#jonsa writing prompt

[justmymindandstuff]

Wolf Hunter- Jonsa writing prompt // Jonsa Halloween 2024 day 1 Wolf- cursed lovers

Sansa Stark always knew one thing: she would be a good Wolf- Queen and protect her people.

Jon Snow always knew one thing: he would fulfill his destiny and destroy the kingdom of the werewolves forever.

But what happens when the werewolf queen and the hunter prince fall in love?

"I wish I had killed you when I still could." "What's stopping you now?" "Killing you would be like ripping my own heart out of my chest with my bare hands."

[sailorshadzter]

Can you write a fic where Cat survived the Red Wedding and has to accept that Sansa has to marry Jon to keep the Stark line and the North united? She knows Jon is now the heir but the prospect of marriage still haunts her because of what happened to Robb. And now, Cat wouldn't want to wish what happened to Robb to Jon Snow regardless of his heritage.

HIIII ANON

once again, this has been sitting in my inbox for a long time!!!

hopefully you see this!!!

send me prompts

When the gates open, a wagon rolls in, pulled by a white mare that has seen better days. 

She happens to be standing in the courtyard, talking with a few of the lords when the call comes, so her attention shifts away, blue eyes watching as the wagon comes all the way through. They aren’t expecting anyone, not that it matters, so she excuses herself, wandering away from the center yard and closer to the horse drawn wagon that has now come to a stop.

As the single passenger rises from the bench, her heart skips a beat, her stomach turning over like the wild waves of the sea. Somehow, her heart is telling her all she needs to know about this hooded stranger. 

Coming closer now, she waves away the guards barking questions- who are you, why have you come, and the like, because she doesn’t need to hear the answer the woman will give. As she comes around to the back, the figure is stepping down off the back, her feet crunching in the freshly fallen snow. For a moment, it is as if time is suspended, as if there is not a single other person in the world but the two of them- her lips curve around the syllables of the word she hasn’t used in years… “Mother…”

Catelyn Stark smiles, drawing back the hood of her cloak to reveal a somewhat scarred face, one older than she recalls, but it was her mother all the same. “Sansa,” she breathes, tears overflowing as she forces a smile. “My daughter…” A girl grown into a woman, a sight she thought she might never get to see… But here she was, standing just in front of her. It takes but a moment more for the young woman to fling herself at her, to fall into her arms as if she were that child she’d lost so many years before. “I’m here, Sansa, I’m here,” she whispers, running her hand through the red hair that has grown so long it falls to her waist, twisted back in braids like her own. Catelyn holds her tightly, wishing away her tears and murmuring the softest of words, until only the sound of footsteps draws her away.

When she looks up, over her daughter’s head, it is to look into the eyes of the man she knows has saved Winterfell, has saved Sansa. The boy she once detested, the boy she once neglected, now stands there now, grown into a man, staring at her with wide, gray eyes. Eyes that remind her of Ned, of Arya, eyes that bring pain to her already aching heart. But, she returns to her daughter, the last piece of her, and knows that this was where life was meant to bring her. 

[ x x x ]

“King in the North?”

Catelyn questions without hesitation, looking from one face to the other, once again feeling that ache in her heart. Once, Robb had been called such a thing. The truth was, she imagined to hear Queen in the North upon her arrival, but it was true, Robb had indeed named Jon as his heir, and it seemed as if the North agreed. Truth was, after hearing about all that had happened since the days of Robb, she supposes Jon deserves the title. 

Besides… 

“Have you met with Samwell Tarly?” She asks next, thinking of the man she met some weeks ago, traveling from King’s Landing to Winterfell, saying how once he was comrades with Jon Snow, no, friends even. “Is he not here?” 

Jon shakes his head, surprised to hear his old friend’s name spoken by his step mother. “I have not heard from Sam since before…” He trails off , shaking his head. Since before his death, he means. “Have you met with him, Lady Stark?” Lady Stark… She’s not been referred to by that name in so long now, it feels somewhat foreign. In truth, she’s heard Sansa called by that title all day, her inheritance certain. And now that she looks, there is a closeness between the two of them that she never saw before- perhaps it was one she prevented, in truth. 

“I have,” she admits, wondering if it was her place to tell him what Samwell Tarly had told her. She has but a split second to decide, for they are both staring back at her, Sansa with her wide-eyed gaze, Jon with his somber one. Perhaps this was the will of the gods, whichever ones were still listening…

So she speaks and she doesn’t stop until the story is fully told. 

[ x x x ]

It is the fourth morning of Catelyn’s return and she finds herself in Sansa’s rooms, brushing out her long red hair as she once did so long ago. 

Much has changed in the days since her arrival, the truth of Jon’s birth being an outright shock for all of Winterfell. But, the lords have taken it in stride and it would not be long before they would openly claim him as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. 

In due time, of course. 

Catelyn has been thinking this moment over, again and again, trying to decide the best of the situation. The North deserved to be free, independent, just as Robb had intended…. But they still needed to back Jon, in order to win the war that was to come. Targaryen’s were not well loved here in the North, but lucky for Jon, he’d amassed love and respect from the Northerners that could not be stolen away simply because of his father’s blood. He was a Stark, many lords would say, shaking their heads. He was as much of a Targaryen as any one of them. 

