For the most part, Arya doesn’t like to involve herself in her siblings’ lives. What they do and who they do are none of her business and she likes to keep it that way. It’s all in a vain hope that they’ll return the courtesy but of course that never happens. The Starks are entirely too involved in each other’s lives, especially Robb, who thinks it’s his duty to order them around just because he’s the oldest. But Arya still tries to keep her life to herself and she actively avoids any and all discussions of her siblings’ love lives. It frankly does not interest her in the least.
So when she finds herself coming home early from hanging out with Gendry and the boys, the last thing she wants to witness is Jon and Sansa fighting. They always bicker every now and then – the problem with opposites dating, she supposes – but this feels different, wrong. And Arya is definitely intruding, only she can’t find it in herself to leave. Call it morbid curiosity.
“You went to Petyr, Sansa, don’t you get that!” Jon yells. “You went to him instead of me!”
“I was trying to help! And it’s not like you were even listening to me. You keep doing this. You keep shutting me out!” Sansa’s shrill voice echoes in the empty house, so laced with hurt that Arya has to suck in a breath.
“So it’s my fault now?” Jon snaps back. “I told you I had it figured out! I had everything under control and then you – you went to fucking Petyr! Petyr, Sansa!”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have if you had just trusted me from the start! But you never have. You always try to shoulder everything yourself and you never let me in.” Sansa’s voice breaks and Arya can imagine her sister so clearly now, red-faced and cheeks splotchy with tears. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me, Jon. I can’t do this. It hurts too much.”
There’s a moment of silence before, “so that’s it? You’re giving up on us? That’s really it?”
“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare say that I didn’t put everything into this relationship, Jon Snow!”
“Then what, Sansa! Why are you doing this! We fight! This is what we do!” Jon shouts, sounding more and more desperate with each word. It’s unnerving for Arya to hear him like this. Jon’s always been her hero, the person she could depend on to save the day, to always know what to do, but here in this moment, he sounds so small, so lost.
“Maybe it’s not what I want to do anymore! I’m tired of fighting with you. I’m tired of trying when you won’t let me in,” Sansa says but the fight is gone from her voice too.
“I let you in…” But there’s doubt in his voice and even Arya knows he’s lying. More quietly, Jon says, “so that’s it, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
The door leading to the kitchen clicks shut, loud and final even from where Arya is hiding, and then she hears Jon’s heavy exhalation before footsteps lead up the stairs. She doesn’t know what just happened or what they were even fighting about but this feels wrong. Everything about this feels so wrong.
It’s a bit selfish that Tormund is more upset that he won’t get to see Brienne anymore than he is about his friend’s breakup but it’s not like Jon will let him comfort him either. Nor would Tormund even know how to. He’s not really a relationship kind of guy and breakups are completely beyond his understanding. The only thing he can really focus on is how Brienne won’t come around anymore because Sansa won’t come around and that really bloody sucks. He’s kind of grown attached to the woman. There’s something so fierce in the way her gaze flickers around the room, noting everything with calculated precision as if she’s eyeing her best escape routes. It’s weird, sure, but it’s hot as all hell.
He hoped at first that Jon and Sansa would reconcile by the end of the first week. It just didn’t seem possible for those two to stay away from each other for longer than that. They were both stupidly loyal to one another and stupidly in love that on occasion Tormund had walked into a room to see them cuddling only to walk straight out again. But a month has passed and it doesn’t look like they’re getting back together. This is probably it for them. It’s a shame too because he really did like Sansa. She was good for Jon. She made him less of a moody prick.
– which was why when he spots Brienne in a cafe sitting alone in a booth, he instantly sidles along the vinyl seat across from her. She looks up from her book, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips.
“Miss me?” he asks, unable to keep his eyes from appraising her. She’s in a plain beige jumper and dark jeans. Her short cropped blonde hair is messy and falls a little over her forehead. Adorable.
“Don’t you have other friends, Tormund?”
His eyes light up and she realises her mistake instantly. “So we are friends!”
“By proximity,” Brienne snaps irritably. “But now we don’t have to be so go away.”
“We could be again,” he says easily, leaning back and smiling broadly. “I don’t know about your side but Jon’s still hopelessly in love with Sansa. It’s pretty obvious. Man is pathetic.”
There’s a flash of hope then amusement before Brienne schools her features into that impassive mask she always wears. “It’s not our business to meddle.”
“But if they’re both miserable without the other, isn’t it? As friends?”
