#jonsadrabbles

[an-oranophobic-maniac]

What is the best evidence of book jonsa? Your opinion pls?

Hi Anon!

Well this is a hard question. Because you are asking me to pick just one among many great foreshadowings. I have always liked Jon's ridiculous jealousy on Joffrey( It brought a rare side of him, which we haven't seen again after his departure from Winterfell), His thing for Red-heads, and Sansa wanting a daughter to look like Arya( which is possible only if a particular bastard from the north is willing to comply 😉) , Jonnel-Sansa pairing in the family tree etc.

But the thing that absolutely blew my mind lies in the prologue and the last chapter of the ASOS. You might have heard of that. But I feel like it deserves better recognition from our fandom. That's why I picked that.

It is the Chett/snow/Sansa thing.

Chett connects falling snow to Jon snow in the prologue of ASOS

"Snow was falling.

He could feel tears freezing to his cheeks. It isn't fair, he wanted to scream. Snow would ruin everything he'd worked for, all his careful plans... the snow's taken it all from me... the bloody snow

Snow had ruined him once before. Snow and his pet pig. "

-ASOS Chett Prologue

And later in the same book. Sansa experiences the same snow fall but her reaction to it was anything but antagonistic.

" Snow was falling

On the Eyrie.. she had last seen snow the day she had left Winterfell ( which could also be applied to Jon because that was the last time she could have seen him too) .... Drifting snow flakes brushed her face as a lover's kiss and melted on her cheeks. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell, taste of innocence and taste of dreams"

- ASOS Sansa(Chapter 80)

So GRRM basically says that Falling snow should remind you of Jon snow and let Sansa have a romance with it later in the same book.

It is not even that Subtle, that's why I love this one the best.

Hope you liked it too!🤗

[durgas]

marry me, i’ll save you

written for @jonsa-creatives: royalty event

summary: sansa stark comes up with a plan to save jon snow from his punishment for being a queenslayer, the only thing is it involves convincing him to marry her.

“Marry me tonight in the godswood.” The words had twirled around her head all day. She had thought them over several times and then several times more before allowing them to come forth before Jon. 

His grey eyes, hard with the scars suffering, widened in shock. “Sansa?” He looked at her, her chin firmly set and her eyes blue with steel. “I cannot-”

“You can and you will.” She cut him off. He had languished in this prison long enough; his beard growing unkempt and his curls lank. “Marry me and you become my husband, my subject.” She watched as realisation began to settle on his face. “You will become the King in the North alongside me and none will be able to challenge you.”

Jon shook his head in disbelief. “I committed a crime, Sansa.” His normally gruff voice was thickened by emotion. “I killed a Queen. I never wanted to be a King and they won’t let me anyway.” 

“The North is independent now.” She took his hands, unusually bare and roughened with scars, and looked him in the eye. “And, if it came to it they would fight. But, it won’t come to that, Jon.”

Her voice was clear and strong like the sound of steel clashing against steel.  A strange feeling rose up in his chest, a mixture of pride and desire and incredulity. “I deserve my punishment, Sansa. 

“You killed a mad queen, that’s not a crime.” Sansa reasoned. She was calm with no sign of nerves save the ring she fiddled with on her right hand. “Bran is reasonable.”

The guard came to break them away, filthy and stinking of sweat. “Time’s up, your Grace.” He made an obsequious bow then motioned for her to leave with worried eyes and wringing his hands. 

“Come to the godswood, you’ll be left unguarded.” She whispered hastily in his ear, feeling the tickle of his beard against her face. She had paid off the guards and hoped Jon would listen to reason. 

The day passed, each moment more dreary than the next, until at last the evening settled with a chill. 

She made her excuses then retired to her room to throw on her fur cloak. Approaching the godswood, she felt the oak trees with their ominous shade of crimson appear as if they were looming over at her. The night was cold but she was a Stark of Winterfell and therefore the pinch of frost went unnoticed. The heart tree stared at her, its face stern with the magic of old before the days of the Seven. 

“Sansa.” She saw him approach with an uneven gait. “Thank you.” He said as he felt his heart hammer away in his chest.

Her eyes grew softer. “You can be a fool sometimes, Jon.” She took his hand and led him over to the heart tree where they kneeled. “This is not one of those times.” A teasing tone had entered her voice and her face was light with relief. 

Together they made their vows in front of their ancient heart, no longer so stern and now feeling akin to home. She slipped off her cloak and felt the heavy weight of Jon’s upon her shoulders as he raised her up. His lips curved into a smile as he gazed at her, her beautiful red hair so bright amongst the darkness of the night, before lifting her into his arms. 

“Jon.” Her voice contained notes of surprise as her head lay against his chest, thinner than he had ever been. 

His tender eyes dropped down to look at her. “It’s a part of the ceremony.” He felt her warmth against him and felt desire creep into his body. “Isn’t it, your Grace?” It was his turn to tease. He had never thought this moment a possibility, he knew the sacrifice he had made when he had chosen Daenerys. 

“Indeed.” Her single word spoke volumes as it was playful yet softly tender. “Your Grace.” A smirk glided its way onto her naked lips.

The following morning, they had walked hand-in-hand down the winding stairs of the Red Keep to shouts of commotion and anger. 

“Where could the bastard have gone?”

The voices around all echoed similar thoughts. Anger that the Queenslayer had escaped coupled with frustration that he had managed to evade his punishment. They fell silent at the sight of Queen Sansa holding the hand of the Queenslayer, Jon Snow. 