“Mother?”

Sansa’s voice draws her out of her own thoughts and she smiles at her over her shoulder, their eyes meeting in the reflection of the looking glass. “I got lost in my own thoughts,” she apologizes as she places the last pin into place. For a single moment, she cannot help but to imagine her as she once was in this place; a hostage, a victim. Sansa hasn’t come out with all of the details of her two unlucky marriages, though she swears Tyrion never touched her, Catelyn knows Ramsay Bolton did the most unspeakable things to her. And these thoughts lead back to Robb, who married out of young, stupid love, that unwavering feeling many don’t get to feel in a world like theirs. Robb had died for love, Sansa nearly died from the violence of a loveless marriage. In the end, her children had found suffering in marriage, whether it be true love or political gain… There was no happy ending, not for Robb and not for Sansa.

But then there comes a knock on her door and when it opens, Jon is there, the sight of him bringing a smile to her face she’s never seen before. She watches as Sansa lights up from within, as she rises up from the chair she occupies to sweep across the room to stand before him. He spares her but one single nod before his eyes are all for Sansa, eyes that she swears she’s seen before… Eyes that she swore Ned once looked upon her with. 

Sansa offers a quick curtsy- sloppy, though she had it perfected at three- and with her arm slipped through his, she allows him to steer her from the room.

 Left alone in silence, Catelyn sinks back in the chair, laughter bubbling on her lips. 

[ x x x ]

Several weeks later, their betrothal is announced. 

Catelyn watches as the loyal Northern lords raise their glasses to the marriage, chanting their pleasure before they drink to it. At the head table, Sansa is blushing, but not in the innocent sort of way, while Jon pours her a second goblet of wine. They would be the finest of couples and the most powerful of monarchs- already Dorne had written of their support and she supposes the rest of the world would not be far behind. They had far more power than Robb ever had, which she supposes should bring her comfort, should hold her heart steady. 

The boy she once wished would die, she now wishes a lifetime of happiness, of health, of love. 

The boy she once wished never existed, she raises her own glass to toast, hoping for happiness, wishing for a lifetime of love.

[hisqueeninthenorth]

I have some abandoned Jonsa fics on Ao3 but I’ve just been uninspired. Please send me some prompts to get going again😭

[dieseldevi]

Inspired by @jonsaprompts 's prompt of "I like having you around" and written for the amazing @deetoxicity

[ladylookslikeadude1]

abo game of thrones au with jonsa ??

Sansa had expected to present her designation while in Kings Landing when she left Winterfell with her father.  Of course, your body won’t let you present if you feel unsafe, and Sansa hadn’t felt safe since her father’s head was cut off.  Eventually, people thought that she was one of the rare people who just…didn’t present as anything.  

Sansa had known, fundamentally, that they were wrong when they whispered that.  But saying that wouldn’t have done anything but increase the spies watching her, so she kept her silence as she did often during that time.  She’d wondered if she would present during her time in the Vale, but it had proved just as dangerous-and in very similar ways.

She hadn’t expected to present when she returned to Winterfell, and she didn’t.  The Bolton’s were dangerous, and whatever her designation was it would only be used against her.  And then she escaped and made it to the Wall-and to Jon.  She’d known she was in trouble then, because he made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t since her father had died.

Not to mention his clear presentation as Alpha, which made something inside of her purr.  Which was ridiculous, because he was her brother.  Half-brother, but still.  After the Bolton’s were dealt with, it was time to deal with the Long Night and the Night King.  And given the danger still present, Sansa didn’t expect to present.  But she’d underestimated how safe Jon made her feel-and the realization of I can have him that hit her when they were told that he was Lyanna and Rhaegar’s child, not Ned Stark’s.

Jon’s head shot up from where he was perusing the letters, a soft growl echoing in the chamber.  “Omega.”

Sansa went still for a moment, considering.  Jon would never do anything to hurt her-she was absolutely certain of that.  So she could make her way out of the chamber and call for a maid, allow them time to gather their heads again.  Or.  Or she could reach out and take what she wanted.

Sansa always had been selfish.

[reginarubie]

So I saw you’re accepting prompts and I was wondering if you would write a small modern prompt for a rare pair I have- Brandon Stark/ Elia Martell?

I was thinking that they see each other at the Jonsa wedding and realize that they had an affair right around the time of her divorce or he was her first after the divorce! Or maybe he’s what gave her the courage to ask for a divorce? And they meet at Jon and Sansa wedding after all these years and the spark is still there? And maybe Elia accidentally catches the bouquet?

If you’re not gonna interested no worries! I just wanted to throw this out into the void and see. Thanks!

Hi!,

sorry for the long wait and that is actually an awesome prompt!, so I've tried my hand at it and hope you enjoy it as much as you hoped to when you sent out this ask!

So, I went with Elia and Brandon meet when Elia is still married to Rhaegar the douchebag, but in the end they get together after they meet again at the Jonsa wedding and the spark is still there.

