#jon x sansa remix

[nemonclature]

Has anyone done a fic where the Snow bastards character swap? Like Jon is born a psychopath, and Ramsay is blah blah boring Jon good person no one cares.

[alienor-woods]

i am what i am (i’m not ashamed)

for @vixleonard​. Fluffy Jon x Sansa in a Hogwarts AU, particularly inspired by her recent dips into Draco x Hermione.

pt 2/3. pt 1 is here. 

[age note: Jon & Robb are a year older than Sansa. They are still first cousins because, well. Comes with the Jon x Sansa territory.]

Sansa excels at Hogwarts.

Not like Robb and Jon do, rambunctious but accomplished Wizarding Club duelers who favor Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration over Divination and Arithmancy. No, Sansa favors the library and the lake, where she buries her nose in History of Hogwarts textbooks and her hands in greenhouse dirt for Herbology projects.

Her knack with the cauldron doesn’t go unnoticed by Professor Zabini, who takes her under his wing not only as his Potions protege, but also as Head of Slytherin House looking out for bright young stars in the Wizarding world.

That’s nothing, though, compared to her social influence. By her third year, she’s one of the most popular girls in school. Robb near loses his mind when boys start asking her on dates to Hogsmeade every weekend. It falls to Robb and Theon to keep him occupied at Weasleys or the Shrieking Shack, if just to let Sansa have her own fun for just a few hours a week.

“What d’you think’s gonna happen? Y’think Rosemerta’s gonna give a fifteen year old a key to an upstairs room?” Theon bursts out one day when Robb is listing all of Dickon Tarly’s faults, from priggishness to his bollocks quidditch skills. “It’s nothing more than you ‘nd I’ve done, mate. Buy a cute girl a butterbeer or two, compliment her hair, fiddle with her hands, hope she won’t mind a quick snog behind the Zonko’s displays.”

Robb stares at Theon, agape, without any rejoinder. Jon takes the opening to clap his cousin on the shoulder and chime in, “It’s Hogsmeade, not Knockturn Alley.”

But Sansa’s Slytherin loyalty can’t be understated, either. She wasn’t ever interested in Quidditch until Hogwarts, when the games turned into key social events. She takes to the stands every game, cheering on the Slytherin team in head-to-toe green and silver.

“It’s disgusting, is what it is,” Robb grumbles one day in fifth year, while Gryffindor House took to its brooms to face off against its sworn nemesis.

“Hm?” Jon glances away from game play--Edd and Tormund passing the quaffle swiftly between them, trying their best to shake the Tyrell siblings’ double threat at their heels--and is surprised to see Robb’s omnioculars aimed not skyward, but straight across the pitch. “What are you talking about?”

“Sansa!” his cousin huffs, gesturing wildly at the opposite stands with his free hand. He pulls his omnioculars and passes them to Jon. “Just when I think she’s gone as far Slyth as one can go…”

Jon runs the glasses across the far bank of stands, catches a flash of auburn, traces it back to Sansa. She’s front and center, pink-cheeked in the cold and from screaming encouragement up at her playing housemates. Her hair is plaited with green and silver, she’s waving Slytherin banners, and she’s got a snake crown jammed down over her forehead.

He’s seen all this before, even thought that the color looked nice in her red hair (a thought he promptly shoved into an already-cluttered box of “NO” at the back of his mind). The paint is new, though. A stripe of something shiny on her cheekbones, right under her eyes. Something green shimmers over them. Jon adjusts the omnioculars and sees enchanted snakes twisting back and forth over each other.

Jon doesn’t see the goal, but he hears it. The stands around him groan and jeer. Across the pitch, Sansa’s serious, focused expression breaks into a victorious grin. The new paint sets off the blue of her eyes; he can see how they crinkle at the corners when the Tyrells perform twin barrel rolls and revel in their housemates’ applause.

“Yeah.” He passes the omnioculars back to Robb. “Totally barbaric.”

*****

By her fifth year, her prefectship is a given. Jon and Robb missed out on this particular honor for Gryffindor, something Ned and Cat had grimly accepted and never again mentioned. But when Zabini’s sleek black owl alights on Winterfell Cottage’s windowsill with the notice of her official position, their approval is lukewarm. The green seal next to Zabini’s signature seems to physically repel them.

Luckily, Sansa doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and darts upstairs with a gleeful shriek. “Mya is going to scream,” she shouts from the top of the stairs.

Jon’s pretty sure he’s the only one to follow up with her later on. He crosses his arms and leans against her doorjamb, watches her silently for a moment as she finishes out a short missive to a friend.

He waits until she drops her quill in its inkwell and starts to blow on the parchment before he clears his throat. “Congratulations,” he says, when she glances his way. “On making prefect.”

She smiles, openly, and the midday sunlight makes her auburn hair glow like a halo. Something squeezes in his chest.

“Thank you, Jon.” She waves the parchment through the air a few times, then folds it into a triangular note with a few quick strokes. The next glance she shoots him is conspiratorial. Another squeeze. “Make sure to tell Robb that I won’t be lenient if I catch you two skulking around poor Barnabas and his trolls.”

“We’ll make sure to do our skulking when we know you’re in class,” Jon replies, keeping his face straight for as long as possible. He can’t hold back his full grin, though, when Sansa rolls her eyes and turns back to her desk, all cluttered with succulents and half-eaten pastries. “But seriously, Slytherin has to have prefects, and you’re a far better choice than...Merlin, Viserys Targaryen.”

