doom starks

Title: Doomed from the Start
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Word Count: 2,480
Characters: Jon Snow x Reader x Robb Stark
Reader Gender: Female
Warnings: Cheating (sort of), a bit of smut (Jon x Reader), one swear word
Notes: Request from anon for “Could you do a GOT oneshot where you come to Winterfell bc you’re betrothed to Robb Stark. You develop a crush on Jon Snow but eventually marry Robb bc you love him as well and you were betrothed. Fast forward to after the Red Wedding(so around current season) and you see Jon again when he agrees to help you take back Winterfell and re-instate yourself as Queen in the North, and you fall for him again? Long request, I know, but its just something I thought of :) xx” // I tried to keep myself from making this so long, but as you can tell by the word count, I failed.

Originally posted by snow-on-the-throne

       When you arrived at Winterfell for the first time, you never would have expected your life to become what it was now.

       You had arrived five months before you were to wed Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell, so that you could get to know him a bit before you married him. He was a handsome young man, tall, with dark brown curls and the beginning of a beard. His smile was warm and welcoming, and he treated you with twice as much respect as most men your age would have. He never touched you unless he knew you wanted him to, and he was always kind and considerate.
       And yet, you also developed feelings for his half-brother, Jon Snow. He, too, was immensely kind and respectful. But he was different, in ways you couldn’t explain. You loved Jon because you knew shouldn’t. He was what you could never have, and that only made you desire him more.
       The situation would have been far easier if Jon hadn’t been interested in you, but that was not the case. He cared for you just as much as you cared for him. He stole kisses from you when no one was around, and touched you in ways that made your head spin. He even suggested running away together, the night before your wedding.
       But you had to decline his offer. You were meant to marry Robb – it was your duty. So that was what you did. You donned the elaborately embroidered white dress, wrapped the white fur cloak around your shoulders, let your handmaidens do your hair up nicely and spray you with perfume, and you made your way to the godswood. You said the words the septon told you to say, and before you knew it, you were standing with your new husband, alone in his bedchambers.
       “I’m not…” Robb began, wringing his hands together and looking remarkably nervous. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you do not wish to do. I hope you know that.”
       “I do,” you replied.
       “Good, good,” Robb murmured, nodding. “I know that you love my brother. I know that you did not wish to marry me. And I’m truly very sorry that you weren’t able to be with him instead. I hope you know that, as well.”
       “I do,” you repeated, your voice soft. You could not meet his eyes. Here he was, a handsome, charming, kind man of a noble House, and here you were, on the night of your wedding to him, wishing you were in the arms of his bastard half brother.
       “Good,” Robb said quietly again, nodding more. “Do… do you want to go to bed? Just to sleep, of course. You must be tired.”
       “I would like that very much,” you stated, smiling at him. He returned the smile, then the two of you changed into your night clothes, and went to bed.
       The union was extraordinarily awkward at first. However, over the next few weeks, the two of you fell into sync as you began to understand one another better. Everything was going surprisingly well, even with the arrival of King Robert and his company – then Jon announced that he would be joining the Night’s Watch.
       A look of absolute heartbreak crossed your face, and everyone saw it. You excused yourself, your voice shaking, and once you were out of the hall, you broke into a run. You weren’t sure at first of where you were going, but you ended up in your bedchambers. You stopped once you had slammed the door shut behind you, and sobs overtook your body, forcing you to your knees in front of the fireplace.
       The crackling fire warmed your face, but you didn’t care. You wouldn’t have cared if it caught you on fire; all you wanted to do right then was to just simply not exist. The pain of knowing that you would never see the man you loved again was almost too much to bear. The second that thought crossed your mind, Robb burst into the room, looking frantic. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you, closed the door behind him, and came to kneel next to you. He opened then closed his mouth a few times, clearly wanting to say something, but he was at a loss for words. So he did the only thing he knew he could do: pulled you into his arms and held you. He let you cry until you had no tears left, and you were exhausted, then he put you into your bed and you allowed sleep to envelop you.
       You hardly left your room for the next few days. The thought of seeing Jon, and being faced with the reality of his leaving, was too much for you. So, either your handmaidens or your husband brought you food, and you remained reclusive, up until the night before Jon to leave.
       You actually hadn’t been planning on seeing Jon until the next day. Your intention was to keep your interaction with him to a bare minimum, thinking that you would simply give him a simple farewell hug before he departed. But your life never works the way you plan it to.
       The hallway was eerily silent, no sound other than yours and Greywind’s footsteps. Robb had insisted that you take the direwolf with you on your walk, and you complied. In truth, you were quite fond of the creature. He was more than capable of warding off any potential threats, and protecting you if needed; he made you feel at ease.
