An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Fandoms: Game of Thrones
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Additional Tags: 3 Sentence Ficathon
Author’s Notes: Just a place to post everything I've written for 3 Sentence Ficathon. The normal tags when it comes to this ship apply.
Astra Inclinant, Sed Non Obligant (The Stars Align Us, They Do Not Bind Us)
Jon II snippet. Chapter coming soon to Ao3. Read here
“Winter kills the variety of weaker men. You’ve been examined, Ser Harold. You’ve been weighed, measured and the balance is wanting.” He stepped over Ser Harold’s prone body as if he weren’t there, paying no mind to the slack jaws and wide eyes he left in the courtyard.
Avid Jonsa fan and a middling writer in the Jonsa fandom. Super excited for all the amazing things we’re planning for Jonsa week. Ask me anything, all are welcome ☺️ @hisqueeninthenorth
I saw people saying on Reddit that George's response to Jon/Sansa happening was "odd," esp when he shot down san/san and jon/rya, but he didn't clear cut deny J/S; "maybe he didn't want to lose any readers." Sure honey, but only like 10 people ship Jonsa. So George didn't want to lose 10 readers but was okay with losing majority of the fandom (who ships the "canon" san/san) and who believes that only J/A (also "canon" ship due to that 25 years old letter) is foreshadowed besides J/D.
Hello Anon!
Yeah!!! I consider that odd too. But if Jonsa is about to happen in the books, it wouldn't be odd at all.
GRRm is not someone who would give hints in his conversation with his Fans. He either shots down ridiculous stuffs that any reader with an ounce of intelligence would understand by his/her own or he just plain tells the fans to look it up in the next book or simply that he does not wish to speak about it now. But , the good thing is, he didn't do either of that thing with Jonsa. He plainly said that he cannot say more than what was said in the books. That too considering the amazing foreshadowings in the books and the things that D&D teased in the final three seasons, I am 99.99999% sure that we are about to get Jon/Sansa in one or another, atleast in a bittersweet way in the books.
No matter what the Antis say, D&D may be morons but they did have info from GRRM before they finished the series. And the ending wouldn't be so different from what we got in the series.
Summary: Jon Snow tries to find peace in the godswood after he learns the truth about his parents. Sansa comes to comfort him, and to pursue a goal of her own. Jon’s not prepared for her first kiss, but soon they’re making love under the heart tree.
A/N: I’ve had some tumblr requests for this fic and I can’t find my original post, so here it is again! Explicit content.
***
Sansa found Jon with his head in his hands. The gentle rustling of the leaves was the only sound that permeated the sacred place. The godswood usually filled him with a sense of deep peace. He’d had the vain hope he might feel that peace again, even after Sam and Bran’s awful, ugly secret. Even after he knew he was no Stark.
“Jon, please, talk to me.” Sansa sat down next to him at the edge of the deep pool. Jon wanted to shout at her to run away. He wanted to lay his head on her chest and let her rock him to sleep. But this shame was all his own.
“Sansa…” Her blue eyes pierced him and the familiar stirring of his blood brought a flush to his cheeks. He wanted her, but was that surprising, given his Targaryen blood? He turned away. He loved her, deeply, and she deserved so much more than the sick advances of a-
“Jon, stop. Stop doing this to yourself.” Sansa took his hand.
“Sansa, don’t, it’s not worth it, I’m not worth it, I-”
Sansa launched herself at him, kissing him hard, clutching at the fur of his collar. Her soft lips were on his as she tugged him toward her. He was falling, falling fast, and if he didn’t break the kiss he might lay her down on the godswood floor and…
“Wait, wait.” He pulled back slightly, enough that he could see her darkened eyes and red lips. Gods, but she was beautiful. He ached to kiss her again, but he was lost as to why she’d started. “What…”
Sansa searched his face. “Is it just me then? It's not…not the same for you? I thought…after I heard the news I ran to find you…” Her face fell. “I’m sorry, Jon.”
She wanted him. After all the nights he’d spent dreaming of her. After all the days he’d pushed his feelings aside when she sat next to him in the great hall or when she slipped her hand in his as he walked her back to her chambers.
He slipped his hand in hers now. “No, it’s not just you, it’s not…” He leaned and captured her lips again, groaning when she licked at the seam of his lips. He opened his mouth instantly, deepening the kiss, pulling her closer. She sighed and tangled her hands in his hair. She climbed into his lap, breaking the kiss to settle into the cradle of his hips.
She braced a hand against his chest, then faltered. “Do you…do you want me like this, Jon?” She bit her lip, and he realized she had no idea what was happening in his head.
“Sansa, yes-” He surged up to meet her, kissing her again as he pulled her into his lap.
Read more below or on AO3
Sansa nipped at his jaw, and he ran his hands down her sides, over the swell of her hips. Later, he’d need to deal with it all - his parents, his heritage, the North - but now Sansa was lighting a fire inside him, whispering “I need you” as she pushed him onto the soft, snow-covered ground.
The godswood seemed to welcome them as he laid back. Sansa settled her skirts over his lap. He was ready to offer her his cloak to ward off the cold, but she seemed to feel the same fire he did. She was eager, moaning when he cupped her breasts, shaking out her braid so that he could run his gloved hands through her hair.
“I wish I could feel you,” he murmured. He trailed kisses down her neck, tasting her everywhere he could, even though they were still bundled in furs. “Every inch of you, Sansa, I want to kiss you everywhere-”
She rocked against him, her hips stuttering against his thigh. She moaned when he slid a hand under her heavy skirts, touching her through her smallclothes.
