#jonxsansafanfiction

[theshipshipper]

all eyes on us | part 10/?

Track the fic here or on AO3!

[damdamfino]

Chapter 6 of A Baleful Howl is now up!

JonxSansa Fanfiction

A Baleful Howl (32,055 words) by DamDamfino 

Chapters Posted: 6/32

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Mature 

Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark 

Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Brienne of Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane, Davos Seaworth, Petyr Baelish

Additional Tags: Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Eventual Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Might as well have a 50ft fuse slow burn, Implied/Referenced Incest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Creator Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings / Graphic Depictions of Violence 

Summary: 

Jon and Sansa are all that’s left of the Winterfell from their childhood. After winning their home back from the Boltons, they now have to trust each other and work together to overcome their pasts…and their future.

Sansa can’t sleep alone and Jon no longer dreams. Winter is here, and all they have is each other.

[Picks up right after BotB. Post Season 6 Divergent.]

This was their lot in life; death, tragedy and pain. They were the only ones left. She had been through this. Had been forced to stare upon her father’s head, to hear the cheers at her brother’s and mother’s death, to walk the ghostly halls of her home. She knew this song. She couldn't let Jon succumb to it. ------ She was fragile and he did not know what she needed. He was broken, too - and two broken pieces don't always fit together. She needed better than him.

—

Direct Link to Chapter 6 : Enemies

This Chapter’s Song - [Black - Kari Kimmel] 

A/N: I’m baaaaaack. But I’m also avoiding logging into Tumblr right now to avoid spoiler comments on one of my side blogs. Sorry if I don’t respond to comments here - I’m not looking at my notifications!

I will be updating A Baleful Howl weekly for a few weeks, (either Friday afternoons or Saturday afternoons) so please keep an eye out for updates even if I don’t announce them here on Tumblr. 

[a-baleful-howl]

A Baleful Howl Chapter 5 is now up!

A Baleful Howl by Damdamfino on AO3

Total Words: 28,563

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Relationship: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Additional Tags: Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Eventual Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Might as well have a 50ft fuse slow burn, cameo appearances - Freeform, Getting to know you, Implied/Referenced Incest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kind-of Slice of Life?

Summary: Sansa and Jon's victory for Winterfell brought with it the responsibility of The North and the survival of it's people. Now they are faced with the questions of who are their enemies, who are their allies, and whether two broken wolves can become a pack. Will they work together to overcome their personal demons and perhaps find solace in their pain or will revenge and duty jeopardize everything? [Picks up right after BotB.]

Direct Link to Chapter 5: Nightmares (a whopping 8,000+ words)

This Chapters Song

--------

Whats this? A single chapter update after 3 years? Yes. I am that bitch. No beta readers - we die like men.

I couldn’t get my chapter art to look how I wanted it in my head - so if any Jonsa artists out there are taking commissions right now, hit me up.

[angmarwitch]

tonbo (dragonfly)

Jon x Sansa Kimetsu no Yaiba (Demon Slayer) AU

Summary: "In the end, she was a pillar..." 

A/N: First of all, happy, happy birthday to my dearest friend @fromtheboundlesssea​. I’m truly grateful to have you as a friend. Thank you so much for expanding the What If fics that I really want to write (but I can’t cause honestly, my writing sucks these days and I can’t simply finish a multi-chap fic) and for the times when I can’t check your work on time because I am always busy. Also, thank you for being there. <3 I know you’re unfamiliar with this anime but I hope you’ll still enjoy (even if the ending is a bit angsty). 

For the readers, this is probably the first jonsa fic I’ve written in months. I’m still feeling bummed about Season 8 and my disappointment is hindering me from writing. I’m really sorry. I don’t know if any of you are familiar with KNY but I tried to make it as understandable as possible. 

For the fans of the series, this is inspired by Giyuu and Shinobu (I love their relationship & dynamics). But be warned, this contains spoilers from the manga. 

Enjoy!

Warning: Angst, Character Death, Spoilers from the Manga

There was no rule, spoken or written, that prohibits them from falling in love. Some of the Pillars (basically generals) from the previous generations, even retire to settle down and start a family of their own, shedding off the burden of being in the front lines to protect the innocent people that the demons feasted upon. However, from all the tragedy that had befallen the Lady of the Dragonfly Estate, she had learned to bar her heart from ever feeling such kind of emotion.

Despite the joy and seemingly carefree facade she puts up each day, there was no trace of happiness in her heart. The moment that her sister, the last remnant of her biological family, died, all the joy that she once felt slowly dissipated, leaving her heart void of any emotions except for anger. And the giddy persona that she had put up was her mask, her way of keeping the fury at bay. Of course, she wasn’t entirely incapable of feeling other emotions, she can still sympathize with others and understand what they are going through, it’s just that she can’t simply grasp the idea of being happy and falling in love after all that she went through.

But, in the end, she realized that she was just human.

She was clueless as to how or when it happened. But it did.

Someone had managed to thaw the ice that had frozen Sansa Stark’s heart and weaved away inside.

“Oh, darling,” Margaery had crooned so sweetly when Sansa confessed the burden that had weighed her mind for a while now, “it is not wrong to love.”

Naturally, Margaery would be the only person who would comprehend Sansa’s predicament, she was the Love Pillar after all. But her being so perceptive about love was not why Sansa approached her in the first place. Their comrades will never get it, them being male, and she could not tell them lest the secret comes out. Jeyne, her chosen successor, was still too young to grasp the concept and she does want to bother the Master with such trivial matters. Margaery could keep a secret and she was the only thing close to a sister and a motherly figure to Sansa.

“But we are pillars…” in the end it’s either we survive or die.

Margaery’s gaze softened, her delicate hand reached out to Sansa’s own and squeezed it gently.

“All the more reasons why you should act on what you feel. Our lives are fleeting, and we never know when or where we will die. Do you truly want to accept death without ever knowing how it feels to love and to be loved?”

“I…” Sansa paused, unaware of how to respond. She had spent all her life fighting, finding a way to avenge the family and the sister she lost to the Night King and Littlefinger, and she had never once considered this possibility. Her eyes dropped down and the feeling of sadness assaulted her senses. She hated that she had become emotional because of love. But she can’t deny the fact that she was also craving for what it has to offer, both the bliss and pain. 

Nevertheless…

“Tell him, Sansa,” Margaery urged, “ Jon deserves to know that you return his affections.”

The packet looked innocent and harmless to humans but one dose was enough to incapacitate a demon, ten was required to kill one. A year’s supply, however, was what it takes to take down one of the Upper Generals of the White Walker demons.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lady Melisandre implored, “there are other ways in which you can defeat Littlefinger and they won’t cost you your life.”

