadable expression on his face as Pyp looked a bit bashful. “Took us a while to come up with what could symbolize Snow. Its safe for the baby and everything, the way it’s made. Even if they stick parts of it in their mouth like my nephew always did, it’s safe.” Pointing to the charms to make his point.

Jon nodded, “How long did this take?” Grenn said that once Sam and Pyp came to him with the idea it was easy to make. He and Jon had long since took up wood carving as a hobby for when they were north of the Wall and there was little to do once night hit and they were only able to make camp in the Haunted Forest. Nodding, he suspected they were expecting this sort of quiet reaction from Jon. Not a man typical to make grand gestures towards people especially with all of his co workers all there to potentially witness it. His voice however, gave off something strained. A clearing of his throat that spoke to more emotion winding up in his throat then he was wanting to give the impression of. “Thank you, all you of you. Really.”

Glancing to the lot of them, Pyp nodded with Grenn as Sam spoke sheepishly. “Everyone else here’s been having a go at you, so we thought we could do something to show we actually are happy for you.” Pyp adding with a jest, that they too all hoped it would help Jon decide who the godfather was going to be. Jon didn’t need to say outloud for them to know that he wasn’t going to put up with that debate for the fourth time these past short weeks. His flat falling expression conveyed that already quite clearly.

Patting his shoulder on the back, Grenn glanced to Pyp. “Come on, leave him to his work.” Getting up to follow, Sam at least followed the idea and turned to sit more at his own desk next to him, settling in while glancing at Jon still looking it over before he put it back in the box.

Gently opening the top drawer, he sat it inside with his collection of photos. Sitting it there only for the day, fully intending to bring it home. He could only imagine the look on your face when he showed it to you. In a small box in the side of your room together, sat some of the things for the baby that was too early to have a place for yet.

His younger sibling had went to the storage in the attic and sorted through all of their baby things to find ones of their own they wanted to pass down to the new baby. Toys from when Bran and Rickon were babies, a simple but small stuffed bear that Jon recalled Arya as a newborn being incredibly attached too, and a soft blanket that Jon recognized as Sansa’s favourite when she too was a newborn. Some of their favourites as a baby or toddler and they had wanted to pass them on. It meant the world to Jon, it really did. So instead of storing them away, he found a decorative box to sit on the floor where eventually he knew a cradle would fit perfectly. The wolf plush sat in with it, and now he knew he could add this charm toy along with it.

It was odd, in their own way the baby was bringing people together and yet in other ways it did the opposite. It drove Jon away from Robb, and it drove your family away from you. As much as it unified people on one side, the further did others get. Jon could glance now at the calendar on his desktop, his schedule all filled out and seeing the days you had classes that he wouldn’t be there for. If he hated himself more, he’d fill out the rest of it by specifying that Robb was taking you. Only to keep track of things, and yet with a deep sigh through his nose Jon let his mouse click over those days and type it in.

Jaw clenched as he did so. He didn’t want his brother thinking that this would be normal, that he’d be involved in your pregnancy the way Jon was to any close degree. You weren’t his, and neither was the baby in your belly. It wasn’t alright. He had to reign in that anger. Sam was always keen to pick up on such drastic mood changes from Jon and he certainly did not wish for that to happen. Jon didn’t really want to do anything to give Sam a reason to pry about that petty and unreasonable aspect of Jons psyche. He already wasn’t proud of it, but he was angry and stubborn enough of a man to know he wasn’t going to actually do anything about that.

He was right about one thing though, you loved it. Once he had gotten home finally, telling his family he and you would be a bit late coming down for supper he had let you open the box just as he did to find out before relaying the same details that his mates told him.

Only you were so much easier to read. Your eyes lit up so brightly, a smile not even bothering to hide painted across your lips as you turned and turned it. “Who knew they had such a sweet side.” Jon only grunted with a bit of amusement in his chest as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. Muttering that you were only saying that because you didn’t have to spend days with them out in the wild and see how easy it was to want to throw them in a river then. You only glanced over to him with a playfulness, “Or perhaps that is just because you have a tendency to be a bit of a brute.” Opening his mouth to object, you swapped the toy into your other hand, freeing up one enough to point grab at the edge of your collar and pull it down more to expose the skin on your shoulder. The marks now fading, but still clear bruises from the last occasion Jon got a bit carried away.

Not that you were complaining, but it made Jon smirk all the same as he only leaned down to press the gentlest of kisses to the skill discoloured skin. Glancing up at you without fully raising his head with a rasp, “I’m sorry, darling.” About to tell him not to be, Jon cut you off by cupping the side of your cheek. Pulling you into his lips for a proper kiss, you leaned into him so easily.

Thumb running across your cheek, he pressed many smaller ones each and every time he himself tried to pull away. You made it so easy to keep kissing you. If he wasn’t so strict about ensuring you ate, Jon would’ve gently set the toy aside. Push you down onto the flat of his bed and hover over you, kiss you until both of you needed air together, which for Jon, could last quite a while. Pulling away, you nodded for him to get up with you. Walking to the other side of the room to place the toy right beside the wolf plush, you grabbed a longer, warm cardigan as Jon chuckled at you. Your eyes turning to him with a jest and yet still accusing doubt. “What?”

