spring blossoms & autumn leaves

Jonsa fanfiction event - Spring 2021 - April 22-28 - gorgeous header and icon by @aryas

[jonsadreamofspring]

Thank you so much to everyone who participated and created so much lovely content for our event! And thank you to everyone who’s reblogged these creators’ posts!

Under the cut, you can find the masterlist of entries, sorted by day!

Thank you, Jonsa Fam! 💖💖💖

Keep reading

[jonsadreamofspring]

Thank you so much to everyone who participated and created so much lovely content for our event! And thank you to everyone who’s reblogged these creators’ posts!

Under the cut, you can find the masterlist of entries, sorted by day!

Thank you, Jonsa Fam! 💖💖💖

Day 1: soulmates / rebirth / reincarnation

You and I collide - a Jonsa story by @wildflower-daydreamer

Soulmate edit by @sweetaprilbutterfly

a song incomplete by @vivilove-jonsa

Seasons of Us by @schnoogles

The Art of the Con by @amymel86​

Day 2: rainy day / picnic / campfire

rainy day edit by @patritxi

The Picnic Proposal by @vivilove-jonsa

rainy day by @part-timewonders

Day 3: crow and little bird / king and queen / stone and snow

The Wolf Queen and her Crow Prince by @gingerdsnapped

edit by @sweetaprilbutterfly

Rickon’s Crown & Keep by @vivilove-jonsa

Day 4: flowers / colours / leaves

flowers edit by @sweetaprilbutterfly

colours edit by @esther-dot

leaves edit by @patritxi

A Flower for My Love by @estherruth-jonsatrash

Day 5: songs / reunions / crossroads

nothing sacred, all things wild by @chispas-and-broken-bindings

reunions and crossroads by @esther-dot

Made into Songs by @thewolvescalledmehome

still on that tightrope by @part-timewonders

I had me a girl by @vivilove-jonsa

crossroads edit by @patritxi

Day 6: spring fever / stars / autumn sadness

Set Our Course by the Stars by @gingerdsnapped

spring fever edit by @esther-dot

stars edit by @patritxi

Day 7: butterflies / first frost / free day

vampire edit by @sweetaprilbutterfly

You Look Different in Firelight and Starlight by @thewolvescalledmehome

butterflies edit by @patritxi

🎆🎆🎆

You can also find most fics written for the event in this AO3 collection!

There were a couple of fics we only found on AO3. If there was also a Tumblr version of them, something must have gone wrong, because, well, it’s Tumblr. If this is the case for any of your fics, or if you don’t see your creation on this list, feel free to send us a link through ask or dm so we can add it!

[sweetaprilbutterfly]

Jonsa spring blossoms & autumn leaves event: 

Day 7 - butterflies / first frost / free day

Vampire AU

[thewolvescalledmehome]

You look different in firelight and starlight (Chapter 3)

Day 7: Butterflies @jonsaseasonalbash

Read the beginning here

The sound of the zipper rent the quiet night air. It sounded impossibly loud to Jon’s ears, drowned out only by the beating of his heart.

Jon hadn’t been nervous with a girl in a long time—not since high school, probably. But this was different because it was Sansa. Because leaving Sansa in a week he knew would be different from leaving the other women.

Partially because Sansa would be left in Winterfell and he would, three weeks later, be returning. That didn’t normally happen. The women would stay in their cities and he would rarely return to them. Sometimes he did, but the chance of actually running into them was rare.

There would be no avoiding Sansa after this. Even if he took that job in Dragonstone and Essos. Her being in his life was inevitable.

It made him hesitate, fingers still on the zipper, the opening only wide enough for his foot.

Once he came back out of his head, Jon waited for Sansa to make some quip about whether or not he was coming. About how creepy it was to half open a tent in the middle of the woods at night.

Nothing came.

Jon half-prayed that she had fallen asleep with the flashlight on and he could go back to his sleeping bag and the fire and pretend this had never happened.

The door opened all the way, Jon peered inside. Sansa’s head popped up from her pillow, her eyes very clearly open.

She wasn’t asleep at all.

“Hi,” he said, stupidly, lamely.

“Hi.”

Jon stared at her, the bra dangling from slender and pale fingers and wet underwear drying against a log both fresh in his mind. He had no words and he was frozen.

“Decide you didn’t want to sleep outside?” she asked eventually. “You coming in or what?”

Read the rest here.

[patritxi]

I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.