Sansa eyed the vial warily before swallowing all of its contents. For humans, wisteria does not pose any dangers or risks, and the poisonous compound that she had just ingested was almost similar to eating a powdered sugar. It was sweet. So very sweet…

“I have made up my mind long ago,” Sansa responded indifferently. She knows her biggest foe by heart. Littlefinger had always been so obsessed to get her and being the only Pillar who can’t decapitate a demon, this was the only way she can defeat him. She had altered her own body and changed her physiology to contain a huge amount of wisteria. This was what she had worked all her life and nothing could ever change her mind.

The victory will be hers and the death of her family will finally be avenged.

“I understand,” Melisandre conceded giving her a look of understanding and pity. Sansa does not need it. Yes, all of them may have suffered under the hands of the Night King and his demons but they will never get what she had gone through. All those nightmares, the pain, and the suffering that plagued her for years.

She gave their new ally a bow before standing up to leave. She was about to reach the door when Melisandre spoke up again, this time with a question she was not expecting.

“And what about the Water Pillar? Is his love not a reason for you to live?”

The memory of the event that happened ten months prior to replayed in her mind. Two different scenarios with two different women she had come to admire.

Yet, in the end, the response is the same.

Slowly, Sansa lifted her head and when their eyes met, Margaery could see tears unshed.

*

From the window of his house, Jon could see the incoming crow and there was something about its approach that bothered the young pillar. He had been recovering from his injuries from the injuries he had sustained from his last mission when he sensed its approach. So despite his body’s protest for him to continue laying down, he went and opened a window to watch the bird enter his vicinity.

Dark wings, dark words, were the words his Master would always say whenever a crow is sent out. Their crow familiars had always been the harbinger of news, both the good and the bad.  

Today’s message was either summons from the new head of the Bloodravens, the family that leads their organization, or it may be news from the North about his comrades. He had not heard from them while he was recovering so he braced himself for the worst.

He waited for the crow to announce the news it brought as it flew in the sky, instead, the crow took a plunge towards him. Jon was taken aback with surprise and alarm. It was very unusual for their messengers to do that when delivering the word. When the crow finally reached him, Jon felt dread creep in his heart as he saw the parchment tied on one of its legs. It must be very serious that it needed to be written. With shaking hands, he removed it and slowly unfurled the paper to see its contents.

He immediately recognized Margaery’s flowery script.

She loved you, Jon. I’m sorry, it read. His eyes ran over the text several times, not fully discerning what it meant. His heartbeat increased tenfold the longer he stared at it.

I don’t understand.

“Dead,” the crow cawed suddenly, jolting him from his daze. There was something heart-wrenching about the way it spoke the words. It was then that he noticed the red ribbon with the dragonfly print strapped on its neck. His eyes widened and the parchment fell from his grasp when the realization had sunk in.

“No,” he gasped, fervently shaking his head as he backed away from the window. He covered his ears, refusing to hear any more of what the crow has to say.

No…

“Dead,” it cried again, ascending higher into the night sky, “Sansa Stark is dead.”

[jonsansadaily]

Chapter 2

Sober (5897 words) by Sansa_Stark_Snow Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Joffrey Baratheon, Margaery Tyrell Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Mild Smut Summary:

Sansa's busy drowning her sorrows over her failed relationship until Jon Snow shows up and takes her mind off it.

[mollyraesly]

Jonsa LOTR fic?

I’m thinking of writing a crossover Jonsa/LOTR fic in which Sansa is Éowyn and Jon is an Eomer/Faramir/Aragorn combo.

Any interest?

[nessataleweaver]

The Strange Sanctuary of Sansa Stark: And Life is Like a Song (fanfic)

(Fusion with The Curious Creations of Christine McConnell) It's been exactly four years since Jon stumbled into Sansa's home, and four years since he claimed her as his mate.  Sansa's trying to bake an elaborate cake to celebrate, but Jon has something else on his mind.

 For @jonxsansafanfiction Love Songs event 2019: Day 3

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: Au – modern with magic; Muppets meets Addams family; family life; smut with feels; blue and orange morality; vague dom/sub themes; getting caught by the kids; Jon the Wolfman; implications of bestiality; Sansa just loves Jon for EVERYTHING he is, okay?

NOTES: This is actually a sequel to my Day 5 entry! (shrug) That’s the way the Muse goes, I guess.  For that reason, this won’t go up on AO3 until I’ve got the first entry in the series ready to post as well. 

For those who’ve actually watched Curious Creations on Netflix, Sansa fills Christine’s role (obviously), though I’ve pumped up her role to have supposedly minor magical powers. Rankle is… well, Rankle. (A mummified Cat brought back to life by Sansa, once worshipped as a God in Ancient Egypt) Lady substitutes for Rose (created out of four different species, then raised from the dead, Frankenstein-style); instead of being mainly a raccoon, Lady is mainly a Husky. Both can speak, just like the show.  Jon is a combination of Edgar and Norman (without the ritual serial killer tendencies).

At last, the skies above are blue

My heart was wrapped in clover

Ever since the night I looked at you

And I found a dream that I could speak to

A dream to call my own

I found a thrill to press my cheek to

A thrill I'd never known

At Last – Etta James

 It was a perfect morning.

The skies were blue with just a few fluffy white clouds to make the blue pop.  The air was warm without being hot.

Sansa's fingers itched with the need to bake, to create something sweet and beautiful.  There were so many things to celebrate today.

She had a beautiful yet sturdy house full of pretty and eerie things she'd created.  She had a heart tree in the backyard so she could pray to the Old Gods and Bran could come visit her whenever they like.  Which also provided lovely shade so the babies didn't get sunburned.

She had Rankle to chat to and toss quips back and forth with.  She had Lady, her greatest creation, to cuddle and go jogging with.  She had Milly living at the back of the refrigerator to hand her things, and Bernard lurking in the basement and making sure the small mystical convergence there didn't become a nasty Hellmouth.

And four years ago today, a miserable beastkin stumbled through the front door, desperately in need of a place to shelter.  It was exactly four years since he claimed her as his mate, and Jon regained his human skin.

Now Sansa had a beautiful man by her side and a passionate lover in her bed, and a devoted beast to patrol her perimeters at moon-dark.  She had two children almost as beautiful as their father.

Sansa tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter and wracked her mental recipe files.  What could she bake, to celebrate this most special day?

Well, obviously a cake.  She had several sheet cakes in both vanilla and chocolate waiting in the chiller to be sculpted and frosted... but what shape? She'd made a replica of their house for Jon's welcome party four years ago (plus monster eyes and mouth, of course) and it had been a huge hit.  She didn't usually repeat her creations, but maybe today could be an exception?