Jon only gestured to the cardigan before smiling a big in amusement. “It’s not even winter yet and you’re already cold.” Coming up to you, he placed his hands on your hips as you held him at the waist gently. “The baby stealing all your warmth?”

Shaking your head a bit with a hidden smile, you looked back up with bright eyes still. “Maybe you just need to keep me warm more this winter.”

A bright, loving smile came over him. Not bothering to answer yet as he leaned down to press another long, lingering kiss to your lips which stole your breath right from your lungs before he pulled away. His rasp or his kiss making you shiver, he couldn’t know. But he adored it all the same. “Aye, I do.” Turning you in his arms, he pushed you towards the door, “No more stalling. I know you’re hungry and won’t admit it.”

You had attempted to turn to look back at him and say you were fine, but changed your mind the second you made eye contact with his greys shining down at you knowingly. Only turning back with a shake of your head he guided you down the stairs and following into the main dining room. No one questioned what made you both late, all smart and correct to assume Jon wouldn’t tread on anything inappropriate seconds before bringing you out for dinner. But, as he pushed your chair in for you as you sat, Jon couldn’t help but notice Robb watching a little closer. Looking for those signs everyone else knew weren’t there.

His eyes scanned for marks, signs that anything had been gotten up to in that time. The possibility of a jealous brother made Jon ironically feel jealous if not possessive as the right word. He knew of course that you liked suppers like this. With everyone in one place, it took the pressure off of you from becoming the main discussion as chatter begun as food was served and passed around. Jons eyes every so often flickered to the side, making sure that you put enough of one thing on your plate before you passed it to Robb across from you.

Only, just as Jon felt the need to say something to you about how little you had yet, that possessiveness flared up from within. His dark eyes growing ever darker as he watched Robb with a teasing look gesture to your own plate, his tone matching which no one found suspect. “You sure you’re eating for two with only that?” Glancing down with a furrow in your brow your face fell flat at realizing what he meant. Mentioning that you had plenty of time to build more of an appetite. Only Robb again, had seemed to take up the conversation which normally happened in silence between Jon and you instead. “If they’re anything like one of us, you’re going to want to work on that real quick.”

There was chuckles at the table, your eyes flickering to a bemused Catelyn who confirmed as such that it would be something you’d have to adjust too no matter what. Robb as if to make a point, purposely reached over enough to put more on your plate to make a jesting scene of it as you just as joking but on a dissatisfied mocking face to jest your not true disapproval.

Jon watched for a second, his eyes on Robbs retreating figure back into his seat, himself still holding the next dish. Normally when Jon was trying to get you to eat more, he’d just serve for you but he knew if he did it now with more eyes currently on you, it would stand out. It would look almost like he was trying to one up Robb. Instead, with a more clenched grip Jon handed it to you and simply didn’t make any mention of the amount.

Robb was doing it in a joking way, but he didn’t know you like Jon did. He didn’t understand the deep rooted insecurity. Robb hadn’t gone with you to classes and appointments and see the weary manner which you eyed the much more pregnant women in a way that Jon knew meant you were worried about when you looked like that. He didn’t understand what Jon would do to ensure you never had to worry about that, not before, not after, but certainly not when you gaining weight was the healthiest thing for you and the baby. Robb didn’t know any of it.

He was throwing daggers in his eyes each time you and Robb laughed. You both spoke to each other a lot that dinner, and Jon hated every second of it. His gaze tearing away from his brother down along the table to find anything to distract himself. Only, he found himself meeting Arya’s face twisted slightly towards him. Gesturing to something without making it noticeable, Jons face only scrunched not knowing what she was trying to convey.

Her eyes flickered towards Robb, then back to her lap then Jon again, and he connected the dots. His hands rising up ever so slightly palms out to show nothing, he knew she picked up on that he meant he didn’t have his phone with him presently, so whatever she was secretly trying to message him to say wasn’t going to be read now. If Arya could’ve sighed dramatically, she would’ve. Instead keeping it internal as she gave a little tilt to say to talk to her later. Jon nodded, knowing at least the two of them still spoke their own strange silent language. Especially when it was Arya with something on her mind she wanted to talk about.

The meal went smooth for everyone that wasn’t him. All Jon could focus on what the way Robb looked at you. That look he knew so well if just because it was the one Jon had given you for half your life, if not the entire time at least Jon had been there. There was something wanting yes, but moreso wide eyed and lovesick, something that affection dripped from without the understanding of how obvious it would be to any but you.

In moments such as this, Jon truly wished that Theon were here as a buffer. He and you would consistently get lost in a conversation and Jon wouldn’t here have to constantly watch his brother look at you and wish it was him in Jons position. Which, he knew Robb was thinking that. Why wouldn’t he?

Jon could not imagine looking at you in anyway close to the way he did and not want to envision a future together that was bound by blood. Not in an archaic sort of manner, no. But blood as in, the life you created together. The alternate version of Jons life where everything that happened between you and him, but with you and Robb, he hated it. He didn’t even know why he was unable to get rid of those thoughts. They were haunting him, tormenting him, mocking him as if to say that he was going to wake up at any moment and discover this was all a falsehood and a farce.

