#jonsa family drabbles

[annawoodhull]

Baby’s First Snow | A Jonsa Family Drabble

Word Count: 1023

Summary: The first snowfall of Winterfell was always a cause for celebration. And this year was even more special. It was Lily’s first.

At nine months old, Lily Stark was already well refined in the art of being utterly charming. Her dark curls was already long enough to frame her tiny, cherubic face. Most infants usually lost their newborn hair within the second month after their birth, but Lily’s hair had grown dark and thick. Her curls were so wild that Tormund claimed her as a wildling babe.

The first snowfall of Winterfell was always a cause for celebration. And this year was even more special. It was Lily’s first. Bundling her up in a small fur coat that nearly swallowed her whole, Sansa tamed her daughter’s wild curls and brought the hood over her head, grinning at how so adorable Lily looked. The light colored fur when her dark curls and pale cheeks more prominent. She looked like a tiny Direwolf pup, and the way she wriggled she had the same energy as one.

“All right, love. We’re almost done,” Sansa soothed her. She slipped Lily’s tiny feet into some matching booties before sweeping her up into her arms. She had neglected to inform Jon of her plans, mostly with the intent to see his reaction to the their daughter’s outfit, which she had made herself. Most, if not all, of Lily’s clothes Sansa had sewn herself. Even with her excitement leading to more days with her sewing, the news of Lily’s birth had inspired many of the women of Winterfell to pick up their sewing needles as well. Lily had more clothes than she could possibly wear, especially since she grew so quickly. The clothes she outgrew or didn’t wear were donated to a charity they had begun for families in need in the kingdom.

She had concealed this little project from Jon for the past several weeks, and now she eagerly awaited his reception.

Cuddling her close, Sansa left her chambers and headed down the corridor and out the nearest door that lead to the courtyard, where she knew not only Jon but Arya would be. She spotted the pair easily and headed towards them. Ghost, sensing someone new, looked up, and trotted towards them, his tail flicking lightly in the wind.

“Hello,” Sansa greeted the Direwolf and adjusted her hold on Lily so that she could scratch Ghost affectionately. She looked up and noticed Jon and Arya approaching her, Jon with a warm, affectionate expression on his face. Sansa was no longer in need of her cloak. She knew in her heart she would never tire of it, nor him.

Once close enough, Jon pressed a kiss to her cheek while Arya asked, peeking subtly into Sansa’s arms, “And where is my favorite niece?”

Sansa grinned. “Right here.” Loosening her hold, Lil turned away from her mother’s clothed breast, felt a cool blast of winter air, made an indignant noise before attempting to bury her face back into her mother’s warmth.

Arya chuckled. “The poor babe. It takes some getting used to.”

Murmuring her assurance to their daughter, Sansa observed as Jon leaned down to kiss his daughter’s cheek only to be met with a pile of fur when she turned her little face from the cold. He smiled affectionately. “She’s a daughter of spring, and it shows.”

At the sound of her father’s voice, Lily peeked upwards through the fur, her inquisitive eyes seeking him out. Sansa shook her head, feigning exasperation. “Of course, she hears her papa’s voice. Only then does she look.” She extended Lily towards her father, who happily received her and lifted her above his head, delighting in her happy cooing.

Jon took in her outfit and felt a swell of affection. “Sansa, was this what you kept hidden from me? Your artistry never fails to amaze me.”

Sansa grinned and snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder, sharing in his joy. “I’m very pleased with how it turned out. I must admit, I drew inspiration from the cloak I made for  you. I wanted Lily to always have a part of her father near.”

Jon brought Lily close into his arms so that he could kiss her mother properly. “And I love you for it,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against Sansa. He then turned his attention back to Lily. “Now it’s time for her introduction.”

Carefully, he lowered himself to the ground, squatting carefully so that he could hold Lily up. She had gotten rather good at standing but always was in need of a supportive hand. Walking hadn’t come to her yet, but all in due time.

Slowly, Jon lowered Lily to the ground. When her tiny feet made contact, her blue eyes widened at the sudden crunch underneath her booted feet. She looked around cautiously, wondrously taking in the white powdered ice covering  the ground. Her gaze fell to the snow underneath her feet and slowly bent down to touch it with her tiny gloved hands.

Feeling the icy wetness through the gloves, Lily let out a startled, “Oooh!” but didn’t let it go. She flexed her tiny fingers, again and again, until the snow melted in her hand. Face lighting up at the prospect of a new toy, Lily wriggled a little out of her father’s grasp, momentarily surprising him.

The moment his grip loosened, Lily turned and attempted to walk, only to fall down on her little rear, falling into a pile of snow. Seeing the snow fly up around her distracted the child from her distress. The sound of her delighted giggles eased the anxiety from both her parents, who both had been ready to scoop her up and search for any sign of her being hurt.

“I take it back,” Jon said, looking up at his wife with a proud smile. “She is a child of the North.” He grabbed some snow and rolled enough into a small ball that would fit into her hand. He offered it to her, which she accepted with intense fascination.

“She’s a fearless little thing,” Sansa remarked, reaching down to adjust her daughter’s hood, which had fallen backwards. Sometimes that worried her. Who knew what trouble her daughter would find?

#jonsa domestic fluff #jonsa #jon snow #sansa stark #jon x sansa #sansa x jon #jonsa fic #jonsa fanfic #jonsa family drabbles #kit harington #sophie turner #got #got fanfic #got fic #oc: calla lily stark

[esther-dot]

Hi dot! I just wanted to ask if you have anything in the works? I miss your writing so much. If you are taking any requests: may I ask for a pregnancy drabble?🙏🥰

Sansa always knew she would be a mother.

Since before she even understood what it even meant to marry, she knew that she would, that she would marry a lord, oversee his household, bear his children. It wasn’t until she thought her family was lost to her that she wanted to be a mother. It wasn’t until she dreamt of a son named Robb and a daughter that looked like Arya that she knew not only would, must.

But somehow, she did not expect this.

She’d seen it, the way a woman transformed, but to feel it, her body making way for a new life, for her stomach to grow, her skin to stretch, for her dream to turn, to kick, to grow within her. No girlish desire had prepared her. Resting her hands wherever she felt the flutter of life within, it made her understand why her mother had so many children, despite the rest of it. And the rest of it was horrid. She was sick more often than not, uncontrollably emotional which was aggravating when she’d learn to be so measured and calm. Her beloved lemon cakes made her ill, all sweets did. Instead she craved potatoes, of all things, day after day. Her hips ached, her flawless skin was suddenly dotted with imperfections, and yet, and yet.

She’d never felt more alive, never been happier. Within her body, she carried the future of her house, the next king in the North. More than that, this child was hers.

Jon stirred, turned towards her, rested his hand on stomach, “Is she keeping you awake?”

Well, hers and Jon’s.

She tugged his hand, placed it over to the babe’s heel pushing against her.

He smiled in a way that he’d only managed since the wars, since them, since this. “Be good little one. Let mama rest.” His voice was low, rough with sleep.

“You said ‘she’ again,” Sansa whispered, eyelids drooping as Jon’s thumb caressed her skin, as he wove their fingers together.

He kissed just above their joined hands, “The North loves their Queen. May she be the first of many.”

------------------

I miss writing my fics, anon! I had several prompts I wanted to get to before the holidays, but my family got sick, and then we had company, and we’re still trying to get back to normal, so I haven’t looked at my fanfic file for quite a while (and we will not discuss how behind I am on asks *weeps*), but I definitely hope to write more Jonsa this year.

I want to turn this alternate take on the Jonsa reunion into a short multichapter, and I want to complete this one shot in which Sansa is injured during the Long Night, so Jon doesn’t go to KL.

It’s so encouraging to know you’re thinking of my writing even though I haven’t posted any for a while. Thank you for the prompt, and I hope you enjoyed the drabble. <3

#jonsa #dot fic #ask dot #jonsa fic

[wildflower-daydreamer]

Crisp Air - november drabbles - day 1

So I've seen a November prompt list from @creativepromptsforwriting making the rounds and thought I'd give it a go. I'm in the middle of a large WIP that requires more effort than usual. Sometimes my mind just doesn't want to give that effort unfortunately, and this seems like the perfect distraction/procrastination attempt. I'm gonna try really hard to post a Jonsa drabble for each daily prompt. Yet, somehow, I'm already a day behind...so we'll see how that goes...