Sansa was wearing her blue sundress with the flared skirt and buttons all the way down the front (Jon's favourite), but she didn't bother with an apron.  The only one she had that co-ordinated with this dress was in the laundry basket, and besides, even without her powers as a Hearthwitch, her baking skills had long ago evolved beyond needing an apron.

Humming merrily, Sansa brought out two of the large sheet cakes, one chocolate and one vanilla, first cutting them both into two square cakes, then cutting each in half horizontally so she could add jam and buttercream to make them stick together properly and add to the flavours.

In the middle of setting out bowls to mix the fillings, Sansa heard a shuffled step behind her, one that she would always recognise.  She turned, and her heart gave a tiny skip, the way it always did whenever she saw Jon after more than an hour apart.  He was just so gorgeous.  Black shoulder-length curls, well-trimmed (by her) beard, with snowy skin and smoky grey eyes.  He wore his usual stretch skinny jeans and loose shirt, in case he needed to transform into his beastman form unexpectedly.  It did hide his deliciously sculpted torso, but one couldn't have everything in life.

Since Jon was meant to be nocturnal, he usually wandered around the house or transformed and went hunting after she fell asleep.  Then he'd join her in bed to wake her up in the nicest way, then drop off to sleep himself as she dressed.  It was a good arrangement that let Jon get in his howling time and Sansa get in baking and crafting time.

"You're up early!" Sansa smiled.  "It's not even lunchtime."

"But this is a special day," Jon smiled back.  "I want to spend as much of it with all of you as I can." He looked over at the breakfast nook, and asked, "Where are Brandon and Brienne?"

"Playing under the Heart Tree with Lady.”

Jon looked slightly alarmed, “I’m not sure I locked up the garden shed last night.”

Sansa reassured him, “I checked before letting the twins outside.  All the traps, the organic poisons, and the gardening equipment are secure.  And Rankle's supervising as well."

“That’s okay then,” Jon looked relieved.  “Bran isn’t here?”

“I called him yesterday – on the phone, not through the Heart Tree – and talked to Meera.  He’s in the middle of some ritual, and he thought today should be just for us.  He’s bringing Meera and Jojen by the day after tomorrow for a nice long visit.”

Jon came forward to meet her in the middle of the kitchen, and kissed her lingeringly.  “Happy anniversary, dear heart.”

“Happy anniversary.”

“How are we celebrating?” Jon had learned early on to leave all festivities to Sansa’s expert planning and crafting.

“We’re having something special with dinner, of course, for all of us to enjoy together.”  Sansa’s gaze turned sultry, “Tonight, we can have our own celebration.  I’ve even made something especially for you to tear off me and rip to shreds.”

Jon grinned, and his eyes started to burn hotly.  Sansa knew that look, but she had a cake to make, so she kissed him on the tip of his nose and turned back to the counter.  

It occurred to her that Jon should really have some input into the cake, so she asked, "I thought I'd make a house-shaped cake, but should I do another one like our house, or-Jon?"

"Mmm?" her mate asked, nuzzling behind her ear.

His arms slid snugly around her waist, as she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Sansa," he sighed, and planted a kiss where her neck joined her shoulder.  He was glad that she was wearing her hair up this morning.  More access to her lovely neck.

"Jon, I can detect your pheromones."

"Just a little." Which was true. He only wanted to tease her a little, to start her towards a lusty mood. Sansa had spoken to him seriously about how his mating scent affected her and the need to talk to her first before he fully unleashed it.

But Sansa's body was adding scent-notes entirely of her own lust, which added to her scent on this particular day was starting to make his head spin as well as making his cock hard.

"But we made love when I woke up. It's only been four hours."

"So?" Jon asked, genuinely puzzled.  He and Sansa mated every morning when she woke up and before he went to sleep. They mated every night before she went to sleep.  They often mated during the day as well.  Jon was proud of how often and well he fulfilled his responsibility to pleasure his mate.

He kissed her neck again, over the bite mark he'd left when he'd claimed her.  (She didn’t bother to disguise it unless they went out in public.) "I want to mount you again, Sansa. I want to make another baby."

Sansa's wonderful teats were heaving in their blue silk prison, (he honestly didn't understand why his mate insisted they wear all these clothes) and Jon placed his open mouth on the side of her neck, sucking hard with just a touch of teeth.  He badly needed to mark her somewhere.  

Jon slid his hand expertly under the knee-length skirt of her dress, and rested a hand on her belly, just above her mound.  "You're ripe for breeding today, Sansa.  Your scent is heavy with it.  You haven't been this ripe since we made the twins."

Sansa lifted her hand off the counter to thread through Jon's curly hair.  His words sparked a higher heat between her legs, and from the way he was smiling into her neck, her horny beast of a husband knew it.

She’d already made lunch and had it waiting in the refrigerator.  So she had plenty of time yet to make the cake for dinner and the twin’s favourite edible spiders for afternoon tea, especially if she spelled the spoons to mix the filling for her and she air-brushed the roof instead of hand-piping.  The children were still at the age where they cared more about taste than appearance, and Rankle and Lady liked edible paint better than lots of icing anyway.

Bran had foretold for her, once, that she'd have seven children.  The twins were already three, and it did feel like the right time for another baby.

Sansa’s resistance was melting like butter on the stove under her husband’s ardent attentions.  She could already feel her wetness on her inner thighs. Her nipples were hard and tingling, and her breasts ached with need for Jon’s touch.  They had become larger and fuller from feeding the twins, but didn’t sag from the extra weight. Sansa wasn't sure if it was the healing of a Hearthwitch, or the mating bond lending her Jon's powers of physical recovery, but neither of them argued with the results.

As if hearing her body’s demands, Jon’s clever fingers swiftly undid the buttons that fastened her dress in front (which is why this was Jon's favourite dress), all the way to her waist.  A light tug, and her bare breasts spilled out.

"Jon!" Sansa gasped. It was supposed to be in admonition, but even Sansa could tell she just sounded turned on.  Because she was.  

"You didn't cage your teats today," Jon said smugly.

"It's called a bra, Jon."

"And you didn't wear it today," he chuckled.

Sansa sighed.  Who was she kidding?  

She'd stopped wearing panties years ago, except for necessity five days a month.  Jon found anything between him and her cunt annoying to the point of offensive, and had spent every day of their first month together methodically shredding whatever pair she was wearing.  But she still always wore a bra, and told Jon if he ripped up those she'd punish him, and it wouldn't be in the way they both enjoyed so much.

But it was their anniversary today. Not of the quick courthouse ceremony that Sheriff Brienne Tarth had witnessed, that gave her the ring she wore on a chain around her neck.  But of the night they'd met.  The night they'd mated. The night they'd made their darling Brienne and Brandon.