       Well, that was until you heard footsteps trudging towards you, and Greywind didn’t seem capable of caring any less. You walked a bit faster, and the direwolf matched your pace, but the footsteps did, too. Terror began to bubble up inside you. Greywind sensed this, walking a bit closer to you, but he still did not seem to have any desire to attack your follower.
       After you made a sharp turn around a corner, you drew the knife that you kept concealed on you, and waited for the owner of the footsteps to follow. When the individual turned the corner, you slammed him back against the wall and put your knife at his throat. Fear was evident in his brown eyes, and when you realized that those eyes were all too familiar, you dropped the knife.
       “Jon?”
       “I thought I would get a ‘hello,’ not a knife to my neck,” Jon stated with a chuckle. “What are you doing out at this hour?”
       “Why were you following me?” you retorted, crossing your arms. “You frightened me; I thought you were a threat.”
       “I’m sorry, I just wanted to talk with you. I haven’t seen you in days,” Jon said, sadness seeping into his voice. “I leave tomorrow at dawn.”
       “I know that.”
       “Then why have you been avoiding me?”
       “I’m a married woman now, Jon. I can’t be spending time with the man I love – who, it just so happens, is not the man I’m married to,” you explained, frowning. You saw happiness flash across his features at the mention of your love for him, and he smiled.
       “I love you, too, Y/N. And that’s why it hurts me so much that you’ve been avoiding me like I’ve got a disease since the day you married Robb.”
       “Because it doesn’t matter. My feelings for you, your feelings for me – none of it matters. I’m married to your brother, and you’re leaving to join the Watch tomorrow. We were doomed from the start.”
       “We didn’t have to be,” Jon stated, stepping towards you. “I asked you to run away with me, but you refused.”
       “I couldn’t,” you whispered. You wished now more than ever that you had taken him up on his offer, and you felt tears threatening to fall. You expected Jon to argue with you, to remind you that you could be a thousand miles from there, married to him – but instead, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His brows were furrowed together, and he was visibly upset at the sight of you crying. You were about to excuse yourself and return to your room, when you felt his lips on yours.
       The kiss was tender at first – it was Jon’s way of wordlessly comforting you, and letting you know that he wasn’t upset with you for not leaving with him. He understood your reasons, and he hoped you knew that.
       Guilt began to form within you. You were kissing a man who wasn’t your husband. As wonderful and heart-fluttering as it felt, you knew it wasn’t right. You were on the verge of pulling away, then Jon’s hands found their way into your hair and onto your hip, and he kissed you with such passion that it made your head spin. You forgot your own name, let alone that you should be running back to your husband – and you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
       Not a half hour later, you found yourself naked on Jon’s bed, his head between your trembling legs and your thighs resting on his shoulders. Your mind was fuzzy, filled with nothing but thoughts of Jon and what his tongue was doing to you. You eventually lost track of how many times he caused you to to scream from ecstasy, his name falling from your lips like a pleading, pitiful prayer. When you simply couldn’t continue, your body becoming too sensitive to handle any more, you used your remaining strength to flip Jon onto his back, and worship him with your mouth, as he had done to you.
       Time ceased to exist in the little world you and Jon had created together. All that mattered was one another, the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around your naked body for the last time, the sound of his still-steadying heartbeat pounding in his chest. But eventually, it had to come to an end, and after a few longing kisses, you made your way back to your room, guilt-ridden and exhausted.
       “How was your night?”
       The sound of Robb’s voice nearly made you jump out of your skin. You slowly turned to face him after closing the door behind you. Greywind was calmly seated next to his feet, and he sat on your bed, his expression unreadable. There wasn’t any point in lying – you were covered in hickeys, your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, and your dress was still disheveled.
       “Robb….”
       “I’m not angry with you, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only reason Jon even touched you was because I gave him permission, so long as he wasn’t inside you.”
       “You… you what?” you inquired, taking a few steps closer to him. “He… you… you consented to this?”
       “I know how much you love him. And I know how much he loves you. I wanted you to have the opportunity to be together one final time, before you’d never see each other again,” Robb explained, then a smile crossed his lips and he let out a small laugh. “And besides, soon, the poor fucker won’t ever get to touch a woman again – not without breaking his oath.”
       You were at a loss for words. You couldn’t come to terms with how immensely considerate and understand your husband was. Without another thought, you ran to him and flung your arms around his neck, causing him to fall back into the bed with a chuckle. After he received a near-endless string of “thank you”s, the two of you went to bed, as usual, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face.
       The next day, you said your goodbyes to Lord Eddard, Sansa, Arya, and last – but most certainly not least – Jon. He gave you a warm smile and enveloped you in a tight embrace, letting you cry into his chest. After what seemed like ages, he released you, and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. Jon then gave you another heartwarming smile, before riding off with the rest of the company. You watched until you could no longer see him, then let out a shaky breath. Robb wrapped a reassuring arm around your shoulders, and led you back to your room.