“Sansa, what have you done?” Tyrion’s voice greeted them, worry and fury poorly hidden in his tone. 

She looked him square in the eye then looked around her and caught the eye of her personal guard. They nodded surreptitiously, they knew what would have to be done if there was trouble. “Good people, I am proud to introduce my new husband.” She stood tall and proud with a spine of steel. 

Uproar broke out. The people began clamouring for justice, pushing forward as if to take their own vengeance. Sansa did not flinch although Jon felt a slight pang of fear threaten his heart. 

“It is true he killed the Queen Daenerys.” Her voice rang out above all the frenetic chaos. “It is also true that she had grown delirious in anger and would have killed every man, woman and child of Westeros if it meant she could have taken the throne.” She paused for a moment, conscious of every eye upon her. “Jon has saved Westeros by preventing another period of instability just as he has defended the realm of Westeros many times over.”

Tyrion looked at her as if she had gone mad. “He is a traitor, surely you must see that.” 

“He is the King in the North now, he will rule with me from Winterfell.” She felt Jon squeeze her hand, reassurance seeping out of the warmth of his palm. “And, he is no longer a subject of the Six Kingdoms.”

Protests were made for several days, coups were close to occurring and yet Sansa’s practical reason soon won everyone over from the common people to Bran himself. Eventually, they were allowed to leave with the condition that they would not be welcome again at King’s Landing or in any of the Six Kingdoms of Westeros.

It had been worth it to see Jon’s smile at the sight of Winterfell and the great lords of the North hail him as their King.

[klarojonsa]

AN: So, I had this idea a very very long time ago. This is the first time I'm writing Jonsa fanfic, or Atleast contemplating whether if I should go on with the story or not. It's really been a long while since I really wrote anything, so here we go. Please do tell if I should continue or not.

Also the chapter is set before Jon leaves for the wall. If y'all want me to write more, I'll try it out on ao3

___________________________________________

Love the way you lie

Sansa leans against the heart tree looking up at the starry sky, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Sometimes she really does wonder if her life has a meaning or not. She knows she wants to be a queen to a king, a princess to a prince and a wife to a husband. But what of her as a person? Will someone love her for who she is, not for how she acts? Father always said that he would find her a match worthy of her, but she didn't think he really cared. Her father never looked at her the way he looked at Arya, like she was the only daughter he has. She knows he loves her as well, but Arya is his pride just as she is her mother's. But sometimes, even if she would never admit, it hurt. Would her father love her more if she knew how to use weapons? Sansa shook her head, she came here for peace, not to get her mind woven in the webs of sorrow.

She felt someone sit beside her in silence. She didn't look away from sky, her head still resting against the tree and her fingers mindlessly weaving through the grass, plucking some in her hands.

After a comfortable silence, she blurts out, "Do you ever feel like that there is not a single person the world that loves you?" She wasn't really expecting an answer. It was a while after she heard a velvety voice answer her.

"Aye, sometimes."

She blinks in surprise to see Jon sitting beside her. His answer startling her even more. She sits up straight, her eyes falling back to her hands, her cheeks flushed. Jon was the last person she thought would be here. She could feel Jon's gaze on her and then heard him sigh.

"Your lady mother is worried for you. She searched out the whole castle but she couldn't find you. Don't know why, but I had a feeling that I would find you here. Are you okay?" He asked, his face masked with confusion and his forehead wrinkled in worry. Was he worried for her?

"I just needed some time alone, I suppose. I come here whenever I seek peace of my mind. I'm okay, Jon." She expected he would leave. Like everyone does. But instead, he stood there nervously shifting on foot, his hand going on the back of his neck as he tried to open his mouth to speak. Sansa knew she shouldn't be here with him, she shouldn't be seen with him. Her mother will most certainly be disappointed in her. But before she could stop herself, she asked, "So you feel like there are no one here who loves you?"

Jon ponders for a moment but then nods before asking her, "Do you? Do you feel like that?"

Sansa purses her lips. She didn't want to sound ungrateful for what she has. "Yes. I don't know why? I know everyone loves me and yet, deep down in my heart, I feel like it's not enough. Does that make me a bad person, Jon?"

"I don't think feeling makes you a bad person, Sansa. It's okay to want more. You know, you're meant for so much more than just this. I'll let you in a little secret. There is whole world out there waiting for you, great cities, art, culture, genuine beauty," he looks at her, his eyes warm, "and you can have it all. All you have to do is just ask."

Sansa looks at Jon, her eyebrow arching in amusement, "Oh yeah? And pray tell who will give me all that? Who do I have to ask?"

Jon shrugs, and Sansa wonders if the look in his eyes means if its him she should ask. She has no doubt in her heart that it she asks Jon of this, despite of their animosity, despite of him favoring Arya over her multiple of times he would give her all in heartbeat.

"Very well then," Sansa smooths her skirt with her hands, "what of you? If there is this whole world out there as you say, then why are you confining yourself to the north? To the wall. Yes I heard father speaking to uncle benjen."

"I don't want it. I'm not made for your world. I don't deserve it," Jon grits out, all earlier warmth and amusement gone from his face. He clenches his jaw, staring hard at the ground.

"Liar."

She had never seen him look so confused and angry at the same time. His head snaps to look at her so fast, she was pretty sure it must've hurt.

"What did you say?"

"Liar. You heard it the first time, Jon. You're lying about not wanting it , just as you're lying about not deserving it," Sansa answered gracefully.

