hi Bia! since you are inspired for game of thrones, how about a little drabble for jaime lannister based on the prompt "I want to fight by your side"? hope this inspires you! đ
hii, love!! thank you so much for this little request, I hope you like this and that you're okay đĽ°
"You're joking, right?" Jaime frowned deeply as he looked at you, trying to ease the tension in the air by chuckling a bit. The distant sounds of the on going feast on the Winterfell great hall was not in any of your attentions in that moment.
"Do I look like I am joking?" you said with a bit of anger, for him not taking you seriously. When he stayed silent with that doubtful expression on his face, you sighted. "Is the lion Lannister really that stupid?"
Jaime sighted heavily at your words and passed his one real hand through his hair for a moment. "Pardon me if I am not too anxious to believe you, (Y/N), but you are a Stark" he raised his shoulders and then let them fall back woth another sight. "After all that happened between our Houses, whyâ"
"Jaime Lannister" you said his name with strength, making him stop talking as you took a few steps in his direction and stopped just a small space away from him. "I want to fight by your side" you raised your right hand carefully and placed it on the side of his face. All the previous strength had left your voice when you spoke once again. "Do you really not know why?"
Jaime stared into your eyes, trying to take in your words and what they meant. How important they were. "(Y/N)..." he began, looking astonished and out of breath as he finally understood it.
Nervousness took a hold of you and quickly, you removed your hand from his face and stepped away. "I will return to the feast"
Jaime watched you go without moving, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his skin. The love you had in your eyes as you looked at him made his heart beat faster than the thrill of a upcoming battle would.
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29 i need a lot more wine to get me through this dinner w daenerys maybe? thanks anyways
Characters: Reader x Daenerys Targaryen
Warnings: alcohol
Prompt: 29. âOh, I need a lot more wine to get me through this dinner.â
Word Count: 368
A/N:Â this is not really festive but itâs the first thing that came to mind. and i guess itâs technically set in winter??? but anyway, i hope u still like it!!
NOT ACCEPTING ANYMORE HOLIDAY DRABBLES!
âMore wine, my love?â you grin, offering the pitcher to her as you notice Daenerysâ near empty goblet. She turns to look at you, and you can see the distant look in her expression, the way she looks almost lost. And in a way, you figure the both of you are, dining amongst the Northerners and the wildlings. Despite being seated at the high table, Daenerys can feel the palpable hostility towards her, the silent tension that hangs in the air. Even as everyone joyfully eats amongst themselves, enjoying one of the last nights before the impending battle, Daenerys can see their lingering, distrusting gazes.Â
âOh, I need a lot more wine to get me through this dinner.â Daenerys hollowly chuckles, and you flash her a knowing smile as you pour some of the rich liquid into her cup. She reaches for your hand under the table, and you give it a squeeze as she takes a sip. You know how uneasy she is, and you donât let go of her hand as Daenerys looks around the room. She leans into you, mumbling, âHow will I get these people to trust me?â
âThey will in time,â you try to reassure her, and you can see Daenerys frown slightly, dissatisfied with your answer. You shuffle your chair closer to hers, placing your other hand over hers, and you insist, âTheyâll see that youâre here to help them.â
Daenerys lets out a heavy sigh. âI hope so.âÂ
The two of you fall silent, listening to the loud, drunken conversations that fill the hall. Daenerys presses her lips together, and you ask her, âWould you rather us go back to our chambers?âÂ
Daenerys flashes you an appreciative smile, but she shakes her head. âNo, Iâll stay. I donât want to offend them any more than I already have.âÂ
âTheyâll come around,â you reassure her. âI promise.âÂ
Daenerys slowly nods. âIâm glad youâre here with me, y/n. I wouldnât know what to do if I were alone.âÂ
âYou would do just fine, I know it.â you tell her, and she smiles. She raises her glass, and you clink your goblet against hers, and you chuckle to yourselves before taking another sip. Â
Jon could never forget the words Benjen Stark had spoken to him, when he had first expressed his desire to take the black.Â
âUntil you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.â His younger self insisted he didnât care about that, but his uncle knew better. âYou might, if you knew what it meant. If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.â
It wasnât until Jon married Sansa did he begin to learn. It wasnât until his eyes first landed on their newborn daughter did he know.
