Trust {Jonsa One Shot}

Trust {Jonsa One Shot}

Hi all! This is my first Jonsa ff, I was inspired by an ask I got:

Since we share an appreciation for the Jonsa chemistry, I was just wondering how you would write them realizing their feelings for one another and how you would explore an actual romantic relationship between them

It was just supposed to be a response but I ended up writing this. I’ve never written GoT fanfic before so keep that in mind but either way I hope you enjoy it!

*not my gif*

Sansa watched as Jon led Daenerys through the grounds. The way they walked next to each other, close enough to just barely touch, made her jaw tighten in a way she was unaccustomed to. Sansa had experienced many novel quirks since the arrival of the Dragon Queen; something about her, about always seeing Jon with her invoked in Sansa a frosty disposition that hardened her and frightened those who witnessed the change, the shift to a stoniness that made her almost statuesque. She didn’t know how long she’d been staring at them before Jon looked up and saw her standing on the balcony.

               Their eyes connected for a moment and Sansa felt a bit of her chill melt, a quick flutter of her heart that wasn’t uncommon whenever she and Jon looked at each other but still caught her by surprise whenever it tickled her chest. She turned away, leaning her back against the railing and nearly started when a few minutes later, he came toward her, joining her on the balcony.

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All those endless pauses and pained stares. So boring. She wants you to kiss her, too. The fact that you haven’t just done it already would be shocking if you weren’t, well, you.

eleonora for the writing prompts!

Eleonora: letter, confession, affection

“I love you.”

That the words had formed in his brain was not unexpected; that they slipped from his lips was something like death.

It was the act that did it, the height of passion ruining his comprehension. She was tangled beneath him, long limbs wrapped around his slim frame, face pressed against his neck. He briefly hope that she had not been able to hear him with the sound of their sex but that was dashed when she pulled away, staring up at him with fear in her eyes.

Petyr paused, held her gaze for a moment before casting his down. He felt he was wilting above Sansa, felt weak, felt regressed, and that would simply not do. He pulled away her completely, leaving her exposed on the bed, the room suddenly cool around them.

“W-what?” The word seemed to hover in the air around them and he could not stand to hear it. Standing he kept his back to her not wishing for her to see is eyes, see the manifestation of his weakness that was permanently etched upon his chest. He fumbled for his dressing gown, sliding into it, wrapping it around himself like one would armor.

“Forgive me,” he said, staring into the distance as he pushed his hair back in a nervous effort to keep his hands busy. He heard the rustling of sheets behind him, felt her reach out to him in the distance. He could still feel the words in his mouth, could still taste the awfulness in them, the absolute truth, and his self-hatred only grew.

“I just — I don’t know what to say.” In that moment she saw her for how young she was; he pitied her. Closing his eyes in the darkness he drew in a deep breath.

Sansa continued talking, her voice far too light for the room. “I’m not upset. I—don’t know how to respond, is all. Love?” Her voice almost cracked at the word and it was too much to bear. He started to pace, the rushes loud against his feet, never once looking at her.

“I should go,” he said, thinking out loud yet again. And yet that would not solve it, the words would still linger between them, tainting everything he had build. They had been part of his fantasies, but like so many things in his fantasies they were not meant to be dragged into reality, at least not yet. That he did so was a testament to that fact that he had not yet fully succeeded in becoming the man he wished, that he had not yet killed every trace of his obvious need, his romanticism. How foolish he was! How had he let this girl do this to him?

He looked at her then. In the darkness her eyes were huge, contrasted with the pallid hue of her skin. He thought of her repeating that to someone, that Myranda might hear, and dread coursed though him.

“That was for you alone,” he said, with perhaps more force than was necessary. Sansa flinched just a bit, concern etching what he could make out of her features.

“Of course,” she responded. Was it affection he heard there? Was it just a mask, her using his techniques to pacify him?

“I mean it, Sansa.” He let an edge creep into his voice, desperation rushing through his veins. He stared her down until she turned away, nervous.

“You can trust me.” Her voice was soft, as pathetic as his own had been moments before. A sense of calm overtook him and he uncurled his hands from the fists he just now realized they were in. 

“Good,” he moved forward her, caught her chin in his hand and forced her to stare at him. “I would hope you would not let me down.” It was a threat, coated with something like real affection, and he felt it with every fiber of his being.

She nodded against his hand, her eyes open and honest in the dark, and at last he was at ease.

Five Times Schneider Kissed Penelope’s Forehead, and One Time She Kissed His

A post-S2 epic, inspired by one of my favorite Schneider lines from S2, “Forehead kisses are wildly underrated.”

**CONTAINS SEASON TWO SPOILERS**

Penelope x Schneider, One Day At A Time. Also on AO3.

Before Schneider moves ahead of her to hold the door open, he leans down and plants a firm kiss in the center of her forehead. “Remember to keep breathing. He’s gonna be fine.”

She can feel the warm imprint of his lips against her skin, long after he pulls back and smiles down at her.

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everytime i see a bonnie and elena graphic with that “she is my sister, i’d die for her”, i just

Bonkai AU: Canon up to partway of 4x19. Bonnie Bennett has had enough. She’s tired. But her Grams says it’s not her time and sends her away for a bit. This little vacation is just the beginning for a life that Bonnie never expected.

FF | AO3

“Who are you?”

A voice. Not his voice. A different one. It startled Kai and he found himself snapping out of his daze long enough to refocus his vision.

There, in his line of sight, stood the supposed figment of his imagination. She was dressed in a pair of high rise denim shorts, a black crop top with a black and white checkered button up covering the rest of her. But he got a clean view of her beautiful bare stomach - the muscles flexing at feeling his gaze rove over her. The heels of her combat boots shifted across the wooden porch as she folded her arms across her chest in waiting.

Kai’s lips parted but he couldn’t find the proper words. After all, her voice had taken him by surprise. All this time, he’d believed she wasn’t real.

She canted her head to the side slightly - still waiting for his answer. He took a step back when he saw her moving from the porch. Kai couldn’t bring himself to run, however, and felt nature rooting his Converse-clad feet to the ground.

The girl circled him, inspecting him. He felt like a freak on display but he still couldn’t voice his displeasure. He could smell the hint of her perfume. Elizabeth Taylor’s White Diamonds.

She finally stopped, standing directly in front of him. Her eyes seemed to pop even more in the mid-morning sunlight. Her perfectly arched brows raised and there was a soft glow of bronzer on her cheeks - further accentuating her heart-shaped face. Full lips parted and she slowly reached a hand out toward him. Kai hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath.

“…are you real?”