She doesn't have to look down to know he is clenching his fist, barely containing his anger. His jaw clenching.

"Oh because you know it so much better. It's been fun evening, Sansa," the way he says her name sends shiver down in her spine, "but it's time you leave. This is no place for a lady to be such a late time."

Sansa scoffs, "Deny me of truth all you want but your face betrays everything you try so hard to hide. You want it all. And I'm here to tell you that wanting it, dreaming of it, it doesn't make you a bad person. It doesn't make you selfish. Take your own advice, Jon."

"Easy for you to say," she could hear the disdain in his voice.

"Its even easier to lie to yourself and convince it's the truth when it's anything but. You make your own way. It's your choice Jon. Punishing yourself into going to wall?"

"I'm not punishing myself," he sighs.

"Mhm, whatever you say. I must be off to my mother's chambers now. She must be worrying for me as you said. Do think about what we talked about before you make any decision and even though I already know. Farewell, Jon Snow," Sansa let his name roll out of her tongue easily. She got up with help of his outstretched hand he offered before walking away without sparing him a glance.

[vivilove-jonsa]

Robb Snow

Day 3- Legends

@jonsadrabbles

Ten years, it’s been Gareth’s duty to guard his queen wherever she goes, including here at Castle Black. He’s trying to ignore them but he’s not deaf. So long as she’s in no peril, it’s not his business and he knows she’s safe with him.

“Sansa...”

“Yes, Jon…”

It’s not the first time Gareth’s overheard them. That first time, he’d got an eyeful as well. The hot springs, his queen’s head thrown back in ecstasy, Jon Snow’s mouth between her legs. Embarrassed, he’d scurried away, telling himself she was safe enough in the godswood of her castle.

A moan, the rustling of clothes. Gareth steps away. There is only the one door to guard and this is not his business.

But, he spies the boy hurrying towards him before long. His mother adores him but she wouldn’t relish being disturbed at the moment. It’s been two years since the lord commander last paid a call at Winterfell. He wonders if she’ll come away from this visit with another babe in nine moons.

“Where’s your guard, my prince?”

“Left him behind,” the boy shrugs.

He’s six but quick and clever. Tom is too slow. He’ll need a different guard.

“Gareth? Some of the men were calling me Robb Snow.”

“Which men?” He must be on guard for any who would speak against his queen.

“They were Nights Watch. It sounded like a jest.”

“Oh.” He’ll tell their lord commander. When he’s not so preoccupied.

“Snow’s a bastard name.”

With dark hair and grey eyes, he’s clearly a Stark even if the queen remains unwed. “Aye but you’re Robb Stark, like your uncle. Don’t pay them no mind.”

The prince nods thoughtfully before asking, “But who is my father?”

“You should ask your mother that, my prince.”

The queen answers impertinent questions with impertinent answers. Her favorite refrain is her son was sired by a wolf but she would be gentle with Robb if he asked. Gareth knows she’ll tell him some day when he’s a bit older.

“Was my father really a white wolf?”

They did call him that once upon a time. “Do you believe that?”

“It sounds like something in a story.”

“Aye, it does, like some legendary hero.”

The boy grins. He loves the legends of old. “King Robb, the Wolf King.”

“He'll be a legend for certain,” Gareth says, playfully ruffling the boy’s curls.

“Robb?” a gruff voice says from behind them. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, my lord,” the boy says, rushing to embrace his mother's cousin.

Gareth can see the way Jon Snow’s throat bobs with emotion, the way he tenderly strokes the boy's cheek. He’s grown so much since you last saw him. Gareth has a boy. He can’t fathom only seeing him once in a great while.

The queen emerges from the lord commander’s quarters, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder and sharing a melancholic look with his father. Their story could be a legend as well...just a bittersweet one.

[zoyaalinas]

rosa suburbia

written for @jonsadrabbles

day 1: prompt ~ linger

summary: sansa's world is glossy pink. jon wishes she'd let him nurse his heartbreak in peace. he also wishes she'd let him stay.

“Can I work here for a bit? Robb’s so bloody loud I can’t hear myself.”

A listless shrug. “Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll be quiet.”

She nods, and says it again, sure, her rs clipped off like dead lobelias to make space for drags. Sometimes he wonders what Sansa dreams about when she’s perched this way- looking out a window with the secrecy of a sniper at a periscope, cigarette dangling from the left corner of her mouth. It’s how Jon finds her every morning on his way downstairs, seeking six o’clock supplies (hard-to-ration things: dental floss, Xeroxes, coffee, mental peace). A ritual viewing to keep balance: Sansa Stark in her too-pink bedroom wearing too-pink lingerie staring at too-pink sunsets, although on retrospection, sunsets here are never quite as brilliant as his idea of them.

Most things aren’t.

Outside, it’s summer. In the canon of atmospheric literature, there is something artificial about the way summer is described. Sunshine and great bursts of leaves. Air that smells of crushed fern. Summer in the foothills isn’t half as proprietary; it arrives in silence and gets into crevices like beach glass and thoughtless exchanges made in the heat of a single moment. The air, in fact, hadn’t smelt like crushed fern when Val had slammed the door upon his face in a hot blaze of tears and told him he had developed a pathological affinity for self-centeredness. It had smelt like the wine they’d drunk before.

That was two months back. Jon Snow lost two months to an error of judgement, though some of it was probably the wine too.

Anyway. Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien.