Sansa picked up the stray candy wrapper that Lady was sniffing on the sidewalk, discarded by a trick-or-treater from the night before. Throwing it away in a nearby trash can, they continued their walk, waving at neighbors taking down their Halloween display. The morning air was crisp, a visible puff of breath forming in front of her. At the end of the street was the entrance to the small trail she favorited on fall mornings like this, when the tall trees were beginning to shed their multicolored leaves and lightly carpeted the ground. It was usually pretty deserted at this time of day. But, as she approached the trailhead, someone else was too from the next street down. A man (a handsome one at that) and his dog.

“Good morning,” Sansa said with a smile.

“Morning,” he smiled back. She liked it, charmingly crooked and a hint of bashfulness.

The two dogs were busily sniffing one another, two massive furballs that were happy to see each other like they were best friends. “Your dog is beautiful,” she remarked, gesturing to the white floof of a beast. “Is that a Samoyed?”

“Yeah, that’ll be Ghost. Yours is gorgeous as well. Malamute? Seems a bit bigger than a husky.”

“Correct. But Lady believes she’s a little lapdog when I’m on the couch and I let her continue that delusion.”

“Well, they definitely have that in common. I’m Jon, by the way,” The handsome man held out his bare hand and Sansa shook it with her gloved one, wondering how he wasn’t as cold as her.

“Sansa.”

“So, I’m new here. Is this trail any good? I got excited when I saw there was one near my house.”

“I love it. It’s not too strenuous, but it’s still a good bit of exercise. I use it often but fall mornings tend to be my favorite.”

“Have you lived here long?” Jon asked as they stepped onto the dirt and entered the tree lined path.

“In Winterfell? My whole life. My parents live on the other side of town. I moved to this place about three years ago,” Sansa replied, pointing down the street she just came from. “You recently moved here? Where are you from?”

“Up by Castle Black.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re not wearing gloves, you’re used to much colder weather!”

“That may be so,” he chuckled.

As their walk progressed, so did their conversation. The dogs amused themselves in the crunchy leaves and found stick after stick to carry in their mouths while Jon and Sansa discussed hometowns, family, jobs, and all the basics. Once they reached the end of the trail, a beautiful overlook of the town below, they paused and took in the view.

“Well,” he started, that bashful hint coming back, “since I’m new here – maybe you can show me around sometime? If that’s okay with you. Please don’t feel obligated,” he rambled.

“I’d love to, Jon,” Sansa smiled and gave his bicep a reassuring squeeze. With that touch, albeit through layers of clothing, something sparked. He looked to her with a warm smile, warm enough to ease that crisp morning air.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #drabble #november prompts #crisp air

[cellsshapedlikestars]

jonsa prompt fic/modern au

(look at me, making my way through the rest of my prompts from *checks watch* five months ago)

This one was from the lovely @chispas-and-broken-bindings and the prompt was: “I'm sorry 'bout the other night and I know I could be more creative and come up with poetic lines but..”

1) had to google these lyrics, and I have to say, I had never heard of this song, so thank you for also bringing it to my attention

2) I have no concept of what a drabble is, apparently. I meant to keep all of these at under 1k words but nooooope

.

.

Jon grunts as he reaches deep into the fridge – he can see the label of one of those craft beers Theon had (with shockingly good taste) brought in the back and he'd really like that instead of the cheaper swill crowding the front.

Sansa's birthdays are always massive and he honestly forgot the way she goes all out for them. After high school, he just never really made it back for her big, late-September parties and then after college, he'd taken a job down in Dorne. It's his first year back and he sort of forgot how overwhelming it all is - how many friends she has, how her entire extended family shows up.

It doesn't help that he barely knows any of her friends anymore. He recognizes a few from her high school years, but other than that he knows no one. Thank the gods the Starks and Theon are here, because otherwise, Jon's lost in a sea of strangers.

“Jon Snow!” he hears a voice behind him, light and airy and filled with what almost sounds like glee. His fingers finally manage to grasp the neck of the bottle he was aiming for and he pulls back and stands up and turns around to see – fuck, what's her name? Margaery, that's right. Sansa's best friend from high school.

“Hey,” he says, giving her what he's sure is the smile that Robb always calls ‘weird’ and ‘awkward‘ (how you've ever gotten any woman to sleep with you is a miracle, he remembers Robb telling him once).

“It's so nice that you could come,” Margaery says, voice oozing with... something he can't quite place.

“Uh, yeah?” he agrees, because he guesses it is nice? He starts to move around her – they're the only two in the basement right now, everyone else is outside at the party, he'd only come in to grab a drink.

“I mean, I guess we're all adults now, high school is so a decade ago, am I right?” There's a sort of glint in her eye that Jon doesn't like and he really, really wants to get back outside, but there's also a part of him that wants to ask what the hell she means.

“It was a decade ago,” he agrees again, edging towards the door.

“It must have been so awkward for you, I guess that's why you've been avoiding her all these years,” Margaery sighs and tilts her head with a piercing stare, like she's trying to look into his soul or something.

“I... what?”

“Oh, it's ok,” she smiles, leaning forward and starting to whisper even though there's no one else around, “she told me everything.”

“Everything about what?” he asks, mind going suddenly blank because he cannot think of a single thing that Margaery could be talking about.

“Your crush, duh!”

For a moment there's silence in the basement, before, “my crush?”

“I mean, you were like... obsessed with her!”

Jon blinks, feeling both very confused and very stupid as he says, “what?”

“Oh come on! We were all there when you sent her those flowers. You clearly wanted everyone to know, you had them delivered in the middle of lunch! She even read the card aloud – what did it say? Oh my god, they were lyrics, that's right! I'm sorry 'bout the other night and I know I could be more creative and come up with poetic lines but..” she trails off with a giggle. “I'll be honest, I never pegged you as a Rihanna fan.”

Jon feels some sort of creeping horror filling him because he has - one, never sent anyone besides his mother flowers and two, doesn't think he knows even a single Rihanna song.

“Excuse me.”

He walks out of the basement with Margaery's tinkling laugh following him and when he's outside, he immediately spots Sansa, surrounded by a group of her friends by the pool, laughing with a glass of sangria in her hand and a flower crown on her head and a sash that reads Birthday Girl! across her body.

Arya calls to him, but he ignores her as he pushes through the crowd of Sansa's friends and family, making his way to her. She spots him right before he gets there, a smile forming and then fading when she takes in his face – and then panic seems to cross her features and she looks around, like she's going to try to run.

“Sansa,” he says before she can bolt, and her friends part to let him through. “Can we talk?”

She opens her mouth, but he takes her by the arm and starts dragging her away from her friends and behind them, he thinks he hears a few of them start to whisper and giggle and the annoyance that's been simmering in his chest flares.

“Jon, I'm so glad you could make it!” she says brightly, plastering a smile on her face that he can tell is completely fake. “It's been-”

“Why does Margaery think I had a crush on you in high school?”

He watches her open and close her mouth a few times, eyes darting around for an escape and he tightens his grip on her arm.

“I don't...” she starts, but her voice isn't very strong.

“Sansa,” he tries to keep his voice calm and even.

“Ok, fine,” she hisses, eyes snapping back to him and narrowing and there's the Sansa he knows. She may look sweet and innocent, but Jon has known her long enough to know she isn't the wilting flower she sometimes pretends to be. He watches her spine straighten and her head rise and she looks him in the eye. “I told some of my friends back then that you had a thing for me, so what? It was like, a decade ago. It's nothing to freak out over.”

“Well, Margaery is bringing it up to me at a party a decade later. Why does she think I sent you flowers?”

Her confidence falters then, pink staining her cheeks. “I needed to convince them you had a crush on me, so I... may have... sent myself flowers and made the card from you.”

He stares at her, dumbfounded, before asking, “why did I never hear about this before?”

Sansa shrugs and says, “you were away at college at the time. And then you went south and this is the first time you've been around my high school friends since then?”

“Why?” he asks, mind still reeling over this (and, oh gods, he hopes none of Sansa's high school friends ever said anything to Robb or her parents. But no, if they had, Jon's pretty sure he'd be dead in a ditch or, at the very least, banned from family functions by now).

He watches her struggle to come up with something to say, watches the blush spread from high on her cheeks down to her throat and she visibly swallows and for a moment he thinks she might cry and he feels suddenly horrible. Except no – she's the one making up stories about him. He shouldn't feel bad!