"I love you,” she said, cupping his cheek. “Like…like a lover does.”
Jon shuddered as her words etched themselves into his heart. Words he’d imagined, wished for, offered freely.
“I love you, too, Sansa, so much, you’ve no idea…”
She smiled, resting her forehead on his. “Be with me then.” She reached for him, skimming over the bulge in his breeches. He’d been hard since that first frenzied kiss, and his cock twitched as she stroked him.
“Are you sure?” He nuzzled behind her ear. She was soft and warm and he could smell the sweet rosewater scent of her hair. But he would not, would not, would not let her do something she regretted, no matter how hot his blood was, how he ached to bury himself inside her.
Sansa whined as she fumbled with his laces. “Please, Jon, please, I-”
He didn’t want her to beg, not ever. “I’ve got you, love, I’ve got you.” He took her hand and finished unlacing his breeches. He’d expected to feel a chill, but it was warm underneath the layers of her skirts. He grew bold enough to tug at her smallclothes and she joined him, tearing them away. Before he could reach up to steady her she sank down onto him slowly.
She was hot and tight and wet as she started to move, rolling her hips. He groaned and thrust up to meet her and gods, this was what he’d needed, her warmth and the sweet, soft noises she made. She found a rhythm and began to ride him, her red hair spilling over the fur of her cloak as Jon thrust in time with her, more urgently now.
Jon hissed as she fluttered around him, trying to hold back. “Sansa, I’m going to-”
She put a finger to his lips. “I want you to,” she said shyly. “Please, once, I’ll drink moon tea if you want but-”
Jon sat up, keeping her close, slowing their pace. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as he looked into her wide blue eyes. “I don’t want to shame you, Sansa. I don’t want to get a bastard on you.” He thrust into her slowly, keeping his eyes locked on to hers.
She whimpered. “Then - oh - then marry me, Jon.” She picked up her pace again and he buried his face in her neck.
They should be in her chambers, somewhere he could take his time. He should be mapping the curves of her body, not moving hot and desperate with her as she chased her release. But the words poured out of him, because it he married her he could protect her, keep her safe. He could make her his, as he was hers. “Marry me, sweet girl, gods, yes, marry me, be my wife, my lady, my queen-”
Sansa cried out as she came, loud enough to startle a bird from the branches of the heart tree. She clung tight to Jon as he pulsed inside of her, gasping for breath.
They stayed that way, joined together, panting as they came back to themselves. Sansa toyed with Jon’s curls, tucking them behind his ear. He smiled, loving the feel of her in his arms. Loving her.
“Jon, was it…was it too much?” She asked. “I won’t hold you to what you said, I know I ran for you, threw myself at you-”
“Sansa…” He helped her switch positions, so that she could curl up with him. He stroked her hair, and waited until he could speak without his voice cracking. "I don’t know what this all means - my parents, who I am, what I’ve become - but I know I love you.“ He kissed her forehead. "I’ve known since the first day you came back to me. You threw yourself into my arms then too, remember?”
Sansa looked up at him and smiled. “I remember. It’s…it’s why I thought you might catch me again, this time.”
He nudged her cheek with his nose. “Always, my love. Always.”
He finished his cigarette and adjusted the collar of his jacket, then started walking towards the front door of the bar when he suddenly stepped on something, feeling it through the sole of his shoe. He instantly stopped and cautiously lifted his foot. Bending down, he squinted at the ground and noticed a shining pin on the concrete. A hair pin. He picked it up and held it between his fingers, examining it under the white glow of the street lights near the bar entrance. It was shorter than his forefinger, with a little wolf head on one end. It must be hers, he thought. He considered for a second giving it back to her, but instead he figured that it would be better to put it in the pocket of his jeans, where nobody would have taken it from him.
***
Modern day AU in which university student Sansa Stark accidentally has a one-night stand with her French literature professor Jon Snow.
Can you please post your jonsa headcanons for the letters that make up the word DIREWOLF?? Thank you!!!!!!
Thanks for the ask, nonny and sorry it took me so long!DRESSES: Jon loves Sansa’s dresses and he always takes great care when he undresses her that nothing happens to her clothes apart from the one time.. See F.ICE : Sansa is not cold easily, but sometimes her feet are. Jon doesn’t like her icy feet, not at all. Nothing to be done, but feet rubbing.REASONING : with teenage children is so difficult. Thank the Gods, there is Uncle Bran and Aunt Arya.EARLY PREGNANCY : For all their children Sansa has morning sickness the first 12 weeks and is in a miserable mood and somewhat cranky and swears she’ll never let Jon near her again. She doesn’t like lemon cakes in this period, but after 12 weeks, everything is wonderful and Jon loves the 4th to 7th month of her pregnancies because he never gets better treatment.WEDDING : Jon steals Sansa, no marriage in a Sept or under the weirwood tree either.OH: That’s the sound Sansa makes when she first learns that she can have fun in the marriage bed.LEMON CAKES: The minute Sansa starts disliking her favourite, Jon is equally happy for a new baby and looking forward to the magic of later pregnancy. He also looks for an excuse to leave Winterfell for the next 10 weeks or so. He never does it though. See above E.FIGHTING: They don’t fight often. If they do, it’s usually Sansa who tries to initiate reconciliation. She seeks Jon and touched his hand and he just can’t stay angry with her, because the kind touch of her slender hand never ceases to affect him. Apart from the one time, they had angry sex that led to the utter destruction of one of Sansa’s favourite dresses. See above D.