Thump, thump, thump. Insane acoustics. When Jon is sad, he drinks a lot and rhapsodizes on the lines of Richard Siken. When Robb is sad, he plays Post Malone. From the looks of it, Jon’s roommate must be fucking devastated today, but one can only endure Rockstar so many times before one feels a burgeoning need to pop in half a Percocet and seek refuge in the room of a greater, more tranquil being for the first time in forty days.

Thump.

Or, maybe he’s beating shit up? The Stark kids are a weird lot, Jon has come to realise from his time playing hanger-on: they keep to themselves and operate strictly on an eat-or-be-eaten policy, running on cool crisp cocktails of narcotics and self-hatred. Combinations vary: Arya punches jocks; Bran plays Ted Bundy podcasts during morning yoga sessions. Etcetera.

“What are you writing?”

Nothing to be exact, not since he got distracted from self-pity an odd minute back. More of guilt than anything else, Jon shuts his laptop. “Nada.”

 “You working on that novel?”

“Trying.”

“Feel you.” She taps on a fissure in the cool granite of the sill. “When Harry dumped me, I locked myself into a room and watched Elizabeth Taylor movies for 72 hours. Naked.”

“Sounds terrific.”

“The binging or the nudity?”

“Both. Invite me next time.”

“Alrighty!” this in a sing-song lilt, like playing Harley Quinn. “Bring your best Arbor Red and we’ll watch Gone with the Wind.”

“Don’t forget the other half of the pact.”

Sansa pulls a silly face, and he thinks, Percocet-hazed, funny girl. Conversations should’ve been initiated before, but she wasn’t, well, Val. Embarrassing.

“Here, have a whole drag. Cleanses your mind.” She proffers the cig at him, rolling-paper stained by a very bright, very bubblegum-pink lipgloss. Jon manages to complicatedly maneuver accepting the cigarette without making contact with Sansa’s fingers, a feat he’d thought impossible for any human in hypothetical pick-me-ups.

Not that he minds. Not that he’s-

“Close the laptop darling, if the angst doesn’t come in fifteen minutes it sure wouldn’t materialize in twenty.”

Not used to being told off by anyone in a camisole, Jon does, indeed, close his laptop.  It’s a very becoming camisole, objectively. In fact all of Sansa’s room has the strange congruity of an organized film set, there’s clutter, but it’s organic, prettily messy, an 80’s pinup-girl-dorm with the mandatory young Leo poster behind the door. The one in the floral shirt.

Jon looks at her again. Funny girl, yes, but also quite lovely, objectively, with that shock of red hair falling all over her face and big blue eyes with liquid flourishes at the creases that probably have a cosmetological name Jon doesn’t know. He watches her reapply her lipgloss in the dresser mirror. That particular pink would look atrocious anywhere else but somehow it looks just correct on her mouth. Glossology- proclaims the tube in bright gaudy silver letters. Shade 245: Rosa Suburbia. Christ above.

His phone buzzes. Val, says the ID, with the two blue hearts she’d added the day they’d swapped contacts. Jon hesitates, delaying the imminent. Lingering. Just another five seconds.

Mirror Sansa looks at him and flashes a dazzling smile. He smiles back only to realise she’s checking her makeup. Bit of an idiot move, classic Jon.

Another buzz.

“You better get that, Johnny,” Sansa chimes in her Harley Quinn voice.

Summer is untyped sentences waiting to be born, a room plastered by Vogue cutouts, a bed strewn with nail polish bottles, lacy underthings and empty boxes of dessert crumbs. Summer is ugly pink lipgloss and ridiculously lovely blue eyes and the epiphany that Gone with the Wind is that movie you’ve been planning to watch your whole life but simply never got around to.

“It’s probably dad, checking in. I’ll call him later. Listen, you want to go out on the terrace or something? It’s too smoky in here.”

“Shit, you just asked me on a date to my own rooftop?”

“Wait, what?”

She laughs.

The glow on Jon’s phone screen informs he has three missed calls. They can wait.

Being with Sansa is good. Being with Sansa works a bit like holding a red hot iron tong to an open flesh-wound. It’s overwhelming, and sometimes the bite in her words is hostile, but it heals. It cleans. If it were upto him, he would be cauterized by Sansa Stark every time the Percocet didn’t dissolve.

Outside, the summer too, lingers.

Inside, the room is thick with nicotine and Rosa Suburbia.

(follow the notes to read this on ao3)

[sunbeamsandmoonrays]

@jonsadrabbles Day 6:  Spring | Autumn

((Read the previous installments here))

For so long, all Sansa had known was misfortune. Reuniting with Jon had thankfully been the turning point.

After they regained their memories, Jon and Sansa had debated what to do next. (Should Sansa remain as Alayne? Should Jon immediately give her the kingdom that was rightfully hers? Should?...) Before they had made any decisions, a man bearing the sigil of a black lizard-lion had arrived in Winterfell and had asked for an audience with the king.

His name was Howland Reed. And he knew Jon’s mother…and who his actual father was.

This had changed everything. If word got out that the King in the North was actually a Targaryen…but no matter, for there had been a simple solution:

“Marry me,” Sansa had whispered to Jon after Lord Reed had retired for the night. “You are already a Stark to me. Marry me and I could make you one officially.”

And so, they did.

The beginning of their marriage and their joint reign was difficult. They still had Winter (and what came with it) to deal with. But Winter was defeated, and the ensuing Spring was glorious.