“It was... we were at a party and they were all talking about-” she lowers her voice to a whisper, eyes darting around, “-sex and they kept making jokes about how I was a virgin and they knew I hadn't slept with Joffrey before we broke up and I was sick of them making fun of me so I just... I told them I wasn't a virgin. And then they wanted to know who and... well, you were the first person I thought of.”

He's not quite sure how to take that and he doesn't really know what to say (though honestly, he wants to tell her that her high school friends were shit then and they're still pretty shit now, if Margaery cornering him in the basement to taunt him about his supposed crush is any indication).

“And the flowers?”

“Ok,” she says, letting out a forced, breathless laugh, “here's where it gets funny. I promise, you're gonna laugh...” He keeps frowning at her and she gives a subtle tug to her arm and, finding it unmoving, realizes she's going to have to tell him. “Margaery asked a lot of questions and I could tell she didn't believe me and it turned into this whole thing where you were like, obsessed with me? I told them you wrote me poetry and then I sent the flowers to myself...” she trails off uncertainly and Jon wills himself to breathe deep and bite his tongue against his initial retort.

“And you never thought that your gossipy high school friends might spread this around and it could get back to, I don't know, your brother - my best friend? Your parents?”

Her eyes go wide in horror and Jon can tell that no, she never thought of that. Her eyes dart around the party and Jon turns to look behind him and he can see a group of her high school friends whispering together and not too far away is her parents talking to her Uncle Benjen. He watches her eyes well up with tears and he fights back a sigh of annoyance because he wants to be furious with her, but he can't quite manage it (he is weak to tears, yes, but he also remembers high school Sansa – how insecure she was, how desperate to fit in with her friends, that little shit boyfriend who made her feel even worse – and he can't bring himself to be mad).

“Did it have to be Rihanna?” he sighs eventually, giving her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“It's a good song,” she says, hesitantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth in return.

“You really should ditch those friends,” he tells her, serious again.

“I honestly don't hang out with them anymore, I just invited them because we all still live around here and Margaery DM'd me a few weeks ago about my party and I felt weird not inviting her. If you want, I can tell them the truth. I should have years ago.”

“It doesn't really matter,” he shrugs. “As long as it never gets back to your family, I do not want to deal with them thinking I deflowered their precious daughter.”

She huffs out an incredulous laugh and says, “I almost wish it had been you, Harry...” And then she stops and her mouth drops open and her eyes go wide like she can't believe she said that and honestly, neither can Jon. It hangs between them for a moment and suddenly he is very aware of his hand still on her arm, how smooth her skin feels beneath his touch. He lets go of her like it burns.

“Well,” he says, shifting back to give a few more inches of space between them. “I should probably let you get back to your party.”

“Yeah,” she says and then, just before he turns to go, “I'm glad you're back. In Winterfell, I mean. I guess I'll be seeing you around more?”

He stares at her for a few moments, the pink stain back on her cheeks, teeth biting into her bottom lip, fingers nervously playing with her birthday sash and he should say no because he can feel this leading down a road he was not prepared for, but instead he says, “yeah. Yes. I'll see you around.”

“Good,” she says and she smiles and as he walks away, all he can think is – Robb is gonna be so annoying about this.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #oh look it's another modern au #shocking #prompt fic

[hoaryoldbitch]

happy birthday to me

Jonsa Drabbles Day 3 Traditions  @jonsadungeonsanddrabbles​

For @schnoogles

Jon tossed his mask in the trash, washed his hands and put away the groceries. It was past noon, and Sansa was nowhere to be seen. It was her birthday today, so if this were any other year, he would assume she'd gone out with friends, but since there was no place she could have gone to, as everything was closed, her continued absence most definitely struck him as odd.

He walked over to her bedroom door and gave it a soft knock. "Sansa? You in there?" He got no response. "Sansa?" he called out a little louder.

"In here!" the answer came from behind him. He turned around and faced the bathroom door. "You can come in."

Okay then. Getting invited into the bathroom was unusual to say the least, but he decided to go with it.

When he entered, he found Sansa sitting on the shower floor, back resting against the tiled wall. She was wearing a yellow sundress, her hair was more shiny than normal, and he was pretty sure she was wearing make-up. In her lap was a plate with half a slice of what he believed to be lemon cake.

His mouth fell open as he took in the sight in front of him. "Sansa, what the hell are you doing?"

"It's tradition," she answered, rolling her eyes at him. "I always eat lemon cake on my birthday."

Jon scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flitting around the bathroom. "True," he said slowly. "But why are you eating lemon cake in the shower?"

"S as good a place as any," she answered around a mouthful of cake.

He closed the distance between them and sat down next to her, leaning back against the cold tiles. From this close up, he could see greyish streaks and tiny black flakes on her cheeks. Her eyes looked red and puffy.

"Have you been crying?" he blurted out.

"No." He would think the way she pouted was cute, if he wasn't as concerned about her mental wellbeing as he was right now. 

Suddenly her head dropped to his shoulder and she sobbed, "Yes!"

He lifted an awkward arm to wrap it around her and patted her upper arm, trying to make shushing sounds to comfort her. "What's the matter?" he asked her.

"I've never been all alone on my birthday before," she wailed suddenly. "All of my friends and family are back in Winterfell and I am down here!"

He remembered now. Sansa had wanted to go back North for her birthday, but she couldn't do that because of travel restrictions. She was wrong though. She was not all alone, and loath as he was to appear as if he was making this all about himself, he did feel a slight pang at the thought that to Sansa, he was apparently not included in all of her friends and family.

Partly because he couldn't resist expressing his dismay, and partly to distract her, he huffed, "What does that make me, chopped liver?"

As she lifted her head from his shoulder, her lips parted and her eyes grew wide as she reached for his hand. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, but he was too distracted by the feel of her soft skin against his to focus on her words. 

"Jon, are you listening?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm, err, I'm sorry. I wasn't."

She bit her lip. "I didn't mean it like that! Of course I appreciate you being here, but..."

"But what?"

She shrugged. "It's not the same," she mumbled, letting her hair fall between them like a curtain as she pulled away. "I know you'll spend the day with me, because you're a nice person, and you know I don't have anyone else. But it's not the same as spending it with my friends who really want to be around me."

For the second time in a very short period of time, Jon's mouth fell open. Sansa thought he was just being nice? That he didn't want to be around her?

"Okay, I think that's actually worse."

She lifted her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. "What do you mean?"

"Yeah, you thinking you don't mean anything to me," he clarified. "I know we weren't close before, but I like spending time with you, and I do want to be around you."

A watery smile lit up her face.

Here goes nothing. "I want to be around you all the time."

"Oh," she muttered, her eyes widening again.

He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, oh."

"I'd like that," she whispered, beaming at him.

He grinned back and leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Happy birthday, Sansa." 

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa ff #jonsa fic #my writing #jonsanewyear2021

[geekprincess26]

Ace of Hearts

Summary: Jon tries to get sweet revenge on Sansa for winning their latest card game…but she has an ace up her sleeve.

(A/K/A the result of my inability to resist writing a 2 A.M. crack-fic.)

“One, two, three – flip!”

Both voices’ owners turned over the top cards on their respective piles.  A stray brown curl fell out of the loose bun at the back of the man’s head as he put down a nine of hearts.  His companion giggled as she beheld her own offering, a nine of spades.

“Tie four!” she announced and looked upward, grinning.  “What’s our record, Jon – tie five at this game?”

Jon could not help but smile back.  His wife had had a tough day at work and said very little after getting home, which meant the house had been almost entirely silent.  After all, he and Sansa had always teased each other about being such a perfect match because he was quiet and broody enough for two people, while she talked enough for three.  But every time Jon had tried to make conversation that evening, Sansa had blinked and asked him to repeat himself as though lost in thought, and only given the barest of answers.  It was out of sheer desperation that he had suggested play one or two card games.  Both he and Sansa had had a weakness for them ever since Jon had met Robb in the third grade and Robb and Sansa had taught him to play Crazy Eights in the Starks’ basement.  Over the ensuing years, Crazy Eights with Robb and Sansa had turned into Spoons with Robb and both of his sisters, and then gin rummy with the entire family except for baby Bran, and, by the time Robb and Jon were in high school, rousing poker tournaments with every friend the Starks could cram into the game room.

