<b>Jon:</b> Sansa it's okay you can tell me anything, I'm your brother<p/><b>Sansa:</b> well my life in Kings Landing was pretty bad, the Vale was pretty bad and Ramsey was pretty bad<p/><b>Jon:</b> was any of it good? Come on I just died, try to be positive<p/><b>Sansa:</b> Well... marrying Tyrion was the highlight of all of it, I lived with him and everything, he was the best<p/><b>Sansa:</b> And he took no crap from anybody<p/><b>Sansa:</b> And he handled King's Landing finances like a boss<p/><b>Jon:</b> Soooo I take it you want to talk about Tyrion Lannister while we braid each other's hair? Fine, but only because you're my sister<p/><b>Sansa:</b> oh good well it all started out when he slapped Joffrey....<p/><b></b> *Ten hours and one badass Jon Snow ponytail later*<p/><b>Sansa:</b> And he stood up to his father and Cersei for me and he was the strategist in the battle of Blackwater and he used to get me lemon cakes every morning<p/><b>Jon:</b> Sansa it's been TEN HOURS! I've got to pee sometime<p/><b></b> *Time break*<p/><b>Tyrion:</b> So Sansa? She okay? I mean not that I care but she's good now right? Not dead or stabbed or assassinated by anybody.<p/><b>Jon:</b> oh seven not another one! Yeah she's okay<p/><b>Tyrion:</b> ....<p/><b>Jon:</b> ...<p/><b>Tyrion:</b> is that all?? Come on Jon Snow! She's Sansa, she's the greatest ever<p/><b>Jon:</b> let me guess, you want to talk about my sister while we sit down and do the male version of braiding each other's hair<p/><b>Tyrion:</b> Drinking, here we call that drinking<p/><b>Jon*tired*:</b> fine go ahead, it's not like I've got anything else to do for the next ten hours<p/><b>Tyrion:</b> cool, so everything started when she smiled at the common folk, and let me tell you, Sansa has a great smile<p/><b></b> *Ten hours and a barrel of Dornish wine later*<p/><b>Tyrion:</b> And she just stood there and didn't cry, defiant to the bone, looked at Cersei in the eye and didn't spit on her, Sansa's restraint, that poise, that elegance, like a self righteous goddess of Im-better-than-you it was glorious<p/><b>Jon:</b> ....you really needed to get that off your chest didn't you?<p/><b>Tyrion:</b> well yeah, you think anyone here wants to hear me talk about Sansa?...like who Varys? Missandei? Danny? Face it Jon Snow you're all I've got<p/><b>Jon:</b> My sister implied the same thing<p/><b>Tyrion:</b> So she talks about me...?<p/><b>Jon:</b> oh no, no, no, no I am not falling for that, if you want to talk to my sister, send her a Raven like normal people, I am not going to get stuck in the middle of your non-consumated-marital issues, JON SNOW OUT<p/><b></b> *angrily marches away from non-brother-law*<p/></p>
Request: Hi can I request a drabble where the reader is one of joffreys playthings, like sansa is, and she runs into the hound after a beating? Something a little fluffy, please x
Warning: Mentions of violence and slight blood
A/N - <3
The soles of your shoes echoed down the empty corridor as you ran from the throne room, it was loud enough to drown out your hushed sobs.
Joffrey had hit you again for no other reason than he was bored. He was a cruel, violent monster. Humiliated once again in a court full of people meant to be your equals, yet Joffrey had you kneeled on the ground like an animal while he hurled abuse at you.
He had struck you with his left hand which adorned at least a metal ring on each finger; it had marked your temple with an impression of each piece of jewellry making quite a bloody mess. Your small hands were clutched over the wound as you raced away, too caught up in your thoughts to notice the Hound storming his way up the opposite end of the corridor.
The Hound had clocked onto you, you had yet to see him. He didn’t bother to move out of the way unfortunately for you. You ran right into his chest, hitting your head on his metal armor, he didn’t feel a thing, the same couldn’t be said for you.
18. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” 47. Sleepy waking up cuddles 48. “Oh god, what did we do last night?”
