#quotes drabble

[nyangibun]

Jonsa and 70? But sansa is the one that says it

“You’re so beautiful!” 

Jon chuckled as her hand found his face, palming his cheek like he was a dog. He hated to admit it, however, but it felt nice. Even if Sansa did smell like she had robbed a liquor store and downed its entire content. 

“Sans, we need to get you home.” He tried to stand up, but she just pulled him back down onto the sofa. 

“No, Jon!” She tilted her chin up proudly - although the effect was lost by the slurring of her words and the adorable way she kept swaying in her seat. “You don’t get it. You’re beautiful. Not hot. Beautiful!” 

He flushed in spite knowing this was just drunken jibberish, but maybe Sansa being drunk was a good thing because he could say things like this without worrying about the repercussions. “Not as beautiful as you, love. Trust me.”

Sansa pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ugh! You’re just not getting it.” She abruptly jumped up to her feet and began racing out of the lounge and down the corridor. Jon raced after her, all the while trying not to chuckle at her continued rant. “It’s just - you’ve always been you, right? And I’m me. A Stark, and you a Snow. And you’re so pretty. It’s not fair!” 

Jon followed her into his bedroom and decided to wait to see what she’d do next before he wrangled her out of the door and into his car so he could drive her home. Sansa turned around, still pouting, and placed her hands on her hips. 

“Do you get it now?” Sansa demanded. For someone who kept trying to compliment him, she was very quick to anger in this state. But Jon didn’t mind. Whenever she got frustrated, her nose would scrunch up and it was the single most adorable thing Jon had ever seen. 

“I’m trying to, Sans. Maybe we can discuss this in the morning? When you’re not three bottles of wine deep.” 

“Ugh!” she groaned again. Sansa turned her back to him, and to his horror, she stripped off her dress in one fluid motion. She threw it onto his bed before reaching into his wardrobe and picking out his favourite Winterfell University hoodie. “I love this one,” she murmured softly, before turning back around to smile goofily at him. “It smells like you.” 

Seeing her in nothing but his hoodie was doing really inappropriate things to his body, and Jon really didn’t want to be here right now. It was one thing being wildly attracted to Sansa on a normal day, but with her here in his room looking like that and smiling at him in a way that made his heart do somersaults, Jon was royally, irrevocably screwed. 

“Sansa… We should get you home,” he said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded, while inside, he was wrecked. 

She shook her head and crawled onto his bed, slipping under his duvet. “Nah uh. Not going home. I’m staying right here.” 

“Oh, bloody hell.” This was torture. Pure torture. 

Jon sighed and tried to distract himself by texting Robb. A physical reminder that he was in the presence of his best friend’s little sister. Even if said little sister was not so little anymore, nor very clothed either. She was still Sansa, and he really needed to get a grip. There was no physical bone in his body that would ever try to take advantage of her in this state, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t inadvertently blab about how into her he was. It could only end badly if he did. 

“Okay,” Jon said after pocketing his phone. He went out to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and came back to place it on the bedside table beside Sansa. “I’m going to go sleep on the sofa, okay? I’ll drive you home tomorrow morning.” He pushed back stray locks of her hair from her forehead. Sansa let out a soft moan of approval and leaned into his touch. “Get… uh, get some sleep, Sans.”

He heard her murmur an agreement, already halfway to sleep, and made his way across the room. Just as he reached the door, he heard her speak again. 

“Jon, wait…” The bed creaked and he turned around to see Sansa staring at him. “I love you, okay? And not like… a friend or anything. I really love you and…” She yawned, snuggling further into his duvet. “Remind me tomorrow?” 

His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he continued to stare back. Jon wasn’t sure how long he stood in that doorway for, but by the time he found his voice, Sansa was already fast asleep. 

“Yeah, I love you too, Sansa.” 

[nyangibun]

82. “This is all your fault! I can’t believe I listened to you!” Jon x Sansa pretty pleeeeease!!

“This is all your fault! I can’t believe I listened to you!” 

Yeah, well Jon couldn’t believe she listened to him either. Robb’s kid sister normally spent her time antagonising him or just ignoring him. He didn’t actually think she would agree to follow him into the Forbidden Forest. Jon had only asked to see if she would rise to the occasion, instead of being the normally prissy princess she was. Of course Jon couldn’t very well tell her that. They might be currently tied up, but eventually, they’ll get out and she would most certainly not hesitate to hex him. 