He was worked up, his muscles felt tense and an energy that was not pleasant needed to go somewhere but he didn’t know what. At least sensing Arya’s eyes on him, Jon muttered to you gently that he was just going to talk to Arya about something. If you picked up on his tense state, you thankfully said nothing yet. Not that he’d expect you too, you normally knew how to handle Jons tense moments.

You’d wait to see first if he came to you himself, opened up. Then if not, you were simply sweet on him. Reminded him in other ways you were there for him and it always prompted Jon to relax and open up, remembering why he didn’t like hiding things from you in the first place. But for now, Jon didn’t want you around him when he was this worked up about something so directly involved with you. You’d mistaken it for you doing something, but too, he also needed to get this out of his system, because neither did Jon wish for you to clue into that it was Robb about you he was mad with. That wasn’t an ideal scenario either.

Seeing Arya on the back porch, Jon turned to look where the main living space was. Calling out knowing he’d sense the intention from his tone alone, “Ghost.” And there, the scurry of the direwolf to his feet. Shaking out his fur and trotting over to him right away. Were wolves able to smile, there would be one on his face right now. Beckoning him to follow, the moment he let the glass door slide open, Ghost darted out with barks loud on his person.

All but leaping down to the ground off the porch where Nymeria was running around. Within seconds as he closed the door behind him, you could hear playful barking as the two begun to chase and snap at each other. At least he thought, unlike Arya, Nymeria was Ghost’s size and could hold her own against him in a playful fight.

Walking up to the porch, Jon rested his arms across his chest. Both of them just watching the direwolves for a while. He didn’t need to start the conversation, if she wanted to speak this privately he knew it was likely a conversation he wouldn’t like. The moment she opened her mouth, his suspicions became confirmed instantly. “What do you think he’s going to do?” Jon said nothing, as if silence was an adequate response to the question. Turning to look more at him, Arya’s tone wasn’t genuine curiosity but more a pedantic rhetorical one that she still expected Jon to answer. “You know what I’m talking about. What exactly do you even think Robbs going to do?”

“Nothing.”

Did he himself think that? Or did a wolf much like the one of his own he watched in the distance just give the answer he thought was no doubt expected of him. Arya didn’t buy it, naturally. “So why were you staring daggers at him the entire time?” Jon muttered that he wasn’t, and it was blatantly obvious between them that in this case, Jon was not good at lying. Rolling her eyes, she turned to match his stance. Arms crossed over her own chest, a scowl moreso frustrated on her then troubled on him. Her voice a bit lower, more serious but still held a familiar sound of talking down as if he were an idiot. “When has Robb ever been that person?”

The silence was painful. That question wasn’t rhetorical, but Jon knew any answer other then the truth was being unfair. “He hasn’t. But we’ve also never liked the same girl before.” Repeating the word like, with much more of a scoff, Jon turned to look over at her. “What?”

But the frustration as much as it sat so clearly on her tone, it didn’t shine yet as prominent in her eyes. “I think it’s a bit passed like, Jon. She’s pregnant. What is Robb going to do? Be a home wrecker? In his own home to his own brother?” Whatever words Jon had on his lips died as she cut him off. That frustration once more returning to cut him with the edge in which she spat it out with. “You two fought, why can’t you just let that be it?”

He sighed deeply through his nose. He wished he had a good answer to that, but he didn’t. Jon took his time to answer, and at least as testy as Arya could be, she knew much like you, and much like their father not to rush Jon to answer when he was this silent. Looking down, he uncrossed his arms. Stepping forward enough to brace each hand against the top railing of the porch banister. His eyes more wide as he looked up to the sky now so dim it could be described as dark, and just above the trees a near half moon lighting everything up around it.

Jon could only wonder how beautiful of a sight it once was, in an age where light didn’t hide out the amount of stars in the sky. He imagined Arya would’ve enjoyed that more then what little she could get even here. He imagined Kings Landing was the worst. Likely you could see the moon and nothing more with how dense it would be and lit up at night.

But it was watching that moon and what stars he could find, that calmed his blood more. Something filling him as he inhaled deeply through his nose, the air cool and crisp in autumn still. His voice was softer, more rasping with something distant behind it lost in thought, but not angry or dismissive. Your name coming from his lips. “I bought her a ring before she was even pregnant.” He could feel his little sisters eyes firmly on him, but he just watched what he could of the night sky. “I’ve always known she was it for me. Even before we started dating, I knew it was her. It always would be. I could find a girl I like, settle down, be happy, but as long as she was in my life..it wouldn’t be enough. Watching her disappear when she dated Tanner, and then just when I got her out of it, I watched her trade one nightmare for another.”

He’d never forget the day he met that rat, and he would always remember how Ramsay knew instantly what Jon felt for you. And what he did to torment him personally about it. But he spoke none of that outloud. No one still knew but the two of them, that he’d mock Jon with the sounds of him fucking you just to make his life worse. He didn’t tell you before and he wouldn’t now. But that didn’t mean that it made this easier.