A/N: Tbh I really didn’t have a plan for this drabble I just let it flow out of me like water, writing whatever came natural and making a few tweaks here and there afterwards. Also I had a twisted enjoyment out of having the reader try and get revenge haha. Hope y’all enjoy xoxox
Warnings: language (cause I have a cussing problem), fluff, angst, mentions of blood and death, lots of threatening, Joffrey being a prick, Jaime being a knight in shining armor
Words: 1400ish (lol this was supposed to be a drabble and I just let it get away from me)
“Fuck you, you demented, bloodthirsty little bastard!” you screamed as you slapped Joffrey across the face, allowing the ring you wore to cut his cheek. A satisfied smile split your features as you watched the blood flow down his cheekbone past his jaw, signaling that you had given him a good, hard hit.
“You best watch your tone you little whore. Or you’ll end up like that poor little toy of yours, with your head on a spike” he smirked, waving his hand at the guard beside him, silently asking for a cloth to wipe away the blood on his face.
“If you say one more word to me Joffrey. I swear by the old gods and the new that I will personally slit your throat so deep your head might just fall off that fragile little neck of yours” you warned, your tone getting dangerously low as you pointed a finger at your husband, your king. You lifted the delicate crown off of your head and dropped it to the floor. The metal ringing against the hard stone floor, echoing throughout the throne room. Your eyes cut through the air like daggers as you made eye contact with your husband at the exact moment that your foot came down onto the crown that just moments ago was placed on your head.
After successfully destroying the symbol of your power and connection to that snide little bastard Joffrey, you stormed out of the room, throwing the throne room doors open and nearly taking out the two guards posted by the doors in the process. One of those guards was Jaime Lannister. Kingslayer. Silently hoping that he’d reignite that nickname of his, you ran quickly up the stairs to the room that was yours and yours alone. It was no secret that you and Joffrey hated one another. Everybody knew it to the point where nobody even flinched when the two of you threatened one another’s lives. The guards wouldn’t harm either of you even if the other one commanded it, so a lot of the threats were empty. Except for that last one. You were going to slit his throat, you decided.
It took a bit of planning, but you finally figured out how you were going to do it. You were going to wait until he was asleep and the guards went to change shifts, which they did at exactly the same time every night. During that small window when nobody was guarding his room, you were going to sneak in with the knife you kept under your pillow for protection and drag it across his throat. Yes, you’d probably be beheaded for killing the king, but you didn’t care. Hells, the kingdom might even worship you for doing it, gods know everybody fucking hated Joffrey. Seriously, everybody. Even his guards. It was a wonder he was still breathing.
With the knife tucked securely in your belt, you tiptoed out of your room and snuck around the corner just as the guard was leaving his post to go get the man who was supposed to relieve him. You slowly turned the doorknob to his room, feeling as though everyone in the kingdom could hear your heartbeat and your breathing because of how much adrenaline was coursing through your veins. Once you had snuck into the room, you pulled the knife from your belt and began stalking over to the bed where your husband lay. For a moment you considered stabbing yourself in the stomach after the fact, making it look like self defense but you decided to say fuck it and reached towards his exposed neck, knife in hand.
Suddenly a large, warm hand clamped over your mouth when another one wrapped around and held your wrist in place, making sure you couldn’t strike with the weapon you were still holding. Tears welled in your eyes as you realized you were caught, you were going to be killed and Joffrey was going to smile while one of his lackeys beheaded you.
Strong arms pulled you out of the king’s room and into the hall before tossing open the door to your bedchambers and tossing you inside. You finally got a look at the man who destroyed your plans and there he was, standing with his back to your door and bearing into you with a look you thought was going to make you melt into a puddle of tears. You simply couldn’t help it when you fell to the floor, a crumpled pile of sadness as sobs racked your body.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here” soothed the Kingslayer in an attempt to calm you down. He sat down on the floor next to you, his bulky armor making the position uncomfortable but he didn’t care.
“You need to be quieter, sweetheart. Someone’s going to hear you” he whispered as he brushed your y/h/c hair away from where it was hanging over your face.
“Why did you stop me?” you mumbled out, allowing yourself to slump against the cold, hard metal of his breastplate as he held your head to him with his hand.
“I couldn’t let you kill him, your grace. He’s an ungrateful little brat but you’re the strong, lovable queen. Can’t have you beheaded for killing the king. Kings Landing would have a full on revolt if anyone lays a hand on you, we need to keep the peace” he continued to rattle off reasons why you needed to stay calm and collected in the public eye as he lifted you and place you into your bed. Your head ached from the tears and your eyes were burning. You grabbed the carafe of wine off of your table and began drinking, allowing Jaime to drink some as well. The last thing you remember is drunkenly crying and leaning your head against Jaime’s chest as you drifted in and out of sleep as he kissed the top of your head.