Housemate or not, even Sansa has to pull a face at the mention of Hogwarts’ biggest bully. The look she gives her circle of newly propagated succulent leaves is so withering that he’s surprised they spontaneously combust. 

“I can’t believe I have to share a common room with that prick,” she mutters. She rakes her fingers through her hair, shaking a few waves loose to flutter around her face. She’s been spending lots of time in the garden and orchard this summer, and it’s brought out a pretty sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. “But yes, I’m sure you’re happy to have a semi-sane person wandering the halls.”

Jon snickers. “I’d certainly rather be cornered by you in a corridor after midnight, that’s for sure.”

Whatever reply Sansa was near giving dies on her lips when a door downstairs slams. Ned calls out for Cat, and Cat calls back, and Sansa and Jon are left looking at each other across the space of her bedroom, small smiles tucked into the corners of their mouths.

Jon tears his eyes away to the far corner of the room, where her narrow bed sits primly made under the dormer window, then to the floor in front of him. He scuffs the toe of his shoe and pushes off of the doorjamb.

“Congratulations, again,” he says, and immediately wonders why his voice has gone so low.

“Thanks,” she repeats. Her own voice is warm, quiet. “Don’t make me corner you in a corridor.”

[blackholeofprocrastination]

@jonxsansaremix Day One: TV Couples

Cheers AU Original Couple: Diane Chambers x Sam Malone (very loosely inspired with pitcher-turned-recovering drunk-turned-bar owner!Jon and rich girl-turned-grad student-turned-waitress!Sansa)

It’s for Robb.

That’s what Jon tells himself when Sansa turns up, looking out of place against the dark wood and worn tables and sticky floor of his bar.

She’s the last Stark he ever thought to see here. They were never close as kids. Jon was too focused on impressing college scouts back then to pay much attention to Robb’s pretty little sister. Besides, Sansa ran with a different sort of crowd in school (one that required a trust fund and a BMW from Daddy). 

Of course there is no trust fund for Sansa anymore. No BMW either. It was sold, along with everything else when Stark Industries went bellyup last June.

It’s not until she’s on the couch in his office, tears brimming in her eyes, that he finds out that’s just the start of Sansa’s troubles. 

He listens as she tells him all about uprooting her life to attend school here. About the little studio flat she’s taken up near the park (one that she’s worried she cannot afford the rent on now). About having to give up her teaching assistant job at the university. About why.

As he listens, Jon’s hand fishes into his pocket, finger’s gripping at the bottle cap there, the metal digging into the flesh of his fingers. Usually it’s a reminder, something to anchor him from drinking every drop of whiskey in the place, but now it’s something to distract him from marching out to find this Professor Baelish character so he can punch in his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” she says when she’s finished. “I didn’t mean to just dump all of that on you.”

Jon gives her a weak smile and passes her a box of tissues.

“I’m a bartender,” he says with a shrug. “Call it a professional hazard.”

She hiccups a laugh, wiping at the tracks of tears on her face.

“I’m still sorry. I didn’t want to turn up like this. It’s just...I don’t know anyone else in town, and Robb said…” she trails off.

Robb said. The words spur Jon into action.

“Tuesday at four.”

“What?”

“I’m down a cocktail waitress. You start Tuesday at four.”

“You’re giving me a job?” Sansa asks somewhat incredulously.

Jon nods. He’s sure to get some flack from the boys for it (“Another redhead, Snow?”) and Val won’t be too happy about sharing her tips, but it’s the right thing to do.

It’s for Robb, he tells himself.

But then Sansa’s off the couch, her arms wrapped tight around him.

“Thank you, Jon.” She smiles at him and it hits him like a punch in the gut.

Ok...maybe it’s not just for Robb.

[rumaan]

Title: What You Really Like Remixed Pairing: Sana x Yousef Summary: Sansa can't stop staring at Jon working out

Of course I wrote a Yousana Skam AU for the @jonxsansaremix. I went with remixing this iconic gym scene which I know amuses @themiddleliddle as much as it does me!

Title from that Yousana anthem I Feel It Coming by The Weeknd and if there is not one single Sana/Sansa typo in this then I will be amazed!

Also on AO3

“So we need to find some new handsome guys for Margaery to date so she can forget Joffrey,” Jeyne says.

Sansa rolls her eyes a little as she heads up to the gym where she knows Robb and his friends work out. It’s irritating enough that she lost that stupid bet to him, but now he’s making her traipse all over town to give him the house keys, but having Jeyne prattle on about setting Margaery up to help her move on from her ex is even more annoying.

“Where are we going to find new boys though?”  Dany asks.

The question seems to stump Jeyne and Sansa hopes that thinking it over keeps her quiet for a little while at least. There’s only so much she can take out of Jeyne’s mouth these days.

“Wait out here,” she says to her friends as they arrive outside the gym.

“Why?” Randa asks, looking curiously at Sansa as she steps past her and into the gym.

Ugh, Sansa thinks. She really didn’t want to deal with this now especially as she knows how this is going to go down. Mixing her friends in with Robb and his squad has never been in her plans. Her brother’s friends are all huge flirts – well, all bar one, but dwelling on Jon Snow was dangerous territory these days. It is the crush she has never seen coming. Jon is the solemn more sober member of her brother’s friends and she had never expected to ever be attracted to him, preferring flashier boys when she had been younger. But his sincere nature is definitely something she appreciates now after some disastrous ex-boyfriends. Plus there’s the fact that he has grown into his emo personality and looks really handsome and pouty rather than just sulky these days.