John Keats - Bright Star

For the @jonsaseasonalbash event

Day 7: Butterflies

[ginger-danica-snapps]

Set Our Course by the Stars

Written for Day 6 of The Spring Blossoms and Autumn Leaves event @jonsaseasonalbash 

for the prompt set, spring fever/stars/autumn sadness 

Summary: Sansa had almost given up on being rescued from the hell of King’s Landing by any member of her blood. They were all dead and gone, accept for a bastard brother who had gone to the wall. Sansa has never been so happy as to be wrong about something in her life. Her prince does come and he is the Prince Aemon her father promised her once upon a time when she was a sweet, summer child. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30952292

Lees verder

[esther-dot]

spring fever for day 6 of @jonsaseasonalbash

[patritxi]

A sky full of stars and he was staring at her

- Atticus

For the @jonsaseasonalbash event

Day 6: Stars

[ginger-danica-snapps]

The Wolf Queen and Her Crow Prince

By Ginger D. Snapped

Written for @jonsaseasonalbash day 3 - 24 April: crow and little bird/king and queen/stone and snow.

I was out of town unexpectedly for Day Three, but here is my completion for the Jonsa Seasonal Bash, using the prompt King and Queen. This is written as snapshots of the time when the freefolk began to gather and the end of the long night. This is not betaed, so please be gentle. 

You can also read on my AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/30930386

Summary: Sansa knows she didn’t always live beyond the wall. Mance and his wife were not her parents, but she was freefolk to her bones and it didn’t matter who discovered her. She would save her people from the Night King and never kneel to a Southern King or Queen. 

Lees verder

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

nothing sacred, all things wild (½)

new story posted to Ao3 for the @jonsaseasonalbash !

Fits the reunion and the songs theme. 

Song inspiration: Nothing Sacred/ All Things Wild by Kevin Morby

[esther-dot]

reunions and crossroads for day 5 of @jonsaseasonalbash

“You’re getting old, Jon.”

“I’m only a few years older than you,” with a soft, amused quirk of his lips.

“But I’ve known how old I was for years, and you still haven’t realized.” She places her hand against his cheek, “You’ve grey in your beard,” fondly. “And your eyebrows are decidedly unkept,” with a laugh.

A soft huff of amusement, a pang deep within. It had been years, and he still responds to her the same way. He moves her hand from his face, but holds it gently, pressed between his rough hands. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Ten years, Jon. Ten years. I’ve changed as much as you.”

Her fingers are soft, he’s too aware of how soft as they tangle with his calloused ones, mesmerized by how pale they are, contrasted with his tanned skin. There are so many ways they’re a contradiction, too many ways for him to ever forget. His gruffness, her courtesies. His silence, her voice. His fears, her conviction. He looks into her bright eyes and thinks that nothing has changed in the time they’ve been apart. The innocence, the hope, the beauty remain, while he has been ravaged, not be wind and rain, but by the dark desires he’d spent ten years trying to deny. More than ten, and that was the problem. Their very natures were incompatible; Sansa’s heart brims with goodness, his with bastard wants.

Their roads had led them to each other once, a reunion he’d never even dreamed of. He’d never intended for another, but when he’d returned from ranging to the news that Tyrion was dead and the King’s pardon had been waiting for him for months, he’d had only one thought. As a boy, Winterfell and his father’s name had filled his dreams, as a man, his dreams had become something else altogether, much to his shame.

But it had been ten years, longer, the dream never faded, and he’d grown used it. There was no out-waiting it, so he’d returned, to see her, every day filling him with anticipation and dread. Never a word was spoken between them that gave him any reason to hope, but while being raised from the dead had only terrified him, hope had jumped into his arms soon after, and he refused to let go as they fought to retake the North, as they survived the end of the world, as they outlived the dragons.

Ten years, ten years since they found out, ten years since he held her, ten years of him wondering what if.

Ten years after saying goodbye he saw her again, and she jumped into his arms in the same way she had the first time they reunited; he held her as tightly.

And now, he was at the moment, the one he’d once thought to avoid, but he’d come to Winterfell because he dreamt of it, following hope as Ghost stalks his prey. To turn back or strike, a crossroads he’d faced in battle often enough, but looking into Sansa’s eyes, he did not think this was a war he was capable of waging. She was still young, she might marry someone worthy, surely the lords demanded it of her, she might have what she deserved.

To speak now would be terribly selfish.

Never a wise man, but his new wrinkles had not been in vain. Perhaps he had to see her, hold her one last time.

He swallows thickly, releases her hand.

Sansa has always been several steps ahead of him, her eyes do not miss the pang that registers on his face at withdrawing from her touch. “I’ve grey in my hair too,” pulling her braid over her shoulder, leaning ever so slightly closer.

“Have you?” gruffly, his fingers moving towards the forbidden fire of their own accord.

“Life has been kind to me while you were away, but nothing halts time.” His fingers so faintly brush her hair it can’t even be called a caress, dissatisfied, she leans closer, bending her head so that he might see the silver running through the red.