On a particularly fine day, Sansa decided to take a rare break from her queenly duties and spent the morning picking wildflowers in the godswood. She was now seated at the edge of a hot spring, her skirts folded neatly around her knees with her bare feet dangling in the water. From her selection of flowers, she weaved a crown of violet blooms and placed it on her head, the color very striking against her now red hair.

“That’s a fine crown for the Queen in the North.” Jon plopped himself down beside her on the edge of the spring. Following his wife’s example, he peeled off his boots, rolled up his pants legs, and dipped his feet in the warm water, letting out a happy sigh as he did so. “Do I get one?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” She reached in her basket, where she had placed a crown of pink blooms, and plopped it on his head. He blinked in surprise, which made her grin mischievously. “Oh! Husband! I never knew pink was so becoming on you. I need to request an order for fabric right away, to work on your new doublet!”

“Oh, no you don’t!” He pulled her against him and dug his fingers against her sides, making her squeal with laughter. He ended her torture soon enough, though, and kissed her sweetly.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips.

She sighed in contentment. “And I love you.”

He bent down and bestowed a kiss on the slight swell of her belly. “And I love you,” he cooed to their babe.

Their pack not only survived, but thrived.

[pax-2735]

Summer Storms (Jonsa Drabble Fest)

@jonsadrabbles​

Day 1: Linger

Brothers and Sisters

He sits in the Great Hall far past anyone else, only the scurrying of servants as they clean and shoot him dirty looks as they long for their own beds disrupting the silence that has fallen after everyone has retired for the night.

The faint sound of footsteps echoes on the stone floors and he hides a grin underneath a tankard of ale. He has drunk plenty this night but the haze has long since dissolved from his brain and he’s glad of it. He doesn’t wish to be drunk. Not for this. Not for her.

She enters the hall with her chin held high, a true queen in everything but name. Her steps are sure as she makes her way towards him, as she stops in front of the table that serves as a barrier between them now.

“Brother.” There’s a reproachful tone in the way she says it, a hint of scorn in the bite of her tongue, as though the word offends her personally. He wonders why. The gods know he has stopped caring about the meaning of such words long ago, long before he knew the truth he has yet to share with her.

“Sister,” he answers, and she raises a brow as the corners of her lips curl in the beginnings of a smile. She makes her way around the table, a finger dragging across the polished wood as she keeps her eyes lowered to the ground.

“I was wondering where you might be,” she says. Her tone is soft and demure but, as she makes her way slowly to his side, her eyes flicker up to meet his and there’s a hint of steel there, one he reads with ease. I thought you were with her.

He wants to reassure her. He wants to tell her that that’s over, that now that he’s back here, with her, he cannot think about anything else. He wants to share with her the truth he has just learned, how this thing between them, this living, breathing thing doesn’t need to be hidden anymore.

His hands find their way to her hips easily and give her a harsh tug. Her blue eyes flit nervously around but the servants have finally left now that their lady is here to deal with him, and they are blissfully alone. He pulls her down onto his lap, one hand secure around her waist as the other makes its way slowly under her skirts until he can touch smooth, warm skin. Her hands spear through his curls as she brings him closer, their lips only an inch apart when he murmurs, “There are things I need to tell you.”

“Tomorrow,” she breathes against his lips and he happily complies.

Tomorrow he and his cousin will talk. But tonight he wants to fuck his sister one last time.

[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. 

[esther-dot]

legends

for @jonsadrabbles‘s drabblesfest -- prompt: legends

"You know what they'll say in the songs?"

"What?" They had stopped at a stream to allow the horses to drink, and to Jon’s slight surprise, Sansa showed no hesitation in dismounting, cupping her hands, and drinking too. He forgot the water skin in his hands he’d intended to fill as she pushed aside a leaf drifting on the surface of the water, and began to wash her face, as if she’d grown up cleaning herself in a frigid stream rather than warm, scented waters fetched by a servant. Ice floated nearby where at home she would have only had to worry about rose petals disturbing her morning ritual.

She wiped at her face with a shrug of her shoulder, another carefree gesture he struggled to reconcile with the Sansa he knew. “They’ll say I seduced you into it. Into all of it.”

“Didn’t you?” He teased, expecting a blush, but her cheeks were too pink from the cold water to tell. He was surprised at her bright smile, “Did I?”

(read the rest below or on AO3)

He shook his head, ruefully chuckled. “I didn’t know you cared—how much you cared—until I left you on the dock in King’s Landing. I thought it was just me.”

“They’ll say I learned from Cersei, that your Targaryen blood got the better of you, and you lost your kingdom and your queen because of a Stark wh—”

“Don’t say it.” He filled the second water skin. “I don’t care what the songs or legends are. I did what was right.”

“And they punished you for it.”

“I was killed for doing what was right before, exile isn’t that bad.” His eyes crinkled, and again, she wondered that he could laugh at it all. She seethed with rage.

“What they did to you was unpardonable. I thought I’d never forgive the Lords for capitulating to the Unsullied.”

“I don’t think on it.”

“It should have been yours. All of it.”

“I sought nothing in the South, I desired no Northern crown. There was only one thing in the whole of Westeros that I wanted.”

She did blush then. “Pretty words won’t earn you kisses from me when your face is that dirty.”

Jon shrugged, “I think I could get one.”

“You most certainly will n—”

But he lunged, and she hardly managed to shriek before he caught her around the waist, and Sansa proved that a grimy face mattered very little to her.