“I never expected anything. I wasn’t waiting for the right time to jump in, I accepted what I was to her. Just her best friend, but we’re more then that now. And we always will be. But this is the one thing I have thats mine, the one thing that wasn’t Robbs first. Finally, I’m first and I want to be her last and I can’t stand watching Robb knowing that somewhere in his head, he wishes that he could be her last instead. That some part of him wants her even now.” Arya had listened silently. Taking in his words, and she too was quiet for a while trying to think of anything close to the right words.

“They’re not going away.” Clarifying before he could even ask, “Robbs feelings. They aren’t going away. I don’t know what to do, but you can’t hate him. I know you don’t hate him and you know that too, but you can’t keep acting like it. It’s not helping.” He knew that, and Jon had no idea how to pretend to stop feeling angry at Robbs feelings or acts of jealousy, nor how long it would event take for that pretending to bleed into actual acceptance and move on from it.

That felt like a lifetime away.

Sighing out, Jon let his head drop. Eyes closing for only a moment before he trailed upwards to once more watch Ghost and Nymeria. Now much more off in the distance, he expected they’d come back rather late and much to Catelyn and Sansa’s dismay, both likely in need of a bath. Arya took him off guard, even having told her minutes ago, she took him off guard. “When are you going to ask?” That time when he turned to glance at her in confusion, she truly was looking at him like he was an idiot as she said your name. “Her, stupid. When are you going to propose to her? You said you bought the ring, and there’s no better time, right?”

Brows narrowing, Jon considered it. Asking, he was so close to asking only a few short weeks ago and yet here he was. It was completely different now, even though, it wasn’t. He could wait until everyone went to bed, crawl into bed with you and ask you just laying next to each other under the covers and you’d say yes. But, he had enough sense to know better. Just for now, he wouldn’t be asking with the right intention.

He would always ask because he loves you, but he didn’t want to also ask, because he was possessive and wanted to lay a final claim to you. That proof could come soon enough when your belly would begin to swell, marriage could wait until it felt as if he wasn’t being hasty. “I’m not. At least not yet.” Arya’s ask of why was calm and genuine. “I waited my whole life for her, I can wait a little while longer to cross the finish line.”

Pushing upwards to two feet properly, Arya followed. Turning to look up at him, that frustration now tinged with something else. Jon hadn’t said much, but with her, he didn’t always need to. They could read each other well, well enough she picked up tonight something it seemed no one else had to talk to him about it. “Just trust him. His feelings aren’t going away, so you’re going to have to get used to it, and trust he won’t do anything.”

Arya didn’t say anything else. Going back inside to the warmth without waiting for him. Looking down at his feet, Jon sighed deeply as one hand came up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Turning back to once again brace against the banister railing. Legs somewhat bent backwards as he looked back up at the moon.

This was supposed to be between him and Robb. The casualty Jon knew was going to be painful, was you being in the middle, something both brothers had been trying to avoid. But with the fight in the driveway, and Jon growing colder and colder towards only Robb in particular, he knew he was putting everyone else in your position was well. They were too casualties by proxy.

He didn’t want to turn it into him or Robb, divide his siblings and family into thinking thats what this all boiled down to when it was so much more complicated then that. And if Arya noticed already, it was only a matter of time before everyone else noticed too. And certain people might not be as amicable to hearing Jon out then Arya was.

And yet, as he came back inside, Jon found you in the kitchen with Robb. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, the two of you just joking about something as he’d seen you do thousands of times. Putting you and everyone else in the line of fire with his jealousy, and yet, it didn’t go away. That urge remained to yank you to his side and tell Robb to leave you be from now on as if you were an object. He didn’t want to be that way, and in truth, Jon had no idea where that side of him came from.

This kind of anger, this kind of possessive obsession didn’t at all feel like something that came from his Stark side. Whoever his mother had been, possessive was not the word he would wish to describe her as, but he came to no other conclusion. Something in his blood that wasn’t Stark, was making him look at you with something dark and territorial and no amount of his sense as a man was letting that go away.

And yet the moment Jon turned, himself coming into view did you clearly catch him at the side of your vision, turning to face him more without a second thought and half of his inner turmoil melted away. Your eyes bright and soft as you looked at him, it hadn’t been long even since he had seen you and yet you looked at him as such. It was simply your natural reaction, something within you always excited to see him as he was you, even with Robb standing so close.

Telling himself not to ruin the moment, Jon muttered your name with something gentle yet playful in his tone. “How about you take advantage of no one using the water, before you go to shower like last night and they’ve used up all the hot water?”

A knowing look came over you, shaking your head slightly in what he knew was exasperated amusement. Sharing a glance with Robb, you likely didn’t pick up on the ever so slightly tense shift in his demeanour, nodding for you to go on. Jon gently turned along with you to guide you out of the kitchen to the stairwell, but not quite before having a pause. Looking at Robb with something more narrowing in his brows, his brother watching with his own sharper expression right back that neither of them spoke on.

Nor did they need too. The silence was all the tension needed to know what was going unsaid still forth. Catching up to you more, Jon following into the bedroom closing and locking the door behind him. Your person already having moved towards the dresser where the mirror was, pulling your hair in front of you to begun pulling out the ties keeping the braids all together and slowly undoing them. Jons hands naturally, itched at the urge to do it for you.