And I’ve got no excuse [it’s a little crime]

Elia watches Lyanna’ son as he dances with his wife, the Stark girl. When she had discovered the extent of Rhaegar’ infidelity she had been devastated, utterly ruined. She had taken the kids and left Dragonstone — which had been their lovenest for as long as she could remember — and she had flew on the first flight back to Sunspear.

She had told neither Doran nor Oberyn the real reason behind her sudden visit, she had just told them she had missed home and had taken the kids to the Water Gardens, their summertime villa, where she had spent most of her childhood. 

Aegon had been six and Rhaenys had been nine. Her beloved children. She hadn’t learned of Jon’s birth long after it had happened, Lyanna had wrapped it all up secretly, not wishing her children to be ruined by the truth of their father’s incapacity to keep it in his pants. She had basically isolated herself and chose for her and her child a single-mom working double life all to avoid disrupting her children’s life. 

Lyanna, as far as Elia knew, had been unaware of Rhaegar’s family. She hadn’t known the truth until one day she happened upon an old newspaper that had shown them just after Rhaenys had been born when Rhaegar had tried to run for Prime Minister what felt like an age ago. By then Lyanna had already been pregnant with Jon, and she had started some digging — Rhaegar had yet known nothing about the boy — the internet was an amazing means to discover the past people would rather keep private. 

She had broken off with Rhaegar and flown back to her homeland, the North, where she had chosen a unimpressive life over the life she could’ve had if she went to the newspaper with the truth of Jon’s parentage; she could’ve created a scandal, lived off of it, and ensuring her son had a part into the not negligible sum Jon could — should — be part of as Rhaegar’s child. 

Which was why Elia could never be upset with Lyanna for the part she had played in destroying her marriage to Rhaegar. If anything she was thankful to the woman for the lengths she had gone to, to protect children not her own from the damage the truth could do them. 

Still, truth had a way to come to the surface, and years after Jon had been born Rhaegar had come across them during a visit North. Elia was still uncertain on how that actually happened and a big part of her suspected that Rhaegar had actually purposefully searched for Lyanna, possibly with the intention of rekindling their relationship now that his marriage to Elia was on rocky ground. Still, Rhaegar had discovered Jon and of course, Elia who was the one who managed most of the income of the business Rhaegar had created since abandoning his political dream had started to notice how a fund had suddenly be created separately. 

It had taken some digging — perhaps not all exactly legal — for to find that the accountholder of the fund had been a boy named Jon Snow, and that, until he came of age the only two people who could have access to the fund were Rhaegar and the boy’s mother, Lyanna. 

At that point, putting together one and one hadn’t been so difficult, and Elia had sent the kids to their grandmother Rhaella for an afternoon when finally she had decided to confront her husband. 

It had been nothing short of explosive and by the evening Rhaegar had left home slamming the door behind himself not to be heard of again — possibly hiding out at his best friend’s house or at some flame — Elia had known of his affairs for years, but they had never resulted in a child and he had never been caught dirty-handed so she had hoped she had grown simply paranoid. 

Instead now she discovered he had a child from another woman, born out of wedlock and whilst they had been (at the time) at the strongest in their relationship, short after the birth of their second child, Aegon.

So Elia had decided that a change of air was much needed and had packed up the children and left as she decided what she wanted to do with the information she had discovered and if leaving her husband definitely would damage her children more than remaining with him. 

She had not been ready to face Lyanna Snow, so she had run away, though she had soon learned that the woman knew nothing of the fund having been opened on her son’s behalf, so it stood to reason she had not been bought off to silence. 

And it had been during her two months stay in Sunspear that she had met him. 

Brandon Stark — surprisingly the uncle of the bride, small world — he was younger than her and full of life and promise. He was earnest and forthcoming and he clearly had a crush on her. 

Elia had been twenty-eight and he had been twenty-three in Sunspear exploring after he had abandoned his studies at college. He had been surfing when Elia had taken the children to the beach. 

He had actually met Aegon first, as her son had all but begged him to see his surfing board as Elia had been sunbathing with Rhaenys. She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had been alerted of a stranger presence in her space only when he had — with his quite impressive mole — shadowed the sun from her and Elia had found herself face to face with her lanky tanned, violet-eyed and silver-haired son and his new friend, a quite muscular and handsome young man with long dark hair held back in a bun, sun-kissed skin and shining brown-grey eyes.

And… alright, he had been drenched, salt and water still sticking to his chest, droplets of seawater still running down his  chiseled abs. 

Hello there, he had greeted her, I have a feeling this rascal might be yours. 

Aegon had kept begging Elia to let him learn some surfing with the newcomer and Elia had not had the heart to deny her son something he had seemed so passionate about — and in retrospect she had done well as surfing was now her son’s life and full-time job. He had moved permanently to Dorne for that.

She and Brandon had circled around each other for weeks before he had asked her out to dinner. Elia had told him she was married and his reply had been A pity really, but he had not walked away, he had even invited the children to tag along and as her kids had been running wild on too much sweets and too many triggers with the rides around the seafront, they had found themselves talking and, for the first time since having discovered of Jon, Elia had confided in someone the truth. 

