#got drabbles

[ria-writes-stories]

Norse God? Did you mean Jon Snow

Hear me out:

Jon snow giving his beloved a dire wolf cub after Ghost just showed up with one after a random storm in the north. Please tell me you see it.

Reader who takes care of the cub, and by the time Reader and Jon Snow have their firstborn, the dire cub is already one year of age, and they immediately bond with the newborn babe. It's absolute chaos ever since.

Tell me that you see it.

[tessimagines]

❤️ Ned Stark

 Morning Sunlight // Ned Stark

Summary: Ned savours the moment beside his wife in bed before he has to start the day

Masterlist | Game of Thrones Masterlist

Wordcount: 446

It’s warm under the covers but Ned can feel the chilly winter air that fills the room. It tickles his hand and arm as he reaches it out in front of him, bringing it down to push strands of brown hair out of his face. Your bedroom is illuminated now, the morning sunlight that streams through the window filling up the room. Ned half-sits up in the bed, turning so that he can see your sleeping form beside him. 

Your messy hair is glistening in the morning sunlight. It brightens up the features of your face, bouncing off your cheekbones and making your skin glow. Your arms fill the space between you, one on top of the other and Ned allows himself to reach a finger out and trace it along the skin of your arm. He notices your eyes flutter beneath your eyelids and your head make a soft, faint movement. 

He reaches down, placing a tender kiss to the skin of your neck, just below your ear. He can still smell the freshness of your bath last night. Ned had watched you pour your own floral oils into the water and as Ned lets his lips linger on your skin now, he can smell a sweet mixture of roses, lavender and jasmine. His nose tickles your ear and he feels you stir more. When he pulls away, he notices your eyes are open.

You don’t say anything but instead reach a hand up, running your fingers along the gruff beard on his face. There is a faint, warm smile on your lips and Ned can’t help but bend down and place a kiss to them. 

“Good morning, my love,” he whispers against your lips. When Ned goes to pull away, you instead guide his face back and place a kiss to his nose. Your hands fall to his chest and he leans back so that he can see your face again. 

Ned pulls the covers off of himself, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. But before he can stand, you grab hold of his hand. “Do you think Maester Luwin will care if your a little late to your morning meeting?” 

Ned raises an eyebrow. “Why? Is there something on your mind?”

You pull yourself to kneel on the bed beside him, your fingers moving to grab the edge of his nightshirt. “Maybe a little something.”

Ned chuckles and presses his lips to yours again. This time, however, he does it a little more passionately. His hands find your waist, and he turns you over so that your laying on the bed below him.

“I’m sure Maester Luwin will be fine.”

Thanks for requesting anon! I will always JUMP at the chance to write for Ned

Check out my Back-to-Writing Celebration

[annawoodhull]

Memory Like a Ghost (A Jonsa Family Drabble)

Word Count: 1433

“Do you think it’s safe?” Sansa asked Jon, stroking their daughter’s hair.

“Ghost wouldn’t harm her,” he remarked carefully, looking between the direwolf and their child. “It’s time they met.”

Though still tiny, Calla Lily could fill a room. At nearly three months old, it was apparent to both Jon and Sansa that no one gave one lick about them, the king and queen of the North. Everyone was focused on their princess, something that bothered neither of them. After making an amendment to the proclamation regarding heirs to the throne, the firstborn child would be the first in line for the throne, whether male or female. It was good that their people knew Lily. One day she would be their queen.

Knowing how much their people loved Lily made it that much easier to find ways to spend time with their daughter rather than leave her in the care of the midwife whenever either Sansa, Jon, or both of their presences were required.

That morning, Jon was preparing to go check on the progress of the village schools when his gaze instinctively found Lily, lying in her bassinet. He walked over to gaze down at her tiny face and felt his heart swell with affection when her dark eyes found him. She instantly smiled. Smiling was something she was doing more and more, which pleased both of her parents greatly.

Actually, she was a miracle in more ways than one. They had very little trouble, if any, with her, which was apparently unheard of. When asked if she kept them up at all hours of the night with her cries, Sansa contradicted their inquiries, saying she usually slept throughout the night. Sometimes a rather brave, perhaps stupidly so, woman would assure her that meant her next child would be a little hellion to make up for it. Jon had to physically put himself between the daring woman and his wife before Sansa was tempted to send her to the stocks. Not that he could blame her, having half a mind to do it himself.