Sansa knew perfectly well when she took her most easily accessible dress out of the closet this morning that Jon would be pawing at her every time she turned around today.  Or else she would drag him down to the basement for punishment, in exactly the way they both enjoyed so much.

"Just let me put these cakes back in the chiller, and we'll go upstairs," she sighed.

"No."

"Jon!" Sansa squealed as his fingers dipped between her thighs, finding her pearl.

"We have two cubs like me. I want a little Hearthwitch like you this time.  So we should make her in the kitchen."

Sansa started caressing her own breasts, panting with need.  Her husband's logic did seem quite sound.

The two kitchen counters were built in an L shape, with one ending against the wall and the other leaving an opening next to the refrigerator.  Sansa shifted her body to face the corner where they met, Jon moving with her and rutting his hardness against her bottom at the same time.  Sansa slid her feet a little further apart, and leaned forward from her hips, reluctantly taking her hands off her breasts to brace one on each counter.

Jon unfastened his fly with a groan of relief, pushing his jeans down to his knees.  He placed one hand on the curve of Sansa’s hip, and with the other he grasped his aching hardness and guided it to where his mate waited for him, hot and wet and welcoming.

Sansa moaned as he thrust deep as he could inside her.  He’d been slow and tender with her this morning, but Jon could feel his lust burning furiously now.  The craving to breed his mate was eroding his self-control, and he held her hips firmly to keep her in place as he started to fuck her hard.

Sansa gasped and sighed in appreciation, her inner muscles clutching him greedily.  She was already building up to a peak, Jon could tell, and he wanted to get her there quickly, more than once, before he seeded her.

"Do you want me to put on my fur?" Jon grunted as he pounded away, his hips smacking into her arse. "Do you want me to mount you like I did the first time?"

Sansa moaned as a wave of pleasure rolled through her from head to toe.  When she'd recovered from the small climax, she panted, "Not now. Tonight, in our room.  I want you to take me like a beast.  Make me your bitch all over again!"

Jon growled in response from deep in his belly, making his cock quiver inside her. "Yes, Sansa, I will. But first we'll make another child. Another for our pack."

As his mate panted and whined in her lust, Jon's supernatural ears heard other sounds, approaching the French doors that led into the garden from the kitchen.

"Bend over," he ordered, pushing on Sansa's shoulders.  She bent double, her hair almost brushing the floor and her skirt flipping over her torso - and all signs of her disappearing beneath the kitchen counters, which blocked all sight of Jon up to his waist as he stilled his hips.

Moments later, two small humans (more or less) and two undead animals came through the doors.  Rankle jumped from the floor to sit on the breakfast nook bench, with Lady sitting on the floor beside him.

"Daddy, you're up!" exclaimed Brienne.  Both the twins had his hair and eye colour, but Brienne was the only one with his curls.

"Does that mean it’s lunchtime, now?" asked Brandon.  "We're getting hungry."

"Not yet, little ones," Jon answered.

Lady's nose wiggled as she sniffed, and her tail wagged.  Jon knew she'd already figured out what was going on.  Lady had every male furry pet in the neighbourhood (and some that weren’t pets) as part of her harem, after all.

"Where's Mummy?" Brienne asked.  "Ooh, is she making something?"

"Mummy's always making something," retorted Brandon.

Jon grinned.  Hidden by the counter, he gently rubbed one hand along the tight curve of his mate's arse, enjoying the silken feel of her skin. Her thighs, pressed flush against his own, trembled in response.  "Mummy is busy making something, actually."

"More like getting busy," Lady muttered, with a canine grin.

"Holy Hathor, don't you two ever stop?" muttered Rankle, with an eye-roll.

"I'm helping her," Jon told everyone, "But it's a surprise for dinner tonight.  So why don't you go outside for-" he squinted at the clock, "another forty minutes.  That'll be enough time for Mummy and I to finish the first stage and make lunch.  Why don't you play pirates? Your Uncle Theon's due to be surfacing in the lake for a visit soon."

"Yay! Pirates!" the twins cheered, and headed out the door, Lady in hot pursuit. Rankle gave one more eye-roll, and followed.

The interruption had taken the most urgent edge from his lust, and as he watched them go, Jon smiled and began to concentrate hard.  Sansa had always encouraged him to develop his beastkin powers and abilities, and there was something he'd been working on, just for her...

Sansa was breathing hard as she put first one hand, then another on the counter, dragging herself up to brace her forearms on top.  Now bent parallel at the hips, she wiggled her bottom against Jon's groin. "Keep going," she demanded.

Later, she'd be mortified that her children had nearly discovered her in flagrante delicto, but right now she was aching to come, to feel Jon's seed spurting deep inside to give her another baby.  A magical one this time, like her or even as powerful as Bran.

Jon leaned forward to press his chest against her back, and reached beneath her to happily play with her teats. He slowed his thrusts, circling his hips until he was grinding instead of thrusting.

Sansa gasped in shock.  She could feel his cock swelling inside her, bulging in one particular place.  But how could his knot form now, when he was fully human?  Then she realised exactly where in her pussy his knot was forming, and started to whimper again.  She was going to climax in less than a minute at this rate!

"Surprise!" Jon panted into her ear gleefully.  "I figured out how to form my knot at will when I’m wearing my skin.  Did I find your special spot okay?"

Sansa put both her hands over her mouth, to stifle a scream that would bring every creature in the house running. "Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, your knot is rubbing right there!"

“Are you going to peak now, my dear heart?” Jon growled.

“Yes, yes I’m coming!”

“Are you going to peak nice and hard for me?”

Sansa answered by letting out a muffled shriek while every inch of her pussy clamped down on his cock.  It felt so good that Jon’s self-restraint shattered. All at once, he buried his face between her shoulder blades, clutched her teats hard, growled and lost control of his knot.  It deflated instantly, spraying his seed like a geyser into his mate’s body.  

Sansa pushed herself up gingerly, until she was almost standing upright.  Jon’s body stayed tightly pressed against hers, his hands rubbing her breasts gently.

“Jon, honey, you need to pull out.”

“No,” her stubborn husband said. “Not until your womb soaks up all my seed.”

Sansa sighed, “Jon, it’s probably already… oh, alright.  Let’s wait a couple of minutes.”

         *****

Eventually, Sansa did get to make a lovely and delicious cake in the shape of a house.  (After she'd magically cleaned herself and the kitchen, had lunch with Jon, the twins, Rankle and Lady, and sent Jon upstairs for another nap, because she was going to keep him very busy once the twins had gone to bed.) The cake didn't look like their house, but a little like a barn, with some fun additions of pointy teeth in the door-frame and glowing yellow eyes in the dormer windows.  But did it turn out to look exactly like the playhouse Jon was building for the children and hadn't told her about yet.