“I… guess…” Brienne looks thoughtful and then she sighs. “Sansa’s lost weight.”
“No, you numpty, she’s not eating properly, she’s not sleeping. If I don’t force her every morning to get out of bed, she might not even do that.” Brienne runs her fingers through her hair and Tormund desperately wants to do the same, see if it’s as soft as it looks. “Do you even know what they were fighting about?”
Tormund abruptly sobers up at that and shakes his head. “Every time I ask, Jon just shouts at me so no. Haven’t got a bloody clue.”
“So she’s really a mess without him?” Tormund asks, aware of how this knowledge makes him ache a little because he really did like Sansa. A lot.
“Yeah, and Jon?”
“Hopeless,” he answers easily. “Pathetic. More of a grumpy cunt than ever before.”
Brienne laughs, looks surprised that she did, and shakes her head. It’s adorable. So fucking adorable that Tormund has to hold himself back from just reaching across the table to kiss her. He can do that later. They have friends they need to sort out first.
At sixteen, Rickon is the youngest of the Starks and he’s more than aware that he is because none of his siblings ever lets him forget it. It was nice at first, to be coddled and spoiled by his siblings and parents, but he’s sixteen now. That means he’s almost an adult – not that that means shit to his family. It’s why Rickon spends so much of his time outdoors with his friends. Anything to stay away from the manor and keep active.
But Sansa is home for a week and he can’t help lingering around her. She’s always been his favourite. Sure, he gets along with all of his siblings but Sansa just gets him. She’s always been there for him, a calming presence in his life, and now that she’s home, he just wants to spend all of his time with her. But she’s different. Her smile never quite reaches her eyes and there’s a slowness to her movements like she’s treading against the current. It’s hard to look at her and see the sister he loves so dearly so broken. It makes him hate Jon because Rickon knows this is his fault. He broke his sister’s heart and Rickon’s not sure if he could ever forgive Jon for that.
When Rickon enters the lounge, Sansa is sitting curled up against one end of the sofa with a blanket cocooned around her. She looks so tiny. He hates seeing her like this so in spite of being sixteen and almost a man with a reputation to uphold, he drops on the sofa and curl into her like he was six again.
“Hey,” Sansa chuckles softly as she wraps an arm around him. He’s getting too tall for this but he doesn’t care. His sister is hurting and he needs to help. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Rickon hums, resting his head against her shoulder. “You don’t come home that much anymore.”
Sansa’s face falls. “I know. I’m sorry. Work is crazy and I promise I’ll –”
“Sans, it’s alright,” he says, feeling bad for making her feel bad. “I was just observing. Are your shifts really bad?”
“No, it’s… I’m in pediatrics right now and that’s really nice,” she says but he heard her, that falter at the beginning. He knows what she’s thinking without having to ask because he may hate Jon right now but Sansa loved him with everything she had. He’s not a particularly romantic teenager. He’s still in that stage where all he can notice about a girl are her boobs, which he knows distantly is really horrible because he has two headstrong sisters who would kill him if they knew that’s how he’s been reducing the girls in his class to but his hormones are out of whack and it’s honestly hard to focus on much else right now. So yeah, romance is completely not on his radar at all but he’s not stupid. Jon and Sansa dated for years and they’ve probably loved each other for longer. Everyone could tell. When they looked at each other, it was like they were seeing the sun for the first time or the ocean or whatever that makes people that blindingly besotted. A part of him is glad Sansa at least found that kind of love in her lifetime but he’s also angry on her behalf that she lost it too. She deserves the world.
“Is that where you want to be?” Rickon asks after realising he’s been silent for too long.
Sansa shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She turns her head to look at him. “You don’t have to check up on me. I’m… managing.”
Of course his sister knows exactly what he’s doing. She always could read him. Rickon sighs. “Are you?”
She’s quiet for a long while that it makes Rickon a bit antsy. “No,” she finally whispers softly, heartbreakingly anguished. “No, I’m not.”
Rickon nods, not knowing what else to say. He shifts so he can wrap his arms around his sister. “You will be though.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs before falling asleep a few minutes later, and in that moment, Rickon decides that love sucks.
As soon as she enters the pub, she’s assaulted by a loud raucous shout from the corner where a group of burly men are watching the football. Ygritte rolls her eyes and continues forward until she spots him slumped at a lone table, gripping onto his pint like it’s his lifeline. She walks forward, dodging the stumbling drunks, and drops into the seat across from him.