Her nose was cold and red, but it made Jon smile, and with his fingers buried in her thick braid, he found no desire to revive his anger, “Songs are meant to be sung, legends are good for the telling, but life is meant to be lived. They can say what they will about all of it. I have what I want.”

[azulaahai]

@jonsadrabbles | may 10th | linger

Every morning is another ending. 

She ought to have left hours ago, of course. And yet … Sansa cannot bring herself to get out of bed. They are trapped beneath the covers in a drowsy sort of bliss. Jon is not yet awake. His chest so warm against hers. 

“I want you to stay”, he’d said last night, his voice half rough, half soft. Their life had become full of these little contradictions.

“I can not”, she’d said, softly, and she’d almost believed it, then. 

But dawn had come and here she was, still, wrapped in his sheets and with his name on her lips. She’d sworn to herself she would not linger, but linger she had, and sun has risen and a rooster is crowing in the distance and the end has come, again. 

She untangles herself from his arms, careful not to rouse him. He wakes anyway, of course. He always does.

She does not say anything as she heads for the door. Steps as soft as can be, not wanting to be heard by prying ears. She does not turn to look at him, even as she feels his eyes on the back of her robe. Will not, she tells herself, so much as glance at him for the rest of the day. 

Not till evening, when this ending is over and another one can start.

[annawoodhull]

jonsa week 2020 | may 15 spring | autumn (the mummy 1999 au)

@jonsadrabbles 95 words over... Yeah, I’m still flop with word count limits XD

When she’d risked nearly all her savings to prevent his execution, Sansa hadn’t anticipated what she would be getting herself into. The conditions included the condemned man accompany herself, her brother Robb, and the other adventure seeking Americans on their expedition in the search of Hamunaptra. She and Robb had been preparing to set off when the man found them and introduced herself. She had been met with a much cleaned up, dark eyed, tragically handsome looking man of the name Jon Snow. He’d kept some scruff, but dammit it all, it was a good look on him. He appeared amused at her gaping and boarded the ship with a practiced ease.

Sansa only desired him for his experience in the field, or so she kept telling herself. The boat ride to their destination  was rather cumbersome, seeing as how she was the only woman on board. To make matters worse, her ex-paramour from a few springs ago, Joffrey was on the expedition. Much to her dismay, she’d come to learn that he and Jon and served in the same regiment when Jon had been captured. Apparently, little Joffrey spotted an opportunity to escape and had no qualms about leaving him behind to save his own hide. That sounded about right.

The harrowing invasion of their boat hours later forced everyone aboard to abandon ship. The horses and what could be saved of their equipment were prominently of the hands of the Americans and Joffrey, whose arrangement with them had to be related to money.

“Hey, Jon!” Joffrey boasted. “Looks to me as if I’ve got all the horses!”

Without missing a beat, Jon mocked loudly, “Hey, Joffrey! Looks to me as if you’re on the wrong side of the RIVerrrr.”

Joffrey scoffed but looked around and threw a classic fit as he realized Jon was right.

“I can’t believe you dated that,” Robb muttered, nudging his sister as he grabbed their bags.

Sansa sighed. “Neither can I.” Then she looked up and noticed Jon glancing at her then away. It happened so quickly she convinced herself she imagined it. She accepted her brother’s coat, shivering at the night chill. It gave her the vaguest reminiscence of English autumn. “Can’t believe he managed to survive the raid.”

Jon shrugged. “I tried to get him to stay on the boat.”

It took them all night and a good portion of the day to come across a village, where they regrouped and gathered supplies. Robb haggled with a camel handler for three camels while Jon made arrangements for other necessities.

Sansa appeared with a group of village women, covered appropriately for the days’ journey into the dessert. The color brought out the color of her eyes, her hair even brighter contrasting with the dark blue Bedouin gown, complete with a veil. She met his gaze steadily, feeling more pleasure than she ought to when she saw Jon’s appreciative gaze.

She walked past him and accepted one of the camels, which was quite a bit taller than she. Biting her lip, she was contemplating how to go about it when she heard a low rumble, “Allow me.”

Jon’s hands were around her waist, incredibly warm through the threadbare material of the gown. Swallowing, Sansa allowed herself to be lifted onto the camel. Jon only released her when she was seated safely.

Once the handler was paid, Robb pulled Jon aside and looked at him. “Quit looking at my sister like that.”

Feigning bewilderment, Jon asked, “Like what?”

Robb’s eyes narrowed, though his lips twitched upwards. “Like a snack.”

Jonsa Week 2020 Original Post!

@maddiethefashionista so I finally got my The Mummy 1999 Jonsa fix! ;)

[ladystarks]

jonsadrabbles day four: hidden

It's a secret, a poorly hidden one, but Jon can't seem to stop staring at her, wishing... but the words for what he wants are too big. He can only grasp at them.

She's radiant, more lovely every time he sees her, even if it's just in snatches from across a crowded room.

I love you, he wants to say, to shout it from the walls, to whisper it in her ear. Do you know?

They get half a dozen moments together in the next week, and barely that. There's preparations to be done, war to be fought, but Jon feels his thoughts pull back to her at the most inopportune moments, a moth to a candle.

She finds him before the battle, and among a sea of soldiers, they are, for a moment, alone.

"I want you to have this," she says, and her hands are pressing a square of embroidered silk into his.

"A favor?"

Her eyes are inscrutable, when he searches them, but he wonders if they are not a mirror of his own.