(Gif not mine!)
Word count: 1338
Dedicated to @maddiethefashionistaâ for all of the brainstorming ideas and for the name Calla Lily. I love it and you!
Fighting. Thatâs what his life had always been. Fighting and surviving. He hadnât lied to Sansa when heâd told her he was sick of fighting. Heâd been tired than, weary to the bone. He had just come back from the dead, after dying for a cause heâd sworn an oath to serve his brothers. In his mind, he had carried out his term, had served his duty, and had felt no guilt when passing on the cloak to Eddison. His watch had ended.
Jon could never quite forget the words Benjen Stark had said to him, when he had first expressed his desire to take the black. âUntil you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.â His younger self insisted he didnât care about that, but his uncle knew better. âYou might, if you knew what it meant. If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.â
It wasnât until Jon married Sansa did he begin to learn. It wasnât until his eyes first landed on their newborn daughter did he know.
âShe has your hair,â Sansa murmured, unable to look away from their young daughter, much like himself. Those dark wisps of chocolate grew darker by the hour, contrasting starkly against her porcelain skin. He yearned to reach out and touch her but did not want to disturb her as their daughter was curled up comfortably in her motherâs arms.
Her name was Calla Lily Stark, a child of the spring, though the North deeply ran through her veins. She was so incredibly tiny, a tiny bundle of pink perfection. He hardly knew what to do with himself, so overcome with emotion the moment he saw her. He felt Sansaâs warm, happy gaze on him, and her returned it before his gaze was drawn back to the little human in her arms, his expression wondrous.
Suddenly, Lily wrinkled her nose in her sleep and stirred. The new parents held their breath, waiting until the movement subsided. She turned her face against Sansaâs breast and released a small huffing exhale that filled Jon with overwhelming affectionate.
âSheâs perfect,â he murmured hoarsely. âAnd sheâs all ours.â
âI loved her before I even knew her,â Sansa admitted, gently stroking her hair. âDoes that make any sense? How is that possible?â
âIt does,â he said. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself into the bed beside her. His arm wrapped around her shoulders gently. âAre you well?â
She nodded and gave him a tired smile. âTired, and more than a bit sore, but Iâll be fine.â She turned her attention back to Lily as she continued to stroke her cheek. âShe was worth it all.â
Sansa had given him quite a scare when she had first gone into labor. He hadnât been with her when it happened, which still upset him several hours later. He had been overseeing the progress of the new schools being established in Winterfell when a young maiden, pale faced and breathless, had run to him to tell him the news. After everything he had faced in his life, including going up against the Night King, he couldnât think of anything that came close to the fear he had felt, fear for his wifeâs safety, for welfare of their child.
In the end, the midwife had taken care of both mother and child safely. He hadnât left since.
âDo you want to hold her?â she asked him, knowing him all too well.
Jon hesitated. âI donât want to wake her.â Then he smiled at the obvious reluctance on his wifeâs face. âAnd itâs apparent you donât want to give her up.â
Sansa smiled sheepishly. âYouâre right. But she is your daughter, too. You should hold her, when she wakes.â
Lilyâs little fists were curled against her lap, twitching ever so lightly. Jon wondered what she was dreaming of, what she was thinking of. Unable to help himself, he reached down and gently touched her hand with a finger, marveling at the contrast in size. The twitching stopped immediately, and briefly, Jon panicked, his gaze locking onto her face.
Lilyâs eyelids fluttered open after a few slow, sleepy blinks. She looked at her mother then slowly towards him. Their gazes held. Suddenly her tiny fist opened and his finger was enveloping in her tiny hand. His heart squeezed the moment her fist squeezed his finger. And just like that she had him, right where she wanted him. She had his heart in her hand. There was no fighting it, a fight he had no intention of engaging.
Jon inhaled sharply, his throat tightening with emotion. Sansa pressed a hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing his face. It wasnât until she touched him did he realize heâd begun to cry.