Coming up behind you, his hands grasped at yours, pulling them down to your sides as you let a small huff of a laugh out. “I can-”

Only interrupting you with a more cheeky grin, Jon begun more easily undoing the braids from his advantage right behind you. “Can do it yourself, I know. Hasn’t stopped me so far though.” He could see in the reflection, you resisting the urge to tilt your head in bemused agreement and he appreciated that he preferred you stand still for this part. The less you moved, the less likely Jon was to accidentally tug at your hair too hard. He hadn’t in years, not since he was still practising as children, but he wouldn’t risk starting it now.

Each strand coming loose, Jon helped smooth it out by running his fingers down the length, always slowing at the feeling of a tangle and using both hands to unravel it before continuing. It took longer and longer for this process to continue the longer you both were together. Jon started as he normally did, just enjoying your hair even from before you were together, but as the months passed the longer Jon used excuses to stay at your hair before all together dropping the pretense. He simply loved running his hands through your hair and he felt no reason to hide that by now.

Satisfied for now, Jon worked right away. Grasping the edge of your shirt, you helped him by moving your arms enough he could pull it up off of you, his hands only pausing just long enough at your breasts to dig his fingers under the fabric of you sports bra and gently pull it up off with everything else. Dropping it by your feet to handle later, you stood bare chested in front of his mirror. His hands not wasting time, yet, smoothing down your sides before undoing your jeans without so much as a need to pay attention to unbuttoning them. Once more, his hands slunk into your underwear and grasped hold, pulling it all down in one go. Kneeling behind you, guiding your legs to pull each pant off, while keeping you nice and steady against his grip as he did so.

The moment he stood, you turned to face him, not bound by his hands loving to keep you in front of him in this way. You spared no time, pulling his own shirt up and off. Only you must have either sensed his tense feelings radiating between he and Robb, or you were simply more soft then usual. Your hands drifted up his chest to press high against his torso, leaning to press your lips to his. Instantly cupping your cheeks, Jon pulled you closer. Deepening the kiss which you started, a greed yet satisfied hum leaving him as you sighed into his lips.

This was clearly what both of you needed if for different reasons. He had to remind himself, you were pregnant. He knew that meant things about your mood and needs would begin to change and that you might seek him out more. Not that Jon would ever struggle let alone reject your want for affection, but he knew to take advantage of that need while he would have the chance. Wrapping an arm around your bare waist, Jon pulled you close, his hand at your cheek moving more to your jaw to tilt you up to meet his lips. Kissing you over and over, as your hands slid downwards.

He felt you at the belt of his jeans, but taking a bit too long you must have needed to see. Pulling way, Jon instead preoccupied himself with kissing down your neck. Your shaking exhale beautiful in his ears as you now had a better angle at which to pay attention to his belt, opening enough to as well undo his jeans before trying to push the fabric down a bit. You wanted him to let you go so you could take them off, but a chuckle came to him before he could stop it.

Pulling way, he grinned at your narrowed expression without any explanation. Turning you, Jon more playfully pushed you towards the bathroom door with a mutter. “Set it to however warm you like.” You would need no more explanation, he liked it hotter then you could handle, so he would let you now set it to whatever you wanted. If he wanted a hot shower alone he could have that anytime, it was simply having you in the shower that he sought out more now. That was his main goal, having his girl in the shower with him to take care of as he liked.

Gentle sounds of water begun filling the air, the door partially open from the washroom, Jon first glanced over with wider eyes to ensure you were not looking. Crossing over to a cabinet of his own, he knelt down opening it. Digging through one thing then another, he knew it was tucked away safely but he had to check. Or moreso, he simply wanted to see it, needed to. He leaned forward a bit so he wouldn’t have to pull it out into the open to get a better look, instead only raising it up enough that he could look it over.

Hearing you still pattering about in the other room, he could tell by the distance of the muffle that you were not anywhere near view of the door luckily. He considered it. Truly, he did. He had all of the confidence that if he were to walk in there right now and give it to you, what you would say. But, would he be asking because now felt right? Or because that very wolf within him was angry that Robb was so close to what was his with a wanting in his eyes, even if you could not detect it yourself.

The conflict twisted in his stomach. Wrapping it back up, he let it sit right back in it’s hiding spot. He couldn’t ask you now. He would just be trying to keep you with him by any means necessary instead of asking because you were ready. That was his promise to himself when he bought it, that Jon would not ask you before he knew you were ready. He could be ready right now, and you would say yes right now, but saying yes and being ready were not always the same thing to such a large question.

This was not one act or request, it was a lifelong commitment and despite a darker feeling within trying to convince him otherwise, Jon was a better man then that and did not wish to act on such darkness anyways. Closing everything back up, Jon pushed up onto his feet properly, taking his jeans off the rest of the way before finally making his way into the other room.

Warm steam begun filling the room in a comforting way, you no doubt turning the water up just slightly higher then you preferred it, trying to accommodate Jon as much as Jon wanted to accommodate you. Shaking his head slightly, he at least could too smile seeing you had already gotten in. Pulling the curtain back gently, you turned back almost about to cover yourself up.

A brow raised as he nodded down to your hands hovering over about to hide, the grin on his face was palpable in how teasing it was. His voice might have been more on the side of flat, but your own face falling flat too spoke that you picked up on his mocking with ease. “I think we’re long passed that.”