       As fate would have it, you did fall in love with Robb. It was never the same way you loved Jon – never as fierce – but you did love him. Eventually, you gave him a son. He was the spitting image of his father, from his looks to his personality. However, Robb was taken from you both, before your son was old enough to make any lasting memories with his father – something that would sadden you for the rest of your life. But you didn’t have time to be sad – you needed to run, to protect your son. So you took as many of the remaining Stark soldiers that you could find, and you left immediately. After a stay on Bear Island, you reached your destination. It was the only place where you knew that you would find someone you truly trusted: Castle Black.
       Upon arrival, you were quickly taken to the dining hall, your son clinging to you as you held him. They flung the doors open without requesting permission first, as the man who had led you, who had introduced himself as Edd, had been told of you “several times” by Jon. He said it with a slight blush on his cheeks, and you quickly realized that you had been the subject of a conversation on sexual encounters. Men, you thought to yourself with a small smile.
       Jon quickly stood from his seat at one of the tables, and it seemed that he was about to chide the men for interrupting his meeting. You were surprised to see Sansa at his side, and you sent a silent prayer to the gods, thanking them for keeping her alive. The sound of Jon’s boots thundering against the wood floor as he walked briskly over to you broke you from your thoughts. He stared at you with a bewildered expression on his face, as if struggling to believe that you were real. Before you could even say “hello,” he was pulling you into a tight hug, mindful of the child in your arms.
       “I love you,” Jon whispered into your hair, pressing a long kiss there.
       “I love you, too, Jon.”

       It seemed to have happened in the blink of an eye, but you were now seated next to Jon in the dining hall of Winterfell, your son seated in your lap, watching the scene before him. Dozens of men were chanting “The King in the North!” in their loud, booming voices, their swords raised high above them. Jon smiled down at you, and for once in ages, you felt hope.


@flyboyrebel

anonymous asked:

BOI YOUR SHIPS BE SINKING MORE THEN MY SELF ESTEEM. TRY AGAIN SON.

FIGHT ME. I WILL SAIL MY SHIPS OFF THE EDGE OF THE WORLD AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME

What is it that has enabled George to captivate readers in so many different fields? What qualities are there about George’s work that ensnares readers, no matter what kind of story he’s telling?

For one thing, George has always been a richly romantic writer. Dry minimalism or the cooly ironic games of postmodernism so beloved by many modern writers and critics are not what you’re going to get when you open something by George R. R. Martin. What you’re going to get instead is a strongly-plotted story driven by emotional conflict and crafted by someone who’s a natural-born storyteller, a story that grabs you on the first page and refuses to let go.

You’re going to get adventure, action, conflict, romance, and lush, vivid human emotion: obsessive, doomed love, stark undying hatred, unquenchable desire, dedication to duty even in the face of death, unexpected veins of rich humor … and something that’s rare even in science fiction and fantasy these days (let alone the mainstream) - a love of adventure for adventure’s sake, a delighting in the strange and colorful, bizarre plants and animals, exotic scenery, strange lands, strange customs, stranger people, backed by the inexhaustible desire to see what’s over the next hill, or waiting on the next world. […]

The most important reason, though, why so many readers are affected so strongly by George’s work, is the people. George has created a gallery of vivid characters - sometimes touching, some¬times grotesque, sometimes touching and grotesque - unmatched by most other writers […]

George cares deeply about all of his people, even the spearcarriers, even the villains - and by caring so deeply, he makes you care for them as well. Once you’ve mastered this magic trick, you don’t really need another. […] And it is the thing that ensures that, no matter what field he chooses to work in, people will read him - and want to read him again.

–Gardner Dozois, Introduction to Dreamsongs, Vol. 1 by George R.R. Martin

3

Infamous Iron Man (2016-) #1 - By Brian Michael Bendis & Alex Maleev

“…I notice that sometimes you have this way of coming back to life or faking your own–”

Tony Stark is dead and he’s an A.I and I dunno if I can handle this, because he’s just a hologram and data…why Marvel? Why smol? Who hurt him?