Now Jon and Sansa were playing War, in which each player got half the deck of cards and each turned the top card of his or her deck faceup at the same time.  The high card won, and the winner took both cards, with play continuing until one person had won all of the cards.  If the players tied, each player would lay his or her next card facedown across the top of the faceup card, and the third card would decide who kept all six.  This particular round had seen them tie four times, which meant that fourteen cards had already been played.  The winner, barring another tie, would clean up eighteen cards.

Jon scratched his head in answer to Sansa’s question.  “Can’t remember,” he said.  “I think it’s a tie for our record.”  Sansa started laughing again, and Jon, spotting his unintentional pun, flashed her a full-fledged grin.  Seeing her blue eyes alight with laughter could make him snap out of even his fiercest scowls in no time flat.

Sansa tilted her head.  “No,” she said.  “What about that time you and Robb and Jeyne and I were up all night waiting to sneak Arya in when she came home from Gendry’s party so she wouldn’t get into trouble with Mum and Dad?  Didn’t you and Robb tie at six or something?”

Jon’s brow furrowed.  He recalled that night, but for very different reasons.  That had been the night Sansa had fallen asleep on his shoulder when they were perched on the couch watching some horror movie or other.  Her red hair had spread across Jon’s shoulders like a cloak, and he had realized for the first time ever how good it smelled – how good Sansa smelled, and how sweet she had been to help him beat Robb at poker earlier that night, and how she could practically speak in different languages with those beautiful eyes of hers.  And how he had no right to think any of those things about Robb’s little sister.

“Five,” he finally said, shrugging.  “I think.”

Sansa grinned again.  “Record, here we come, then – one – two – ”

Jon joined her.  “Three – flip!”

His pile produced the king of clubs, and he grinned widely until he saw that Sansa had put down the ace of hearts.

“Winner!” she crowed, and threw her arms up like she had the first time she had beaten him and Robb at Crazy Eights all those years ago.

“Uh-huh.”  Jon narrowed his eyes playfully.  “Rigging the deck again, are we?  Are we?”

Sansa stuck out her tongue at him.  “You’re just a sore loser, Jon Snow,” she said, and began laughing again.

“Oh, I am, am I?”  Jon promptly let go of his card pile and lunged at his wife.  No sooner had he gotten one arm around her waist than he began tickling her mercilessly.  Sansa collapsed amid shrieks of laughter, and soon Jon himself was chuckling.

“Sore loser, huh?”  He kissed the top of her head as his fingers danced across her right side.  They quickly found her belly, and Sansa squealed and curled onto her other side.  Jon lost his balance and toppled over with her, and  Sansa, still giggling hard, reached over and smacked him on the shoulder.

“Jon Snow!” she gasped.  “You shouldn’t – tickle – a pregnant woman – so – hard – it’s not – fair!”

Jon released her arm as though it had burned him, and Sansa stopped laughing and clapped her hand over her mouth.  Wide blue eyes met gray ones that were for once even wider.  Finally, Sansa dropped her hand.

“I – oh, Jon, I didn’t mean for it to just come out like that,” she said, and now her voice was shaking.  “I was going to tell you tonight, once I’d made us hot chocolate – I’d been thinking of it ever since I took the test this morning after you left – but then I kept wondering if that was the best way to do it, and exactly what I’d say, and I’ve been in a fog all day.”  She stopped and bit her lip, and Jon realized she was trembling.  He reached over just as quickly as he had done to tickle her just moments earlier, but this time he engulfed her in his arms.  It took only a moment for Sansa to throw her own around his neck.  Soon her shaking subsided, and Jon felt a delicious warmth spread across his chest as it did.  When he pulled back to cup her face in his hands, the biggest grin he’d ever experienced was spreading across his face.  Sansa offered him a shaky smile and let out a relieved breath.

“You’re glad?” she asked.  “I mean, I know we wanted – but not for a while yet, and this wasn’t planned, and – ”

Jon leaned down to cover her lips gently with his own.  He stroked her temples with his thumbs, and after a moment he felt her body relax and her lips melt into his.  When she drew back, her blue eyes were shining in that way of hers that had always reduced his heart to putty.  True, they had always planned to move out of their small apartment and into a house, not to mention save some more money, before trying to start a family; but the middle of their tiny living room, surrounded by used furniture and their scattered playing cards, now seemed to Jon like the exact place to begin.

“Not planned,” he finally whispered when he got past the lump in his throat.  “But perfect.  Sansa, my love, it’s perfect.”

#jon x sansa #jonsa fanfiction #one-shot fics #my writing #fluff #card games #i still can't write a drabble #but some of my fondest memories are of playing card games with my friends and family members #and my muse wouldn't shut up until i wrote about it #jonxsansaff #jonsansaff #modern au

[januarywren]

I’ve been reading jonsa fics like crazy lately, and wrote a little drabble of my own. I posted it on ao3 (here’s a link!) and thought that I would share it here too (sfw!). 💙💙

-

“Are you happy, Sansa?”

Jon cursed himself as the question fell from his lips and rolled across the stone floor between them. It was a question that haunted him often, as he remembered the wild fear in her eyes, and how she would jolt at the slightest noise for months, after reclaiming their home.

Sansa was silent as she played with the puppy in her lap, the latest gift from Jon. He found that he wanted to make her smile, and often sent her things he thought would please her; a platter of lemon cakes, fine bolts of fabric for a new dress, and had even sent for a pair of singing birds that could withstand the bitter winters of the North. When they welcomed a traveling bard, Jon invited the man to stay, after his song of Tyrion and his new marriage made Sansa laugh, as sweetly as if she were a girl again.

Yet Jon wanted more –

He always wanted more when it came to Sansa.

She was his cousin, his lover, and his friend, as no one else had ever been. She had bled for the North and was tortured in its name, and Jon felt the lingering scars she endured, the same as if they were carved into his own skin. He wanted to give her the world, even though he knew she wished only for the North, and the safety of their home.

Jon was careless of his furred robe as he knelt beside his wife and watched as the cream-colored puppy thumped its tail against her knee, and made small, shrill noises of excitement. It was more energetic than Lady had been, though Jon stilled his tongue.

He knew how his wife missed her dire wolf, desperately so.

Sansa had named the squirming pup ‘Grace,’ and stroked her furry ears, while the puppy chewed on her long sleeve. Jon’s lips curved into a smile at the sight, knowing that his wife would train the dog well. Lady had carried herself impeccably, never dashing through the halls and howling, as the other dire wolves did. She had lived up to her name, as Jon thought Grace would.

His wife drew the world and its creatures to her, regardless of whether they walked on two feet or four. Jon felt his heart ache at this thought, as he wondered – not for the first time – what would have happened, had the world known his true legacy from the beginning.

Would Catelyn Stark have taken to him? Surely, she would have accepted him into the very halls of Winterfell, without bitterness in her heart. The very sight of his dark eyes and curls wouldn’t have made her imagine her husband laying with another woman, no.

Would Arya still have been his favorite? She was like a sister to him, and always had been even the day that she'd kissed his cheek as it bled from their swordplay. Would he consider Robb and Bran and Rickon his brothers still? Jon knew with every fiber of his being that he would have always considered Robb as his brother; the son of the North, while he was a child of the South. They would have fought together, traded, and remained loyal to one another; seeing prosperity grace King's Landing and Winterfell alike.

And Sansa –

Jon swallowed at the thought of her as she had once been; a beautiful girl on the eve of blooming, one who was as lovely as the maidens immortalized in stories and songs, while her devotion would have laid entirely in his hands. He never forgot the sight of her with flushed cheeks and her sweet laughter, as she danced with a young lord, and excelled at running Winterfell, alongside her mother. He remembered her dreams, for she’d often said that she wanted to marry a prince and bear his children, and how she believed life was a song.

And as Jon remembered, he knew that he would always love Sansa, regardless of what his name was, or his place. He would have loved her in ways that he had never loved Arya, in a softer, sweeter form that bound him to her, even if that meant kneeling at her feet. It wasn’t a love that siblings bore for another; it was something twisted and pulsing inside of him, as he ached for the very essence of her.

Atop their bed, Ghost watched the scene with half-open eyes.

"After Joffrey and father," Sansa hesitated for a moment, before holding her head high. They knew countless the names between them, the ones they had lost, and the ones they had never wished to be part of their lives, "after the Boltons, I never thought I would be happy again."

Sansa’s gaze met his, Tully blue meeting violet.