Brandon had been furious — had, had half a mind to just find Rhaegar out and start a good fistfight — and then he had cocooned the perfect way to take her out on a date. 

He had even enlisted the children’s help — Rhaenys mostly as she was the oldest and eerily aware of how broken things had become between her parents — and he had convinced her to accompany him to an exhibition of one of her favorite artists. 

When Elia had gone out with him, she had discovered the exhibition was not at eleven a.m. as he had anticipated, but that it was instead at three p.m., Brandon had grinned at her unrepentant and had started to take her around, he had even introduced her to some of his friends and brought to a meeting of ex-college activists. 

It had been sweet and when finally they had left the exhibition Brandon had been all giddy. Have I convinced you, yet?, Elia had rolled her eyes. 

It does not do wonders to my opinion of you, if you’ve cleverly brought me only where they would speak highly of you, she had teased, though you get points for cleverness, and, she had added, for the cravat. It must’ve been a nightmare for you, she had commented. 

A nightmare indeed.

Elia had been ready to return home by then, she was not a cheater, thank you very much, and she knew something was bound to happen if she entertained his silly crush — and hers — further.

She was flattered, really, but she had been not yet ready and especially she was still a married woman not yet decided on how to behave with her cheating husband, but that didn’t mean she had intention of stepping to his level by cheating back.

Yet, he had posed a fine argument, promising her the best gelato in all of Westeros and Elia had reminded him she was picky with her food and he had laughed, promising her it would be worth the hype. 

It had been. 

She had gone for simplicity. Mint and lemon and stracciatella. Nothing too elaborated and he had chosen instead pistacchio, nutella and cream — who knew he actually had such a sweet tooth? — they had sat on a bench seafront and ate in silence their gelato. 

Until he had asked — after she might have moaned a bit, though it was really that good — if she wanted a taste of his gelato. She had been so taken by the setting sun and her elation that she had accepted the offer. 

Brandon had fed her nutella gelato from his own spoon and Elia maybe was as guilty as he was of what happened next, because she could see it in her own mind happening before it did, and she still didn’t put a stop to it, when he leaned close and pressed his lips against hers to get a taste of his own gelato across her lips. 

Brandon kissed with the same passion with which he laughed. Fully, as if he put his whole being into the kiss. Elia had never been kissed that way, not even when she had been a young girl, so she may have leaned into the kiss herself. 

Yet, she had stopped it. 

It had been wrong. Brandon had understood, but it was also clear that he had been hurt over her rejection, even though he had kissed her temple and told her you are too good for this world, he doesn’t deserve you.

She had never seen Brandon again — though he and Aegon had kept in touch over the years and she knew Brandon had went to every single surfing contest Aegon had taken part in, to cheer him on — and the next week she had booked the flight back to Dragonstone and had decided to ask Rhaegar for a divorce. 

The divorce had been a nasty matter, but before anything else Elia had met with Lyanna over a tea. She had told her about the fund for Jon, and had told her she didn’t hold her — a teenager at the time — responsible for what had happened, since she had been unaware of Rhaegar’s family and then she had returned home, had sat her children down and had told them she and Rhaegar would part ways. 

It had taken them several courtroom meetings, and years after they finally reached an accord and signed the divorce papers. 

Elia had been thirty-three by the time she had become a divorced woman, with two teenagers solely to her custody. She had kept in touch with Lyanna, even though the other woman never touched a single penny from the fund Rhaegar had created for Jon, and finally Rhaenys and Aegon met their half-brother. 

When the time had come Jon had used it to further his instruction and then had given it for a series of charities.

Jon had been a sensible youth and Aegon had immediately hit off with him, as had Rhaenys. It never ceased to amaze her how easily her children had taken not only to the divorce but their brother as well, to the point Aegon was one of his best men and Rhaenys had asked Jon to be her best man beside Aegon at her own wedding. 

Elia couldn’t be prouder, and life had gone on. 

Lyanna had crooned on and on about Sansa Stark, the woman with whom Jon was in love. Elia had not made the connection until Brandon had walked in — still sunkissed, with short hair now, and crinkles at the corner of his sparkling grey eyes — during the rehearsal dinner and had swept his niece off her feet making her giggle. 

Brandon was no less handsome now that he had been at twenty-three, no less handsome in a surfing suit than he was in the formal suit he was wearing for his niece’s wedding. He might be now thirty-nine — and she forty-three going on forty-four — but his eyes still sparkled the same. 

Aegon had grinned at her, when Brandon had entered the restaurant, with that kind of grin that told her he had been aware all along that Brandon would be present. 

Whilst shortly after she had divorced Rhaegar both her children had been uneasy with the idea of her dating another man, they had been trying to push her to find someone with whom to spend her life. That her world didn’t need to end with Rhaegar Targaryen and her children. 

Still, despite knowing Brandon still met occasionally with Aegon, she had never entertained the idea of giving them a shot. He had been young and impressionable and he had a life full of adventure before himself, Elia had no intention neither of getting back in the game (so to speak) so fast after the divorce and she had not wish to chain him down to a life he might not want, so she had never reached out to him. 