The sun peeking through your windows woke you up and you shifted slightly as you felt a heavy arm slung over your waist. Not noticing that you normally didn’t wake up with someone else in your bed, you snuggled into the man’s chest, sighing deeply when his arms wrapped around to hold you tightly to him. Your mind was quiet as you felt the warm, surprisingly soft hands creep underneath the hem of your shirt and settle on the small of your back. You hummed as you nestled your face in his neck, feeling his long hair brush across your face as he turned to face you.
“Mmm, Y/N. This is nice” he groaned, shifting so his legs were tangled with yours as he interlaced his large fingers with your much smaller ones.
Then it hit you. You were cuddling with Jaime Lannister.
“Oh my god” you sprung out of bed, standing a few feet a way and facing Jaime, shaking.
“Oh god, what did we do last night?” you screeched, letting your hands fly to your head as you paced back and forth, “We didn’t… Did we?” you couldn’t remember a thing and you were trying, grasping for any memory of the night before but between the slight sting of your eyes from crying and the pounding of your head you couldn’t place a single thing.
“Gods, no. Sweetheart I just wanted to make sure you didn’t go running off into the night attempting assassinations again and you insisted I sleep in your bed rather than on the floor” he chuckled, sitting up in your bed and pulling up a pillow to place behind his head as he leaned against the headboard.
“Oh, thank goodness” you breathed out, relief flooding your brain as you shuffled back over to the bed to flop down and potentially go back to sleep.
“Now, can you promise me you won’t kill my nephew?” he rubbed small circles on your shoulder.
“Fine I guess” you huffed, smirking a little at Jaime’s concern, more so for you than for Joffrey.
“Plus I wouldn’t want to upset the public because they lost the queen they love so much” chuckles erupted from your slightly sore body.
“Your grace, the kingdom would absolutely crumble without you” he smiled, kissing you on the temple before beginning to gather his things and leave the room to start his shift in the throne room.
Imagine joffrey and tommen constantly fighting for your attention as they’re both in love with you, despite their betrothed.
“There she is” tommen sighed silencing Joffrey at once. You walked into the room with your friend and smiled slightly at the two boys. Both brothers smiled widely as you passed them and joffrey slapped tommen when he saw he was staring too. “Im older tom i get first pick”. “No you’ve got margery my marriage is still open and i pick y/n”. “No thats not fair” joffrey whined “i want y/n, i like her more plus she likes me better, she calls me joff and grabs my arm”. “Well she smiles at me and hugged me once”. “She hugged you” joffrey asked in outrage “why! This isn’t fair! Mother tell tommen he cant marry y/n if i cant!” Joffrey yelled in a strop outraged he wouldnt get to marry you. “Shes not a bone to fight over” cersi replied curtly “if your both so serious about her ask her to choose one of you and we can arrange a marriage”. “Lets do it” Joffrey said immediately and Tommen nodded “the only question is" he frowned looking to jofffrey “who will she pick”.
It had been about a month since we had arrived in Winterfell and a few weeks since Bran had fallen from the tower. He hadn’t woken up yet and I prayed everyday for him and his family.
Robb and I had been taking walks everyday, sometimes switching it up and riding our horses. We got more and more comfortable with each other everyday.
I also had been visiting Bran everyday, reading some of my favorite books to him. I figured that since this was my family now, I should act like it. I had learned to love each and every one of them. Arya and I would do archery in the courtyard and Sansa and I would talk over our needlework. And little Rickon would read with me when we had spare time.
Meanwhile, my actual family was acting strange. My father would disappear with Lord Stark while my mother and Uncle Jaime would whisper to themselves, glancing around with alarmed eyes.
Robb and I had just gotten back from our morning ride and he had offered to put away our horses as I was running late for breakfast with my family. It was to be our last breakfast together for awhile as they were departing for Kings Landing today.
I saw that I wasn’t the only one to be running late for breakfast when I saw Joffrey and my Uncle Tyrion arguing up ahead.