Unlike her early-bird twins, little Lyarra was born exactly nine months later; and she did turn out to be a Hearthwitch just like her Mummy.

[captainbee89]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire

[jonsapositivity]

Can I just say that an amazing part of the Jonsa fandom are the ladies @jonxsansafanfiction? Thank you so much!

anonymous at @jonxsansafanfiction

[theshipshipper]

all eyes on us | part 9/?

Track the fic here or on AO3!

[jeeno2]

Frigid

Written for Day 2 of @jonxsansafanfiction‘s Twelve Days of Shipping Challenge:  “Keeping each other warm.”

Jon grits his teeth as he gingerly lowers himself into the steaming bath Tormund drew for him.

Under normal circumstances a warm bath is a luxury.  But right now Jon does not welcome it.  Just the opposite. He was so cold for so long today the water’s heat is almost unbearable, stinging and biting at his chapped skin.

He’d been outside, exposed to the elements, for more than ten hours before Tormund and Gendry found him in that cave north of here.  By the time they got him back to Winterfell his body was so cold icicles were forming inside his beard.

Tormund wouldn’t allow Jon to do anything else until he promised to spend the rest of the night in a tub full of water as hot as he could stand.

As much as Jon hates the idea of soaking in a hot bath all night while there’s still so much to be done, he’d grudgingly agreed to do as she’d instructed. Tormund knows better than anyone how to keep a person alive after nearly freezing to death.  Besides – as reluctant as Jon had been to agree to this, he knows his dying is the last thing anybody needs now.

Wincing against the pain in his side, Jon leans forward to grab the damp cloth Tormund draped over the opposite side of the tub before leaving. 

But even that small movement is too much for him.  As soon as he inches towards the cloth Jon can feel the fresh stitches in his side pulling taut against his raw flesh.  He shuts his eyes against the pain and groans, easing himself gently back against the tub’s edge.

He knows he’s damn lucky to be alive.  He reminds himself to focus on that as he struggles to tamp down his frustration over everything else.

But he also needs to find Sansa.  Soon.  She wasn’t there when they brought him back to Winterfell.  He needs to let her know he’s all right.  That he’s alive.

Especially given how he left things this morning.

No sooner does he think it than Sansa, as if on cue, materializes inside the doorway to his small room.  She stares at him, eyes so wide it’s like she can’t believe she’s really seeing him, in the flesh, and not a ghost.  Her jaw is clenched – from nerves, or worry, or anger; or maybe some combination of the three – and her lips are pressed together tightly in a thin line.

Someone must have found her and told her he was back. And then she must have come to him immediately, straight from her bedchamber, because it’s nearly midnight and she’s wearing a thin cotton nightdress and nothing else.  It only goes down to her mid-thigh, and despite the fact that Jon nearly died on his stupid mission today his eyes still linger just a beat too long on her beautiful, bare legs.

By the gods, he is pathetic.

After what feels like an embarrassingly long time Jon finally manages to tear his eyes away from her body.  He glances down at his hands, slowly turning into prunes in the water, and opens his mouth to say something.  But then he closes it again when he realizes he has no idea what to say.  Or what she even wants to hear from him.

To his relief, Sansa jumps first.  Just like she always does.  “You’re back,” she says simply.  Her words are so quiet he almost can’t hear them over the thudding beat of his heart.

He nods. This, at least, is something he knows how to answer. “Yeah,” he says. “I am.”

The right corner of her mouth quirks up into a half smile.  Jon decides that’s probably a good sign.  Or, that at least it’s a sign she hasn’t just come here to kill him herself.

“Can I…” she begins, but then trails off.  Her eyes dart to the far corner of the room.  A faint blush starts to rise on her cheeks, and she fidgets with the hem of her nightdress.  “Can I… um.  Come in?”

Jon’s stomach does an odd, but not entirely unpleasant sort of flip at her question.  His eyes go wide in surprise.

“You want to come in?  Here?”  His voice is much squeakier than it usually is.  He can’t help but cringe at the sound of it.

It isn’t that Sansa’s never seen in him in various states of undress before.  It’s just that it’s been about ten years. And Sansa has certainly never seen him like this before: half-frozen, filthy and exhausted, soaking in a bathtub wearing nothing at all.  Jon is completely exposed to her right now, totally vulnerable – and legitimately terrified for the first time all day.

If Sansa is half as surprised by her proposal as Jon is she doesn’t show it.  She only shrugs, though she still won’t look at him.  “Yeah.  I thought I could… I don’t know.”  She goes back to fidgeting with her nightdress.  “I thought I could maybe… help you. Or something.”

Jon blinks at her.  “You want to help me?” he asks.  “How?”

She sniffs and looks a little offended.  She still won’t meet his eyes.  “They told me you were hurt,” she says, by way of explanation.  “And I can smell you from here.  Didn’t they clean you up when they brought you in?”

Jon looks down at his legs.  They’re completely submerged in the warm water but they’re still covered with thick splatters of dried blood.  And not just his.  “Pretty sure their only goals were to get my body temperature up and my wounds sutured.”  He chances a glance at her.  “They wanted me in hot water the rest of the night and probably figured I could take care of the cleanup myself.”

She takes a tentative step into the room.  And then another.  There’s less than three feet of space now between where he sits and she stands.  His eyes widen again.   

At last, she looks at him.  “Can you, though?  Take care of the cleanup yourself, that is?”

Jon looks towards the damp cloth at the other end of the tub. He closes his eyes and sighs resignedly.  “Um.  Probably not all of it, no.”

That’s all the encouragement Sansa needs.  She closes the short distance between them in two strides and kneels beside his tub.  She grabs the washcloth with ease and dips it into the warm water.  “Then let me help you.”

She brings the cloth to his bare legs, but he lets out an involuntary yelp before it reaches him.  She freezes, hand suspended in midair less than an inch from his body.  “You don’t need to do this, Sansa,” he says, his words tumbling over each other in a rush.  He knows he probably sounds like he’s panicking, but in the moment he is panicking, and he’s doing it far too much to care what he sounds like.  “I’m sure Tormund will be back any minute now.  He… he can help me.”

Sansa sits back on her haunches and regards him carefully, one eyebrow raised.  The way she’s sitting causes her nightdress to inch up dangerously, and Jon has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his eyes on her face where they belong.  “Tormund is out patrolling the grounds,” she says.  “With Gendry.  There’s no one here but me.” Apparently deciding the matter settled, Sansa dips the cloth into the hot water again and wrings it out.  “And besides.  I’m better at this sort of thing than they are.”