“Safe, yes, as long as I was with you,” Sansa said, and Jon recalled how she’d thrown herself into his arms at Castle Black. She’d clung to him, the same as he’d pressed himself against her as if their hearts could forge into one. “I felt whole with you. Alive.”

Not even the Dragon Queen, the Mad Queen, had been able to tear them apart. “But happiness,” Sansa’s lips curved into a small, rueful smile. “I knew more than to wish for it.”

It had been ripped from her arms, like a squalling, newborn babe too many times.

"You're my equal," Jon murmured, the crown that rested upon his dark curls nothing if his wife wasn't beside him. They had married in the Godswood the night before he left to fight the Night King, the same night that his seed had taken root inside her. "I'll never let you feel powerless again."

"I know," Sansa said, leaning forward to press a kiss upon his cheek. "I trust you, Jon, as I've never trusted anyone before. Still I…I never asked to be happy, nor whole," he stilled as she spoke, his heart aching for her.

How he wanted everything for her –

"Yet I am," she said as if she were a shy and hesitating girl once again. "I feel safe and happy, and utterly whole with you, Jon, and our family.”

Gods –

“That’s all that I want for you,” Jon said, the lie as sweet as honey on his lips. He wished that she would ask him for the world, for he would give it to her; or its very ashes, if she wished.

Winterfell was only the start.

There were little words between them then, as Jon found himself with a lap full of Sansa, and Grace clambering over them. He buried his face against his wife’s fire kissed hair, and breathed in the gentle scent of her, roses and jasmine entwined.

They were there in her parent’s rooms, ones that had been reclaimed for them; and where they often stayed. There were Starks in Winterfell once more, with the ghosts of those they once knew surrounding them.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #jonsa #got #jonsa fic #jon snow #sansa stark #jon targaryen #sansa x jon #the targaryens #the starks #dire wolves #lady #game of thrones fanfic #a song of ice and feels #got fic #got au #sansa stark x jon snow #sansa is queen in the north #jon is king in the north #hurt/comfort #sfw #a song of ice and fire fic #archive of our own #ao3

[jonsameta]

The Resurrected Jon Snow. Living or Zombie/Wright?

I was wondering what your perspective is on Jon Snow’s resurrection and it’s relationship to Jon/Sansa romantic relationship. GRRM points to other resurrected characters and qualifies them as fire wrights. “…bloods not pumping …heart not beating”. Beric/Stoneheart don’t seem to remember or care about too much beyond their last priority before death. If he’s not much of a real “person” anymore is there still a chance for Jon/Sansa? Also, if Jon is a not really alive, more like reanimated what’s the point of his pakrentage? Will it be like the show where it seemed only to set off DT’s paranoia? Do you think Jon possibly will no longer be a POV character in the books like what happened in the show?

Edit: There is a very good meta by @occupyvenus on the subject which you can finde here. They basically argue that Jon won’t be a normal fire wight, because the old magic and his warging into Ghost will come into it. So, he will still have a soul.

I think it is possible, that we won’t get Jon’s PoV for some time. I think Sansa is the Girl in Grey and that she will meet Jon in Ghost being pursued by the hunter Ramsay. This will be a subversion of Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf saves the girls from the hunter (I even wrote some drabbles about that scenario). But his resurrection will be different than the one from Beric and Stoneheart. There will be some things that are similar though: Jon died when he was about to protect his sister, and I think he’ll be even more determined to protect his family than before his death. I also think that memory loss, focus on single tasks and confusion about Sansa/Ygritte will come into it. He will remember that he has to protect his sister, and he will remember that he had a red-headed girlfriend and it will seriously fuck with his head.

I sincerely hope that my theory that the parentage reveal has a double purpose, namely to make Jonerys impossible and to make Jonsa possible will still come to pass, but we won’t know before TWOW.

Hope that helped you! Thanks for the submission!

Fedon

(2nd edit : original submission by '[email protected]')

#Jonsa #Jonsameta #Jon Snow #Will Jon be a wight? #Jon will be a fire wight #but with a twis #His soul stays safe in Ghost #submission

[pax-2735]

Summer Storms (Jonsa Drabble Fest) Day 7

Thank you to @jonsadrabbles​ for hosting this thing, I had a blast!

Day 7: Free day

The way I look at you

“When you look at me, what do you see?” Sansa realizes her voice has a needy, almost childlike quality to it as soon as the words are out of her mouth, but shrugs it off. She’s a talented, intelligent woman – she has a demanding job, gods be damned, one she got not because of her family name but because she earned it, through hard work and dedication – but three hours into this fucking party and she can feel her confidence plummeting, too many family friends complimenting her on her beauty, too many sons of family friends eye-fucking her as though she’s nothing but a pretty trinket for them to play with.

It’s a stark reminder of what her life once was and all the expectations she had shot to hell.

Jon lifts an eyebrow, his patented smirk gracing his lips as he gives her a pointed once over and she rolls her eyes as she rethinks her words. “Ok, I realize I left myself wide open for that,” she rushes out and he chuckles, “so let me rephrase. If you had to describe me to someone, what would you say?”

To the outside world Jon might be the weirdest choice to be looking to for reassurance. A notorious womanizer, his fame with the ladies is nothing short of legendary and he has never shied away from giving her the occasional leer. But he has also known her ever since they were both in diapers and, so far, he has yet to lie to her.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looks at her carefully, as though he’s giving this some serious thought, before his face splits up in a grin. “Is this a trick question?”

She huffs, wonders what the hell was she thinking as she turns her back on him and starts walking out the door before his voice stops her.

“I’d tell them you’re beautiful,” he breathes out, his voice soft and low, “inside and out.”

She turns to look at him with a crooked brow, half expecting that teasing smirk to be back full force, but his eyes are trained on the floor, and he looks almost… shy.

“I’d tell them you’re sweet and kind.” He looks up, his eyes more serious than she’s ever seen them as they lock with hers. “You’re one of the kindest people I know, always looking out for the best in everyone.”

She swallows, tries desperately to dislodge the lump that seems to have found its home in her throat, her voice coming out raspy even to her own ears and her heart stammers at the thought he might hear it too. “Thank you Jon.”

“I wasn’t finished,” he rasps. “You’re smart, incredibly so. And brave. So, so brave.”

She shakes her head, her eyes finally pulling away from his as she tries to steer this conversation to more familiar and less unsettling grounds. “Brave? Now I know you’re just making stuff up as you go along.” He’s shaking his head as she crosses the room in swift steps, coming to stand next to him before he can manage to say anything else. She leans forward, a hand against his strong chest for leverage and presses a kiss against his cheek. “But thanks for trying anyway.”

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #jon snow x sansa stark #jonsadrabbles #jonsadrabblefest #jon snow #Sansa Stark #works-by-pax

[mneiai]

My Fanfic Status Updates

Posted WIP:

Everybody Needs Luck - (Star Wars) Obi-Wan travels back in time to his 13 year old body on Melida/Daan and starts changing the galaxy. Time Travel AU. Nield/Cerasi/Obi-Wan, future Jango/Obi-Wan and Cerasi/Satine.

Status: Actively being worked on, have a few new chapters nearly finished. Will probably be getting to a larger time skip soon.

Cuy'kaysh Dar - (Star Wars) Obi-Wan falls on Naboo and flees. Jango sees him fighting Jedi and recruits him to the Cuy'val Dar. Fallen!Obi-Wan AU. Jango/Obi-Wan, Priest/Reau.

Status: Actively being worked on. Have the barebones for a few new chapters.

Biding Time - (Throne of Glass) Dorian's happy ending falls apart and Hollin uses dark magic to send him back in time. Time Travel AU. Valg!Dorian. Many Dorian-centric ships.

Status: Currently just having issues with time constraints because I need to reread the early Manon stuff for the next few chapters and I haven’t yet.

A Dragon in Wolf's Clothing - (ASOIAF) Oberyn's mark fills in--and shows him the true identity of the Bastard of Winterfell, his soulmate. Soulmate AU. Oberyn/Ellaria, future Oberyn/Ellaria/Jon.

Status: Will be trying to get a new chapter or two out soon-ish.

Eventuality - (Game of Thrones) Sequel to Potentiality. Jon and Daenerys die, then wake up in the past in different versions of themselves. Now they face conquering a Westeros very different from the one they so temporarily ruled before. Time Travel AU. Trans!Jon, Genderfluid!Dany. Jonerys.