“When the bartender calls your ex-girlfriend to come and drag you home then that’s a sign that your life is really bloody pathetic,” she says, mild, watching him curiously. “What the fuck is up with you?”
Jon snorts, lifts his eyes to glance at her and then looks back down at his pint. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” she tells him. “You’re the farthest thing from fine.”
“Go home, Ygritte,” he says, sounding exasperated, but he’s also scowling at his pint so it’s really hard to get a read on his emotional state right now. She just knows he’s clearly not fine and he hasn’t been for two months.
“Not without you so either come now or you can finish your pint and tell me what’s really going on.” But she already knows what’s going on. Everyone bloody knows and it’s really honestly the last thing she wants to do right now because listening to her ex-boyfriend talk about his other ex-girlfriend is not exactly fun for her. But it’s also been years since Jon and her broke up so it’s not like she’s jealous or hurting still. She just really hates talking about emotional shit.
“I…” Jon starts, and for a second, Ygritte thinks she’s going to have to beat the truth out of him, but he sighs again. “I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”
“Mhmm, I’m sure you did. So what happened?”
He flashes her a scowl before it falters and then he just looks broken. “I kept pushing her away. I knew I was doing it too. That’s the fucked up thing, right? I knew I was pushing her out and I still did it.”
“You did that with me too,” Ygritte says gently, which isn’t really a state of being that she’s used to but there’s something wild about the way Jon looks right now, like if she said the wrong thing, he’d bolt.
He smiles faintly. “I know.”
“You want to hear my theory?” she hedges because why the hell not? There’s no guarantee he’ll even remember this in the morning.
“Yeah, why not?”
Ygritte snorts. “You’re scared she’ll leave you anyways. I mean it’s understandable, sort of. You grew up knowing your father wanted nothing to do with you and your mum, and then your mum dies when you’re fourteen. You’ve had to do everything on your own. So letting someone else into your life, having them play a major part in your decisions and shit, yeah, that frightens you, Jon. You don’t want to go through all of that again.”
“Huh,” he says, studying her quietly. “When did you get so smart?” He flourishes his hands around, nearly knocking the pint off of the table.
“I’ve always been smarter than you,” Ygritte says, pulling the pint towards the centre just in case. “It’s not really hard to be smarter than you. You know nothing, Jon Snow.”
He laughs but there’s no real humour in it. “I miss her,” Jon says quietly, thumping his forehead down. “I miss her so fucking much, Ygritte. She’s… She’s Sansa.” He suddenly sits bolt upright, staring wide-eyed at her. “Oh. Oh. I shouldn’t say that to you, right? You’re my ex!”
“Jon, we dated when we were seventeen,” she laughs loudly. “I’m fairly sure I’m over you.”
“Right… of course,” he nods gravely. “Then yeah, I bloody miss her. It’s like… With her, everything finally made sense. You know? And I fucked it all up. She thinks I don’t trust her but she’s the only opinion that matters.”
“Fucking hell, Jon, then go tell her!” Ygritte snaps.
Okay, she is over him and she really doesn’t want to date Jon ever again but she can’t help the spark of irrational jealousy. She’s fine on her own, she really is, because she has a great job she loves, friends she loves and she’s independent. She likes being alone. But the fact she can’t ever imagine someone loving her as much as Jon loves Sansa kind of stings a little. It’s stupid and totally irrational because she’s awesome. Why wouldn’t someone love her? Right?
Jon nods and jumps to his feet, swaying and nearly toppling into the next table. Ygritte sighs, standing up too. “Okay, lover boy, maybe tomorrow. Let’s get you home to sleep this off first.”
Sansa is her best friend, the greatest person she knows, but holy shit is her friend also dense as a fucking log. It’s the only reason why she would willingly go out on a date when she’s still so clearly, pathetically in love with Jon. She’s not ready to move on – nor does Jeyne think she should because those two are the real deal – and this date is a supremely bad idea. But does she listen? No, of course Princess Sansa bloody Stark won’t listen to Jeyne.
It’s why she can justifiably march over to Jon’s flat and demand he go win her best friend back because four months is four months too bloody long for them to go without each other. It’s not that she’s worried Sansa’s going to have such an amazing date she’ll forget about Jon because that is laughable, but it’s the fact that Sansa is so desperate right now to feel anything that she would conceivably date someone to just forget how much she’s hurting.