“… it is what is expected of you. And your absence has already been noted,” my uncle told Joffrey. They must be talking about Bran. Joffrey hadn’t gone to see Bran or offer his condolences to Lord and Lady Stark.
“Well why would I?” Joffrey retorted. “The boy means nothing to me, and I can’t stand the wailing of women.”
It was then that my Uncle slapped Joffrey across the face. I stopped short and watched as Joffrey threatened to tell out mother, but Tyrion only slapped him again. It was at this point that I giggled at my brother’s shocked and slightly alarmed face. It was at this point that they both noticed me.
“Now, here is a prime example of royal behavior,” Uncle Tyrion said as he gestured to me. “Leina has gone practically everyday to visit Bran, why can’t you be more like her!?”
Now this was not the smartest thing that Tyrion has ever said. Joffrey might be a coward, but he really didn’t like me. And comparing the two of us, saying that I am the better sibling, wasn’t gonna go well.
Joffrey seemed like he was going to charge at me, taking two giant steps towards me as I took two rushed steps back, bumping into a hard chest. I tilted my head upwards and saw Robb standing there. He grabbed my upper arms soothingly and I saw Joffrey stop short. He grunted and rushed back to the castle.
“Are you alright?” Robb asked me quietly.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I answered and after a short pause I said, “Breakfast is going to be interesting.”
“Do you want to have breakfast with me and my siblings instead?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” I said and I kissed his cheek. “I will be just fine, but thank you.”
I walked with my uncle to my last family breakfast. It was going to be sad saying goodbye to Myrcella and Tommen, but it was going to be relieving to see my mother and uncle Jaime leave.
“Bread… and two of those little fish,” Tyrion declared as he walked into the room where we were to eat breakfast. “And a mug of dark beer to wash it down… and bacon, burnt black.”
I sat next to Tommen and across from Myrcella and the farthest I could from my mother. I grabbed some food and put a little on my plate, taking a drink from my goblet.
“Is Bran going to die?” Myrcella asked me. I choked a bit on the juice I had just sipped from.
“Apparently not,” Tyrion answered for me, causing a relieved smile to come across my sister’s face, but an alarmed one to come onto my mother’s.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“The Maester says the boy may live,” Tyrion responded, taking a drink from his goblet as my mother and her twin shared a glance.
“It’s no mercy having a child linger in such pain,” mother said after a brief pause.
“Only the Gods know for certain, all the rest of us can do is pray,” I interrupted, earning a glare from my mother.
“Yes, Leina, of course,” she responded somewhat sarcastically.
“Dear sister, it seems the charms of the North have been entirely lost on you!” Tyrion said as he reached for more bacon.
“I still can’t believe you are going, it’s ridiculous even for you.”
“Where is you sense of wonder? It is the greatest structure in the world! All I plan to do is stand at the top and piss over the edge of the world,” Tyrion rambled.
This caused me, and the other two children to giggle at our uncle’s antics.
“Children don’t have to hear your filth,” my mother said disgustedly. “Come.”
Myrcella and Tommen got up and followed our mother out of the room. I didn’t bother.
“Leina?” my mother called. “Come.”
“No thank you, mother,” I told her. “I haven’t finished my breakfast.”
“… very well,” she said as she continued out of the room.
“Even if the boy wakes,” Jaime said. “He will be a cripple. I’d choose death over a life like that anytime.”
“Speaking as a cripple, I’d have to disagree,” Tyrion responded.
“If Bran does wake, I’m curious to hear what he has to say,” I told Jaime.
“Sometimes, my dear niece, I wonder whose side you’re on,” he told me.
“My dear uncle, you wound me,” I said sarcastically. “You know how much I love my family.”
“Yes, Leina, and which family are you speaking of? The Lannisters… or the Starks?”
That afternoon my family departed for Kings Landing, leaving me in Winterfell. My mother and older brother wouldn’t say goodbye to me, but my younger siblings cried as they hugged me goodbye. I did, however, cry when I said goodbye to my father. I would miss him the most.
Hours after they had all departed, Robb and I made our way to Bran’s chambers. We could hear arguing going on inside the room before the guard had even opened the door.
“I cannot leave!” Catelyn was telling Maester Luwin. “What if he wakes and I am not here for him?”
“But, My Lady,” Maester Luwin responded. “There are duties that need to be fulfilled now that Lord Stark is gone. New appointments to the staff need to be made and-.”