Lyanna had taken care to have her sit with her and her new flame — Robert Baratheon, Call me Bobby B!,  — where she would be far enough from the family of the bride but still near enough the family of the groom.

You’re family, Lyanna had told her firmly. 

She could feel his gaze follow her whenever she went, she knew he was hyper aware of her — or perhaps she was the one hyper aware of him — still she had sternly refused to make eye-contact knowing she’d probably fall prey to his outstandingly shining eyes. 

Still, at one point, she had been left alone at the table — well not completely alone, Rhaenys had been there with her — and Brandon, who had circled around her table all night had moved for the kill. 

Stupidly handsome in his stupid suit. 

Rhaenys had easily made herself scarce then and Elia had played with the cake in her plate, suddenly without appetite. He was here, she was aware of nothing else, and he still was looking at her, yet Elia did not have the bravery to look at him, afraid she might not find him watching her with the same passion his eyes had held when he had kissed her, but merely with the fondness associated to an almost-lover. 

“Won’t you even look at me?,” he asked, his voice accusing and Elia’s eyes had snapped on him, when she did she suddenly realized he had been goading her because he smirked down at her and—

—no, the passion was most surely still there, behind his grey-brown orbs.

“And there she is,” he commented “the most beautiful woman in the world” he said sitting beside her and Elia had to bite her lip.

“I’d think the most beautiful woman in the world today ought to be your niece. The bride, you know?” 

Brandon had smiled “I’m sure my niece will understand,” he stated “afterall her husband has eyes only for her, I doubt she feels in any way unconfident right now” he shrugged “besides Sansa has never been one to not acknowledge the truth”

“You’re as flattering as you were back then,” she comments. 

“And twice as impertinent,” he nodded “I’m afraid age has done nothing to make me more sensible” Elia was almost about to ask him what he meant when he proffered a hand and tucked a strand of ink black hair from her face behind her ear, the ringlet had been framing her face for a while now “Besides, look who’s talking, you’re hardly less enticing than you were when we first met”

Elia couldn’t help herself, she broke out in a giggle “Well,” she commented “that is comforting, age has not beaten the enchantment out of me yet”

Apparently only then did Brandon understand his implication, he burst out laughing “See?,” he commented “I’m still as messy as before when trying to woo you”

Elia arched a brow “I seem to remember a quite proficient young man at wooying” 

Brandon cocked his head to the side “Is that why you never reached out to me? I was too good at wooing?, had I know I would've been terrible” he asked “after the divorce?” he specified.

“I—” she looked away from his enticing grey eyes “five years had passed, I assumed you might have forgotten me and… I didn’t want to—”

“Is that the salted caramel and pistacchio cake?,” Brandon interjected pointing to her untouched plate.

Elia frowned “Yes?”

One moment they were speaking about feelings and the next about which one of the two cakes Elia had ended up with. A whirlwind of a change of topic if she ever saw one. 

Brandon hummed took the fork from her hand and took a bite out of her slice of cake bringing it to her lips “Good,” he declared “a bit too much on the salty side for my tastes” he commented, Elia did not reply “you know what?” he asked as he took another bite off of it. 

“What?”

“I think I don’t care anymore about why you didn’t reach out to me,”  he stated and Elia almost felt like slapped, but then he smiled at her bright and unrepentant and asked “wanna a taste?” he asked, arching both his brows suggestively. 

Elia knew what he was asking now. 

She caught Lyanna’ gaze over Brandon’s shoulder and she almost laughed at her impression of having to fan herself because Brandon was hot before she gave her the thumbs up with such a bright smile. 

“Why not?,” she had replied, looking back into his eyes and he smiled, soft, tender wrinkles around the corner of his eyes that made him look even gentler than he actually was “after all I must hurry along, before my enchantment decreases with age” she teased him.

Brandon chuckled at that “Absolutely,” he said “you should absolutely hurry along and—”

This time it’s Elia who kisses him, in the middle of a wedding dinner, thankfully everyone is more involved in the bride and the groom than they are in the strange dornish woman in their midst kissing the one who was supposed to become lord but abdicated in favor of his younger sibling with the intention of exploring the world and never settle. 

Besides Aegon that was, who interrupted the kiss by grabbing Brandon’s shoulder and yanking playfully at it “Listen here, mister, who gave you the permission to kiss my mom that way hm?” 

Elia was halfway through a laugh when she saw Brandon pale in half a second before Aegon burst out laughing “Keep on,” he told them “but not where my eyes can see it, thank you and amen” he added, winking at her before addressing Brandon again “treat her right, or I will know” he added, his voice dangerously low. 

“Don’t take it the wrong way, love,” Brandon commented “but your children are terrifying,” he added as he caught Rhaenys’ gaze from the other side of the room as she stabbed pointedly her own cake beside her husband holding eye contact. 