Leading the rest of the girls into the small gym, Sansa pauses in stunned silence at the sight that greets her. She has never thought about how the boys would look when working out, but she knows it will star in her dreams from now on. Of course Jon catches her eye over the rest of Robb’s friends, a bandana pushing the curls back off his forehead as he lifts free weights in a basketball shirt that does nothing but show off the defined and very muscly state of his arms. She can’t help but let her eyes drift down as she continues to stare at him as he checks out his form in the mirror. She doesn’t even worry about him catching her staring so thirstily at him because she has no ability to look away.

There is no noise from her friends either, so she knows the girls are struck dumb by the sight as well. Belatedly, sanity restores itself and Sansa is able to shake her head and stop staring like a lovesick girl who has never seen rippling muscles before allowing her to call out to Robb.

“Hello, slave,” her brother says, wiping his face with the towel that is slung around his neck.

She shoots him an exasperated look but says nothing, instead throwing the keys to their house for him to catch.

“Thanks,” Robb says and then seems to cotton on to the fact that Sansa has brought the girls with her. He grins charmingly and asks her, “Who are your friends?”

Sansa isn’t going to play this game. There is no way she’s opening her friends up to the questionable flirting techniques of her brother and Theon especially. However, her plan to ignore his question and just turn away to leave is thwarted by Jeyne stepping around her and towards Robb, her hand stretched out and coy smile on her face.

“Jeyne,” she says.

“Robb,” her brother replies with a grin and the rest of his squad come up to be introduced.

“I think we found some,” Jeyne says clearly thinking of her comment about finding handsome boys from earlier and continuing to drink in the boys standing in front of her.

“No,” Sansa says emphatically, looking between Jeyne and her brother. “No, no, no!”

But she knows it’s too late already. There’s no way she’s going to be able to keep her friends from merging with her brother and his friends. Her eyes snag on Jon once more, where he’s lurking at the back. He catches her gaze and gives her a rare grin.

Well, there could be some benefits to hanging out with her brother more often.

[cryoreal]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Cersei Lannister, Ned Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark Additional Tags: Cupid/Psyche AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy Summary:

Written for the Jon x Sansa Remix, Round Three, day 4: mythological/fairy tale.

Jon as Cupid, Sansa as Psyche, Cersei as Venus, Rhaegar as Apollo.

The daughter of the King and Queen of Winter is unmarried, despite her surpassing beauty. The king prays to the god Rhaegar, who tells him that Sansa is not to be married to any mortal man, but instead will marry a god.

For @jonxsansaremix day 4: mythological couples.

[jonxsansaremix]

2017 Remix

So I’ve been in two minds about whether I was going to run a Third Round for the Jon x Sansa Remix this year but thought I would take some opinions from the fandom to see if there’s a desire for it to be run.

My original aim was to start the prompting for the Remix earlier than usual April date and have it post during Season 7. Obviously, I didn’t get my act together so I’ve come up with two options:

Option 1:

The Remix follows the same dates as it has for the past two years: Prompting and claiming takes place in April with submissions due in the third week of August and posting starts on 1st September.

Option 2:

The Remix has a shorter creative period this year. Prompting and claiming takes place in April but submissions are due around the second week of July and posting starts on 17th July when GOT S7 airs.

What do you all think? Do you want a Remix this year? Do you prefer option 1 or option 2? 

Not sure what the Jon x Sansa Remix is? Here’s a post explaining it

Remix Round One 2015

Remix Round Two 2016

[amandapeetshusband]

glee, by its very definition, is about opening yourself up to joy...

the stunning young ingenue and the high school football star aka the jon x sansa glee au I’m honestly surprised I haven’t done earlier.

[kitten1618x]

In the Company of Wolves  

Chapter Two -  available on ao3 OR ffnet 

A Snippet: 

"You should run home then, Little Red. The woods are not safe."

Sansa inhaled sharply, whirling around at the sound of the deep voice that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Her blue eyes widening in surprise, she flattened herself against the tree at her back, until she could feel the roughness of the bark scraping at her through her clothing.

He was dressed in all black, a woolen cloak draped across the broad width of his shoulders, black breeches and boots clinging to his lean legs and hips, and a messy mane of thick black curls piled atop his head. Black. Everything about him was black—except his eyes. A sharp, piercing grey gaze pinned her in place—focused and intense, as if he could see right to the very depths of her soul.

Sansa swallowed nervously. "I'm looking for my brothers."

[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.

[sardoniyx]

Jonsa AUs - You’ve Got Mail ( @jonxsansafanfiction‘s remix day 5 - movie couples)

Jon as Joe Fox, Sansa as Kathleen Kelly

“If you don’t like Sansa Stark, lemme tell you right now. You’re not gonna like this girl.” “Why wouldn’t I?” “Because she is Sansa Stark.”

[nyangibun]

Day 2: Remember

For @jonxsansafanfiction Day 2 - Comic Book/Graphic Novel Couples

Summary: It takes him seventy years to realise he’s in love with her and she’s no longer the girl he once knew. They’re both different now, fighting on different sides, him as Captain America and her as the ruthless Winter Soldier, but Jon refuses to believe this isn’t his Sansa and he’ll do whatever it takes to reach her. 

It has been seventy years since he crash landed in the Arctic, seventy years since he’s seen a familiar face, and although the technological advancements of the twenty-first century are something to marvel over, Jon doesn’t feel particularly that impressed by it. New York is harsher than he remembers, colder in a way that the war never brought out; people are always rushing from one place to another, shoving and yelling at each other without a modicum of respect. His New York wasn’t perfect, Jon knows this, and he remembers the injustices and the cruelty that lurked at every corner, but he misses the community. He misses his mum, though she died years before he ever even enlisted in the war, but most of all, he misses the Starks. Great big overprotective Robb, tough little Arya, kind and smart Bran and young baby Rickon.