Your face attempted to steel itself as to not form into a grin, and when failed you simply turned to face away from him. Letting the water run over your front. Coming right up behind you, Jon grabbed your hips. Carefully stepping into you so his back pressed against your chest, running up and down the smooth but now water kissed skin his palms found. Leaning down to your neck, Jon pressed his lips there with a touch like like a feather, but a rasp deep and soothing in your ear as too it sent a shiver down your spine. “Let me do you first.”

Not letting you answer, Jon reached over your shoulder. Pausing as his hand was about to grab at your soap before moving to the shelf upwards with his own things. Your laugh heard over the water as you watched him, but unlike what you might have done months ago, question him on it, you simply understood in your own way. Jon liked when you smelt like him, even if it was just with his soap.

Carefully running the cloth over you, each stroke over your skin gentle for a man like him and yet his eyes were narrow paying attention. One would think the slightest of too much pressure put on your skin would have you shatter by his level of tender care. It was also one of the only tasks Jon could do so close to your bare form with nothing to hide his view, and he wouldn’t let it distract him. Making sure all of you was washed over, he only pushed upwards to unhook the shower head. Muttering for you to turn around for him, he started with your back down before getting you to face him as he rinsed the rest of the soap off as well.

A satisfaction in his chest at how already he could pick up his own scent on you even just here. Your hands grasped at his waist as he reached to put the shower head back, Jon meeting your bright eyes as he returned. The water making your hair flat and heavy and enough mist coming his own way that it tamed and dampened his own curls. One hand ran along your upper arm, his other moved higher. His fingertips trailing across your cheek before tilting your head up by the chin.

Did Jon even need to say more? Your eyes fluttered shut first, lips parting for him slightly as he closed the gap. Capturing your lips in a kiss, the fingers by your chin slid backwards. Raking through your soaked hair to pull you closer, Jon deepening the kiss the very second you stepped up to him. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, trailing high to rake through his curls. Almost just as he was doing for you earlier, accepting his kiss but massaging his scalp with your nails. Just scratching along enough a shiver ran through his blood warming him with need.

One hand grasping at your hip, Jon turned you in place. Pressing you up against the wall of the shower, his body pressed tightly against yours as his lips kissed you deeper and rougher. Feeling himself bite into your lips as an aggression grew and grew, only increased tenfold as your arms wrapped around him more, nails threatening to dig into his back.

Risking to near bruise your hip, Jon, didn’t bother to hide how hard he grew, how you would feel every second of it knowing that there was only once place his mind could trail towards, and at least in here, alone with only the two of you, that possessiveness needn’t come out in aggression or anger, but in a true need.

A particular harsh bite to your lips, you gasped into him, breath stolen by Jon but too interrupted in every way as he took advantage. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, he stepped up closer to tower over you more, his other hand reaching up to grasp at your jaw. Tilting you up to be angled perfectly to simply let go and allow him to control it. Brushing his tongue against yours, never allowing you even the chance to explore back no matter how much he felt in your grasp, in your shake, in the whine hiding in the back of your throat that you wanted too, and yet would let Jon control it.

Confident you’d stay where he placed you for now, Jon let the hand on your jaw move. Slide through the wet strands of hair at the back of your head, sifting his fingers through he get a good hold. Were he not tasting the inside of your mouth with greed, he may have more directly noticed how much you melted into his touch before he even did anything. Grasping your hair was an act enough alone to get you worked up, knowing even the slightest tug could have you wanting to press your thighs together, but here, you didn’t need too.

Tearing his lips from yours, he heard you gasp but thought little of it as he felt his teeth baring in need to sink into your soft skin, seeking out out sensitive neck. Biting down with something raw behind it, your body arched into his as you gasped so beautifully high pitched for him. Your hands holding onto him tighter yet scared to carve into the muscles of his back as if he’d ever tell you to not do whatever you needed with him. It was a pain you so seldom scratched along him and yet Jon craved every second of it. How much he could look at the healing lines and be reminded that it was a need he gave to you alone.

Soothing the rough touches with presses of his lips, before letting his tongue brush over once more. Though not to heal further, as if marking down the continued path he was to bite down into, sucking at the skin until he knew it would bruise and mark before he’d let up. His cock heavy and throbbing as you continued to call out, your breasts bare pressed up against him. His hand on your hip slid upwards, none to smoothly, just out of an urgency to grasp roughly at your breast.

A growl let into your neck, at how perfect they were for his hands. How yet they’d grow in the coming months and even then they still would be perfect for him because they were part of you. Not just the form of a girl he felt for being pregnant was what was doing it, no, Jon knew you were special. The girl he’d looked at with a wanting innocent and otherwise almost half of his life, over half of his life. You had wandered shyly into his home at the age of eight and Jon never looked back and here you both were.

Barley able to pull from your lips, your eyes were still sealed shut even as you heaved to catch your breath as Jon did, his own grey eyes dark as they stared at you, tearing down your body more until he let go of your breast. His hand with more intention, but tilting your head up to meet his eyes as the sudden motion was enough for yours to flutter open. A tender wonder for only a moment lasted before something wanting and yet endearingly shy came over you, in the mere seconds it took for your brain to catch up to his intention.