But yes they knew they were lucky with their firstborn. Still, it was still early yet. Who knew what kind of mischief Lily could still get up to? Jon nearly shuddered at the thought.

“How’s my favorite girl?” he asked, scooping her up into his arms. She gurgled happily, something else she had only recently been doing. Every new noise she made was absolutely precious. He encouraged them often and kissed her soft cheek. His beard tickled her skin prompted her to wrinkle her nose before giggling.

“I thought I was your favorite girl,” Sansa teased, having placed down her book the moment he had first set foot inside their chambers and was watching him holding their daughter with a soft expression.

He froze, thinking he was in trouble, but seeing her tender expression, he instantly relaxed. Grinning sheepishly, he said, “Lily’s my favorite girl, and you’re my favorite woman. I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

Sansa smiled. “Oh, you are very good.” She rose from her seat and joined him at Lily’s side, ducking her head so that she could kiss their daughter’s cheek. Lily beamed under the attention.

“Do you have any plans for her today?” he asked suddenly, bouncing Lily slightly when she began to squirm.

Sansa’s expression turned thoughtful. “Not more so than the usual.” Then she looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“I was thinking I could take her off your hands for a while,” Jon said, tone suggesting a practiced casualness. “She could come with me to the village, to see the schools. I was thinking Lily could help with the measurements for the nursey. Give them an idea.”

Sansa’s eyebrows raised. “You do know that there are other children in the village. And they probably have used them for measurements. And even if they needed them, the men constructing the schools know what they’re doing.”

“I know,” Jon shrugged. “But I thought, why not bring her along anyway?”

She smiled knowingly. “You just want to spend more time with your daughter. To show her off.”

“I… is it that obvious?”

Sansa laughed at the return of his sheepish expression. “Yes, I’m afraid it is, but I love you for it all the same.” She touched his cheek with affection before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Maybe I’ll join you.”

Pleased by the prospect, Jon felt obligated to ask if she would be missing anything important if she left. She assured him she wouldn’t. In fact, most of her schedule had changed to focus on taking care of Lily, which wasn’t a terrible hardship.

“Besides, what if she gets hungry?” she asked. “How will you feed her?”

Sending word to the stables to ready their mounts, Sansa carefully secured Lily in a sling snug against her bosom. All the while, Lily was smiling brightly, as if she knew they were setting off for an adventure. For her little girl, Sansa suspected that it would be. She laughed at the joyous expression on their daughter’s face and was quick to share the moment with Jon, who shared in Sansa’s adoration of their firstborn.

They were just about to set out towards the stables when a scratching sound drew their attention towards the door. Jon went to investigate and found Ghost on the other side, his red eyes gazing up at him expectantly. “We weren’t going to forget you,” he assured him, giving him an affectionate scratch behind his ear, though it didn’t seem as if Ghost was paying him much attention. His large white head was peering around him to get a better look at Sansa, who unconsciously tightened her grip on the baby.

During the first several weeks since Lily’s birth, they had limited her outings to only a handful of people, and unfortunately, that had initially included Ghost. It wasn’t that either of them thought he would hurt Lily, but it was the uncertainty of new parenting that made them wary. But now that Ghost was in their chambers, it would only be right to introduce them. Carefully.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Sansa asked Jon, stroking their daughter’s hair.

“Ghost wouldn’t harm her,” he remarked carefully, looking between the direwolf and their child. “It’s time they met.”

Nodding in agreement, Sansa undid the sling just enough so that Lily could move around a bit more freely. The two month’s old dark eyes, solely for her mother, looked up at her in confusion. Had the adventure ended already?

But then Lily’s eyes wandered the room, looking at her father before landing on Ghost. Lily’s lips formed a tiny, startled “o” shape. Sansa instinctively held her closer. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here,” she murmured soothingly.

Only Lily wasn’t afraid. Only curious. She gazed at Ghost, and Ghost stared back, both assessing the other. The staring lasted far longer than either Jon or Sansa could stand but both waited patiently as the two continued to stare at each other.

And then Lily lifted her hand in a yearning stretch towards him, her fingers flexing. The king and queen both released breaths they hadn’t realized they had been holding. Sansa smiled and slowly lowered herself to the  ground, with Jon following suit, staying close to Ghost just in case.