But of course… her. Oh, he misses her like a bird longs for flight. In a way, the comparison is apt. She was his freedom, her smile his salvation and her eyes his home.

They hadn’t always been as close as they were. Sansa was different to the Starks. She longed for a life on the stage, to be front and centre, dancing and twirling batons to help lift the spirits of the troops overseas. It was her way of giving back, she always said. Jon never liked the idea, only so much as he didn’t like the idea of Sansa ever being anywhere near the line of duty, but once that girl sets her mind to something, she always does it.

It was a source of contention between them for much of their childhood. At first, Jon couldn’t understand why she would want to be a dancer. He was a stubborn ass though, so this wasn’t news; he simply couldn’t see how a dancing troupe could affect the war positively in any way. She should’ve been more like Arya, raring to fight alongside the men and doing her damndest to do so. That was true bravery in his eyes. But then that all changed.

Jon was walking home from the recruitment centre, rejected again for the umpteenth time for being medically unfit, when he came across a group of known bullies ragging on some poor kid only an inch shorter than Jon himself. The rage was abrupt, curling and roiling inside of him, and he had his hands in fists before he even stepped off the pavement. But a second later, Jon realised he didn’t have to. A sweet voiced called out, sharp and soft but no less demanding.

“Why don’t you boys pick on someone your own size, huh?” Sansa stepped up to the three large brutes. Jon felt his hackles rise, a deep, surprising need to protect her surging forward.

But she was smiling and it seemed to soften the blow as the three boys merely appraised her, taking in the curve of her hips, emphasised by the cinched waist of her dress. “This is America, dollface. We gotta show we’re tough. Letting these tweeds walk around while the rest are fighting ain’t good. You understand.”

Sansa’s smile tightened. “What I understand is you aren’t out there fighting either, so I suggest you go on get yourself enlisted before the girls around here find out you’re all cowards.”

“Hey, who said we haven’t! We were just –”

“I’m not saying anything,” Sansa interrupted with a pretty arch of her brow. She walked up to the one clearly in charge and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Big boys like you will surely do us all proud, right?”

Within seconds, Sansa had all three boys eating out of the palm of her hands before they all went scurrying away to prove their worth somewhere else. Almost as soon as they were gone, she hurried to kneel beside the younger boy and propped a hand behind his head.

“Hey, hey,” she murmured. “Are you alright there? Gosh, I’m so sorry about them. They’re mean ones. If my brother was home, he would’ve…” Sansa stopped abruptly and inhaled sharply, whilst shaking her head. “You remind me of someone, you know? Real tough guy too.”

The boy, barely a year or two older than Bran, sniffled and shook his head. “I’m not tough, miss.”

After getting the boy to sit up, Sansa inclined her head and smiled, genuinely now. “What? Looked like you were being mighty tough from where I was.” She gave a soft chuckle. “It’s easy to answer life with violence. It’s harder to weather its beatings.”

The boy looked doubtful as he wiped at his bloodied nose, the sleeve of his shirt coming away crimson and wet.

“Trust me,” Sansa said, helping him stand. “That someone I know? He’s real brave, just like you. Gets into more fights than you’d believe but he keeps going, you know? Keeps on getting up, putting up his fists like he knows what to do with ‘em. Real dumbass too, but… brave.”

That was him… Wasn’t it?

Jon couldn’t understand it. Never in his years of knowing the Starks had Sansa ever really spoken to him and yet she… admired him? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. And with a clouded mind and a conflicted heart, Jon walked away that day, trying to reconcile this image of snobby Sansa Stark with the one he had just witnessed.

He started being nicer to her, saying little things, complimenting her, and she started reciprocating with teasing jabs at this or that. When Robb came home on leave, as the three eldest of the group, they went to the Carnival together – well, Jon, Sansa, Robb and his new girl, Margaery. It was there that Jon really became friends with her. It was hard not to form a bond after being ditched by her brother for the rest of the night and even harder for him not to grow attached to the eldest Stark daughter. Sansa was more than what people saw, more than just a pretty face and a soft voice with bright-eyed dreams; she was tough, smart and observant. She understood people in a way Jon never could.

Looking back on it now, Jon thinks he misses that part of Sansa the most.

Actually, that’s a lie. He misses every part of her, every inch of her soul, and if he has to burn the world to ash just to hear her laugh one more time, Jon thinks he might just do it.

It’s why he hesitates. There in Washington amidst the rubble and chaos of HYDRA soldiers firing at his people, Jon stops and he stares, and god, he thinks his heart has stopped beating completely, because standing in front of him is Sansa. Her hair is still as bright as copper; her eyes as blue as the summer sky; but now she is dressed in black with a metal arm and she’s glaring at him like she has no idea who he is.

“Sansa?”

Her brows furrow and she lets out a deep growl. “Who the hell is Sansa?”

It doesn’t make sense. He saw her die. He saw her fall. When HYDRA attacked their base, Jon’s first thought wasn’t to his brothers of the Howling Commandos, it was to the dancing troupe still there. He had grabbed Sansa and took her with him, determined that no matter what happens, she’ll live. She has to. She’s too important to this world to die. And yet he had failed her. He watches her every night falling to her death in his dreams, watches as her face contorts with fear, anger and loathing before the light blinks out from her eyes. He failed her and… now, she’s here? How? Why?