There was nothing in this world that could make Jon walk away from this, nothing short of the godsâ intervention themselves. He would die a thousand deaths to protect the woman that he loved and their daughter. As much as he loved Ned Stark as a father, he remembered all too distinctly what it was like to grow up on the outside and never quite fitting in. Heâd felt the shame of being a bastard, remembered Catelynâs scorn, the treatment heâd received, yet he still knew heâd had it better than most. Still, the hurt and pain that came from the label bastard still haunted him, even though he had never truly been one.
âYou are our heart, littlest wolf,â he murmured, watching as Lily tugged his finger closer to her chest. âYou are here, and you are loved. Youâll want for nothing. No harm will ever come to you. You have my word, as your father.â
And then Lily smiled, her expressive eyes crinkling in the corners. Gods, she was already a heart breaker and only hours old yet.
Sansa kissed his cheek, and when she withdrew, he saw she was crying as well, tears of joy and love. âYouâll be a wonderful father,â she assured him. âAs you are already a wonderful husband. I couldnât ask for a better life.â
Jon closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to the gods. He hoped he would be. And with Sansa at his side, he hoped they would raise a large family together.
Turning to Sansa, he murmured reverently, âYou are a blessing, Sansa, and you have given me the most wonderfulâŚâ Swallowing, he pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. âI donât think Iâve ever been happier.â
Tilting her face, Sansa pressed her mouth to his, her lips softly gliding over his. It didnât last long as a soft mewl from the bundle in her arms drew their attention.
Lily squeezed his finger again, looking up at him almost expectantly. Sansa laughed quietly, understanding her daughterâs intention. âAll right, little one. You want to meet your father.â Shifting Lilyâs weight carefully, she waited until Jon was ready and slowly passed her to him.
Jonâs arms were filled with a small weight of warmth. Lily refused to relinquish his finger and continued to reassert her claim to it, squeezing and releasing at random.
He lowered his face towards her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, holding her close. After a few moments of uninhibited wonder, he looked at Sansa. âYou should get some rest. Iâve got her.â
âAre you sure?â she asked, even as she yawned. She was resting her head against Jonâs shoulder, watching him watch their daughter and back again.
âIâm sure,â he said and smiled. âIâll take the first watch.â
Sansa kissed his shoulder and shifted on the bed, wincing a little at the moving of sore muscles. Sleep didnât take long to claim her. With his wife sleeping soundly beside him, Jon held their baby girl in his arms. âI trust youâll return my finger at some point,â he asked amusedly.
Lily gave no indication of a response, apart from giving his finger another squeeze.
Request: could please do a post season 8 jon snow imagine, where the reader is tormund's daughter, and his only surviving child (because of the war & the long night), so he's extra protective of her. like giving her his furs & stuff. and one day when tormund comes back from a hunting trip, reader & jon are under the furs doing the deed. and tormund sees and is utterly confused why jon would betray him like that. but he never blames y/n. & y/n falls pregnant. i hope this makes sense. Requested by @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers.
You first met Jon when you came pleading for your fatherâs life when he was captured by the Nightâs Watch. He admired your courage and boldness.
After he allowed the Free Folk passage, you saw him occasionally when you were coming to see your father or when he came to him. Youâd bake bread and he said it was the most delicious bread heâs ever tasted.
The two of you developed feelings for each other but you told him if youâre to be together, he canât tell your father.
He loved Jon like a brother but you were off limits to anyone. Thatâs where he drew the line. You had four brothers and were the only woman in your household. Tormund spoiled you even before any war, since you were his only daughter. But after the war, he became overprotective of you, fearing that he might lose you like he lost all his sons. You were the only person he had left.
You wanted to tell him on many occasions that you were seeing Jon, but somehow something always came up and after the war you didnât because heâd feel left behind.
Youâd usually see Jon when your father was on a hunting trip or away on some business.
This time, he returned earlier than anticipated but to his surprise you werenât alone. He heard some laughing and a man talking. He barged into the cabin and saw you with Jon covered in the fur he gave you.
âY/n? Jon? You have ten seconds to get dressedâ he turned his back and let you both get dressed.