Despite the knots of nervous tension roiling in his stomach Jon can’t help but chuckle at that.  “Oh?  Is that so?”

“Mmm,” she confirms.  Jon suspects she’s trying to look, and sound, haughty.  But she’s smiling in spite of herself.  “I’m definitely better than they are.”

Without another word, Sansa presses the warm cloth in her hand to one of Jon’s legs and begins to gently scrub away the visible remnants of this horrible day.

Jon has, of course, washed his own body many thousands of times before.  Until now he’s always thought of bathing as a perfunctory chore; a thing that must be done before he can get on with more important things.  Never in his life has he thought of bathing as something pleasurable – but right now, as Sansa gently scrubs his legs clean with the soft washcloth and runs the palms of her small, calloused hands over his highly sensitized skin, he has to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep from groaning aloud.

She is thorough and methodical with him, and yet gentle, leaving no part of his legs untouched.  As her palms brush over the skin behind his knees with the washcloth it feels like every single nerve ending in his body is centered beneath her fingertips.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she says quietly, but no less forcefully for that as she slides the warm cloth up, skipping over his torso completely and finding his forearm.

She doesn’t clarify what she’s talking about.  But there’s no need.  He closes his eyes as she works and moves over him, the dual conflicting sensations of physical pleasure and guilt over his earlier actions tangling together unpleasantly in his gut.

“Sansa…” he begins, weakly.

“Just… don’t,” she says again.  More sharply this time. “All right?”

He’d left Winterfell this morning like a coward, not even bothering to find her to tell her he was going on this dangerous mission.  Not even bothering to say goodbye, even though he knew there was a chance he would never come back.

Doing this sort of thing – leaving before anyone who might care he was leaving woke up and discovered him gone – was a common enough thing for him to do before he came back to Winterfell and everything changed.

But everything is different now, somehow, with Sansa here, though they’ve never discussed it.  The way he acted this morning was a strange, new kind of betrayal, and he knows that.  It terrifies him, if he’s being honest, the way Sansa’s somehow wormed her way into his life, into his heart, without either of them ever planning on it happening.  She’s gotten by every one of his defenses just by being herself, and he’s never been more scared of anything in his life.

It was this fear that led him to slip out of Winterfell before dawn this morning, before he’d have to risk seeing her and saying goodbye.

But how can he explain any of this to her when he hardly understands it himself?

So he doesn’t try.  

“I won’t do it again,” he says instead.  Resigned to it now, though the thought of having this inexplicable connection to Sansa worries him no less now than it did this morning.  “I promise.”

Sansa’s hand pauses briefly on its journey across his clavicle, but that is the only sign she gives that she understands the significance and weight of his words. She recovers quickly, and continues to run the damp cloth over his neck, across his shoulders.  Down his back.  The water is still very warm but the press of her hand to his skin causes a trail of gooseflesh to rise up on his arms all the same.

“Good,” she says, nodding, as she continues to move.  “I promise I won’t either.”

As she pours a cup full of warm water over his head, and threads her dexterous fingers through his dust-matted hair, he decides that for now, it’s enough.

[angmarwitch]

Our Crimson Paths Crossed (Jon x Sansa Fate/Stay Night:UBW AU)

A/N: I'm back again with another Anime AU. I don't know how much of the Jonsa fam are familiar with Fate/Stay Night or the Fate Series but I'll just push my luck. I hope this AU is understandable to all. It's been saved in my drafts for a long time now (probably a year or so) and I've been meaning to post this during the Jonsa Week but I wasn't able to finish it on time.

Anyways, if anyone here is a fan of the series, I'm planning to post a Sansa x Servant fic soon. I'm still not sure which servant I'll choose but Diarmuid is one of the options. Please let me know if you have suggestions.I hope you guys enjoy.

*title is taken from the English Translation of Brave Shine

*

The Holy Grail Wars

transcribed by Archmaester Marwyn

299AC

 Before becoming an infamous deathly game for seven of the Nine Noble Families in Westeros, the original purpose of the ritual was to recover the Third Magic lost by the House Targaryen, known as the "Cup of Heaven".

 In order to regain the Cup of Heaven, House Targaryen enlisted the help of Houses Lannister and Stark to create a gateway leading to Akasha. House Targaryen provided the alchemy to create and prepare the vessel for the Grail, the Starks provided the lands and artifacts that called forth the Servants, and the Lannisters assembled the magecraft to stabilize the summoning ritual and designed that Command Seals that bind the Servants to their Masters.

 The original Holy Grail War took place in 200 AC, exactly 200 years after House Targaryen lost the Third Magic, but it was never meant to be anything like the Holy Grail Wars of today. It took ten years to gather the necessary energy to manifest the ritual, however, at the moment of completion, the Three Families realized that the system would only allow one person to utilize it. Despite having similar goals, in the beginning, the Three Families differ in their beliefs on how to achieve it thus leading to the collapse of their alliance. Even with the differences of their opinions, the ritual took place, but the Three Families became enemies up until now. Later on, they would be joined by the other Noble Families of Westeros thus creating the Holy Grail Wars that we know today.

*

"So, my Father's family and yours are enemies?" Jon asked, skimming through the text of the ancient tome that Sansa loaned him. They were currently in the Winterfell manor, the ancestral seat of House Stark. Jon was uncomfortable with the whole idea of staying there for several days. Both of them lived alone so he felt like he was invading his ally's privacy and solitude, but Sansa had insisted. And despite the awkwardness of the situation, Jon had no choice given that his house had suffered a massive damage from Joffrey Lannister's attack.

"You mean your adoptive Father," Sansa corrected as she applied another layer of the weird concoction she had rummaged from her basement to the wound above his eyebrow. Jon winced at the contact but didn't complain, her comment about Rhaegar didn't go unnoticed, but Jon chose to ignore it and concentrated on the history of the Holy Grail.

"You're going to face one of them you know," the redhead said, pausing from her task, her face dangerously close to his own. Heat rose to his cheeks and Jon tried to avoid her stare as much as he can. Her blue eyes were impossibly wide and deep, Jon feared that if he met her gaze, he’ll get lost in them.

Jon had always thought that she was pretty and had harbored a small crush for her, a secret he kept to himself and never shared with another soul even to his best friend, Samwell Tarly. Not that he does not trust Sam, but he believed that such things should be kept private and besides it’s just a simple high school crush. Perhaps in the future it might fade away.

"I, uh," he stuttered, finding it difficult to think with their current proximity.  Why can't she just move away? He thought. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, wanting to escape her owlish gaze.  

Gods, her hair smell so good. Wait, what the fuck.  He felt her shift, opening one of his eyes, he saw her studying the bruises on his arm. He wished Saber and Archer were here to relieve the awkwardness of the situation, but the two were outside, standing guard against possible threats.