Elia did burst out in a full laugh at that “You ought to be scared,” she said “they’ve learned that from me,” 

Brandon looked at her with stars shining in his eyes and Elia felt elated, as if she was on cloud nine “What?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” Brandon said “only hard to admit my old man was right. Good things take time, and patience”

Elia kissed him again then, sweetly this time. And it was the beginning of a new chapter in her life, who knew which wonders were hiding just behind the first page, awaiting to be discovered? She was sure Brandon would gladly explore them together in the years to come.

And if she happened to accidentally — it fell into her hands alright? — catch the bouquet when Sansa threw it, in the meantime almost falling into Brandon's awaiting arms when she stumbled a couple of steps back after the throw... well, maybe it was just fate nudging her in the right direction, wasn't it?, especially when Brandon's arms encircled around her waist as he muttered in her ear “You have the same scent of summertime and joy on you still, I missed it”

Twenty years later, they’re still discovering… they’re still exploring. And they’re still terrorizing Aegon with their shenanigans when he comes to visit and they are too lovey-dovey.  

Fin 

Hope you enjoyed that! It's short and sweet and I had so much fun writing it!

Thank you for the prompt and feel free to send as many prompt as you'd like to read! As always sending all my love ~G.

Ps. I might expand on this if any of you is interested? Rare pairs of ASOIAF, in any setting you might like!, I could make a series out of it too.

[mochimaster]

struggling to get my creative juices flowing for the current fics I have sitting in drafts, shoot me a prompt with a ship (Jonsa, Daemyra, Jace/Helaena or any character you're interested in) and I'll try to write a little mini fic for it.

[adoptable-fanfic-prompts]

Game of Thrones + House of Dragons Writing Prompt

Anyone like a time-travel fanfic?

This is the idea: Jon, Sansa, and Arya end up back in time, around the time of the dance. They are team ‘both sides are idiots’ and decide to leave them be. Except somehow, the idea of the Green and Black babies being murdered really bothers them and they end up taking baby Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Aegon III, and Viserys II (via Arya using her Faceless men magic to sneak in).

As this concept is based on being a Jonsa ship, I thought it would be hilarious if Jon AND Sansa got dragons (Jon = Silverwing and Sansa = Vermithor, but the only reason Sansa gets a dragon is because she’s pregnant when they first meet and by the time the baby is born, Vermithor is already used to Sansa). Also, all the kids get dragons via Silverwing and Vermithor.

Arya, meanwhile, gets a pack of direwolves.

So it’s pretty much them raising 6 kids, with the dance partially being because Team Green thinks Team Black stole the kids in retaliation for Lucerys’ death and wants them back while Team Black thinks Team Green took their kids to further attack them. AKA: the three Starks did not help the situation AT ALL.

Also, another funny idea I had: Aemond potentially joining team “both sides are idiots” because it would be hilarious to put the two stab-happy characters together.

[thebiggerbear]

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[esther-dot]

Braavos is For Lovers 3k

Tired of fighting, Jon and Sansa run away to Braavos to get warm. They take new names, find work as common folk, and struggle with a forbidden attraction to each other.

Jeyne and Bael 7k by @wendynerdwrites

Jon and Sansa escape to Essos after Jon finds her again in the Vale. They adopt to their fake married aliases so well, they forget they are not actually married.

Bittersweet Symphony 1k by @captainbee89

For the prompt I got: Could you write a Jonsa fic in which Jon and Sansa lose the war and they'll change their names and live somewhere (let's say at the seaside) in bittersweet happiness

Alive 2k

“Where will we go?” “Somewhere warm. Far from here.”

We Should Run Away 2k

“We were children,” he tells her when she asks for his forgiveness, a long since given thing. But they are not children any longer and he does not know what to do with this sister in a woman’s body. or Jon and Sansa run away to Lys, and they don't look back.

Setting Sail ficlet by @azulaahai

At twilight, on the brink of night, a ship sets sail from White Harbor. Based on a prompt by @thimbleful: "After the resurrection, they decide to be selfish and go somewhere warm after all."

Tomorrows ficlet by @misshoneywheeler

It’s raining today, a softer rain than the sort that fell in Winterfell or the Vale or even King’s Landing. Most things in Essos seem softer so far: the winds, the ground, the people. And Jon.

Voyage to a New Life ficlet by @alczysz17

The shift between them was gradual. It was so easy to forget who they truly were here. Easy to forget their old lives and even their past relation to each other. Easy for the lines to blur when playing husband and wife.

take me apart and I'll flow like water 2k

“We can leave here and not look back,” he says, as he steps nearer to her, unsure of how close to get to this sister of his, this sister who had only ever offered him cold, blue Tully eyes and a frost-lined frown that had mirrored her lady mother’s. “We can start over,” he adds softly, and he knows he has her then, can tell by the broken, tear-laced sigh she delivers, her breath visible even in the warmth of Jon’s solar. OR the one where Jon and Sansa escape to Braavos before the BotB.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON

[sailorshadzter]

Fic prompt: Jon and Sansa as parent-figures to King Rickon

OHHH ANON!!! thank you for this one!!! it was such a cute prompt & fun to write!!

i hope you like it!

send me prompts

“But I’m not yet tired!” 