It’s a question that haunts him day in and day out. It’s what fuels him to dismantle HYDRA and take down the helicarriers. And it is what stops him from laying one hand on her. He won’t touch her; he won’t hurt her. If she wants to kill him, she very well can. He more than deserves it.

“I’m not going to fight you, Sansa,” he says through a mouthful of blood as her fists continue to ram into his face. It’s hard to fathom this is the same girl that cried for a week straight when her dog got run over by a car or the same girl that stayed by Bran’s side for months on end when his accident left him paralysed from the waist down. The gentle, compassionate Sansa of his past is not the same as the one before him, but she’s still his Sansa somewhere in there and he would never hurt her.

“Stop calling me that!” she yells but he sees the warring emotions in her eyes and her fists still. “I’m not… I don’t know who that is!”

“Yes, you do!” He grabs her fists gently and pulls her closer. Sansa falls onto his chest, her legs still straddling his hip. “Look at me, you know me. We grew up together. In Brooklyn? Remember?”

“No!” she spits out as she tries to pull her fists away but it’s half-hearted. He knows because she’s punched him into a car only days before, so she definitely has the strength.

“You do, you do and that’s why you don’t want to hurt me,” Jon continues on, pushing harder than he ought to. “You’re Sansa Stark. You have three brothers, Robb, Bran and Rickon. And a sister named Arya. You once owned a dog you named Lady. You used to put bow ties around her ears.”

Her eyes glaze over. She’s looking through him like she’s seeing something there, a memory perhaps, and it fills him with hope. She’s remembering. She has to be…

“Jon!” crackles a voice from some overhead PA system. “You gotta get that chip in place!”

Immediately, Sansa’s eyes return to their previous icy glare and she yanks her hands away from his forcefully. “NO!” she screams at him as she brings her hand back to punch again, but Jon is too quick, he curses himself as he throws her off him. He doesn’t want to hurt her and he’ll never lay a hand on her, but he has to get the chip in or millions will die.

Jon snorts humourlessly to himself as he races up the helicarrier to insert the chip. The greater good – it’s what he’s always operated towards and it’s what got Sansa killed.

But Jon doesn’t have time to reflect on much after that, the helicarrier explodes and he’s flung from the wreckage into the river below. He doesn’t remember much of what happens next but he wakes up on the muddy bank, and for the second time that day, he feels hope. There’s only one person who could’ve reached him that quickly and pulled him to shore. She remembers him.

When the world goes on the hunt for the Winter Soldier after the bomb killed dozens of diplomats at the Vienna International Centre, Jon realises he has to get there first. If they catch Sansa, they’ll kill her and he knows it isn’t her. He’s been tracking her since the Triskelion, or at least trying to, and he knows that at least for that day, Sansa had been nowhere near Vienna. Last he heard, she was in Romania, and so he gets on a jet and heads there with Tormund in tow and Val’s voice in his ear saying this is a bad idea. But he doesn’t care. He’s just had to bury Ygritte, a woman he loved, and he’s not about to do the same with Sansa.

The fight that ensues is familiar, reminiscent of the one down in Washington, yet he’s fighting with her instead of against her and it feels… right. Jon’s never been in any situation where Sansa ever had to fight anyone back in their past, aside from that one time she slapped Margaery in the face for not showing up to Robb’s funeral, but it still feels like this is where he belongs. Too bad the combined superhuman strength and speed of both Captain America and the Winter Soldier isn’t enough to thwart the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre operatives (and some man named Grey Worm in a cat outfit). It does allow Jon time to try to speak some sense into his friends, plead with Daenerys and Val and the rest of them that Sansa isn’t bad, and that the real Sansa is still in there somewhere. It’s to no use though. Daenerys is adamant that Sansa is a threat, and though she commiserates with Jon, the fact is the world needs a scapegoat for Vienna and the Sokovia Accords still need to happen.

It’s a relief to him when Sansa manages to get loose. Tormund and Jon easily grab her and take her from the building, hiding her away in a basement like some shameful prisoner of war, but he hopes she knows that’s not what she is. He just wants her back; he needs her back.

“Give us a minute,” Jon says quietly to Tormund.

The redheaded man looks incredulously back. “What? You do realise your girlfriend just tore through dozens of highly trained operatives and the Black Widow and… that Cat person, right?”

“His name is Grey Worm,” Jon sighs. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Jon.”

“Tormund, please. One minute,” he pleads now. He’s not above grovelling at this point, but he has to try again to get through to her.

“Fine. You’ve got one minute,” the other man huffs before leaving the room.

Sansa looks up at the click of the door, her eyes a little glassy and unfocused. Jon quickly strides across the room to kneel before her, probably too close for Tormund’s sanity of mind, but he doesn’t care. “Hey, are you okay?”

She snorts and lifts her wrists where the handcuffs jingle against the metal barrier. “Do I look okay?”

Jon smiles. “I’m sorry. You can understand why we had to… you know.” She shrugs and looks away from him. “Sansa, do you remember me?”

For a long second, she doesn’t answer and Jon starts to worry that Tormund will burst on through before she gets a chance to reply, but then finally, she says, “I remember… voices, images. That’s it.”

“But you remember my voice? My image?”

Sansa’s brows furrow forward. “Yes, but… you were smaller. Not you like this.” She jerks her head towards him.

“I was smaller,” Jon laughs, relieved and elated. “Before the experiment.”

At the word, Sansa tenses and she begins to breathe heavily. Jon immediately goes to cup her face in his hands, forgetting for a moment that this isn’t the Sansa of his past and this isn’t some anxiety attack he can soothe like he used to do for her, but this Sansa does soften at his touch and suddenly, his heart is racing as he realises something.