Finally gathering his wits, he sighed, "Father never talked about them. He was a silent man, always prefers to be alone. Just like you."

Sansa paused, her gaze focused down as if to avoid his scrutiny, but not too fast for Jon not to see the emotions that swirled in her eyes.

There was once a time, long ago, when Sansa Stark was not alone. Unlike him, Sansa was born into a wealthy and large family. She had loving parents and four other siblings. She had lived a comfortable life up until she was eight.

Like him, she also lost everything.

Everyone in the North knew of the tragedy that befallen House Stark ten years ago. Sansa may have not voiced it, but Jon sensed that it was connected to the previous Holy Grail War, the same one that brought him to his Father. Rumors say that Lady Catelyn and her four other children had died due to a car accident, but Jon suspected foul play, the Starks had been influential figures after all, both inside and outside the Magus Association. Sansa had been the sole survivor of that grim incident and she would have fallen into the hands of the Lannisters if not for the work of Petyr Baelish, the priest who had been overseeing this whole event.

Petyr Baelish was able to contact Sansa's Tully aunt, Lysa, who was then given guardianship over the little girl. However, Lysa mysteriously died after a few years, leaving behind the last Stark heir. It was then that Baelish stepped in and became Sansa Stark's legal guardian. Jon was wary of the priest and he does not like the way Baelish looks at Sansa as Baelish's gaze was far more predatory than fatherly. Maybe Baelish was just like that, but the younger man’s skin still crawled, reminiscing the first time he met him and saw firsthand how “touchy” the priest was with the girl whom he should consider as a daughter.

"There," Sansa said, ignoring his words. A blush formed on the young man's cheek as her fingers lightly trailed the cut that Joffrey's servant left. "You're good to go.”

 "T-thanks," he spluttered, his eyes fixing on anything except on her smoldering gaze. Seven hells, he wondered how he would survive this whole ordeal. It was bad enough that he couldn't talk to her in school, now he had no choice but to interact with her due to their allegiance.

 "Well then, I shall take my leave for now. Archer and I will patrol the city for other servants."

 When she left, Jon finally released the breath he was holding. This was going to be a long night.

*

AO3 Link

[dcbicki]

Jon/Sansa Remix: Day 4: Fairytale Couples ↳ The Snow Queen and the Huntsman (crossover)

Cursed by a wicked witch on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, Sansa is sent to the ice castle atop the highest mountain in Winterfell to watch over the kingdom and make sure that the Long Winter never ends. Isolated, she has no contact with the outside world, and must suffer her fate alone, until her eighteenth birthday arrives and she will transform into the true Ice Queen. But her childhood friend Jon, now a seasoned hunter, refusing to let her spend the rest of her days in exile, sets out to free her from the curse before she turns eighteen, in the hopes of putting a stop to the endless winter.

[amymel86]

“Robb’s on to us.”

(For ‘costumes’ day of the All Hallows Eve Challenge 🎃)

@jonxsansafanfiction

[mollyraesly]

Time with Wolves -- Chapter 3

The next week when Jon opened the car door for Sansa, his help was actually necessary because her hands were busy carrying a giant tupperware container. “What’s that for?” he asked. “Umm...it’s for you.” 

She fidgeted with the container, frozen in front of the empty car. Sansa could not look at him. She had spent several nights the past week fretting about what she could give Jon to thank him for driving her back and forth. She knew he wouldn’t take any money, and she couldn’t trade chores with him like she did with Robb and Arya. She didn’t know enough about Jon’s hobbies; besides playing hockey and going to visit the wolf-reservation, he always seemed busy with school and his part-time job working for the park rangers. Jon never asked for anything. But he did like to eat, even if he often shrugged off dinner invites. Sansa had seen him more often than not sheepishly fill his plate with second helpings or reach for a third or fourth cookie. His favorite seemed to be gingersnaps. She’d seen him wolf down over ten of those one night two Christmases ago.

She peeled off the container lid to show him the rows of cookies she’d neatly arranged. She had to bake over four batches of cookies yesterday so she could blame the baking on wanting to try out a new recipe and not arouse suspicion that she was baking for someone in particular. She had put only the most symmetrical, aesthetically pleasing cookies in the container for Jon. “They’re gingersnaps.” “For me?” She nodded. “I know school barely started, and it’s more of a winter cookie, but I just thought—I hope you don’t mind—“ “Gingersnaps are my favorite.” He gave her a soft smile. “You made these for me?” She nodded again. “Thank you, Sansa.”  She smiled and handed him the container before getting into his car. Jon closed the door after her, and by the time he sat down behind the wheel, he was finishing the last bite of a gingersnap. “What do you think?” “Best cookie I’ve ever had.” She glowed.  The cookies became part of their routine, along with the door-opening, Ghost belly rubs, and The Cure. Sansa looked forward to their time together more than anything; it was her favorite part of the week, second to baking a different batch of cookies, imagining what Jon would say about them. He’d enjoyed all of her creations, but gingersnaps were still his favorite.  Ghost was growing more and more each week. He could no longer really be called a pup, but Sansa insisted on cooing over him still. After Jon would race Ghost and teach him simple commands, Sansa would comb out the knots of his hair with her fingers and sing to the mute wolf. Ghost made her miss Lady at the same time she felt that hole in her heart start to heal by his presence. One week, after Halloween, Sansa, to her dismay, found she had no cookies to give Jon. Rickon had been wild since going Trick-or-Treating without their parents for the first time. Arya and Bran did very little to supervise him. He ate his pillowcase full of candy within just three days and had been devouring anything with sugar to keep the high. He and his friends ate all the cookies Sansa made while she was out buying fabric and yarn at the craft store with her mom. Catelyn had gotten angry and told Rickon that this eating pattern had to stop before he lost all his teeth. She made him sit down that night and eat every vegetable she put on his plate. Sansa had been upset with him but could not tell him why without blowing her cover. Rickon, like everyone else in her family, thought she was just trying different recipes. So she could not get mad at him, especially when he wrapped his arms around her waist and told her the peanut butter ones were his favorite and the recipe was perfect. There had been time to make more cookies but no butter and no way to get more without making them all wonder what she was really up to in making new batches of cookies each week. So Sansa greeted Jon with nothing in hand, feeling terribly guilty and anxious. “What’s wrong?” Jon asked as soon as he got behind the wheel and noticed her empty hands fidgeting in her lap. Sansa explained as much as felt appropriate. She did not want Jon to realize that her baking for him was a secret. But she didn’t want him to think she was ungrateful, either. “I’m sorry,” she said to end her practiced speech.  Jon sighed. “Sansa, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” “But—now I’ve got nothing to thank you—“ “You don’t need to thank me.” “But the ride—gas money—and—“ Jon pulled over to the side of the road, put the car in park, and turned in his seat. “Sansa, stop apologizing. I love everything you bake—especially your gingersnaps. But you don’t have to give me anything. I’d still come pick you up each week.” “Why?” Sansa asked, voicing a question that had been on her mind for weeks. “Why what?” “Why do you give up your Friday nights to take me to the wolf reservation?” It seemed silly to say it aloud, but she had to know. She wasn’t the favorite of any of her siblings. Margaery seemed to be a friend whenever it was convenient for her. Mya and Myranda were best friends with each other before they were with her. Sansa was quiet and a little prudish. She liked romance novels, baking, and knitting. She wore dresses more than pants and spent hours brushing her hair. She was too tall and too pale. She liked to please adults and had never gotten in trouble. She had never had more than a few sips of alcohol and had never even been offered drugs. And she was still only fifteen. Why would Jon—who’d be eighteen just before Christmas—want to waste his Friday nights with her? Especially when Jon was so handsome. Jon brought a hand to rest on the seat behind her shoulder. “Sansa, I’m the one who asked you to come with me, remember? I like spending time with you.” “You do? But Arya always says if I saw a good time dancing naked in front of me I’d make it sit down and force it to drink tea until it calmed down.” Jon laughed and shook his head, his curls jostling from the movement. “That sounds like something Arya would say.” Then his voice turned soft as his gray eyes studied her. “She’s not right, though. I always have a good time when I’m with you, Sansa. You’re good with words and manners and people—much better than me. You bring out the best in everyone. You always find a way to show people you care...even in the little things.” Jon’s ears grew pink. “And Ghost would bite my hand off if I showed up without you now.” Sansa’s eyes had grown a bit wet, but she laughed at his last words. “Well, we can’t have that.” Jon’s fingers dipped as though they were going to reach out and touch her hair, but a moment later his hands were back on the steering wheel and they were on the road again. They were both quieter than usual when they first got to the wolf reservation. Sansa, because she kept repeating Jon’s words over and over in her head and trying to figure out what he meant by them. She could not stay lost in her own thoughts for long, though; Ghost was in a particularly playful mood. Mr. Mormont was working on getting Ghost to perform more complicated commands and was feeding him a small piece of moose meat each time he did something correct. Each time Jon and Mr. Mormont gave Ghost a piece of meat, he’d bring it over to Sansa to show it to her, as though it were a trophy. His preening made Sansa laugh, but she kept fussing over him so that he’d continue the cycle.