Lily wriggled in Sansa’s arms so that she was sitting up in her mother’s lap, or rather propped up as she leaned against her mother’s abdomen. Her tiny hands continued to reach out for Ghost, who looked over at Jon. Jon gave a tiny nod but murmured, “Be careful. She’s tiny.”

Slowly, Ghost approached, one paw at a time. He was already large compared to the average adult, but with Lily, the contrast was startling. Still, Lily continued to stare at him, fascinated. Ghost took another step forward and reached out so that his nose pressed against her palm.

Lily let out a surprised noise at the cool, wet feel of his nose against her hand. She withdrew it immediately, but then looked at Ghost again before slowly reaching out again. She wrapped her fingers around his nose lightly, and Ghost, gods bless him, remained perfectly still. Her fingers explored as far as she could, touching the unfamiliar texture of his fur against her soft tiny fingers. When she couldn’t reach any further, Ghost took another step closer and gently licked her hand, making Lily squeal with delight.

Jon and Sansa shared a warm look as Ghost lowered himself to the ground in front of Sansa, resting his muzzle against her knee so that Lily continued to pet him. His tail occasionally wagged languidly.

“I suppose Ghost will be coming with us,” Jon observed, proudly observing his direwolf with their child. “There’s no separating them now.”

[jae-writes-fanfiction]

Hunger

Prompt: “no, I want you” 

Notes: Felt like the women of GoT needed some more love and got inspired between finishing longer drabbles. Let me know what you think! Enjoy! 😘❤ 

Arya Stark

You tried to look happy while Arya prepared for her journey. You’d been her partner for many years, often going ages without seeing this woman who you loved, and now it seemed that parting might be forever. You’d persuaded her to stay for Sansa’s coronation but you’d seen the maps piled in her room and knew time had run out between the two of you.

You leaned against the wall, a bittersweet smile stretching across your face while Arya rolled up those same maps. “I suppose you’ll be off then,” you said trying to sound happy for her, “time for another one of your great adventures.”

“Our,” she corrected tossing a lopsided grin your way before returning to her task, “the only great part of my adventures was you.”

You knew your face had broken out in a heated blush, and your smile forgot it’s trepidation. You knew her ‘adventures’ were never started as such and that each one held some great pain in it’s duration or origin- you just hadn’t known how dearly she treasured the times when you were there with her.

“Arya I don’t know what to say,” you stuttered unsure of her concession, “wouldn’t you rather someone else accompany you?” She paused for a moment and left her packing to turn and face you.

“No, I want you. As I said you’re the best part, my own good luck charm.” Arya sighed, unable to control her wolfish smile seeing your face change in delighted shock.

“Wouldn’t want to jinx that now would I love?” She looked at you pointedly waiting to make sure you were smiling before turning to finish clearing off her table. You were more excited than ever to be starting this new adventure with Arya, the prince(ss) who was promised, and somehow your closest companion and dearest love.

- - -

Yara Greyjoy

Yara had requested your presence early that morning. You’d been her advisor for months now, and the late nights spent together had evolved from talks of strategy into illicit trysts. She was your queen yet every glance, every word drove you absolutely mad. Rumors of marriage always spread about the Iron Islands, the people still unused to a queen alone and those rumors laid heavily on your heart that morning. You knew Yara wasn’t the marrying type. In all honesty you were surprised you still caught her eye, her lovers never lasted more than a week and it seemed every man or woman was prettier than the next.

In the recent week’s you’d been careful to distance yourself from her, unable to deny the ferocious thoughts in the back of your mind that demanded she was your’s. The room was empty except for your queen, who stalked about with her shoulders squared harshly, and her mouth set in a firm line. You wondered if that pretty little dornish man and his wife had finally proven frustrating enough for her to send them away. “We’re sparring today,” she commanded, interrupting your thoughts.

You nodded and soon fell into the steps of the same violent dance full of flashing swords, gnashing teeth and fiery stares. She struck at you mercilessly, each swing of her sword landing as intended, slowly forcing you into a corner. Instead of relenting to start again Yara pressed you further back, and leveled her blade against your throat.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she stated, pressing the words out between clenched teeth, “I provide you with everything. A place in my court, a place in my keep, a place in my bed. Yet you insult me with silence.” Her eyes danced with all the fury of a tumultuous sea, dark with storms, and flooded with disappointment.”What do you want- a castle, gold?” she demanded pressing the edge into the softness of your skin, tempting forwards little pricks of agitation.  The blade against your throat was dizzying, and you could feel the heat of her breath with each word, and couldn't ignore how close her body was to yours.