“Do you trust me not to hurt you?”

Sansa catches his eye and frowns. “I don’t know. I want to say yes, but… I don’t know.”

“I’ll never hurt you, Sansa,” he whispers, his thumb gently grazing over her cheekbone. “As long as I can help it.” She sighs, but nods. “So I’m going to tell you something and I’m going to do something and I’m going to need you to promise not to punch me for it.”

“I…” She sighs again. “I promise.”

Inhaling deeply, Jon braces himself because he should’ve realised this sooner, seventy years ago in fact, but if this isn’t a second chance sent from the gods themselves then he really is a delusional idiot. “Sansa,” he starts softly. “A long, long time ago, we used to be friends. Best friends, actually. We told each other everything; we were always there for one another. And maybe that’s why I never realised it but I do now.”

“Realise what?” Sansa asks, her eyes full of curiosity and it reminds him so much of the girl he used to know that his heart clenches at the sight.

“That I love you,” Jon confesses. “Not as a friend. I love you. Gods, if our world wasn’t so topsy turvy, I’d say I want to marry, grow old with you, have kids with you, but I don’t think that’s in our future.” He shakes his head. “All I do know is I love you and I’ve loved you for over seventy years.”

With those last words, Jon leans forward, bridging the gap between their lips, and pressing firmly against her. He doesn’t do much more than that; he doesn’t want to overwhelm her; but when he pulls away, he hears her sharp inhale of breath and he hopes that that’s a good sign.

Sansa’s eyes flutter before they open fully to stare at him. Her cheeks are flushed and she looks so beautiful despite the ragged clothes hanging off her body and the matted hair sticking to her forehead. “I don’t remember,” she says.

“I know.”

“Didn’t you expect me to remember?” Sansa asks, confused. He shakes his head and her confusion grows. “Then… why?”

“Because if we die tomorrow, I just need you to know,” Jon answers. “I don’t want to wait another seventy years to tell you again, Sans.”

She nods, staying painfully quiet. Tormund’s heavy footsteps echo in the corridor outside and they have only a few seconds left alone. Jon was resigned to this torturous fate when Sansa jerks forward and kisses him soundly on the lips. She’s more insistent now, more demanding and Jon isn’t ashamed to admit he lets a low groan make its way from deep in his throat.

“I want to remember,” she whispers, just as Tormund bursts into the room.

“Alright, lovebirds!” he booms. “Time to go kick ass and take names!”

Jon doesn’t know about that, but he knows in that moment that he would burn the world to ashes if it meant saving her. 

[captainbee89]

Just saying...

Watching the Lion King and thinking to myself, if Sansa doesn’t do a whole Nala “what the hell are you playing at? Get your whiney ass back home this minute and sort your shit out!” with Jon whats even the point?

[tosailuponthesea]

The Borgias AU Part 1/?: “Ask, and it is yours.”

Sansa x Jon | Marry Me

“Where will we go?”

“A small fishing village by the coast.”

[blackholeofprocrastination]

@jonxsansaremix Day Five: Movie Couples

Rear Window Au Original Couple: Lisa Carol Fremont x L.B. “Jeff” Jefferies (I do not own this dialogue. It was taken from the film)

“I’m in love with you. I don’t care what you do for a living. I’d just like to be part of it somehow. It’s deflating to find out the only way I can be part of it is to take out a subscription to your magazine. I guess I’m not the girl I thought I was.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Sansa. You’ve got this town in the palm of your hand.”

“Not quite it seems. Goodbye Jon.”

“You mean goodnight?”

“I mean what I said.”

“Well, Sansa…couldn’t we just…couldn’t we just keep things status quo?”

“Without any future?”

“Well…when am I going to see you again?”

“Not for a long time. At least…not until tomorrow night.”

[oldkindandtheverylastofyourkind]

JonxSansa Remix 2017 Day 6- Hamilton and Eliza

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

           Let me tell you what I wish I’d known

           When I was young and dreamed of glory

           You have no control

           Who lives, who dies, who tells your story

The fallen leaves cracked under the boots of the former Lady of Winterfell as she slowly made her way to the crypts beneath her home. She found herself coming here more and more often as yet another winter approached. It would be her tenth winter- and something told her- her last. She had come here often over the years to visit her deceased family members- her father, her brother, her sister, her son. Today, however, she was here to visit her husband, Jon Snow.

Every other founding father story gets told

Every other founding father gets to grow old

But when you’re gone, who remembers your name?

Who keeps your flame?

Who tells your story?

After Jon and his allies had prevailed in the war for their future, Daenerys Targaryen had been unanimously elected in Westeros’s historic free-election. For the first time ever, every citizen in Westeros, from the high lords in their castles, to the common people in their modest houses, had chosen their ruler. The Mother of Westeros, as she had affectionately been known as, ruled the country wisely for twenty years before deciding to step down to spend the rest of her life in peace at her home in Dragonstone. Sansa could not imagine a ruler that could have been more admired, respected, and revered than their first elected-ruler, Daenerys Targaryen. She would forever be known as a Mother to her country.  

           Those twenty prosperous years under Daenerys’s rule had been tumultuous, but mostly happy ones for Sansa and her family. After the War of the Dawn, and Jon’s true parentage had been revealed, he and Sansa had married to rule as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. There had been some talk to crown them King and Queen in the North, but in the end, they decided to trust Daenerys and the democratic process. They believed Westeros would be stronger if it were united as one instead of split up into seven different kingdoms.

