Finally finished Barb’s birthday present. Yes, I know there’s something trapped behind the glass, but this one was a real bitch to frame. Still, came out good for my first pattern design and my first swing at blackwork.
Request: “do you think you can do a Jon x reader where she grew up with the Starks and confesses her feelings to Jon but he rejects her and was just really mean about it then later realizes he is in love with her till after the battle of the bastards”?
Prompt: You’re in love with Jon, but Jon is too wrapped up in his woes about being a bastard to actually take you seriously when you confess your feelings. Both of you go your separate ways, him to Castle Black and you to White Harbor to be married off to some heir to another great house.
Jon Snow wasn’t someone girls usually drooled over.
He was too quiet, he rarely smiled, and he was a bastard. Girls did not look at him the way they looked at Robb; all wide eyed and flushed. Jon Snow wasn’t someone you wanted to fall in love with, but you did anyways.
He was the complete opposite of you. His reservation complimented your extensive wildness. Septa Mordane always said people only knew your name because they could hear her shouting it all the time during classes. And when Arya started disobeying just as much as you did, she started calling her your little shadow. It wasn’t like she was wrong about that, Arya followed you everywhere. Both of you always seemed to sneak off during needlework lessons and hide out and today was no different.
“I think I’m in love with you and
that scares me half to death.”
Note 1: This line of dialogue is not in the fic. But it’s definitely someone’s subtext.
Note 2: This is from my Ham marries Angelica AU. I’ve written some parts before and they’re in my fic tag. The backstory is that Ham and Angelica are married in early 1780, so when Ham quits Washington’s family in 1781, they already have a child.
Let me know if there are any other questions.
Dinner was quiet.
Angelica appeared briefly. She’d obviously been crying and Eliza thought she should comfort her, but she seemed to want nothing but her son and their mother. Alexander barely managed to look up from his plate. Eliza sat two seats down from him and could smell the stale sweat from their walk earlier in the day. Her scent likely matched his, she knew. Peggy sat between them and kept scrunching her nose.
After dinner, her father summoned Alexander into his office. Eliza and Peggy retreated into the sitting room to finish needlework that had not gotten done earlier upon the surprise arrival of the Hamiltons.
Both their ears strained to hear the conversation in the other room, but voices were kept low.
Peggy bid her adieu with a kiss to the cheek. “You should come too, Eliza.” But Eliza made the excuse that the needlework really must be done and that she’d finish Peggy’s for her. “Even if it takes all night.”
Peggy brushed her finger under Eliza’s chin. “You’re very sweet, to worry after our brother like this.”