The stubborn vocals belong to an equally stubborn young man, staring up at her from where he stands just out of her reach, his clear blue eyes defiant in their gaze. A sigh escapes her, but she cannot help but to smile all the same. “Come, at least let me get you ready for bed,” she encourages the boy eager to grow into a man, reminding her quite a lot of someone they’ve long since lost. “Then you may decide if you are tired.” The boy groans, but finally relents, nodding his head as he pushes past her to sink into the empty chair she’s standing beside. 

This is not their usual night time routine- he is a boy of the age where it is certainly not seemly to be cared for by a woman and he’s a crowned King no less, making him even less eager these days to be mothered by his sister. But, sometimes, even Rickon will admit he enjoys it when she hovers over him; he can barely remember their mother now, so when he thinks of her, in truth he thinks just of her, of Sansa. She knows that soon these moments will vanish entirely, so she will enjoy them as much as she can, while she still has them. 

Her first step is to unfasten the leather binding which his unruly red hair is tied back with- he’s taken to wearing his hair just as Jon does, secured at the base of his neck in a small bun. She smiles at the sight of it, as she always does, reaching for the comb sitting there on the tabletop. “You had quite the day,” she observes as she gently tugs the comb through his hair, careful of the knot she finds after the second stroke. “But you are coming into your own as King.” He looks over his shoulder up at her, blue eyes meeting blue, and he’s blushing at her compliment. Just like that, he’s a small boy once more, rather than this boy of thirteen she doesn’t always seem to know. “I am proud of you.” His cheeks, already red, deepen in color, and he turns away, hands twisting in his lap as she pulls the comb through his hair one final time. “There.” She steps back and sets the comb aside, crossing the room to pull his nightshirt out of its place in the wardrobe, laying it neatly across the tightly made bed. 

By the time she’s turned around, Rickon is standing there behind her, close enough now she can reach out and touch him, if she so desired. Seeing him there, tall and thin, makes her heart ache for the family they’ve both lost. If only their parents could see him now, if only Robb could see him now… They would be as proud of Rickon as she and Jon were. Rickon is the one to move next, closing the gap between them in the form of an embrace, one which is surprisingly strong for one so small. Sansa closes her eyes, wrapping the boy in her arms, wondering how this was the same babe she once cradled to her chest. “I love you, Sansa,” he says, his voice cracking over the syllables of her name before he buries his face in the crook of her shoulder. 

They stand there in such a way for a long moment, before she finally steps back from him, holding him out at arm’s length. “Good night, Rickon,” she says softly, leaning in so she can press a kiss to the top of his head. She slips away then, pausing for only one moment more, so she can hear his soft voice speak one last time.

“Good night, sister.” 

[ x x x ]

“Good! Just like that!” 

Those words are followed by one last clash of the two wooden swords, before a panting, grinning, sword swinging boy falls to the dirt to catch his breath. “You are better with each passing day,” the same voice continues and the young boy tilts his head back to look up into the face of the man that speaks to him. “Get up now, Sansa will have my head if she sees you in the dirt like this,” he says next, offering him a hand, which he takes readily, allowing the older man to help him up and back onto his feet as they both laugh. 

In the three years since his crowning, they have spent many afternoons in this way, for what sort of King would he be if he could not swing a sword? And who better to teach him than Jon, after all? Though, on the rare occasion Jon cannot spar with him, his sister’s sworn shield has, and Rickon must admit she might be the next best to his older brother. And though Sansa says he has no reason to learn the art of the sword, for they lived in peace now, Rickon knows he must be prepared- just in case the day ever does come where he must protect his home and his people. 

And the truth was, Jon thinks the very same way.

It was true, they did live in a time of peace now, but there was no telling when danger would arise once more. And Rickon, like every King in the North before him, had to be ready to fight alongside his men on the battlefield. He just hopes it will never again come to such a thing. Though he does enjoy the hours he spends with the boy, who is full of natural talent at swinging a sword, his stance often reminds him of Robb, who once upon a time was a boy eager to prove his worth to the world. “I am proud of you, you know,” he says as they make their way up the stairs, back into the castle. Rickon shoots him a sidelong glance, a look on his face that reminds him not just of Robb, but of their long dead father. “You will be a warrior king this world will not soon forget.” Rickon’s face breaks out into a wide grin as Jon slings an arm around his shoulders, tugging him just a little bit closer. 

As they make their way inside, they both see her standing at the end of the hall, like she’s been there waiting for them. Sansa turns their way as they enter and her face blooms with a smile, raising her hand in a wave, blue eyes bright in their gaze. Rickon slips away first, making his way towards his sister, who immediately begins to fuss over the calluses on his palms and the dirt on his clothes, sighing when he assures her this was all part of being a king. “Go on then, your grace,” she gives him a playful push towards the great hall, where inside supper was waiting to begin. “I hope he’s not dirty because you knocked him into the dirt,” she says as he falls into his usual place at her side. 

Jon laughs, shaking his head. “He did that himself,” he swears, leaning in so he can brush a feathery soft kiss to her lips. “Come, our growing boy king will have devoured all of the meal if we don’t get in there,” she rolls her eyes but takes his arm all the same, allowing him to guide her into the hall, thankful that after all this time, they have a moment such as this one. 