The door peels open a couple seconds after Jeyne starts pounding on the frame. Jon is standing there in ratty sweats and a thin shirt with holes at the collar. He looks like a really handsome homeless man. “Jeyne?” he squints at her. “What – is Sansa okay?” His eyes suddenly widen and every muscle in his body tenses simultaneously like he’s readying himself to go to battle. Jeyne rolls her eyes. At least now she knows they’re both equally as pathetic as each other.
“Yeah, yeah, she’s healthy, ten toes, ten fingers,” Jeyne tells him and watches smugly as he visibly deflates.
“So what… um, what are you doing here?”
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” she begins quickly. “There’s no easy way to say this. Sansa’s going on a date. Tonight.”
Jon’s face wilts, dying right before her eyes, and it pains her so despairingly she reaches out to grab a hold of his hand. “Her heart’s not in it, Jon,” Jeyne assures him. “She still loves you. But you need to… You need to show her you still love her too.”
“Of course I still love her,” he replies forcefully. “But that wasn’t our problem. If she wants to… If this is what she needs then she should do it.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Jeyne throws her hands up in the air. “You’re both so dumb!”
“No, stop it, you are!” she shouts. “I’m so sick and tired of both of you pining away for each other instead of just talking like bloody adults. Put on some shoes and go out and fight for her. This cowardly thing you’re doing,” she gestures to his whole body, “is not you.”
Jon rubs his chin with one hand. “She deserves better than me.”
“Yeah, probably,” Jeyne bites out because she’s pissed off and he deserves that for being so obtuse. “But she chose you. All she needs is some indication that you still want her too.”
“Yeah… I, um… I have to go. It’s nice seeing you again, Jeyne.”
She’s going to kill him. She’s going to kill him then kill Sansa. She’s going to kill them both before they put her in an early grave.
The thing is Robb had a plan. It was a very intricate plan to get Jon and Sansa back together because over four months with those miserable sods was just beginning to grate on everyone’s nerves. He was going to invite them both to the Stark cabin in the Lake District and lock them in there together for a whole weekend. It was going to be super romantic and brilliant and then they’d both owe him for the rest of their lives. Their firstborn would be named Robb Junior. It was all going to be awesome.
So of course as most of Robb’s plans goes, it completely falls apart when he goes to visit Jon at the fire brigade station and he realises that not only is his best friend not alone but his baby sister is there with him. He thinks about ducking out but he’s also too curious for his own good at times.
“You’re okay,” Sansa breathes out and the relief on her face is so palpable Robb instinctively sighs with her even though he really has no idea what’s going on.
“What are you doing here?” Jon’s voice is hesitant, wary even, but Robb’s known the man since he was five years old and his best friend is practically bursting with being able to see her again.
“Edd texted me. He…” Her voice breaks and she muffles a sob behind her palm. Jon’s instantly at her side, gripping her shoulders, as the tears rush down from her face. “He said you were in the hospital. That you got hurt in a house fire.”
Understanding rushes over both Jon and him. His best friend smiles softly. “I’m okay, Sans. Look at me, I’m here. It wasn’t anything. They just wanted to check me over but I only have a couple bruised ribs. Nothing serious.”
She nods and then without warning, she punches him in the shoulder. Even Robb has to wince from where he’s standing. “You asshole!”
“What?” Jon looks affronted and he steps back instinctively from his raging sister. Robb’s a little proud of her.
“Four months, Jon,” she yells at him. “I haven’t seen you in four months and it takes your coworker texting me that you’re in the hospital to bring us together? Do you know how stupid that is?”
“Yeah,” Jon mumbles, looking at the ground.
“Yeah,” Sansa repeats, the anger suddenly leaving her, and now she just looks young and vulnerable. Like when she was a gangly ten-year-old and crashed her bike and Robb had to carry her home. He had been so worried then, every whimper of pain a piercing stab into his own body, and he feels that way now. But he can’t carry her pain now any more than he could then.
“I should – I’ll leave you alone then.” Sansa turns to leave but Jon immediately grabs her wrist and pulls her back.
“Don’t. Sans, please,” he says softly, almost too softly for Robb to hear. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Sansa isn’t looking at him and she doesn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry. You were right. I did push you away. As soon as I found out they were going to charge me with assault, I should’ve come to you. You shouldn’t have had to find out from Petyr to begin with. But even though I knew they had no evidence against me, I just didn’t want you to see me like that… It’s hard for me to let people in,” Jon admits, his hand still wrapped around Sansa’s wrist. “But it’s harder to not be with you.”
“We can’t do this if you don’t trust me, Jon.”
He tugs her again so she has to look at him. “I do trust you. I always have. I just didn’t trust myself not to screw it up.”