“How is it my fault that you decided to listen to me?” Jon asked. He angled his head to smile innocently at her. “I never forced you to follow me.” 

“Yeah, but you did that thing –” She tried to gesture with her head, but the effect was lost on him. “Ugh, you know, that thing you and Arya and Robb do when you’re trying to rile me up.” Sansa huffed angrily, turning her face away from him then. “Why do you do that anyway? It’s not nice.” 

Jon didn’t have an answer to that, so he decided to deflect the question. “Neither is whispering about me when I walk past. Don’t think I don’t notice. Yeah, maybe I’m not from a wealthy pureblood family like yours, but –”

“Is that what you think we’re whispering about?” Sansa looked incredulous. Somehow even though she was tied up against a tree with her hair in disarray, she still managed to look like a princess. Maybe it was a Sansa Stark thing. 

“Yeah. What else would you be talking about?” 

“Uh, maybe that you’re hot,” she practically shouted at him. Of course in true Sansa fashion, she made the compliment sound like an insult. “Merlin, Jon! Do you not realise you’re about the fittest boy at school? You idiot.”

Stunned as he was, Jon immediately turned his attention to where he heard rustling. A minute later, two centaurs emerged from the darkness. The bigger-looking one spoke first, “we have decided to let you two loose. I hope you will understand now that this forest is not your playground.” The second centaur came over and cut their ties. 

Jon rubbed his wrist and grabbed Sansa’s hand. “Yes, Sir. We’ll be on our way.” He dragged her brusquely behind him, not caring about her protests, until they were a safe distance away. “Phew,” he sighed. “Now,” he turned towards Sansa, who was rubbing her wrists with a deep scowl on her face. “About you thinking I’m fit?” 

She scowled further. “Really? You want to talk about that now?” 

“No, I just –” He hesitated, feeling shy and very conscious of his hands and arms and legs, like suddenly, he didn’t really know how to behave around her. “I just wanted to return the favour.” He laughed awkwardly. “You’re probably the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts. No, not probably. You are.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, nodding slowly. “Okay.” 

For a long second, neither said anything. Jon didn’t really know what to do. He wished he could even say he talked a big game, but he didn’t. He wasn’t like Robb or Theon. Attractive girls always made him awkward, and Sansa quite frankly was way out of his league. 

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she cried out and pulled him by the collar of his shirt to plant a firm kiss to his lips. “Just say you like me and you want to take me out to Hogsmeade, Snow, before I hex you.” 

Jon wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled brightly. “Sansa Stark, I bloody like you. Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?” 

“Yes, you big idiot. C’mon. Let’s go makeout in a broom closet and get caught by Filch.” 

send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble

[nyangibun]

79. “That’s the third time I’ve saved your life!” for Jon x Sansa?

“That’s the third time I’ve saved your life!” 

Jon looked sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, but Sansa wasn’t buying it. This was all his fault and she wasn’t going to let him off so easily.

“Honestly, do you have some kind of death wish?” Sansa crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to give her a smart-arse response. “Because next time, you’re on your own.”

A flash of disbelief then amusement danced in his grey eyes. He holstered his gun and walked over to where she was standing, her heeled boots pressing on the spy she had apprehended before he could get a shot on Jon. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, Agent 35.” Jon reached forward for her hand, but Sansa quickly slapped it away. “Hey!” 

“I’m serious. Next time you decide to run headfirst into a suicide mission, I’m going to just let you go,” she told him firmly, even if the look he was giving her was doing seriously dirty things to her body. Damn him. 

Jon smiled, a slow and filthy smile that spoke of tangled sheets, heaving chests and sinful uses of chocolate mousse. “You love me too much, Agent 35, to let me die.” 

“You arrogant piece of sh –”

His mouth was suddenly on hers, tongue demanding entrance almost as immediately as his lips touched hers, and Sansa sighed into him. Her body was a traitor and she had no control over how it responded. Jon pushed her away from the unconscious spy on the floor towards a darkened corner of the room, hitching her up against the wall so she’d have to wrap her legs around his waist. 

Things were just beginning to get good when there was a crackle in their earpieces. “You two better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” 

Sansa snorted, as Jon rolled his eyes. He let her down gently and placed a lingering kiss to her pulse point before answering, “well, what the hell did you expect pairing a husband and wife together, Bane?” 

“Ugh. Just get your asses back to base, will you?”