"Yes," she says, and tucks it away into his armor. Hidden, and near his heart. "To keep you safe."

read it on AO3

[durgas]

hold my hand

summary: sansa stark has just got out of a bad breakup, particularly bad since it turns out her ex-boyfriend was a serial killer, and she needs to escape for a day. jon snow is more than willing to be there for her and take her away for a while.

The burnt orange tone, flecked with tiny streaks of red and gold, stretched itself across the sky as if to proclaim the day was over.

The couple had been sat on that old, worn-out bench since the early hours of the morning, not speaking much yet holding hands for the entirety of the time. They were a strange couple, youthful as they were, because they did not move from each other’s side and yet they were restrained in front of all who passed. Couples of their youth were more likely to be found kissing publicly, ignorant to everything except the object of their lust but not this couple. The red haired girl was held by the black haired boy, that was true, but there was no sexual undertones to their actions.

It seemed as if they wished for nothing more than to remain frozen in time.

“I needed today.” Sansa’s voice was soft, almost as if she were delirious with the day’s happiness. It was a far cry from the fruity, melodic sound to which Jon was accustomed, a fragile sound peeping from her delicate throat. 

His fingers gently caressed her crimson hair, burnished by the dimming light of the sun. “Aye, I know. You practically begged me to take you away.” He gently kissed the top of her head, a single gesture that was both love and protection. 

“I couldn’t stand the pity in dad’s eyes anymore.” A frustration crept into her voice although she didn’t move her head from Jon’s comfortable shoulder. “I’m sick of being judged and stared at, I didn’t knowingly choose to date a serial killer.”

He heard the harsh change in her voice and saw her face harden, her mouth grow tight and her beautiful blue eyes grow glassy. “Hey.” He held her body closer, offering reassurance in the only way he knew. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” 

Sansa remained silent, tears flooding into her eyes and an ache seizing her throat as she shuddered. She was dimly aware of Jon whispering comfort to her, of his hand squeezing hers and of the way he looked at her. She steadied herself, he didn’t look at her as if she was broken so why should she think of herself like that? It took several moments before she was able to speak again.

“No, I’m sorry.” She wiped away the tears, ignoring the many mascara smudges upon her fingers. She probably looked like a panda now, although did pandas go red like an overripe tomato? A hysterical laugh burst out of her, wild and untamed. “I dragged you away to have a pity party day with me.” 

His lips curved upwards in a smile. “A pity party day?” He laughed at the expression, relieved she almost sounded like herself again. “Sans, you’re a bloody muppet. It’s not like you were moping over that twat all day, we've had a good day.”

“We have, haven’t we?” The stress fell off her shoulders. Jon’s words had lightened the mood once again and she realised how he had done everything possible today to cheer her up. She was a bloody muppet indeed. “Even if all we’ve done is sit on a bench.”

“It’s been a very comfortable bench.” He shifted his weight, allowing her to lean on him a little more as he savoured looking at her. Her creamy skin, her gorgeous eyes and that smile that would make him walk a 100 miles. He wondered if she knew the effect she had on him.

“Liar.” She felt a surge of happiness as she spoke, the word slipping off her tongue with more than a hint of a challenge. His slate eyes looked amused at her words. 

A boldness took hold of her so she leant towards him and kissed him square on the lips, the surprise evident in his wide grey eyes. He responded, tasting the soft vanilla lip balm upon her lips, and liking every moment of this kiss. His hair tickled her face as their tongues met, each kiss longer and deeper than the previous one. His hands reached up to cup her face, so soft and so beautiful, as hers wound their way into his wild black curls. Desire flickered through her body as he moved down her neck, tenderly planting little kisses that set her body alight. Her breathing grew more erratic as his hands explored her body. 

“Excuse me.” A disapproving rough voice interrupted them just as Sansa bit down on her lip. “This is a public park and it’s now closing.” 

Frustration shot through her veins as she reluctantly moved away from Jon who was very calmly picking his things up. “How can you be so cool?” She hissed as they left the park, the moon peeping through the night sky. 

“I’m a calm sort of person.” He winked at her with those damnable grey eyes. “Plus, it gives me an excuse to say let’s go back to mine.”

The couple from earlier had disappeared. The couple who remained were much more like their counterparts, desperate to touch each other and with desire shining brightly in their eyes. The bench was now empty, yet something new had been found between the black haired boy and the red haired girl.

Darkness had threaded its way through the sky, tendrils of grey and black, depicting the end of pleasurable daylight activities.

Read on AO3 here :)

[acourtofhopeanddreams]

Happy Friends

Written for @jonsadrabbles​ Jonsa Drabblefest Day 1. Based on the prompt CAMPFIRE or LINGER

Jon is a scouts leader and he convinced Sansa to join him for the weekend. And even though she doesn't like sleeping in tents, she does love watching Jon being the best version of Jon ever.

Scouts AU // Modern AU

Sansa smiled. Even though she was out of place. Even though she was not exactly looking forward to sleeping on an air mattress in a tent tonight. Even though entertaining the young boys around her for an entire day had been exhausting as hell.

Right now they were gathered around the campfire and around the handsome boy with the guitar. None of them were particularly good singers and yet they seemed not ashamed of singing along with one silly song after another.

“Come on, San.” Jon looked up from his instrument and the flames reflected in his dark eyes. “You have an amazing voice. You should let them hear you.”

A blush warmed her cheeks and Sansa took a deep breath. “I might have a nice voice, but I’m afraid I know none of these songs. I have never been much of a scouts girl.”