Two fingers pressed roughly against your clit, were his hold of you by your hair not so firm, you’d have jumped along with the pretty gasp you too let out. Knowing he wanted your eyes on him, but Jon wouldn’t match it right away. Instead, he looked down, watching your legs as they stood there, trying to to shake already, feeling your hands on his shoulders now trying to not hold on too tight as he rubbed tight circles into you.

He worked you up as a musician could an instrument they had long since become an expert on, he didn’t even need to think about how to bring you the most pleasure, it was second nature. The moment in any way you became his, Jons lesson of life was to learn every single inch of your frame and every single thing which made you wanting and needing and drew you closer to an orgasm and he would exploit it without a second thought.

The slightest hitch in your breath, knowing to the second how close he had brought you to the edge already, Jon leaned forward. His nose nudging slightly at yours as he watched your eyes flutter closed once more, moving with him in the way he could much more gently capture your lips. A sound not even he could tell if was a moan or a cry or even just a sigh filled his mouth from yours as something pleasurable came through you, his gentle touch a perfect harmony to the rougher one at your clit.

Not even deepening his kiss, the moment Jon sensed it, he refused you in the final seconds to finish before those same two fingers slid down. Was it merely being surrounded by water or were you truly this wet for him already? Jon desperately hoped for the later. Some words spoke that women possibly were more needing when pregnant then before, and once more Jon felt his cock throb at the thought.

He wanted you all the time, he could hold himself back, but it never made wanting you the way he did any less intense. It was why when he had you alone, Jon could take you as often as he did. He would wait as long as you needed, years even to be with you this way but the very second he had you just like this, holding back was something he would struggle with immensely.

Dragging along your sensitive walls as he felt you soak and clench around them. His kiss interrupted by his own smirk as the whine finally was pulled. The water beside you both impeded on his ability to hear how soaked you were, but he could feel it. He could turn the water off right now, pull out of you and show you how much you coated him already. Pressing you further into the wall as much as he could, Jon refused himself to pick the pace up, to keep it steady, keep you on that edge instead of allowing you to fall over it and you wanted it too.

As sick as Jon sometimes felt for enjoying not letting you cum, you trusted him enough to not disobey that and it made his head spin. That trust felt almost unearned, only months he’d been with you this way, and in that time he had been far from perfect, but you took that trust for him from nearly a lifetime and never second guessed directing it towards him in this way. He had accidentally gotten you pregnant after spending weeks obsessing over that very thought, and you still trusted him.

You couldn’t know for sure he didn’t do this on purpose, but you trusted him regardless. Something Robb would never understand, the kind of trust you had in Jon and why he would rather die then take advantage of that trust for his own gain separate of you. His wants were you, not in spite of you.

Muttering against your lips, Jon could feel your shaking breath with each word he muttered against them, “Turn around for me, darling.” Nodding yes, Jon stole one last kiss before helping you turn. Pulling his fingers out and pressing a kiss to your forehead as you winced even at that loss alone.

He preferred you to face him, wanting to kiss you, watch your beautiful eyes on his but in the shower, he knew he could keep you so much more steady if he pressed your front into the shower wall, rather then hold you up in a balance and not harm you. It wasn’t just you at risk now, and if he was not willing to let you slip and hurt yourself then he wasn’t going to harm the little one now. No matter how much you tried to argue they were so small it wouldn’t matter.

Your body leaned back against his, seeking out the warmth that he gave off unique to the hot water still raining above you both. Your legs parted more, stance wider for him as you held at Jons forearm which slunk around your front to hold you against him. Only moving his length enough to properly brush between your soaked legs, Jon pressed a lingering but tender kiss to the skin just below your ear, hearing your breath take pause as he took his time.

Not rushing as he slowly slid inside of you. Watching with dark, hooded eyes as yours fell closed, as your head dropped and too did your lips part in a silent gasp. The manner which he stretched you was something else, it was as if each time he was moulding you to fit him, to fit his length to be made for him and ensure no one else had a right to try and change that. If a name and face which would want to do same came to Jons mind, he refused to let it develop into a full thought. Instead choosing to focus on gently shushing your whines with his soothing rasp in your ear. His thick cock dragging against your clenching, warm and soaking walls as you somehow were a balance of tight enough his teeth gritted but yet somehow gave no resistance. The thrust slow and slick but smooth and tight you had him use his now free other hand to hold at your hip, knowing already he was creating bruises in the shape of his fingertips to match the other.

You would never know if Jon was going to start slow and take you rough the moment he slid inside of you, or if he would work you up fast and needing but take his time once he got to it. He was wild and unpredictable and not with purpose, his need for you simply varied to every extreme and he refused not to explore it. Instead, he filled you completely, pulling his lips from your skin only enough to hear a whine come through the shaking exhale.

As much as his own blood boiled in his veins, Jon huffed a laugh as a gentle smile came over him. Your eyes not even catching it but hoping your ears could hear it, which you always could. A flush coming over your chest which Jon himself could not see but just like you, knew was there. His murmur in your ear making you clench around him, as he so slowly begun to move back out of you, only just enough to feel you tense before he couldn’t help himself and thrust back as deep as you could take him. “Breathe for me.”