His sister laughs a little. “You’re a grumpy idiot.”
“I know that,” Jon laughs too. “Robb tells me everyday.”
Robb smiles because that’s true. He totally does. Who else would if not for him?
The silence stretches on for a long while as the two stand there staring at each other. “I missed you too,” Sansa eventually says. “But I can’t do this if you’re not sure, Jon. I can’t go through all of this again. You broke my heart.”
“I know, I know.” Jon rushes forward so he’s cradling her face in his hands. “And I’m in this completely. I want this. I want you. Sans, you have to know you’re it for me.”
“Yeah?” she asks, the insecurity so audible there Robb has to bite his tongue to keep from jumping in to rally for his sister. But as Jon rests his forehead against hers, Robb realises he doesn’t need to.
“Yeah,” Jon answers. “There’s never been anyone else.”
“So we’re doing this again?”
“If you’ll have me,” he says, pulling back to look at her. She smiles and it’s this inexplicable brightness that makes her seem so breathtakingly ephemeral Robb is a little floored by this side of his sister. Jon kisses her then, at first slow and sweet, but that soon gives out to something more desperate and needy, with hands carding and tugging through hair and pulling at clothes. Robb immediately turns around because like hell is he going to stand there and watch his best friend and his baby sister fuck right there on the floor. For his very delicate sensibilities, both his sisters are still virgins and Robb would like to continue to believe that for the foreseeable future.
Before he completely exits the station though, he hears Sansa one last time.
Hey folks, I know I have a lot of personals to do, but I’ve been at a friends house and will be in vacation this weekend. This is a writing project on my phone. I’m sorry and I promise I will get everyone’s personals. I watched a lot of horror movies, so this is the result. Enjoy part one! Sorry if it isn’t to your liking. //
“You know the reason this house was so cheap, right?” You watched your boyfriend Joji talk to one of your best friends, Max. Max raised an eyebrow, his eyes widening slightly, adjusting to the light illuminating off of your asian companion.
The sun that spread shades of orange and yellow across the ocean also seemed to drip fiery hues of sweat on George’s partially exposed chest. Wearing only a cheetah print kimono-like top and dark Jean shorts, you were halfway mesmerized by him. The other half was interested- or concerned- in the conversation.
“Two guys and girl were murdered by their friend in the house in 1976. You can look it up.” Joji laughed, turning his head away from Max and to the window.
“Cut the shit, George. You’re just trying to freak out y/n.” Spoke Ian from the drivers seat. You stayed quiet, but your once lusting gaze you had on Joji was now a confused stare.
“Why would you rent a place like that? We have money. You’re not fooling anybody, joj.” You said after some consideration. You watched as Joji rolled his eyes.
“Damn it, Y/N. It’s a holiday, in California. We’re renting a house on the water. If we got one close to others, we’d get hounded the whole time. This was the only thing available.” He explained, gruffly as Ian began down a long dirt road.
He had a point. It was the fourth of July week and weekend. You sighed. Were you being kind of ungrateful? Joji had paid for this entirely on his own and not on your shared income, and the murders were decades ago. You felt a pang of guilt.
The house was two story, brick, facing the water with its own small but private beach, it was everything a southern bell would ask for in the movies. As you stepped out of the van, you crossed your arms and stared in awe at its dignity. You jumped when you felt someone’s arm against your waist, snaking around it. You knew it was your boyfriend.
“See that, babe? That’s where our bedroom is.” Joji stated, extending out his strong arms and pointing toward the balcony. “Have a feeling we’ll spend a lot of time in there.” His head rested on your shoulder, hands gripping onto your waist.
“Keep making jokes like that and I’m going to end up pushing off the balcony.” You kidded sarcastically.
“Keep making threats like that and you’ll end up like the girl in 76’” you heard Max mumble.
As you got your suitcase out of the car, and a couple bags of snacks and such, you gazed out into the water, noticing at the dock was a speedboat.
“Where’d we get that?” You asked Ian, who had just happened to notice it as well. “Guess it came with the house or something.” He replied. You only shrugged your shoulders.
The interior of the house was beautiful, the wallpaper of the living room was peppered in silhouetted florals and the sofas were a graceful shade of royal blue. The television, 30 years past it’s time, was on an ivory polished stand. The ceiling, a beautiful chandelier that hovered graciously low. This was just the living room.
“Guys, come look at this!” You heard Ian call from upstairs. He seemed.. uneasy.