âHow could you do this to me? You were like a brother to me, Snow. I trusted you and you betray me like this?â.
âFather, I can exp-â before you could say anything, he interrupted.
âY/n, stay out of this. It doesnât concern youâ.
âYouâre right. Iâm sorry! We shouldâve told you earlier but you were-â Jon tried to explain.
âNot a word from you! Iâve had enough of your liesâ he was about to beat him.
âStop! Iâm pregnant!â You admitted.
âWhat?â Both of them looked at you in surprise.
âIâm pregnant with Jonâs babyâ you repeated.
âI- uhm, I donât know what to say, except that Iâm really happyâ Jon expressed.
âSo, uhm, youâre not going to run away and leave her?â Tormund asked.
âOf course not! You know I would never do something like that!â.
âHrm⌠Iâm- Iâm going to be a grandfather?â He realized.
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This came out of nowhere. I donât even know but I like it, lmao. Hope everyone that reads enjoys! Requests are open!
You sit on the polished, yet worn, stone benches in the royal garden. Youâre able to sneak in every now and again. You even had a dress made up so you didnât stand out too much. Itâs more peaceful in here amongst the royals and handmaids then out in the toxic streets of kings landing. Here you can think, and thatâs all youâre ever able to do here is sit and think. Think of ways to escape from kings landing and go somewhere better. However, lately itâs harder to think because of a man that youve never seen before is always here around the time you are.
His name, Prince Oberyn Martell. Heâs the most beautiful man youâve even seen. He holds himself so highly, that even looking at him seems almost shameful. A man like him would never look at someone like you, or so you had thought a few weeks ago. Youâve caught him looking at you, and he even attempted to walk over to you but your fear of being caught got the better of you. You ran from him, and back towards the dirty streets where you live.
You plan to do something different. You had a new dress made up one that matches the colours he wears. You hope for him to notice you again, as you sit here, waiting. You wonder what heâll think when he sees you. You let your eyes wander, looking for him. Frowning as you slouch a little when you donât see him anywhere. You let your fingers trace the silk pattern of your dress before letting out a huff of breath.
âAnd whatâs got you in such a mood?â
Youâve never heard his voice before. Itâs smooth and his accent spreads warmth across your cheeks. You turn to look at him. Heâs knelt down by the colourful roses. His brown eyes go from the roses to you, and you bite your lip turning away to see if any guards are around before standing to walk over to him.
âYou snuck up on me, that rarely happens to meâ
âYou ran last time I tried to come talk to you, I wanted to make sure you didnât run this timeâ
âWhyâs that?â
You squat down next to him. Your eyes on his lips for a moment before going to the roses. Heâs so beautiful, you think. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and heâs eyeing the way you squat. It hits you then that most royal women donât squat they way you do. You fumble a little as you change the way you sit.
âYouâre not from here are you?â
The way he says âhereâ tells you he knows. Youâre not sure if heâs only gathered this from the way you squatted or if heâs been watching you all along. You hope heâs been watching you.
âI asked you question firstâ
âI want to talk to you, I want to know youâ
âOh thatâs not really a good idea, in fact this was a bad idea. I have to goâ
You stand quickly, he reaches for you but you mange to pull away. Turning you start to run. You want to kick yourself, this isnât what you really want to do. However, itâs better this way. You canât know him and he canât know you. You donât expect him to save you from the life you live, or to take you away from it. Itâs stupid of you to think. Youâre so lost in thought that you didnât realize that someone stood in front of you, and that someone being the Hound.
âIâm so sorryâ
You rush out but heâs already glaring daggers at you. His hand on the hilt of his sword and all those rumours of this man before you, cutting a man in half with a single swish of his blade strikes fear in your heart. You donât know if you should bow in apology or to keep running because if heâs here that means the king shouldnât be too far away. Your heart hammers so hard itâs the only thing you can hear, and the hounds mouth is moving which means heâs talking. Your mouth flops open to apologize but then another voice falls from your mouth
âThere you are, my little peachâ
You want to cringe at the nickname but fight the urge to. Oberyn wraps an arm around your waist pulling you closer than you should be too him. However, you know to play along so you press a hand to his chest, as you wrap an arm around him. You donât know what to say, but Oberynâs got you covered as he begins to excuse the both of you. He keeps his hold on you, and you want to curl up and die. When you think youâre free to let go, his grip on you becomes stronger. Heâs not letting you go, and now you think youâre about to be kidnapped. Youâre heart begins to beat faster for the second time today, and you look up at him.