Jon and Sansa were deeply in love and thrilled that they no longer had to be ashamed of their true feelings. Arya had been a bit hesitant, but she was happy that Jon would be in her life as her brother once again. After their wedding, children soon followed. They had four children, two boys and two girls. The first-born had been a boy which Jon and Sansa enthusiastically agreed to name Robb, after their dearly departed brother. Sansa would remember the feeling of holding her son in her arms for the first time for the rest of her life and beyond. Sansa loved all of her children equally, of course, but Robb was particularly special to her simply because he was her first.

That’s why it had hurt her so deeply when Robb died as young and as tragically as his namesake. Robb was nothing if not an honorable and dutiful son. When other boys started calling the Lord of Winterfell an adulterer and Robb a product of incest, he knew he had to challenge them to a duel. When Robb came to his father seeking advice, Jon had told him to be as honorable as his grandfather by laying down his weapon to settle the dispute. This advice, which Robb followed to a T, ended up costing him his life.

In her heartbreak and grief, it took Sansa months to forgive Jon for the part he played, but forgive him she did. After all, part of the reason she loved him so much was that he was always as honorable as her Lord Father. Always. It wasn’t long before Jon found himself involved in another duel. This time Jon himself was defending the honor of the newest ruler of Westeros, Lyanna Mormont of Bear Island. In his bid to be as honorable as Lord Eddard, Jon was struck down by Cersei Lannister’s sole surviving heir who believed that the seat of ruling in Westeros belonged to him by right.

I put myself back in the narrative

I stop wasting time on tears

I live another fifty years

It’s not enough

For months after Jon’s death, Sansa was angry at the Old Gods for taking away her eldest son and her husband within such a short amount of time. But she realized that she didn’t want to spend her remaining time mourning them. She wanted to do something productive. She wanted to feel connected to Jon even if he was no longer with her physically. She wanted the entire world to know of his accomplishments, as well as his bravery and kindness. So, she dried her tears and steadied herself for what was to come next. She had so much to do.      

I interview every soldier who fought by your side

She tells our story

As her bastard brother, and then her cousin, and finally her husband, Sansa always knew that the man she loved was capable of great things. But she was only one person and she only knew one side of the story. To truly understand her husband, Sansa knew she would have to dig deeper. She talked to Sam Tarly, the Maester of Winterfell, and asked him to tell her everything he knew about Jon. She traveled North to the Wall to talk with those former brothers of Jon who remained. She traveled South to King’s Landing to talk to Daenerys Targaryen, Tyrion Lannister, Missandei, and Grey Worm. She talked to anyone and everyone who had any experience fighting with or under Jon - Tormund Giantsbane, Davos Seaworth, even Gendry Waters, her sister’s husband. But of course, the person Sansa relied on the most relies on to tell her every detail about Jon was her brother Bran, the Three-Eyed Raven.

I try to make sense of your thousands of pages of writing

You really do write like you’re running out of time

Sansa also spent days and nights buried in Jon’s solar reading everything he ever wrote. Every letter, every correspondence, every decree, every personal journal entry. Sansa could not believe how much Jon wrote. Almost as if he knew his time was limited.  

I rely on Angelica

While she’s alive, we tell your story

She’s buried in Trinity Church near you

When I needed her most, she was right on time

Despite telling herself that she came here to visit Jon, Sansa found herself lingering in front of her sister’s statue and getting lost in another memory as she was so apt to do these days.  

One night, as Sansa is reading through yet another correspondence between Jon and Daenerys Targaryen, her sister enters the solar. Sansa is so wrapped up in reading every word Jon ever wrote that she doesn’t even look up. Arya sits on the floor next to Sansa and takes her hands in hers. This is what finally makes Sansa look at her sister. Arya can see how blood-shot her sister’s eyes are and the bags under them that Sansa cannot hide.

Arya sighs and whispers, “Sansa, you don’t have to do this alone. I may not have been married to him, but that doesn’t mean I loved him less. After all, in a way, he was mine before he was yours.”

Sansa just looks at her blankly.

Arya continues, “Let me help you tell his story. I want to make sure his legacy is preserved, too.”

As realization dawns in Sansa’s eyes, her lips spread into a smile. She pulls her sister into a hug and whispers, “Thank you, Arya.”

As Arya pulls back, she asks, “So, can I help you sort through this reading material?”

Sansa thinks for a minute before replying, “Actually, have you ever talked to Gendry about what happened North of the Wall?”  

Arya had died ten years ago from a fever. It wasn’t traditional for statues to be made of family members who were not Kings in the North or Lords of Winterfell. However, her lord father had broken tradition by having a statue made for his deceased siblings Brandon and Lyanna. Sansa had felt that Arya had done so much for their family and for her in particular, that she deserved to have a statue made of her just as much as their aunt and uncle, if not more. And so Arya Stark would forever rest beside Jon in the crypts underneath Winterfell.  

And I’m still not through

I ask myself, “What would you do if you had more time?”

The Lord, in his kindness

He gives me what you always wanted

He gives me more time

Sansa had scoured the North to find a skilled artist who actually knew what Jon had looked like. She didn’t want a repeat of her father’s statue. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life staring at a piece of rock that did a poor job of imitating her husband. This slab of concrete was a poor substitute for Jon’s warmth, his comforting smile, and the crinkle in his eyes. Still, it was all she had left. As Sansa looked into the stone eyes of the freshly made statue for the first time, she wondered what her next move should be. She whispered into the quiet air of the crypts, “What would you do if you had more time, my love? What should I do with mine?”