Nodding, he knew you must be lightheaded, kept on the edge more then once now and so full, telling yourself not to let go right away. If the feeling of your cunt so wet and tight around his cock wasn’t fogging up Jons mind he might have had the thought of how adorable he found it that you always tried to hold off until you knew for sure his teasing was over. Never pushing his limits, never begging, never acting the brat, instead trusting he knew what to do with you.

So he kept a slow pace, moving in and out of you never speeding up and never growing rough. Forcing you to feel every single inch slide inside of you, imprinting the feeling of his cock so it stayed with you like a phantom come the morning. “Jon..” Nodding against you, Jon pressed his forehead against the back of your hair, your bodies moving slowly together like waves never pressured to pick the pace up.

Something most men would consider torturous were you to handle them at this pace on your own, but no, Jon was the one keeping you this way. The manner which your nails dug into his forearm, how your breath shook with every inhale and each exhale accompanied by a cry or a moan or a whine as Jon filled you over and over. Knowing how much you were holding back against that warm tightening he was creating inside of you.

Only shifting enough so you didn’t think he was pulling way from you, Jons hand moved enough so that as his hips thrust inside of you barley enough to even call it a real pace, his large, rough hand pressed firmly against your stomach. Your skin so soft perfect for him, he had every inch of you memorized but here he would do it again. Marking your stomach to memory, so that the very second you begun to grow and swell with his child he could watch it. Jon had a long list of ways to take you to admire you growing pregnant the further along you got.

He knew you’d be nervous, he knew you’d be self conscious as to your size and Jons head dropped to your shoulder with a grunt not knowing the words to explain he didn’t care if you ever were this size again as long as you were pregnant with his child. His grunts grew to growls as he didn’t go rougher, but picked up the pace more. Water going from hot down to warm as it still splashed against you both, Jon growled as he knew it got in the way of hearing the soaked sound of his cock sinking deep into your cunt. But he’d take you in the bed once finished here, he was not done. One was never enough, he always wanted you.

He wanted you to have this baby, have more, create a little family, a pack of your own making together and so he could bring out that ring he was hiding from you and ensure it would be you and him forever no matter what. But he held off, he bit down harder, leaving indents of his teeth into your shoulders as you cried out. He’d ask you here and now if he hadn’t talked himself down from it earlier.

But he knew he had to come up with a plan, otherwise any time his cock was so deep inside of you, he could slip up and ask you at any point. And he still might even with such control, you were more then the mother of his child but that did not make it any better.

Faster and faster he thrust inside of you, “Hands against the wall.” Not commanded, but the tone an order all the same. You nodded, with cries wanting to leave you, bracing yourself against the wall as Jon shifted. Grabbing both of your hips and steadying himself Jon thrust faster and faster. His hips slapping more loudly into your ass, the skin echoing off the walls and back to his ears as your cries increased. Everything in him drew burning hot as he came closer and he knew you had no idea how loud you were, nothing but beautiful gasps and whines and begs of his name you didn’t even know you were letting out.

But he fucked you again and again, sinking inside completely each time before he knew you were losing it. Clenching so tightly around his cock, Jon growled shamelessly into the air as he thrust now harder and harder. Each slam of his hips pulling a loud moan from you before your muscles tensed and seized around him. Cunt clenching him so tightly but before you could question yourself, Jon pressed his chest into your back. Sinking as deep as he could, his hands tight on your hips as he dragged you back against his cock to fill you deep as he could.

Your cunt practically begged him to finish inside of you, and he obliged. There weren’t many places Jon would want his seed to spill, but inside of you was almost always one of them. Groaning your name as your silent moans haunted him. Thick ropes of his seed filled you, pressing close against you until you let out a loud sound at how sensitive you were. Jon for now, had given you all he had and you took it perfectly.

He’d keep you there for a while. His arms easing you back into the world by wrapping around you, before even thinking of pulling out. Eventually turning you to face him once he did as you fell into him, accepting his kiss not caring as you had little breathe to even hold out on. Jons hand running down the length of your soaked hair over and over as you wrapped out arms around his back and shoulders once more.

Moments like this, Jon could forget the rest of the world and have only you exist as you did the same with him. Just wrapped up in one another, with a baby now growing between you. He could for now, not obsess over the ring he had hidden for you, the one he bought before you were even pregnant. The one he wanted to give you already but held off to keep you comfortable at your own pace. But he would soon take you to the bed, lay you out properly and take you over and over then too, far later into the night then he should’ve kept you awake. As if marking his territory all over again, trying to tune out the sight he had not let himself think about.

The sight you had no idea, of how often Jon had watched Robbs eyes turn to an angry jealousy the moment he trailed them to your not yet showing, pregnant stomach. It made Jon angry, furious, but when the baby was born and it looked the perfect mix between Jon and you, he could rub it in Robbs face as much as he wanted then.

Jon hoped his father was right, and Robb would get over this, but they were both wolves. And wolves did not back down from a fight easily, certainly not when it came to a perfect mate like you being the creature of wanting between the two of them.

He wouldn’t just marry you to make his point to tell Robb to back off, but Jon certainly wanted this baby to make that point for him.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

62 notes · View notes