âWhere are you taking me?â
âSome place safe, where we can talkâ
âI told you, this is a bad idea. You donât know where I come from, what I do to stay aliveâ
He stops in his tracks. He lets you go, you step back and he doesnât move to stop you. You turn and start walking away, you turn to look back and heâs still standing in the same spot, his eyes watching you. You bite your lip and look back to where you were going and then back to him once more. Whatâs the worst that can happen? Hanging out with a Prince is way better than going back to where your from. You donât know how long heâll keep you with him, or if heâs even serious about wanting to know you. You look back and heâs still standing there, a smirk on his lips. Maybe staying here a little longer wonât hurt. So you walk back over to him and he grins as he wraps his arm back around you.
Warnings: Fluff ??? About as fluffy as a drabble about Sandor can be anyway! The lead up to smut, but itâs not smut.
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Everyday people asked you why you were with Sandor. And every day your answer was the same, âMind your own business.â It was really quite frustrating. At first, you could understand the intrigue, he was a big, rough and surly man, seemingly a loveless brute, void of any tenderness or warmth. And you... well, you were a beautiful woman from a minor noble house, raised to be a perfect lady, groomed and educated by your parents in the hopes you would marry above your station. Nevertheless, you had been together for long enough now, that all the curiosity and intrigue should have faded away. And yet, as you rolled over in your bed, trying to put as much distance between you and your husbandâs incessant earth moving snores, you asked yourself the very same question, âWhy?â
After laying there for more than an hour with your eyes open, staring blankly at the fireplace as it's flames gently filtered around the room, you had finally had enough of being patient. There was only so much a woman could take. When a hand full of gentle nudges did little more than shut him up for a moment, you found yourself driving your elbow a little too hard just below his ribs. To your surprise, he didnât even open his eyes, but you were sure that come morning a blackish blue haze would appear across his skin.
Rolling over he draped his strong arm over your waist, pulling your back against his chest, his lips coming to rest at your ear. As he spoke, his rough sleepy voice sent sweet shivers down your neck, spreading across your shoulders before cascading down your spine, âYa know, youâre really gotta stop ticklinâ me in the middle of the night, youâre gonna give me the wrong idea.â
Sandor placed a rough and beaten hand to your hip, giving it a little squeeze, subconsciously, making you nestle yourself further into his chest, craving the contact of his warm skin. âWell, if you donât stop snoring, youâre going to give me the wrong idea.â With his mouth still against your ear, you tilted your head upwards and he responded by gently kissing just below your earlobe, causing a needy murmur to slip from your lips. With absolutely no conviction, you finished your sentence, âIâm going to start thinking you donât want me in here with you.â
Sandor was wide awake now, almost snorting as he flipped you around to face him. The action was so effortless, you couldnât help but get a little flustered. Then he pulled your body flush against his with a firm grip around your waist and you found your breaths growing shallow with expectation. Hungrily, his big hand travelled up along your curves, coming to rest amongst your (HC) hair, his voice low and gravelly, âWell, we canât be lettinâ you get that idea.â Eagerly he pulled your lips to his. It was urgent and rough but somehow filled with tenderness and affection, sending any thoughts of sleep to some distant and forgotten horizon. Before his lips were done, he flipped you onto your back, his body pressing gently upon yours, his whiskers and warm breath tingling against your sensitive skin as his mouth moved slowly and torturously along your neck. Reluctantly, you felt his lips leave the touch of your skin as he stopped a moment to lift his head, his expression filled with blatant wonder as his eyes watched the firelight dance upon your beautiful features. And just like that, you had at least one reason... one very good enticing reason âwhy.â