“No, I want you, my queen.” Your clenched jaw kept you from roaring that it had always been her, the only thing you’d ever wanted in its entirety as your own, was her and her affection. It wasn’t about the castle, or the security of being a queen’s lover- only her and how her sharp gaze melted your heart.

Your boldfaced answer rendered her unaware for a delicious moment, long enough for you to twist from the position and knock her back. In another second she’d pulled you to the floor as well, pinning you underneath her. For a moment you stayed there underneath Yara, her legs straddling your hips completely enamoured until she slowly pressed her lips onto yours, reassuring you the only way she knew how.

- - -

Brienne of Tarth

You’d been helping Brienne train the women and girls of the north to safeguard them against the coming long night. Her strength was astounding and drew you to her immediately. She didn’t like you at first, insisting that she had enough help from Podrick. She relented when Sansa insisted you help, you were from one of the outlying villages, you were one of the people and together they’d be more likely to learn alongside a familiar face.

You developed a crush almost instantly on your co-instructor. You were petite and stronger than expected, but there was something about how tall Brienne was, how strong her arms and legs were. You knew she could pick you up at will as if you were nothing more than a feather pillow and it made you swoon. Through working together you’d discovered her almost perfect loyalty to the Starks, and her commanding senses of justice and honor that guided her as a person, and these things made your feelings deepen from a fleeting attraction to a blossoming respect and desire for her.

You were no blushing maiden, having grown up outside the Lord’s keep meant you weren’t held to such rules as acting coy and complacent. All the men and women you’d romanced before were treated to your bold flirtations, and they responded. Brienne always acted like she didn’t hear the tone of your voice, or the smile in your eyes. So you’d progressively gotten bolder, opting for blunt flattery and intense attention that had gone unnoticed until now. And now, she was angrier than you’d ever seen her. You couldn’t even remember what you’d said at this point. 

Brienne held you forcibly at arms length, her grip tight on your shoulders and all you could think about how she looked exactly like she did before she killed someone. 

“You’re jokes aren’t funny,” she said through a clenched jaw, “What in the seven hells do you want from me? If this is a game I won't play it.”

You realized she wasn’t angry, she was hurt. For a moment your heart almost broke understanding someone had joked at loving her and you knew she’d never understand what you were saying this way.

“It’s no joke, or game. I want you, just you.” You kept your voice soft and small, and as you spoke Brienne’s gaze softened and for the first time since she caught your eye, she really heard you.

- - -

Daenerys Targaryen

“My Queen, the rumors of your beauty don’t do you justice,” you said strolling into the pyramid’s audience chamber. Daenerys Targaryen First of her Name, was every bit a beauty that she was a queen. You’d expected someone less awe inspiring, someone less perfect. But there you were standing in front of the Breaker of Chains, the Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt in all of her glory and gods did it make you weak.

“And? What could my beauty have done to warrant such a long journey? I’ve heard you’d rather spend your time among men and women than fighting wars. ” Daenerys had heard of you too, not to some awe inspiring extent, but enough to know your former days as a pirate left you rich, half-across the world, and with a fleet of ships. 

You weren’t sure what to say, caught off guard every time she looked at you with her violet eyes causing a delicious chill to set over your skin. “I’ve also heard you  rumors that you’ve taken no suitors. Not even Xaro Xhoan Daxos with his riches and ships -” 

“Is that what you’ve brought me then, a proposal?” she interrupted dryly, bitter at the reminder of such a recent betrayal.

“No my Queen, I’ve brought you ships,” you said hurrying to refocus your conversation.

“Ships... and what is it you and your Lords want in return? Do they want their own kingdom? One of my dragons,” Daenerys paused remembering Doreah and Xaro, “Everything has its price.” 

“I’ve no lords behind me. I want you-,” you froze for a second and felt your face turn red over how forward you’d been to the Queen, “I’m sorry I meant to say I want you on the throne.” No one really believed your quick cover, but before you could keep talking and make it worse, The Queen spoke up.

“My men will inspect your ships. Until then you’re welcome in Meereen as my honored guest.” Daenerys flushed prettily while giving consent to your place in her court, and the fiery look in her eyes told you she didn’t believe your quick cover-up, and that first part of your request would be revisited later when you could be alone.