Status: Currently on the backburner, I don’t want to rush the next few chapters but am not super motivated.

Fire in the Rain - (ASOIAF) Jon brings his girlfriend Sansa home to meet his eccentric (dangerous) family, who still follow ancient Valyrian customs. Modern Westeros AU. Jonsa, Jonerys, Rhaenys/Aegon, others.

Status: I kind of write a little here and there when motivated, so have no idea when a full chapter will be done.

Trinity - (ASOIAF) They loose the War for the Dawn, but Sansa, Arya, and Jon get a second chance. Time Travel AU. Sansa/Elia, Jon/Night's Queen, Robb/Dany.

Status: Omfg I’m so close to being done with this, I’m trying to get motivated to do the last few chapters haha

A Song of Light and Darkness - (ASOIAF) The Targaryens conquered most Westeros with dark magic, now they finally have the key for taking the North. Alternate Fantasy World AU. Many ships.

Status: I’m ngl mostly have updated because it’s one of my friend’s favs. It’s pretty on the backburner right now.

Play the Part of Savior - (ASOIAF) They decide to win the War for the Dawn by stopping the very first one--and Jon ends up back in time in the Bloodstone Emperor's court. Time Travel AU. Bloodstone Emperor/Jon, Bloodstone Emperor/his wife, past Sarella/Jon.

Status: Past me did myself a huge disfavor by skipping a chapter in my draft and not making a note what was supposed to go there, so I’m waiting hoping I’ll remember it.

Broken Pieces Floating By - (ASOIAF) A single night in a haunted house changes Ana’s life forever. Modern Horror AU. Elia/Lyanna, Elia/Rhaegar/Lyanna.

Status: I have a very, very detailed outline for the entire thing, which is a little rare for me, so eventually it will be written.

Cut Strings - (World of Warcraft) Anduin refuses to be a puppet king and instead shakes up the entire political landscape of Westeros. Neutral Stormwind AU. Wranduin, Bainduin, others.

Status: I will probably eventually try to rewrite what I have of this. I was trying to keep it semi-close to canon, but that was before BFA came out and showed us that, yes, it was a boring Sylvanas-is-super-evil plot and not something cool. Now I can just go completely out-there AU with it.

No Peace, No Rest - (World of Warcraft) After Stormwind is destroyed (again), Anduin is taken in by the last people anyone would expect a priest to stay with. BFA AU. Darion/Anduin.

Status: I want to continue this at some point because I love Darion/Anduin and there’s barely any out there and also because I love Anduin and Bolvar being all angsty with their surrogate father-son relationship.

Upcoming Drabbles:

Sequel to my Dark Jangobi Order 66 Drabble - (Star Wars) Obi-Wan resented the Jedi, but he never wanted them to be killed off. And he definitely didn’t want to deal with the fallout of it.

Sequel to my voluntary Integration Obi-Wan Drabble - (Star Wars) Obi-Wan is a model Integrator, which is nervewracking for everyone who knows he was a Jedi.

Sequel to my Mandalorian-from-birth!Obi-Wan Drabble - (Star Wars) Jango’s POV

Requested Soulmate Drabble - (Star Wars) Mandalorians can sense the Mand’alor’s soulmate. It is, of course, Obi-Wan.

Maybe Possibly Upcoming Drabbles:

Terrorist Club AU - (Star Wars) Obi-Wan has a pass to an intergalactic club for terrorists from his time with the Young and he uses it to mess with Vizsla.

#my stuff #fanfic updates #i like sad men with negligent parents okay? #also competence #and time travel AUs #i love time travel AUs #most of my drabbles i just randomly decide to write these are just the ones i know for sure i'm writing and will be posted #except for the maybe possibly one #which I don't really want to write myself but gdi i guess i'm going to #except I keep having ideas for it not to be crack but like crack treated seriously lol

[annawoodhull]

Baby’s First Word | a Jonsa Family Drabble

When Lily learned to talk, Jon and Sansa could hardly contain their joy. Their little girl was growing up, although that brought about some mixed feelings for that. Her first words uttered were “momma” and “dada” but both were preceded by the word “no.”

Word Count: 484

part ii pending ;)

When Lily learned to talk, Jon and Sansa could hardly contain their joy. Their little girl was growing up, although that brought about some mixed feelings for that. Her first words uttered were “momma” and “dada” but both were preceded by the word “no.” The moment she first spoke the word took Sansa completely by surprise. She had been brushing her daughter’s wild dark curls when she asked fondly, “Are you ready for bed?”

“No,” came a soft mumble.

Not quite sure that she heard her correctly, Sansa asked, “What did you say?”

Lily rolled her head back, turned her luminous blue eyes upwards to her mother, and repeated emphatically, “No.” She even had the audacity to smile.

Sansa immediately scooped up the ten month old and went in search for Jon, her excitement urging her haste. “Jon! Jon!” she called out, her voice growing increasingly louder the further she walked down the corridor towards their chamber.

She must have sounded particularly urgent when she spotted her husband, king of the North once more, rush out of the room in a near slide across the stone floor. His face showed his alarm, which only increased when he saw Lily in her arms. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Sansa, flushed with excitement, bounced a giggling Lily on her hip. “Nothing’s wrong. Well, except that she’s becoming more like you every day.” She turned to Lily and asked as she stroked her curl, “Are you ready for bed, sweetheart?”

Without hesitation, Lily declared a mighty, “No!” Seeing Jon, her face light up with adoration and immediately stretched her chubby arms towards him, clenching and unclenching her fists as if to reach for him.

Mouth agape, Jon took her without hesitation, holding her close. “Did she just…” he looked at Sansa with amazement before looking at Lily. “Did you just say your first word?”

“No,” Lily murmured, too busy playing with something on his tunic to see the looks exchanged between her parents.

“I think she’s your child,” Jon corrected, grinning from ear to ear.

Sansa laughed. “Oh, I’m afraid she is. A proper combination of the both of us.”

“Gods help us,” Jon murmured and kissed his daughter’s tiny curly head. “It is time for bed for you, Lily pad.”

“Nooo,” she murmured, nuzzling her face against his neck sleepily. She melted her father’s heart.

Jon looked at Sansa helplessly, who feigned a sigh, already knowing what her husband was going to say. “All right. But you’re spoiling her.”

“As if you haven’t indulged her,” he murmured, nuzzling his face against her head. Lily yawned and snuggled closer. “You can sleep with momma and dada tonight.”

This time she didn’t utter the word no. Clearly, the little devil knew exactly how to wield that word. Sansa fell into Jon’s embrace and together they headed towards their chambers, with a dozing Lily nuzzled securely against Jon’s shoulder.

#i should make a masterlist for this #jonsa #jonsa family drabbles #jonsa domestic fluff #jon snow #sansa stark #sansa x jon #jon x sansa #jonsa fanfic #jonsa fic #a part two to this is pending #got #got fic

[tell-me-this-isnt-jonsa]

Are there any Jonsa King Kong AUs?

Hi Anon! Don't know if there are any King Kong AU fics out there yet, unfortunately. But @tragedyofromance did decide to whip up this masterpiece based on the idea! 😂

Joking aside, it's widely known that the story of King Kong is a variant of the Beauty and the Beast trope. It plays with the idea that the Beast, who has been established as a dangerous and destructive force, chooses to forsake violence out of love for Beauty. In the original film version, this is expressed in the opening credits with the following quote:

And lo, the beast looked upon the face of beauty. And it stayed its hand from killing.

In Game of Thrones, this sentiment is depicted quite literally in the scene where Jon, in the middle of a rage-fuelled attack against Ramsay, glances up to see Sansa watching and immediately refrains from pummelling him to death (as seen in this gifset by @arin-arryn ). Related to this (and also seen in the same gifset) is the time when Jon encounters Theon, a man who has betrayed his family, and yet stays his hand from killing, because of the help that Theon had provided for Sansa. In this case, even the memory of Sansa serves to 'tame' Jon's inner beast.

From a fic perspective, there's some real potential in a King Kong type of AU, assuming we're not talking about a literal adaptation (e.g. gorilla!Jon climbing the Broken Tower in WF with Sansa in his arms, lol). There are countless ways to write a scenario where beauty tames the beast...