“You’re a bit young for that.”

“I’m a bit young to rule. A little grey hair comes with the crown.”

He traces it, the silver thread, where it gleams against the red, drags his hand slowly down her twisted hair before he remembers he’d meant to stop touching her.

“Jon,” she’s moved even closer, “I’ve spent years of my life trying to survive. Even with the wars over, at times it’s been a struggle. I’ve wanted to live for so long, but I’ve had to wait. I’m a woman grown, and I’m tired of waiting. I’ve been waiting for years.”

He’s stricken, hand still clasping her hair, “Years?”

“Ten years.”

He’d made his decision, but it isn’t a new sensation for Sansa to disagree, to snatch him back. She brushes the wayward hairs of his eyebrow again, traces the ridges across his forehead, smooths the grey at his temple. Fervently whispers, “Stop letting go.”

Sansa has wrinkles too, three fine lines in the corner of each eye, but her cheek is smooth cradled in his hand, her smile soft, pressed into his palm.

They are different, also the same.

Ten years, longer, of wanting, and now the past, his shame, his fears, are left on the shore, forgotten, as he drowns in the fathomless sea.

A lifetime of crossroads only to discover each route leads back to her.

[thewolvescalledmehome]

Made into Songs

Day 5: Songs @jonsaseasonalbash

Final part of If Only We Were (Read the beginning here)

Sansa’s hands were so warm on Jon’s face, and even without his wolf instincts he would be able to smell her sweet breath, hot on his lips.

Without his sight, it was easier to believe that she was Alayne. Especially when he heard how her heartbeat started to sound like a running hare’s. When her scent changed from earthy and sharp to something a little sweeter, tangy.

It’s that scent pushes him over the edge.

Jon kissed her, urgent, licking into her mouth, tasting the breath he had just smelled. His hands gripped her hair so tight, trying to imagine what the sight would look like, her fire kissed hair woven between his fingers.

He expects her to pull away. To push him. Hit him. Scream for help.

He does not expect to feel her fingers scrap against his head and grip his hair.

He could hear her heartbeat racing and when he took a deep breath through his nose, he doesn’t smell fear. He smelled lust, like he did when he and Ghost found a warren, two hares inside.

Jon had to struggle against his nature, against the hardening of his cock, against the remembered sight of her getting out of the tub and what he wanted to do to her, if only she were Alayne Stone.

Only Sansa was the one who had her fingers in his hair and her chest pushed against his. Jon could feel the press of her breasts and it broke him.

He snarled into her mouth, kissing her roughly, until he tastes the bitter iron of blood.

“S-sorry,” he rumbled, pulling his head back. He felt the fingers and weight in his hair lessen, but he could smell that she was still close.

She still didn’t smell afraid.

Read the rest here.

[part-timewonders]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

For @jonsaseasonalbash, day 5: reunions/crossroads

Fandoms: Game of Thrones Rating: T Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark Additional Tags: Modern AU, Past Joffrey/Sansa, Past Abuse, Reunions, Sneaking Around, Morning After, Hopeful Ending Summary:

She appreciates his willingness to not ask questions, to not wonder why she’s back in town after so many years away. To not wonder what they’re doing here in his apartment, playing house and sneaking around with no real reason to.

Author’s Notes: Thank you to the mod team for running a fun event! I’m also on Twitter, where I mostly talk about Star Wars.

[vivilove-jonsa]

I had me a girl

@jonsaseasonalbash

Day 5 prompt-Songs

Lyrics and title from 'I Had Me a Girl' by The Civil Wars

***

They all think they understand him just because they’ve listened to his music.  They don’t understand though.  They don’t know anything.

They think his muse, the inspiration for all his songs, must be someone from his past, someone who broke his heart once…or maybe he broke hers.

They don’t know the truth and they can’t because they’d never understand.  She’s not part of his past.  She’s not someone he can imagine ever cutting out or leaving behind, not really.

And, Jon Snow would cease to be some rock god in the making if they knew.  No one would even want to admit they’d ever known a single one of his songs or even knew his name if they learned the truth.

Every night, they chat and pretend it’s normal what they do.  Neither one is fooled.  Every night, he sinks deeper into a hell of his own making.  Maybe she burns too though.

He waits with bated breath for the connection to go through.  Wi-Fi is horrible at this hotel chain.  The chat connects and then…

“That’s a lot of pink.  Where the fuck are you, Sansa?”

She giggles, turns the phone around so he can see her face at last, the face that’s always haunting him whenever he’s alone in hotel rooms at night.

“Mama and I went shopping earlier.  I got a new comforter.  You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s, uh…pink.  How’s your mother?”

“Fine,” she says in a tone that tells him the topic isn’t open for further discussion tonight.  "I told her I'm getting my own place next month."