If Jon hadn’t asked her to come with him to see for once how he spent all his Saturdays and some of his entire weekends, she wouldn’t have been here.

“What do you think, boys?” Jon cocked his head. “Shall we teach her one of our songs?”

He seemed so different surrounded by all of these boys. More natural. More relaxed. Maybe he was more himself here than Sansa had ever seen him anywhere else. He was at ease and the boys looked up at him and admired him. To them he wasn’t just their scouts leader, he was their idol and for most of them probably also their best friend.

“SING! SING! SING! SING! SING!” All the boys around her chanted and they had those determined looks on their faces.

Jon shrugged. “Can we teach you a song, Sansa?” He stood up from his place on the other side of the camp fire and walked towards her. “Can I squeeze in here?” He nodded at the two boys next to Sansa and quickly they made room for him to sit. “What kinda song do you wanna learn?”

“A nice and kind one without swear words or other vulgarities.” Sansa raised her eyebrows.

Jon placed a hand on his heart. “Sansa!” He widened his eyes and dropped his jaw. “We’re good guys! We only have nice and kind songs!”

The boys around them chuckled.

“What do you guys think about teaching her our clubsong?” Jon looked at all the boys, making eye contact with them, acknowledging them, seeing them. Really seeing them. He was probably the best thing in some of those lives. “Would that be okay?”

“If she comes more often!” One of the boys yelled, his voice echoing through the night.

Jon turned towards her and she saw the pleading look on his face.

The things one did for love.

“Fine.” She pecked Jon’s lips and ignored all the giggling surrounding her. “I hereby promise I will accompany Jon more often and that I would love to learn the clubsong.”

The screaming was deafening when Jon kissed her back.

[sunbeamsandmoonrays]

@jonsadrabbles Day 1:  Campfire | Linger

Jon received the news before Dawn’s pale light could shine on their camp; the harsh autumn wind carried the whispers of it everywhere else. A trespasser was found in their midst. A spy, mayhap.

He strode toward the southern fringes where a crowd was already gathered. Jon struggled to hear what the stranger was saying over the men’s mutterings and howling wind, but he managed to catch the tail end of it: “Please…” the voice was soft and unmistakably feminine. “I thought going North would be safer. I promise you I am not a spy.”

The crowd parted for him, and Jon saw that the newcomer was indeed a young woman. Her grey cloak was torn and filthy, and her dark hair was in an unkempt braid draped over her shoulder. The horse she came in on was laying on the ground nearby, its ribs visibly protruding with every fatigued breath it took. His heart lifted. Could it be?... He stumbled forward. She twisted around to face him, and Jon’s eyes eagerly drank in her appearance: porcelain skin, cheeks flushed from the cold, and blue eyes. As blue as a clear winter’s day,

As easily as Jon’s heart soared, it now came crashing down by his feet. Not Arya then. Arya had eyes like his. He didn’t remember much of his life before, but he remembered that. A girl in grey on a dying horse the stranger may be, but she was not his sister. The Red Woman gave him a false prophecy…and false hope, it seemed. So why was he still transfixed? Was she just as affected? He blinked to try and break the spell.

“What is your name, my lady?” he asked, his tone weary despite his best efforts.

Her tongue came out to moisten her cracked lips. His breath caught, and he was pulled right back under. “My name is Alayne.”

[pax-2735]

Summer Storms (Jonsa Drabble Fest) Day 2

@jonsadrabbles​

Day 2: Stolen

Robb(ed)

Robb steps inside the Stark residence, his eyes following Jon’s measured moves with interest. He looks calm and collected but Robb can see the way his eyes flit around nervously, searching for something.

“We’re here,” Robb yells out, and there’s a scurry of sound coming from the kitchen a moment before Sansa appears in the doorway, her eyes lighting up the second they land on his best friend, and she squeaks. Fucking squeaks, right before she flies into Jon’s arms so quickly Robb’s afraid they’ll both land on the floor, but Jon moves just as fast and they’re both clinging to each other in a hug so intimate it almost makes him want to avert his eyes. As it is, Robb merely clears his throat. Loudly.

She pulls back from Jon and her eyes are positively glinting as she looks him up and down before she swats him playfully. “I can’t believe I’ve been back almost three weeks and I still hadn’t seen you.”

“I know.” Jon is smiling harder than Robb’s ever seen him do before as he nods his head towards him. “I kept telling your brother to set something up but he was always stalling.”

She shrugs casually, her arms still around Jon. “He’s probably just worried I’m gonna steal you from him.”

Jon smirks. “Or that I’ll steal you from him.”

She cocks her head to the side before giving Jon a mischievous smile. “Maybe we should just steal each other already.” She gives a slight nod towards Robb. “You know, put him out of his misery and all that.”

Robb narrows his eyes at them, trying to hide the smile that’s desperate to break free. “Are you two done flirting with each other?”

“I don’t know.” Sansa looks at Jon in mock concentration, her eyes squinting at him before her playful smile is back full force. “Are we done?”

Jon shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes still glued to her. “Yeah, probably. You know I suck at flirting with pretty girls.”

She laughs as she starts to move back into the kitchen, her hand giving his arm a playful squeeze. “Very smooth Snow.”

Jon follows her without hesitation, and Robb can hear the two of them chatting away happily while he’s left standing in the entrance, the smile now fully showing across his face. They may tease him about it all they want, but Robb knows those two have already stolen each other’s hearts.

Even if they don’t know it yet.