Consider a post-resurrection Jon who woke up more beast than man, and it takes Sansa to remind him of his humanity. There are probably already one or two fics with this premise, but coincidentally, @amymel86 has just posted a drabble that seems to be heading in this direction!

Or perhaps a fic where a giant white direwolf is terrorizing the North (either a warged Jon or a werewolf!Jon), and the terrified locals decide to offer a maiden sacrifice (which veers closer to the plot of the film, actually) so they kidnap Sansa, truss her up, and leave her for the monster to find. Only instead of killing or devouring her, the monster falls in love...

Gotta be honest, though...that literal adaptation does sound pretty damn great, and 10/10 would read! Bring on King Jon(g)! 😂

(Fic writers, over to you!)

#jonsa #jonsainspired #inspiration: tropes and archetypes #inspiration: tv and film #asked and answered #jonsa prompt #king kong

[wildflower-daydreamer]

Linger - a Jonsa drabble

@jonsadrabbles​  Day 1 - Linger

Linger (inspired by the chorus of The Cranberries’ Linger)

She lingered in his solar. They both knew, as the Queen in the North, she had plenty of important tasks to handle. But still, Sansa stood next to him in front of his hearth after they finished discussing the training of the new guards, seemingly not wanting to leave. 

After Jon had come back to Winterfell from his now-pardoned banishment to the Wall, he had been at Sansa's every beck and call. Of course, she was his Queen. But it was much more than that. He loved her—more than the familial bond they shared. He realized it during his time at the Wall and beyond. Her loyalty to the North, to her family, her fiery demeanor, intelligence, tenacity, stubbornness, and strength - he longed to be around it, to be back in her presence. 

His pardon came, along with a scroll from Sansa; her pretty handwriting bringing the deep-rooted feelings he had for her to the surface once more. She asked him to come home. He readily obeyed. 

Jon could feel something kindling between them in the year since they reunited. And he knew she could feel it too. It was unspoken. But the looks that fluttered between them, the lasting touches that nobody noticed, the way her lips would slightly part when she looked at his own - it all had to mean something. He felt like he was making his feelings known, without speaking the actual words. And he would do anything for her. He'd be her fool if she wished it.  

With all the awfulness in her past, he knew Sansa needed to be in control. He would not push her. Jon wanted her to come to him, to let him love her, whenever she was ready. If she wanted him, he would remind himself. But he knew he would wait an eternity for her, no matter how painful. 

He looked towards her once again. Her lips parted ever so slightly as her eyes lingered on his lips. When she realized she had been caught staring, she quickly looked down at the floor. Some of her fiery red hair fell in front of her face. With no reluctance, Jon moved it back behind her ear, his fingers grazing her soft cheek.

"Jon." It was more of a breath than a spoken word. He caught her crystal eyes once again. "The suitors are getting restless. I do not think I should make them wait any longer."

Fiery rage built up within Jon at the thought of the other men and the possibility of losing Sansa to one of them.

"I don't want them." 

Those were the sweetest words he had ever heard.

Sansa closed the distance between them. Jon could feel her breath on him as she took a deep breath. "It's you. It's always going to be only you." 

No, those were the sweetest words he had ever heard.

Without another thought, Jon's hand cradled Sansa's face, bringing her lips against his own. 

#jonsa #Jon x Sansa #jonsadrabbles #game of thrones #fanfic #jonsadrabblefest #day one #linger

[amymel86]

For your Jonsa dialogue prompt request (I have two, I hope that’s okay!) “Gods, I’ve missed you” “Well... what do you think?”

Thank you so much for your dialogue prompts, my lovely!!! I hope you like this little modern au drabble (TW for mentions of past physical abuse at the hands of Joffrey)...

“Well... what do you think?”

Jon lifts his eyes from the phone screen Sansa had handed him to look at her with furrowed brows. “I thought you didn’t like tattoos?” To be quite honest, even with being the owner of his own tattoo parlour, Jon prefers Sansa’s skin exactly the way it is, with her perfect peaches-and-cream complexion. She doesn’t need any embellishing in his opinion. And she’s never been interested in being inked before now – in fact, he’s pretty sure she’s never even stepped foot inside ‘Black Crow Tattoo Studio’ before today.

“I never said that,” she tells him. “I just didn’t like that one Robb made you do on his back,” she twists her arm up and points over her own shoulder, “you know, the one with the man with the bloody wolf head and arrows all over his body. Mum pitched a fit when she saw it!”

Jon allows himself a low chuckle as he hands back her phone. “I bet she did.” He sobers and licks his lips as he looks at her. “You sure about this?”

“Yes,” Sansa nods resolutely. “I want it to be a mix of the two designs I just showed you,” she waves her phone as if he’d just forgotten, “and I want it...” Sansa pauses, eyes falling to the floor as she fiddles with her phone. “I want...” whatever it is she’s trying to say is obviously difficult.

“Do you wanna come and talk in the back?” Jon asks, rising from his seat behind the register and pointing with his thumb to his work space. Perhaps the privacy will help. Sansa nods and follows him, pushing aside the curtain made of thin strips of black plastic. He seats himself on his roll-along work stool and looks up to her with a soft smile.

Sansa takes a breath. “I want to... I want to cover something Joffrey did.”

Jon’s pulse practically throbs in pain at the mention of that asshole’s name. He’s in prison now for what he had done, but Jon would pay anything to be left alone with the creep so he could show him what he thinks of anyone who would beat a woman – and yes, he means any woman, but when thoughts of someone harming Sansa flit through Jon’s mind, he finds his revenge fantasies turning particularly cruel and murderous. Looking at her now, he’s at a loss as to how anyone could want to touch her with anything but reverence.

Jon swallows down his anger and wheels himself closer. He takes both her hands in his and sweeps his thumbs across the pulse-points of her wrists as he looks up at her. “What did he do?”

Pulling one of her hands away, Sansa lifts the side of her top to show her bare skin beneath. Jon’s eyes widen at the sight of scarring right there at the dip of her waist, flair of her hip and ‘round to the soft skin of her stomach. He raises his hand to touch, gazing up to silently seek permission before he does so. Sansa nods. The marks are small and round, a faded shade of pink that will surely leave silvery white scars in time. That shit-stain of a human did this to her?

“Cigarette burns,” Sansa supplies as Jon continues gently mapping out the constellation of markings with the pads of his fingertips.

She shivers under his touch and his eyes finally rise to meet hers. “Sansa,” he croaks, “if-if I could kill him for you, I would. Without hesitation.”

“I know,” she says, smiling. Her hand comes to softly cup his cheek and jaw as he stares up at her, the touch so tender it manages to make Jon’s breath hitch in his throat. Gods, she has a strength that makes her more beautiful than anyone he knows. “Just cover it up for me, though yeah? Get rid of him for me that way.”

Jon nods and catches her hand before she has a chance to pull away. He keeps his gaze locked with hers and places a gentle press of lips to the inside of her wrist, liking the way her mouth parts as she watches him. Jon has never been so bold with Sansa. He’s wanted to be – many a time, but the timing hadn’t been quite right, or his nerves fled him at the last minute. He’s not so sure that now is the right time either to be honest, but he found he couldn’t help himself.

Jon’s gaze returns to the scars on her skin. Moving slowly so that she might stop him should she wish to, Jon presses a gentle kiss to one of the burns on her hip before moving to the next. Sansa’s fingers find their way to his hair and he finds that he very much likes having them there. “Is this alright?” he asks after the third kiss, right next to her bellybutton.

Sansa hums and starts to slowly comb her fingers through his curls, her nails lightly scratching his scalp. “Yes.”

After a time, Jon regretfully decides that he can’t spend the rest of the day tenderly kissing and nuzzling at Sansa’s belly, so he clears his throat and lifts his gaze up to hers, pleased to find her smiling down at him, her hands still in his hair. “So, you want weirwood leaves, right?”

“Yes,” she nods, “curling around my waist and hip and on my tummy too. I want it to look like they’re dancing in a gust of wind.”

“Sounds pretty,” Jon grins up at her. “I can do that.”

“And I want to have some initials written in the veins of some of the leaves.”

“Initials?”

“Yeah. Of people I love. People who are important to me. I don’t want them to be obvious, but kind of hidden, just for me.”

Jon’s hands smooth up and down her hips where she still stands there in front of him. “That’s a great idea. So all your family, yeah?”

Sansa nods her head. “And your initials too... if that’s okay?”

If that’s okay?!