As soon as they gave their location for Beta Team to come pick up their hostage, Sansa turned to Jon with a smirk. “We have an hour before we have to really be back at base. I think I saw an empty conference room on the floor below.” 

“I knew I married you for a reason.” 

send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble

[nyangibun]

number 97: “I want you and I know you want me too,” our babies Jon and Sansa, please

“I want you and I know you want me too.” 

“Not even a little,” Sansa gasped, as he nipped at her pulse point. She tightened her grip around his neck and tugged his hair back, so she could look him in the eyes. “I hate you, Jon Snow. I hate you so much.” 

He smirked and captured her mouth with his, moving fiercely and determinedly, like he could kiss all the sense right out of her. Maybe he could. Considering Sansa had her legs wrapped around his waist, her dress hitched up to her hips and several hickeys dotted up her neck, she’d say she had definitely lost her mind. 

“You keep,” he paused to place a kiss to the edge of her lips, “saying that.” Another pause as he ran more kisses along the line of her jaw. “But we keep ending up here every time we’re even in the same room together.” 

Sansa let out a growl of frustration as she ran her fingers through his curls. She bucked her hips and smiled when she heard his own groan reciprocate her impatience. 

“I find you attractive, but I still hate you,” Sansa answered firmly, even though her body felt weightless in his arms. For a neanderthal hockey player, she couldn’t help be amazed by how gentle he always was with her. It wasn’t just that the sex was as aggressive and passionate as their verbal bickering, but Sansa knew he’d never really hurt her. The way his arms splayed out around her back to the way his eyes crinkled in smug satisfaction every time he made her mewl – there was fondness beneath it all, and maybe that scared Sansa just a little too much. 

Jon wrapped his arms tighter around her and lifted her away from the wall. He effortlessly moved them over to the main table and laid her down on top, pushing her dress even further up so he could place a searing kiss to her thigh. But instead of doing what she desperately wanted, Jon rested his chin, prickly from his unshaven beard, on top of her skin. The sensation was intoxicating and Sansa tried to squirm underneath him, but Jon just stilled her movements. 

“We’re going to see a lot of each other, Stark,” he said, amused but also shy. God knew how Sansa knew that though. “We might as well try to get along. For our teams, you know?” 

She rested her elbows on the table so she could lift herself up to look at him properly. “Jon, our teams don’t even run in the same circles. You’re captain of the hockey team and I’m captain of the figure skating team. In what world –” 

“C’mon, Sans.” Her heart sped up at the nickname. He looked exasperated now. “We’re from the same university. We’re here for two weeks for the tournament. I think it’d be nice if we could get along.”

“We get along fine,” Sansa said as she ran her fingers down her body to grip onto the hem of her dress. In one swift move, she pulled it off and threw it to the far corner of the meeting room. Twenty minutes ago, it had been filled with members of both of their teams, the university sports coordinators, and their coaches. Now, it was just them – with Sansa in her red bra and black underwear (thanking God she remembered to do laundry the other day and didn’t have to resort to her less-than-pretty undergarments) and Jon staring at her like she was something to be revered. 

Jon straightened up and pulled off his own shirt before descending over her to kiss her again. His hands were finally back on her and Sansa thumped her head back against the table when they found their way to her hips. 

“What if I...” he inched back, his lips swollen and red, while his eyes looked more concerned than turned on. Sansa frowned, reaching up to smooth the furrow between his brows. “Sansa, what if I wanted us to get along outside of just meeting rooms and offices?” 

“What are you saying?” She was still frowning, but the butterflies were fluttering ecstatically in her stomach. 

“That maybe I want to take you out on a date and that maybe I feel irrationally angry every time I think about you doing this with anyone else.” Jon’s jaw ticked and he closed his eyes. “Remember when we played King’s Landing?” 

“Yeah?” Sansa touched his cheek and forced him to open his eyes. 

“I knocked Joffrey out not because he was trying to foul Tormund. I did it because he kept talking shit about you,” Jon admitted, shaking his head. “I know. How very neanderthal of me the hockey player but –” 

Sansa placed both hands on either side of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. It was neither aggressive nor frenzied, as was normally the case between them; it was soft, searching and, God save her, affectionate. 

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered against his lips, unable to keep the goofy grin from spreading. “I hate how much I don’t hate you.” 

“I can live with that,” Jon chuckled, kissing her again. “I can definitely live with that.” 