- - -

Sansa Stark

Since the Starks returned to Winterfell you’d served as Sansa’s handmaid. For weeks you were too nervous to remain in her presence, and ensured you ducked in and out of her chambers when she wasn’t there. Lady Sansa was a formidable leader, strong and wise but her long red hair and soft smile sent shivers down your spine, and caused your face to flush as if you’d been drinking. You tried to dismiss it as a mistake, a silly crush but couldn’t as the weeks passed.

Of course Sansa noticed, you weren’t nearly as subtle as intended. She soon started adjusting to your schedule, making sure encounters lasted longer until you relaxed. She’d noticed your bright eyes, and hypnotic smile instantly and wanted nothing more than to kiss you and discover what kind of woman sat behind your reserved exterior. When she started flirting with you, you thought it had to be a mistake. Some sort of willful interpretation of human kindness rather than personal affection. But each exchange lasted longer until you couldn’t deny her advances, and when she looked at you, you were looking at her and when she flirted with you, you flirted back. But you weren’t a lord or lady of a great house, just a regular servant and your once fervent flirtations wilted, and you begged for the overseer to give you some other job around the castle.

How could she love you, so lowly and insignificant? You’d heard stories of highborn women fooling around with lowborn women for fun, to see how gullible the common folk were and those stories scared you more than anything else, because you’d started to love her. She confronted you of course, somehow always knowing where you were and what was happening in every inch of the castle. She cornered you in a hallway, and pulled you into her room,

“Have I done something wrong?” She asked crossing her arms, and closing her self off a little more.

“No My Lady,” you said fidgeting under her gaze, “I just couldn’t be here.”

“that’s ridiculous this is as much your home as mine”

“No My Lady I mean with you,” you sighed and tried to look anywhere other than her face, “wouldn’t you rather some highborn lord or lady to keep you company?”

“Wouldn’t I rather a highborn lord? No! I want you- you’re clever and beautiful and kind and you don’t get to decide who I love.” Sansa spoke with a conviction that equally scared and thrilled you. She loved you, and for a moment nothing else mattered: not your status or her parentage, just the spark between two people as they melted into a kiss.

[sailorshadzter]

anyways saw this post by @themiddleliddle & i live for it

so i wrote it. 

She's sitting behind her office desk when there comes a knock to her door. "Come in," she calls, looking up as the door opens. It's Lord Royce and he approaches her desk, bowing low. "I thought you were seeing to the shipment arrival from the South," she blinks as she meets gazes with the man she called her Hand. Lord Royce has stood beside her through it all and she considers herself lucky beyond measure to have him at her side.

"Aye, your grace, I was," he says when he stands up. "But there was a rider at the gate and they wish to speak with you." A rider, she thought as she pushes back from the desk, rising to her feet.

"Who is it?" She asks, thinking perhaps it is a rider from the Night's Watch- she and Jon spoke more regularly now and she had high hopes he would return to her by spring's beginning. Already, the cold had begun to abate and the snow would surely begin to melt away within a few weeks. It wouldn't be much longer before the sun would warm their skin yet again.

"It is a woman, your grace," Lord Royce responds, surprising her even more. A woman? What woman would come to see her? Sansa knew no woman who would come and wish to speak to her besides Arya and she knew without a doubt it would not be the little sister she'd not seen in months. "She did not give the guards a name, just that she knows you." Lord Royce looks as if he wishes to advise her against speaking to this stranger, but Sansa gives a single nod and sweeps past him towards the door.

All she can do is see this visitor now.

[ x x x ]

The room is empty aside from Sansa herself and Lord Royce. Of course there is a guard at the door, but he steps outside as the guest steps across the threshold, dressed in a warm traveling cloak that hides her identity. Sitting upon her throne, Sansa holds her breath, eyes widening ever so slightly. She recognizes that walk, she knows the woman long before she comes to stand before her, lowering her hood. "Shae," she whispers as the woman drops to her knees before her, head bowed as Sansa fights to control herself.