“Sansa, that’s... That’s more than okay, sweetheart.” He presses another, albeit quicker kiss to her stomach before looking back up to her shining eyes. “Let me get to work on your design and...” Jon pauses, swallowing down his nerves, “...maybe I could take you out tonight? For dinner?”

Sansa grins down at him. “Like on a date?”

“Yeah, like on a date.”

#jonsa #jon x sansa #drabble #dialogue prompt #modern au

[hoaryoldbitch]

a wish my heart makes

Jonsa Drabbles Day 3 Wishes @jonsadungeonsanddrabbles​

Sansa has been married to Waymar Royce for eight years, and she's become desperate to have a child of her own.

Sansa stares at the weeping face of the weirwood tree. It used to frighten her when she was a child. Robb and Theon once told her it would eat her if she didn't behave, and she believed them for far too long. 

It was Nan who told her to come here, to the ancient Godswood inside the ruined walls of Winterfell Castle. The old woman caught her quietly trying to slip away from the little gathering Beth had put together to celebrate the birth of their friend Jeyne's third child, a girl she has named Alannys, for her husband Theon's mother. Jeyne married Theon Greyjoy about a year after Sansa's wedding to Waymar Royce, and though she and her husband are always bickering, Sansa believes Jeyne has been fairly happy.

And so has she. Waymar is a good man, who provides for her and treats her kindly. He doesn't spend too much time in the pub, and he's happy to leave her in charge of their household finances. He's never once complained when she added too much salt to the soup or burnt the coffee, and he's always gentle with her.

They live a simple and quiet life, and Waymar is content, working for his father's lumber company and coming home to a wife who's waiting for him with a hot meal and a warm embrace, but for Sansa, a shadow has been hanging over their semblance of a happy marriage for five years now.

Sansa grew up in a large family. She has four brothers and two sisters, and when she married Waymar, it was her greatest wish to recreate her own childhood home, and fill their house with children of their own. But after almost eight years of marriage, they are still childless, though it's not for lack of trying.

Old Nan saw the tears that threatened to spill from Sansa's eyes as she gazed at Alannys' perfect little face, and she followed her out of the parlour to give her a bit of advice. Nan revealed to Sansa that she and her husband had also struggled to conceive, which came as quite a surprise to Sansa, as Nan and Wylbert had had eight children together. 

"The Old Gods will help you," Nan told her with a pat on the arm, and then she gave Sansa some simple instructions.

Sansa takes a deep breath. Is she really considering asking a tree for help? Apparently she is. She tells herself that it won't hurt to try. She takes a step forward and presses her hand to the smooth white bark.

"Old Gods," she whispers, closing her eyes. "I call upon your ancient power..." She's not sure what more she should say. "Please," she continues. "I really want to have a babe."

When she opens her eyes again, she's not alone anymore. Only three feet away, a man is staring at her. She can't help it, she gasps and jumps. She inches back, blinking and spluttering.

She tries to collect herself. "Forgive me, sir. You startled me! Have we met before?" Her heart is still racing. One moment, she was alone, and then he was suddenly there. "Where did you come from?"

He doesn't look anything like the other men she knows. He's fairly short and lean, and though his face has a bit of a sullen look to it, he is incredibly pretty, even if that may seem like an odd word to describe a man. His hair is dark, and so are his grey eyes, but his skin is pale, smooth and almost glowing against the murky backdrop of the dense forest. He's wearing a moss-green, floor-length surcoat over a long-sleeved, loose-fitting shirt of a similar colour. 

He cocks his head and spreads his arms, palms turned up to the grey sky above them. "I'm here to give you your wish."

That's quite the promise, but it doesn't answer any of the questions she's asked him. Part of her wants to keep looking at the beautiful man in front of her, but some deep instinct is telling her to run. There is something very wrong about him, and yet she stands rooted to the spot, and she can't stop staring at him. "What do you mean? How?"

He arches a dark eyebrow. "You are aware how babes are made, are you not?"

She's shocked by his question, and part of her wants to reprimand him for suggesting such a thing, but she's not quite sure whether that would be a good idea. 

"And you are offering your, um, services?" she asks him as calmly as she can manage.

"You summoned me," he says with a shrug before folding his hands together. "And I answered your call."

Their marriage may not be one of great passion, but Sansa loves Waymar. He's a good man. She doesn't want to do this to him. But she's desperate. she wants to hold a babe of her own in her arms.

She glances up at the man--no, he's not a man, he's something else. Though if she squints, he does look a bit like Waymar. I could pretend. She shakes her head. She knows she's lying to herself. She would do it even if he looked nothing like her husband.

"What's in it for you?" she wants to know.

He pouts, there is no other word for it, and though he appears sad, it's a good look on him, with those lusciously plump lips of his. "There aren't that many fae women left," he tells her. "And most of the ones who are still among us are barren."

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, trying not to lose it over the fact that she is about to agree to have sex with a fairy. She nods. "Alright then."

There's no trace of sullenness or grief left on his face when he answers her with a blinding grin. 

"What's your name?" she asks the fae man.

He narrows his eyes at her, but then he laughs. "You can call me Jon."

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa ff #jonsa fic #my writing #jonsanewyear2021

[sailorshadzter]

Jonsa prompt - "it's just a cut, really" or Jon freaking out everytime Sansa being clumsy?

thanks for the request!!!

When he comes into her rooms, she's bleeding.

"Sansa!" He yelps, nearly knocking over the table in his effort to reach her. "You're bleeding!" He barks, reaching for her wrist so he can draw her injured hand close for his inspection. "What happened?" He demands, looking from her bleeding palm to her face, then down to the table they're standing beside.

The top of the table is cluttered; droplets of blood are splattered across the top, as well as what he knows must be the weapon she's injured herself with, a small blade he recognizes at once as Valyrian steel, and he reminds himself to say something to that blasted blacksmith Gendry who must have made her the knife. "It's just a cut, really," Sansa protests, trying to draw her hand back from him, but Jon only holds onto her wrist a little bit tighter. And though she frowns, she falls silent as Jon leans in so he can inspect the wound a little bit closer.

It was as she said- though bleeding heavily, it was a superficial cut to the soft skin of her palm that would probably heal without even scarring. "What happened?" He asks as he draws the goblet of wine that sits on the table closer and without a word, dumps it over her open wound. She hisses with pain and Jon shoots her an apologetic look before he begins to blot it clean with a scrap of linen she must have fished from her sewing basket before his arrival.

"I was... Well I..." She blushes to the roots of her fiery hair, casting her gaze away as if she's too embarrassed to answer. "I was trying to learn to use it," she finally says softly, lifting her gaze back to his. "After what happened in the crypts..." Fear resides in her eyes and Jon feels his heart skip a beat. Of course... of course. She must have been terrified that night in the crypts, sent down there where she thought she would be safe. Instead, she had been forced to watch her own families corpses rise from the dead, she had been forced to plunge that same blade into Rickon's back to keep him from killing a small child. Nothing would ever let her forget that night. "I only wanted to be more helpful in the future."

As Jon finishes wrapping her hand in cloth, he turns back to face her and can't help but to reach out and touch her cheek, fingertips trailing the curve of her soft skin. "You don't have to wield a blade just to be useful, Sansa." He says seriously, his hand slipping down to take hold of her uninjured one. "Your hands are meant for holding, for sewing, for tending." He thinks of her when he saw her that night- tending to the injured despite what she herself had been witness to. "The Lady of Winterfell needs no blade to protect herself or her people." He goes on, his words tugging at both her heart and her lips, curving them into a small smile. "That's my job. I made you a promise, Sansa. I'm always going to protect you." Her eyes widen at such an admission and then she softens, blinking back tears that gather upon her lashes. "So promise me that you won't try again without me? Or at least Arya, she's more skilled than I am I think."

Her laugh is soft, but it's a truer laugh than Jon has heard since he's returned home from Dragonstone and he's full of relief at the sound of it. "I promise," she finally says with a nod, knowing it wouldn't have taken much to convince her otherwise- her hand hurt like hell and that was enough to keep her from picking up the blade for a long time. Although, she had to admit, she liked the feel of his hand on hers, gently taking care of her injury just as she had done for him two nights prior. She liked it, having him this close.

And Jon liked it, too.

send me a 5 word prompt + a ship for a drabble

#anon asks #jonsa #jonsa drabbles #prompt request #my writing #i wrote this