I raise funds in D.C. for the Washington Monument

She tells my story

I speak out against slavery

You could have done so much more if you only had time

Sansa travels to King’s Landing to ask the newly elected ruler, the son of Lady Brienne and Sir Jaime, to commission a statue celebrating Westeros’s first elected ruler, Daenerys Targaryen.

“My Lord, my late husband believed in Daenerys’s vision for this country. She brought us back from the brink of ruin and established the peace and prosperity that we are still enjoying today. Across the Narrow Sea, she ended the inhuman practice of slavery in the area that is now known as The Bay of Dragons. I beg you to build a statue in King’s Landing to honor her and her achievements.”  

“Lady Stark, the efforts of your husband and aunt have not gone unrecognized. Moreover, my mother has warned me repeatedly to never deny Sansa Stark anything, lest I want to start a fight that I will most surely lose. Your request will be granted.”

And when my time is up, have I done enough?

Will they tell our story?

Sansa sits alone in her solar one evening staring into the fire, trying to think of her next project. What did Jon love the most? Me and the kids, Sansa thought bitterly as tears threatened to come to her eyes. But, then, the answer came to her. Jon’s most passionate cause. His biggest complaint about his own life. Of course, it was so simple.

I establish the first private orphanage in New York City

I help to raise hundreds of children

I get to see them growing up

In their eyes, I see you, Alexander

I see you every time

Sansa establishes the first private orphanage in the North, as well as helps to clean up the ones in King’s Landing. Sansa knows how lost Jon felt growing up, not knowing his mother, and never being able to be a true son to his father. Jon was lucky to grow up at Winterfell, but he still felt alone in his youth, even in a castle as large and crowded as Winterfell. Sansa wondered if he would have felt more at home with other orphans or other bastards who didn’t have a place in the world- just like him. The idea makes her sad, but happy at the same time.

The orphanage, called Winter’s Children, was built in the only city in the North, White Harbor. Sansa was needed at Winterfell, still being its lady, but she spent as much time at Winter’s Children as she could. She loved meeting the children and watching them grow up and eventually leave to make their way in the world. And she always saw Jon reflected in their eyes. At first, she only saw Jon’s lack of direction, insecurity, and anger. But as the children grew, she saw Jon’s kindness, strength, bravery, and perseverance. In those moments, she felt closer to Jon than she did when she started at his statue in the crypts. She was wrong when she thought that Jon’s lifeless statue was all she had left of him. As long as Jon’s spirit was alive in these children, then he was, too.

And when my time is up

Have I done enough?

Will they tell your story?

Sansa stood in front of Jon’s statue for nearly an hour before she spoke.

“Hello, my love. For fifty years, I have tried my best to make sure people remember your name centuries from now. You are the most incredible person I have ever met and all I want is for your accomplishments to be recognized. And I’m not sure I did enough.”

“You did.”

A new voice cut through the empty crypt.

Surprised, Sansa gave a squeak and jerked back.

“Sorry, Sansa, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sansa turned to her side and saw a familiar figure slowly approaching her. He was very large and very round with a strong white beard. He had become a dominating figure from the boy who came to Winterfell so many years ago.      

“That’s alright, Sam,” Sansa replied to her friend.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Sam said, “Jon would be so proud of everything you have accomplished.”

Sansa turned her face to look at him. “I certainly like to think so.”

“He would. No doubt about it. History had its eyes on you two and the world will know your names.”

“I hope so,” Sansa said.

Then, Winterfell’s Maester pulled something from behind his back.

“I want to show you this,” he said.

“What is it?” Sansa asked.

“I’m calling it A Song of Ice and Fire. It’s the story of Westeros around the time of the War of the Five Kings and the War for the Dawn. It’s the story of your family and the Lannisters and the Targaryens. It’s the story of Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, Tyrion Lannister, and Sansa Stark. Through this book, the world will know his story. Yours, too.”’

“Mine’s not important,” Sansa said.

“It is,” Sam urged. “It’s more important. Jon Snow was a great man, but you proved that women don’t need husbands to accomplish great things. You will be remembered by history, not as Jon Snow’s wife, but as a hero in your own right. This book will make sure of it.”

Sansa started to cry as she threw her arms around the maester.

“Thank you, Sam,” she whispered against his beard. “Thank you so much.”

I can’t wait to see you again

It’s only a matter of time

Sansa Stark died in her sleep that night. She died as she lived, surrounded by those that loved her. But the North’s daughter was never forgotten. Thanks to A Song of Ice and Fire Jon Snow and Sansa Stark went down in history as two of the North’s most legendary and loved historical figures.

Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

[kitten1618x]

Chapter One - available on ao3 OR ffnet. 

There’s a beast prowling in the Wolfswood forest, just outside of the small village of Winterfell ....

Everything A Big Bad Wolf Could Want: Fair of face and kissed by fire, Sansa Stark is a force to be reckoned with—with a feisty spirit to match the flare of her flaming hair. Still, there’s no shortage of suitors vying for the hand of the eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark—but despite all their clever plans, Sansa vows she will only marry for love. A chance encounter with a mysterious stranger in the woods, sets her on a path of passion and dangerous intrigue. Is Jon her salvation or her damnation? Perhaps he is both.

Even Bad Wolves Can Be Good: Being the fatherless son of the village recluse believed to be a witch, Jon Snow is no stranger to being ostracized by his peers. Even after his mother's death, he keeps to himself, living a life of solitude in the forest and stays clear of Winterfell village—content to watch from a distance, the auburn haired beauty that has beguiled him since he was naught but a lad. But Jon harbors a dark secret—and he’s sworn to protect Sansa at all costs ...even if it’s from himself.