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Lose My Shit

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“Jon fucking Snow.” Sansa muttered watching that young man enter her parent’s annual Harvest party. “Of course he’s wearing that fucking sweater.”


“What sweater?” Robb asked from behind her and Sansa almost spat out her drink.


“How long have you been there?” She asked, slightly panicked.


“Long enough to confirm that you are in love with my best friend/best man.”  Sansa swore. “It’s okay, I’ve known since you were 5.”




“You would only let Jon be the knight that could save you from the White Walkers. Me and Theon-”


“Theon and I” She corrected, he glared to her.


“Had to be Walkers or part of Jon’s army.” Robb sipped his drink.


“Maybe I just didn’t want my brother to be my knight.” She quipped.


“Theon?” He retorted.


“Even at 5 years of age I had better taste in men than to go for Theon Greyjoy.” Robb laughed.


“So why do you hate Jon’s sweater? He looks nice. It’s casual enough for this shindig, but still nice enough that you can tell he made an effort.”


Sansa sighed and resigned herself to boy talk with her elder brother. Robb has always come to her about girls, she supposed it was only fair she spill her guts about Jon Snow.


“It’s that colour! It’s so pretty and make his eyes look almost purple and he pushes it up to his elbows so you can really appreciate his forearms and I-”


“Okay so you’re lusting after his forearms like a creep.”


“It’s not creepy! Forearms are hot. Ask Fryd, or Arya.”


“I’m not asking my fiancé or my baby sister if they are sexually aroused by forearms.”


“Trust me, forearms are hot.” Sansa sipped her drink. It was a harvest themed cocktail her dad had made up and its was ridiculously good, tasting like cinnamon sugar cookies. “He just looks so fucking good and if he comes over here after I’ve had 3 for these drinks, I swear, I’m going to lose my shit.” She sighed and finished her drink. Robb laughed.


“Over a sweater?”


“It’s a really nice sweater. It’s like he wants to see me suffer.” She scowled at the completely oblivious Jon Snow talking to Gendry and Wynafryd across the room. “Does he not have any sense of proportion? Scale it in for fuck sake Snow.” She looked around for another drink.


“It’s not like he’s doing a fucking strip tease Sans.” Robb handed her a bottle of water. “Jon!” He called and waved.


“I hate you. I fucking hate you. I’m going to tell Fryd to leave you at the gods damned heart tree I swear to- Hi Jon! You look nice!” Robb was practically chocking on his laughter by the time Sansa finished threatening him and then greeted Jon.


“Thanks Sansa.” A blush crept into his cheeks and Sansa could have groaned in frustration I’m going to lose my shit if he looks anymore fucking adorably sexy. “Your dress is amazing, it makes your eyes look- just- I mean- whoa.” He finished, running his hand through is hair and looking at his shoes.


“Thanks.” She smiled before opening the water bottle and downing half of it.


Robb coughed to draw attention to himself.


“You look very pretty too, Robb.” Jon said and smiled.


“Thank you, now if you’ll excuse me I have to rescue Fryd from Gendry because he’s talking about cars and she has no idea what any of that means.” Robb winked at Sansa as he left.


Jon and Sansa stood in silence for a moment before Jon spoke.


“I never know what to wear to these things. Everyone always looks so nice.”


“You look really nice Jon.” Sansa assured him.


“Thanks, but I mean Robb’s got his collared shirt thing and Bran’s got this weird ‘I’m a 90 year old lecturer in ancient myths’ hipster thing and your dad always looks suave-”


“That’s because Mum dresses him.” Jon smiled at that.


“But I mean, I just wear this stupid old sweater and hope no one remembers the last time I wore it.”


“It’s a really nice sweater.”


“You got it for me.” He moved a little closer as he said this, allowing someone to get past them.


“Really?” Sansa couldn’t remember giving Jon the evil sexy sweater.


“About 2 birthdays ago. It’s the only thing I own that makes me feel like I belong at these parties.” Sansa’s heart twisted at Jon’s insecurity. He was so good with people, quietly charming, engaging, interested in what people said. He could have the whole room eating from the palm of his hand, but he just didn’t realise it.


“You belong with me.” She said before she could think. Jon looked at her and she almost groaned. That fucking sweater and his stupid eyes and I’m losing it.


She leant forward, placing one hand on his chest whilst the other cradled her water bottle.


“You belong here, with us, with me.” She gently kissed his cheek. Jon smiled at her, a genuine smile and Sansa’s heart skipped a beat or three.


He slipped his hand over hers and pulled her with him into an empty guest bedroom, away from the party.


“You belong with me too.” He said and leant forward and kissed her gently, allowing her time and space to pull away.


She did not pull away.