“I can help with my mother’s duties,” Robb interrupted as we stepped into the room.
“Yes, Robb can take care of my duties until Bran wakes,” Catelyn responded.
“Well alright then, shall we-” Maester Luwin was interrupted once more with shouts of the word ‘FIRE’ being heard outside Bran’s chambers.
“There’s a fire at the other side of the castle!” a guard yelled as he burst into the room.
“I’ll go, Mother,” Robb said, squeezing my hand before kissing me on the forehead. “Stay here, alright love?”
I nodded to him as him and Maester Luwin rushed out of the room. I turned and sat on the other side of Bran’s bed, stroking his hair out of his face.
I had just opened up my mouth to say something to Catelyn when the door burst open once again. But this time it wasn’t someone coming to warn us. It was a tall man with a large knife in his hand.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” he said, clearly conflicted in what he was supposed to be doing.
“And where were we supposed to be then?” Catelyn questioned as she carefully stood up.
“Anywhere but here, but I guess now that you’ve seen me I can’t let you live either….”
I screamed as he stepped forward, tackling Catelyn to the ground. I rushed over to help as Catelyn grabbed the knife that he was holding with both of her hands, gasping in pain as it cut through her skin.
I was able to help knock the knife out of his hand before the attacker slapped me across the face, catching me off guard causing me to fall to the ground. I stumbled back up and punched him in the eye before he could grab Catelyn again, but he threw me across the room, hitting the table near Bran’s bed.
The lantern that was on the table fell and the glass shattered around me, cutting my hands and burning my arms. I shrieked again as the man grabbed me around my throat and slammed me into the cold stone wall of the castle.
I choked as my feet dangled in the air and my vision went blurry when my head was banged hard against the wall twice. Right before I blacked out I saw Bran’s direwolf, Summer, knock over the attacker and tear out his throat.
I tried to sit up, but I got dizzy and had to slowly drag myself away from the man’s bleeding body.
“Leina, sweetheart,” I heard Catelyn across the room, making her way towards me. Only her hands were cut up, but otherwise she seemed fine. “Are you alright?”
“I…. I don’t know,” I struggled to say, my vision going extremely blurry.
“Leina! Mother!” Robb yelled as he burst into the room.
His worried face as he lifted me off the ground was the last thing I saw before I blacked out.
a/n: sort of requested by anon, and even though it diverged from the initial plan, at any rate i wanted to do it, so here it is:
a kick to the teeth is good for some
—“kiss with a fist,” florence + the machine
[jonxsansa, modern high school au ~5k+]
Jon had never fancied himself a particularly angry person, and as such any burst of violence from him is always a surprise. He breaks up more fights than he starts, although he’d be lying if he said he’d never thrown a punch on his best friend Robb’s behalf. Robb tended to be a bit more volatile than Jon, never able to shrug off wrongs or even the merest of slights, and Jon couldn’t very well stand by on those occasions where Robb didn’t have the upper hand. It’s not often that Jon has to intervene, but he considers it a matter of honor when he does.
The same goes for Robb’s younger siblings, who Jon—an only child—delights in and adores as ardently as they do each other. No one bothers Bran much because no one wants to be person who picked on the kid in the wheelchair, but Arya and Rickon are another story entirely; both wild, small, and scrappy, they’d had to be bailed out of a dozen fights apiece, and neither Robb nor Jon take kindly to whoever they’d been fighting. Still, even then Jon tends to be the one who looks around the corner for a teacher while Robb pummels the guy in the locker room or behind the bleachers. Love them as Jon does, Arya and Rickon are still largely their older brother’s responsibility, and Robb prefers to handle their assailants on his own.
Between worrying about Bran and tackling whatever trouble Arya and Rickon have gotten themselves into recently, the last of the Stark children Jon expects he’ll need to punch anyone over is Sansa. She is by all accounts an easy target—soft and sweet and sensitive, but she’s also pretty and kind-hearted and everyone loves her, so Jon and Robb alike had little reason to clench their fists for her.
rules: choose any 3 fandoms and answer the questions, then tag some friends.
I choose: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (obviously, it’s the one i post about the most), Game of Thrones (which this blog was initially created for) and Outlander (a fandom I was obsessed with when it was a book series but that time and TV has killed for me…so a bit different)