"Did you tell her how you're paying for it?"

"I'm doing alright and they don't need to worry about it.  I'm not a kid anymore."

Her mother’s a touchy subject, one Sansa usually avoids during their chats.  Cat’s no idiot.  She’s not fond of him in general and especially not fond of him being close to her daughter.  At least, she doesn’t know the whole truth.

Moving out is another difficult subject.  He's footing most of the bills but she'll still be in the same town as them and Jon can't just ignore that.

Sansa flops back on the bed, holding her phone up above her, letting that red hair of hers fan out all around her on the new pink comforter.  Those wisps of red hair which seem to outline every note he writes tease him as they fall back on her pillow.  He thinks of them blowing around her pink cheeks on the northern breeze.

She’s got his latest song playing in the background.  He wonders if she always has it cued up and ready for their nightly chat.  Does she know they’re all about her?

‘I had me a girl

who taught me those things

a young man should know…’

He adjusts the angle of his laptop to cut down on the glare from the table lamp.  He likes having her on the bigger screen.

She’s dressed for bed, wearing his old high school jersey.  He can see nearly all of her thighs like this.  She never wears any pajama bottoms, not when they’re talking.

“You look tired,” she comments, frowning.

“Long hours in the studio this week,” he says with a shrug.

“Anyone keeping you up late at night down there in the big city?”

She gets jealous.  She has no reason to be.  Maybe that’s part of the problem.  If he could find some girl around (there’s plenty of them down here who’d hook up with a rock star), if he could take one of them back to his room one night instead of calling her, maybe he’d stop obsessing over this girl.

Yeah, she’d be hurt and he knows he’d hurt too but then maybe they’d get over it and finally move on from this thing they do.

“No one’s keeping me up late ‘cept you.  What color’s your toenail polish tonight?”

She blushes so pretty for him, knowing what’s next.  They do this nearly every night when they chat.

Slowly, she lets her phone drift down those long legs of hers for him, she shows him every creamy inch, until she reaches her perfectly polished toes.

“Blue, huh?”  One hand drops down to adjust himself.  He’s already getting hard.  “That doesn’t match the comforter.”

The phone’s back up to her face.  “I didn’t paint them to match the comforter.  They match something else I bought today.”

“Oh?  Show me, baby.”

She grins, giving him that devilish little look he knows too well, the one he first saw when they were far too young and reckless and lucky not to get caught, the one that tells him Cat’s little angel is about to let her halo slip.

“Just these,” she says casually, pulling up his jersey to reveal a pair of panties, light blue and lacy.

His voice is like gravel when he tells her, “Those are pretty.  Are they soft?”

“Very soft.”

“As soft as what’s in ‘em?”

She shakes her head and he tells her what he wants her to do.

“You too, Jon.  I want to see you, too,” she says all whimpery and sweet.  His sweet girl, he misses her so much.  He’s going to stay up all night writing another song when they’re done maybe and tomorrow he’ll ask the guys to try it out in the studio with him.

But an unexpected, thundering knock on her door has her sitting up before they can really get started.  She shoves his jersey back down right as it opens.

“Daddy!  I was just chatting with Jon!” Sansa explains, voice high and nervous…not that the old man will notice.

Jon’s stomach churns when Ned Stark’s face leans into the frame.  That solemn face breaks into a grin once he sees Jon.

“How’s Kings Landing treating you, son?”

“It’s good, Dad,” Jon answers, hating himself, wondering if he’d rather scowl at the interruption or vomit because of all the things he wants to do with his daddy’s little girl tonight.

[patritxi]

For the @jonsaseasonalbash event

Day 5 : crossroads

[estherruth-jonsatrash]

A Flower For My Love

A little drabble for the “flowers” prompt for @jonsaseasonalbash

Jon didn’t know how his father (nay, uncle) had done it, but somehow, he’d convinced King Robert to spare Jon’s life even after learning his true parentage, provided Jon never set foot out of the North to any of the other kingdoms. This made little difference to Jon in the grand scheme of things, though, for what he could want south of the Neck? No, he had everything he truly needed right here in Winterfell.

 Speaking of things he needed…

Jon spotted Sansa with her friend Jeyne out of the corner of his eye. The two were whispering to each other and giggling, and Jon could feel the hairs at the nape of his neck rise at Sansa’s proximity. He and Robb had been casually sparring in the courtyard when the ladies ventured out toward them.

“Jon,” Robb said in a slight taunting voice. “Your lady is on her way over.” There was a mischievous gleam in Robb’s eye that he didn’t like.

Read the rest here.

[sweetaprilbutterfly]

Jonsa spring blossoms & autumn leaves event: 

Day 4 - flowers / colours / leaves