#foxyhunter99

[dresupi]

For: @foxyhunter99​ Prompt: Rekindle the fire, rekindle the flame Ship: Sansa Stark/Tyrion Lannister

A/n: E under the cut

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Sansa giggled as Tyrion kissed her lips. He was just as good at that as she remembered.

“What?” he asked, grinning at her.

“I was just thinking…”

“Should I be worried?” he asked, clearly joking as they shifted into a more comfortable position on the sofa.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Sansa replied. “It’s just that… I believe this is what we were doing last year at this time as well… waiting for the new year in a very… intimate way…” she trailed off because there was more she wanted to say, but wasn’t sure if Tyrion was in the mood for talking.

“And…” he led, ducking down to suck soft kisses down the line of her throat. It made her skin tingle, and she was laughing by the time she answered.

“And, then we broke things off shortly after,” she finished. “I was just wondering--”

“If I was going to make the same stupid mistakes I’d made last year? No, I hadn’t planned on it,” Tyrion replied, deftly answering what she hadn’t wanted to ask at all. “I haven’t forgotten anything, darling, and I intend to make this year much better for you than the last.”

“Do you?” she asked, arching her eyebrows and laying back on the sofa.

Tyrion grinned devilishly. “Indeed, I do…”

Sansa tangled her hands in his hair as he kissed his way down her body, rucking up her skirt in the process.  His breath was hot on her thighs as he pressed his face against her knickers and inhaled.

“Gods, I missed you,” he murmured, tugging on said knickers until she lifted her hips and he was able to slide them down enough to take them off.

He was back in an instant, parting her thighs and nosing over her sex, his tongue sliding out to taste her. Sansa shivered, a soft sound caught in her throat as Tyrion repeated the action, delving a bit deeper each time until she was shaking with the effort not to cry out his name.

As he wriggled his tongue over her clit in that way she liked, she reached for his head again, holding him in place as he proved to her that no, he hadn’t forgotten anything.  He remembered exactly what she liked.

[dresupi]

For: @foxyhunter99​ Prompt: Home for the holidays, but my parents won’t let us share a room so we sneak out to see each other Ship: Sansa Stark/Tyrion Lannister

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His father was a moron.

Not in the literal sense of the word, of course. Tywin knew exactly what he was doing, and Tyrion despised him for it. He’d only come up with the stupid ‘house rule’ to make his life more difficult.

It didn’t matter. He was an adult, and so was Sansa. If she was sleeping in a room on the opposite end of the house, in the furthest possible room from his, well then he’d walk down there to be with her. All this really did was get him more steps on his pedometer and make his Raven Watch happy that he filled up his activity circles.

He knocked gently on her door and she opened it, seemingly surprised to see him.

“Tyrion! I didn’t--” She stepped back to allow him entrance. “I didn’t know you’d be joining me…”

He chuckled. “Yes, yes, it’s true. You’ll have to send your cabana boy away for the evening.”

She rolled her eyes and closed the door behind him. “My cabana boy is back in King’s Landing, you know that.”

“I do so love our banter, my dear, and I’m fully aware I started it, but I feel the need to ask…”

“No cabana boy, you fool,” She bent down and kissed him. “Just me in this horrendously oversized bedroom. And Netflix. I’m watching all the bad holiday movies.”

“Count me in,” he replied, hopping up on her bed.  She snuggled in beside him and a more petty version of himself would have thought about how his father could kiss his ass, but as it was, he didn’t really think about anything other than how the titular knight in a certain made for Netflix holiday film knew how to drive a car if he’d never seen one.

[dresupi]

For: @foxyhunter99​ Prompt: No, I'm pretty sure the roast is supposed to be dry... I'll bet it tastes fine. Ship: Bronn/Jaime Lannister

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Jaime stuck the meat thermometer into the roast, hoping and praying to the Mother that it was finally done. It had hovered around just underdone for what had felt like forever. Surely now, surely it’d be done…

He watched as the needle jumped well past the desired temperature and kept going up, up, up.

“Fuck,” he swore, tossing the gauge into the sink. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What?” Bronn asked, and Jaime turned to face him before looking back down at the very overdone roast.

“It’s overdone.”

“I told you to take it out thirty minutes ago…” Bronn mused with a smirk that made Jaime want to smack him.

“I know. Well, now it’s ruined,” he sighed, reaching for the dial on the stove and turning it off.

“Not ruined,” Bronn replied, turning around to find something to scoop up the roast and plate it. “I’m sure the roast is supposed to be dry. My mum’s always was. I know what to do, stop worrying so much.”

“I’m not your mum,” Jaime muttered.

“Thank the seven for that,” Bronn replied. “Take this out to the table, I’ll be right there.”

Bronn was busy in the kitchen for close to twenty minutes, and Jaime had to slap Robert’s hand away from the roast no less than a half dozen times.

He was about to start apologizing to everyone who’d gathered there for a good holiday meal when Bronn reappeared with two gravy boats in hand. “I’ve got a third one if anyone wants to run back in and grab it for me,” he announced, setting both on the table and looking up to wink at Jaime.  “Meat’s really lean, probably needs some of that.”

Jaime sat poised with the carving knife for a moment, thanking whoever was listening for Bronn’s mum and her terrible holiday roasts.

Bless that woman and her terrible cooking.

And bless her son as well.