"Your grace," Shae speaks softly as she raises her eyes to focus upon the young woman on her throne, a sight she has always longed to see. She recalls the last time she saw this girl, frightened and alone in her rooms, crying over the loss of her family. Crying over the turn her life had taken. Now, look at her. "I have come to offer myself to you, if you will have me." Her eyes are filling with tears as she smiles, knowing there was no one in this world she loved as she loved her. She had once said she would kill for Sansa Stark and that had been the truth. The moment she had heard the gossip, that a young red wolf sat upon the Northern throne, she had climbed aboard the first ship home. And now she sat before her, humbly upon her knees, hoping she would be forgiven for abandoning her when she'd needed her most.

Sansa can barely breathe, let alone speak. She recalls hundreds of moments with this woman- from brushing her hair and brushing tears from her eyes. From offering her advice against Little Finger and threatening any man who came too close for comfort.  After all this time, she was still alive. Sansa had dared not believe that she and Shae would ever see one another again, though she had always wished they would. Back in King's Landing, Shae had been her only true friend. But finally she finds her voice and smiles as she leans forward, gesturing for the woman to rise.

"You are welcome here, my dear friend."

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

Sandor Clegane x Reader [PROMPT #48: “can i braid your hair? please?”]

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Reader  Prompt(s): #48: “can i braid your hair? please?”  Mood/Emotion: sad Requested By: Anon

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl 17k follower celebration info/prompt list] [request here]

You had known ‘the Hound’ (as the people of King's Landing has come to know him by) for a few years now. While he was a bodyguard to the bratty, young King, you were a maid in the palace. Generally, you served the lesser royals, but as of late, Joffrey had personally requested you- no doubt to cause further torment to a new person.

        Today had been particularly awful and your only saving grace was the occasional sympathetic glance from Sandor. You know he wanted to do more, but given the fact he had already stood up for Sansa recently, Joffrey would not let him off easy. So, every time he went to intervene, you have him a warning look and shook your head. You could take the King’s abuse if it meant Sandor remained unharmed.

       “You should let me do something next time.”

       His gruff voice startled you, but you tried not to show it. You looked up at him; he could see the tears you had tried not to spill earlier. Swiftly, you gazed down to the floor.

      “I don’t want you to get in his firing line,” you murmur.

      “Doesn’t matter about me,” he replies, “Is... Is there anything I can do?”

      You smile up at him.

      “Can I braid your hair? Please?” 

      He looks to you in confusion, raising a brow. It wasn’t something that he ever thought he’d be asked. You kept eye contact, and he sighs.

      “Fine.”

      “Thank you!” you exclaim excitedly, and grab his hand, “Come! We’ll go to my room!”

      Sandor follows and tries to pretend he’s reluctant about spending time with you.

[annawoodhull]

jonsa 2020 week | may 12 - legends|beyond the wall (outlander au)

@jonsadrabbles Okay, this time I went 79 words over the 500 limit. I’m sorry. I tried!!

“You’ll be safer,” Jon murmured softly. “Back in your time.”

Staring up at the stones, Sansa swallowed hard. She knew very well his words rang true. Ever since she had fallen into Winterfell, she had done her hardest to make sure she got back to the stones. And now that the stones were in front of her, within her reach, she hesitated.

“I know,” she whispered. She swallowed once more, her throat tightening with emotion. She turned to him now, the man who saved her when she had first arrived in Westeros, the man who married her to protect her against capture. The man who ultimately captured her heart, body, and soul.

He reached for her then and drew her close. He looked as if he would close his eyes but refused in fear that she would disappear. “I never doubted what you told me. But to see it now.” He turned his gaze towards the stone, staring at them as if they were his greatest foe, and his greatest ally. “This is the stuff of legends. Are you certain you’re not a fairy?”

Even through her heartbreak, Sansa laughed, blinking back tears. “I’m pretty certain I’m not.”

After she had confided in him about who she really was, where she had come from, Sansa had been amazed by his willingness to accept her. Jon hadn’t understood any of it – neither did she – but he believed her. He even joked that he never set foot beyond the wall, let alone through time.

It was difficult to imagine, going back to her time, 500 years into the future. Going back to her position as a history grad student. Oh, how it would haunt her. The memory of his beautiful face, his sensual touch, the strength of his character, his heart… She didn’t want to leave him, leave what they had.

Jon kissed her then, long and hard. They drank each other in, knowing it might very well be the last time. She cried as she returned his kiss, hear heart breaking even more as she felt his tears mingling with her own.