 By the time they had to leave, Sansa’s face was warm from all the smiling and laughter. She turned to Jon as they made their way to the passenger door. “Ghost was so happy today.”

“He should be. He ate half a moose!” His stomach let out a loud rumble as he took his seat behind the wheel.

“Hungry?” she asked with a chuckle.

He looked sheepish. “I skipped lunch. Mr. Mikken needed help with some broken desks in his classroom.”

Sansa smiled. “You’re such a do-gooder, Jon Snow. What have we done to deserve you?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer—or rather, awkwardly shrug away her praise. “Pull into that drive-through on your next right!”

“Huh?” Jon asked but did as she said. “What is this place?”

“The Ice Shack!” Sansa exclaimed. “They have the best milkshakes! Turn into that lane!”

Jon pulled up to the speaker, which was shaped like a penguin, and went wide-eyed when a voice asked them what he wanted.

“Two double cheeseburgers, everything on them, one large fry, and two strawberry milkshakes,” Sansa answered promptly. “Oh! And extra ketchup packets!”

The voice on the speaker told them their total. As Jon coasted up to the next window, Sansa dug into her purse and pulled out her wallet. “I am paying, and I don’t want to hear anything about it. I know I don’t have to. I want to.” She reached over Jon and handed the cashier a twenty dollar bill. When she settled back in her chair, Jon was shaking his head.

“You Starks,” he murmured.

“What about us Starks?”

He did not have to answer because the cashier was back with their food. Jon handed the milkshakes and grease-laden bag to Sansa and then found a spot in the parking lot and turned off the car.

As soon as his hands were free, Sansa started shoving food in his direction. Jon groaned as he started shoving fries into his mouth. He ripped the burger out of its wrapper and took a giant bite. “God, that’s good.”

Sansa giggled. “Ketchup?”

“Thanks.” Jon took a long sip of his milkshake. “How’d you know I like strawberry?”

“Because strawberry is the best,” she replied with a smile. That was something her dad always said whenever he ordered milkshakes. And then he’d wink at her mom, a private joke Sansa had never fully understood.

Jon finished drinking and quickly wiped his mouth, his ears growing pink. “Sorry, I’m being a pig.”

She shook her head. “I don’t mind.” Impossibly, Sansa made eating a burger in a car seem dainty. She’d arranged the wrapper like a napkin on her lap and was holding her burger carefully with both hands.

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?”

Jon looked away. “Downing junk food in the car. It just seems…”

“Yeah?”

“Well, not like something you normally do.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Jon, I basically forced you to pull over.”

“Well, it’s just that this isn’t very dignified—”

Sansa laughed. “You do realize I only watch movies about medieval princesses and I’m not actually one of them, right? Robb’s my older brother; I’ve eaten food in a car before.”

Jon chortled under his breath. “I know! It’s silly. Of course you have. It’s just, you’re so proper! Even now, you’re being so neat, and I’m a mess. I have mustard in my hair.”

Sansa leaned over and wiped the mustard out of his curls with her napkin. “You are a little bit of a mess, yes,” she said, giggling. “But no worse than Rickon most days.”

“Oh, so I’m comparable to a seven-year-old.”

“A very hungry one.” She’d not told Jon that Rickon at all his cookies, but she was quite glad he did. If Jon had eaten a few cookies earlier, they probably would not be sharing the last few fries in an abandoned parking lot.

She smiled and continued to eat her burger, grinning as she saw Jon try and fail to be neater. A piece of lettuce covered in ketchup fell into his hair.

She giggled.

“Oh, just toss me some more napkins, Princess Sansa!”

Grinning, she obliged.

[nessataleweaver]

As I’m locked in these towers (fanfic)

For Day 2 of @jonxsansafanfiction “Love Songs” Event

Inspired by the painting ‘The Lady of Shalott’ by John William Waterhouse: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lady_of_Shalott_(painting)

All Sansa knows is this tower. The mirror that shows the present, and the tapestry she weaves that shows the future. Until HE appears, first in her tapestry, then her glass. Perhaps it will mean her death to leave the tower - but it will be worth it to meet him at last. For she is more than half-sick of shadows…

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753870