[nyangibun]

76 bellarke, maybe? Love your writing

Aww thank you so much! <333

“I need you to pretend we’re dating…” 

“Excuse me?” His expression was one part bemused and one part utterly confused. Clarke didn’t exactly blame him, but she was really not in the mood right now. 

“C’mon,” she said, exasperated. “I just need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for two seconds. You don’t even have to do anything. Just let me do all the talking.” 

“Do all the - I don’t even know your name!” 

If Clarke had more time to really study his face, she’d appreciate how expressive his eyes were, how even though he was a stranger to her, she could easily read his emotions. He’d be horrible at poker. 

“I’m Clarke,” she said in a rather perfunctory manner. She raised her brows at him, waiting.

“Bellamy…” There was hesitation in that one word, like he wasn’t sure if he should be giving out his name to a crazy stranger demanding to fake date him, but at least it made Clarke smile.

“Nice to meet you, Bellamy. Do you have a girlfriend?” 

“Uh… no.” 

“Good, now you do,” Clarke told him. She slipped her arm through his and cuddled into his side just as Finn walked up to them. She tried to will her features to remain neutral. She couldn’t let her asshole ex think he still had any sort of effect on her. He’d only take it as a sign they were ‘meant to be’ together. 

“Clarke, I was hoping -” He hesitated, glancing to the definitely not-platonic positioning of their bodies. “Who’s this?” 

She looked up at Bellamy and hoped her expression was one of fawning affection. “This is my boyfriend, Bellamy.” She begrudgingly glanced back at Finn. “Bellamy, this is my ex, Finn.” 

The stranger by her side nodded, a small smirk on his lips, as he offered his free hand to the other man. “Nice to meet you, Finn.” He extricated his arm back from Clarke to wrap it around her shoulders. “Can I say that I’m so glad you let this one go?” He squeezed her. “I don’t know what I’d do without my princess.” 

Clarke froze. She tried not to let the weird sensation of pleasure and horror reach her expression, but how did he even know? There was no way that this Bellamy would’ve known that that was what Finn used to call her. And god, there was no way that it should sound so good coming from his lips.

“Uh… you’re welcome, I guess,” Finn grumbled. He was trying to signal to Clarke something with his eyes, but she played dumb and angled her body so her chest was flushed against Bellamy’s side. 

“Hey Bellamy, I’m getting tired. Can we go home?” She was taking a risk here, but Clarke could read Finn’s signals and she knew he wasn’t going to leave them alone for as long as she stayed in this bar. 

If her fake boyfriend looked surprised or annoyed, he didn’t show it. He just nodded. “Let me grab my jacket and say bye to Miller.” Clarke had no idea who this Miller was, but she nodded as if she did. 

Bellamy walked off, leaving Clarke alone with Finn, which she hadn’t really thought through until he started to talk. 

“Listen, Clarke. I really need to talk to you, okay? After all we’ve been through, don’t you think I deserve a chance to explain myself?” 

“Deserve?” She grit her teeth and reminded herself not to punch him. “I don’t think you deserve anything, Finn. And there’s nothing to explain. I’m happy now.”

“With him?” Finn scoffed loudly. 

It was at this moment Bellamy decided to show up in a black motorcycle jacket, making Clarke’s mouth go dry. God, she really shouldn’t look like she’s lusting after her boyfriend in such a wanton manner, but damn it, Bellamy was hot. 

“Goodbye, Finn,” he said in a voice that firmly stated that this conversation was over. He placed a hand to Clarke’s back and led her out of the bar. As soon as they were in the parking lot, he dropped it and shoved them into his pockets.

“So... delightful ex you got there.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Clarke rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to her words. Finn had been a very bad mistake, but that was in the past now. She’d accepted that. “Thank you, by the way, Bellamy. I really... You didn’t have to do that.” 

He shrugged. “I see a princess in trouble and I can’t help myself. Got to swoop in and save the day.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” she demanded, brows furrowed forward, as she regarded this - albeit handsome - stranger. 

Bellamy shrugged again and gestured to her hair. “You look like one.” 

“Oh...” 

“Yeah, so...” He shuffled his feet awkwardly, staring down at the ground, before looking up and offering her a smile. “Does the princess eat diner food?” 

“She could slum it with the peasants for just one night,” Clarke responded, smiling in return. Bellamy laughed and that seemed to ease the awkwardness between them because the next thing she knew, he had his arm around her again, and they were walking towards a late night diner on the corner of the street. 

As far as fake boyfriends go, Bellamy was definitely the best.