The moment broke apart far too soon. Jon stepped back, sniffling and then exhaling shakily. “I’ll be here, making sure no harm comes to you, until…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the words and turned to head down the hill. Sansa watched him go until he disappeared over the hill then slowly returned to the stones.

Sansa could hear the buzzing, growing louder and louder the closer she approached. She had told him as much when they had first arrived. By instinct, she lifted her hand to touch the stone…

Was she ready to do this?

At the last possible moment, she withdrew her hand and took a breath. She made her choice. It took some time, but she found him a little ways down the hill, looking every bit as heartbroken as she’d felt. With her heart thumping wildly inside her chest, Sansa called out to him, “On your feet, Lord Commander.”

Jon’s head jerked up at the sound of her voice and staggered to her feet. “What… what are you doing?”

Smiling widely, Sansa replied, “I’ve made my decision. I’ve studied history for years, but I think it’s time we make our own history.” Before she knew it, she was being swept into his embrace. She wrapped around his arms around him, squeezing him as he squeezed her. Neither wanted to let the other go.

Jonsa Week 2020 Original Post!

[annawoodhull]

jonsa week 2020 | may 15 spring | autumn (the mummy 1999 au)

@jonsadrabbles 95 words over... Yeah, I’m still flop with word count limits XD

When she’d risked nearly all her savings to prevent his execution, Sansa hadn’t anticipated what she would be getting herself into. The conditions included the condemned man accompany herself, her brother Robb, and the other adventure seeking Americans on their expedition in the search of Hamunaptra. She and Robb had been preparing to set off when the man found them and introduced herself. She had been met with a much cleaned up, dark eyed, tragically handsome looking man of the name Jon Snow. He’d kept some scruff, but dammit it all, it was a good look on him. He appeared amused at her gaping and boarded the ship with a practiced ease.

Sansa only desired him for his experience in the field, or so she kept telling herself. The boat ride to their destination  was rather cumbersome, seeing as how she was the only woman on board. To make matters worse, her ex-paramour from a few springs ago, Joffrey was on the expedition. Much to her dismay, she’d come to learn that he and Jon and served in the same regiment when Jon had been captured. Apparently, little Joffrey spotted an opportunity to escape and had no qualms about leaving him behind to save his own hide. That sounded about right.

The harrowing invasion of their boat hours later forced everyone aboard to abandon ship. The horses and what could be saved of their equipment were prominently of the hands of the Americans and Joffrey, whose arrangement with them had to be related to money.

“Hey, Jon!” Joffrey boasted. “Looks to me as if I’ve got all the horses!”

Without missing a beat, Jon mocked loudly, “Hey, Joffrey! Looks to me as if you’re on the wrong side of the RIVerrrr.”

Joffrey scoffed but looked around and threw a classic fit as he realized Jon was right.

“I can’t believe you dated that,” Robb muttered, nudging his sister as he grabbed their bags.

Sansa sighed. “Neither can I.” Then she looked up and noticed Jon glancing at her then away. It happened so quickly she convinced herself she imagined it. She accepted her brother’s coat, shivering at the night chill. It gave her the vaguest reminiscence of English autumn. “Can’t believe he managed to survive the raid.”

Jon shrugged. “I tried to get him to stay on the boat.”

It took them all night and a good portion of the day to come across a village, where they regrouped and gathered supplies. Robb haggled with a camel handler for three camels while Jon made arrangements for other necessities.

Sansa appeared with a group of village women, covered appropriately for the days’ journey into the dessert. The color brought out the color of her eyes, her hair even brighter contrasting with the dark blue Bedouin gown, complete with a veil. She met his gaze steadily, feeling more pleasure than she ought to when she saw Jon’s appreciative gaze.

She walked past him and accepted one of the camels, which was quite a bit taller than she. Biting her lip, she was contemplating how to go about it when she heard a low rumble, “Allow me.”

Jon’s hands were around her waist, incredibly warm through the threadbare material of the gown. Swallowing, Sansa allowed herself to be lifted onto the camel. Jon only released her when she was seated safely.

Once the handler was paid, Robb pulled Jon aside and looked at him. “Quit looking at my sister like that.”

Feigning bewilderment, Jon asked, “Like what?”

Robb’s eyes narrowed, though his lips twitched upwards. “Like a snack.”

Jonsa Week 2020 Original Post!

@maddiethefashionista so I finally got my The Mummy 1999 Jonsa fix! ;)