Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines: Part Two (Completed)

Jon Snow X Greyjoy!Reader - Walk Me Home

A/N - This imagine is based on the lyrics from the song 'Walk Me Home' by P!nk. I hope you all enjoy it.

Winterfell was in the throes of celebration. The dead had been defeated. The living were victorious. What else was there to do but drink and be merry? You watched the festivities from a distance, sipping from a cup of wine and waiting for the moment everybody else in the room would realise that good men had been lost. That your brother had given his life for them. That hundreds of people had died so that these drunkards could remain amongst the living. 

But it seemed that the time for merriment would not be ending any time soon. Of course, there were a few others thinking as you did. Sandor Clegane looked as miserable as ever, hunched over his drink and scowling at passersby. Bran never looked like he was having much fun these days, no matter the situation. Gods, even Jon looked to be enjoying himself, though you felt bad for begrudging him as much; it was rare to see him happy these days.

You released a sigh as you shifted in your seat, a frown settling itself onto your face as you continued to scan the crowd.

"You aren't celebrating." You glanced up, eyes finding a large Wildling hovering beside you, a lopsided grin plastered on his face as he swayed on his feet, so drunk he looked to be half-asleep already.

"I'm not," you answered simply, turning back to the crowd.

"But we won."

"We did," you answered again, this time not even bothering to face the drunken man as you spoke.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. "Pretty women are supposed to smile," he grumbled, "makes men feel better to see pretty women smiling."

"It's a good thing I'm not just some pretty woman then, isn't it," you practically growled, eyes fixing him with an astounding glare. 

The Wildling laughed, hand slipping down to touch your arm. "You're mean. I like mean women."

"Don't touch me," you started, shifting your arm out of his reach. 

He lurched forward, hand brushing against your face as he attempted to pull you to him. "Come on, mean girl," he started softly, "let me fuck you."

You were on your feet in an instant. "Touch me again and I'll kill you myself," you snarled, shoving him back a step. 

"Mean girl-" he started again, reaching out in your direction until he felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back a step and leaving him stumbling backwards. 

Jon looked every part a king, coming to your rescue, like you were some lost damsel in distress. "Leave her be," he started, watching as the Wildling man nodded and swayed away from you both, leaving you stoney faced and pissed off.

"Thank you," you grumbled out, running your tongue over your teeth as you attempted to calm your roaring temper. 

"Are you okay?" Jon had always been so kind to you. When you were a child, fostered in his father's home, he had treated you as though you were no different from himself. He had helped you grow used to your new home when you brother had no interest in spending time with you, and had taught you all there was to know about living in Winterfell. And now, here he was, keeping you safe from overly-affectionate, drunk strangers.

You nodded slightly, "I'm fine."

Jon sighed, shaking his head. "No, you're not."

"I'm fine. I'm just going to go to bed."

"Don't lie to me, Y/N." You paused, watching him for just a moment, before shrugging. "I understand," he added softly, reaching out a pulling you into a quick hug. "Let me walk you to your chambers. Make sure he doesn't give you any more bother."

You nodded, unable to think of a single word to say that wouldn't leave you in tears, gasping for breath. You were already halfway to your chambers when the words finally came. "It isn't that idiot that upset me," you started softly, and you felt Jon's eyes find you immediately. You kept your own eyes fixed in front of you, unable to look at him. "It feels wrong, all of them in there, celebrating and drinking, and Theon isn't a part of it."

"Yeah," he told you softly, "he would have loved it though, singing and dancing and drinking 'til he was sick."

"Not that he would ever admit that he was drunk. Yes, he has a headache; no, it's not from the wine." Jon chuckled at that, shaking his head slightly. "I know he made mistakes, but he wasn't a bad man." 

Jon reached out, touching your arm lightly in something that resembled the comfort he had given you when you were children. "I know," he uttered, a sentiment so simple that it allowed the tears to finally prickle at your eyes. It wasn't until you reached your chambers that Jon noticed you had been crying, his brow furrowing slightly as you unlocked your door.

"Thank you for walking with me," you murmured, wiping at your eyes slightly in an attempt to hide the tears that had gathered there. "It feels like it's been years since I saw you last."

"It has been," he answered quickly, "we were still children then."

You nodded your agreement. "Foolish children."

"Do you mind if I come in? I'd like to hear what you've been doing since I saw you last."

A small smile found it's way onto your lips, and you managed a choked chuckle. "Jon Snow, If I didn't know you better I would say you were trying to talk your way into my chambers."

The laugh he released caught you off guard. It was so similar to the ones you had shared all of those years ago, and yet here he was, smiling at you in a way that made you want to scream and holler and profess true love. "I promise to behave," he told you softly. "I'll try to keep my hands to myself."

You snorted as you opened the door, stepping inside and nodding for him to follow you. "Flirting suits you," you murmured to him as you moved out of his way, revealing your chambers to him fully. 

"I don't flirt," he started, but his smile told a different story, and you simply shook your head, deciding not to argue to point.

"The perhaps you should."

Jon raised an eyebrow at you as he made himself comfortable around your table, a half smirk playing at his lips. "You want me to flirt with you?"

"Why not? I flirt with you."

"You do?"

You chuckled slightly, moving to take the seat opposite him. "Absolutely clueless," you exclaimed softly, shaking your head. "I've been flirting with you since I was fourteen." 

"I just thought you were being nice," he told you softly, "If I'd have know you were flirting I would have been a bit more forward with my advances."

"Hmm?" Your brows furrowed as you ran his words through your head again, attempting to make sense of them.

"Now who's the clueless one?" he laughed, leaning forward and placing his hand on top of yours. "I never thought you would be interested in me."

You gave him a sweet smile. "Why wouldn't I be? You were always the perfect gentleman."

"I'm a bastard," he started, pausing when you shook your head.

"Why would that matter?" You asked him softly, "I was far from home and scared and you made me feel like I wasn't alone. No one had ever been so nice to me. Of course I was interested in you."

Jon nodded slightly, his face pinched as he thought. "And are you interested in me now?"

"I never stopped."

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