They were together and that was what mattered the most.

[nessataleweaver]

FIC: You and I are like the ink staining all the other pages (Game of Thrones, Jon/Sansa)

RATING: Explicit (m/f sex); step-incest; possible dubious consent; underage sex

SUMMARY: (modern AU) Step-siblings Jon and Sansa have been in denial about their mutual attraction for a long time. When the Stark-Tully kids head out to the Halloween carnival, Jon is the only one willing to go through the ‘lame’ Ghost tunnel with Sansa. But they don’t know it’s been re-purposed from a Tunnel of Love, that’s been given an extra kick via magic...

PROMPT: For jonsa-halloween for their 2024 event, using the October 30th prompt ‘Magic’. 

NOTE: I originally had this idea for ‘curse’, but that would have involved Joffrey being stupid and vengeful, and I don’t really want to give his royal skidmark any page time, so I switched tracks somewhat.  While doing so, I realised I was actually writing a prequel to one of my stories from the 2020 event, ‘What you are in the dark’. So to clarify: this is a modern AU, where the Starks are a blended family.  Jon and Arya are Ned’s children, while Robb, Sansa and Bran are Catelyn’s kids.  Rickon is theirs, and is still a toddler. Theon, Robb, Jon and Sansa are all in high school. Arya and Bran are thirteen and twelve.

Can also be read on AO3

ONE YEAR EARLIER

“Agatha... what are those symbols you’re painting?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“Well, from here they look like several examples of ‘surrender to your desires’, ‘increase affection’, and ‘increase libido’.”

“So why did you ask?”

(sigh) “Agatha, I was asking with the sub-text “Why in Hecate’s name are you painting magic symbols inside our carnival attraction, which we will be exposing many members of the public to?” Do you want us to get sued? Or called in by the Misuse of Magic Office?”

“Don’t be silly!  It’s not mind-altering or anything, it’s just giving things a little... push.  This is going to be a ‘Tunnel of Love’, so the couples that go through it will come out feeling lovey-dovey and horny.  Just think about the Yelp reviews we’ll get!”

“And what about people who aren’t couples, who are just going through it for laughs? Or people who are going on this because they get sick on other rides, and who’s significant others are on the coaster?  Or tweenage girls going through with their besties because it’s so romantic?”

(eyeroll) “It’s like you think I’m stupid or something. All the boats are floating on water, so the customers won’t be around any of the symbols long enough for anything to happen inside the ride. If anything, their partners will have a good time when they get home, or they get to discover the joys of masturbation. Honestly, the worst that will happen is that a few of the security guards might bust some couples fucking in the parking lot because they don’t want to wait to get home.  So what?”

(deeper sigh) “If something goes wrong, I’m throwing you off the flying carpet.”

“Fine, Miss Scaredy-cat!  And when we get asked to hire it out all over the North, I get all the bragging rights!”

ONE MONTH EARLIER

“Agatha, did you hire out our Tunnel of Love to a Halloween carnival?”

“Yep!  Their Ghost train got derailed somewhere in the Neck, and they’re paying us triple the usual hire fee plus ten per cent of the gate!  It’s easy to re-decorate – the whole tunnel looks like a cave anyway.  We put Halloween costumes on all the dummies, add in a few fake coffins and bubbling cauldrons and maybe put in a mad scientist lab or zombie graveyard to replace the masqued ballroom?  We hang fake spider-webs and black drop-cloths from the ceiling with ghost outlines, and instead of the love songs we play spooky sound effects over the sound system.  We haven’t painted the spare set of boats yet, so we make them black and use stencils for skulls and bones over that. Hey, if we keep them that way maybe we can add a pirate cave option?”

PRESENT DAY - LAST FRIDAY BEFORE HALLOWEEN

“Sheesh, Sansa, you’re such a scaredy-cat. We wait any longer to hit the really good rides, we’ll be stuck in line for ages.  All the college students will hit the carnival soon – trust me, I know.”

“I’m not scared, Arya,” Sansa told her step-sister.  “I just get motion-sick easily, remember?  I ride the roller-coaster, the Hurricane and the Zipper within an hour, and I’ll be bringing up dinner with a vengeance.  Just go without me.”

Arya made an expressive face.  “I forgot about all those meds you had to take for our family honeymoon.  But seriously, what was the point of getting to leave Rickon and the parentals at home if not to go on all the rides?”

Jon ruffled her hair affectionately. “You can still go on all the rides.  At least the ones you’re tall enough for.”

Arya scowled and hit her older brother in the side. “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet! That’s why Sansa found me these platform combat boots.”

Jon smiled, not even feeling Arya’s punch.  While Sansa had corralled Arya and Bran through the shooting games and stashing Arya’s armful of prizes in the car, Theon had split a joint with him and Robb.  As a result, Jon was feeling as chilled as a capybara.

“Robb and Theon are coming back now,” Sansa pointed down the midway.  “Robb loves those rides, too.  If he hesitates, tell him it’ll be a sibling bonding moment – that always gets him.”

Bran snickered. “Sansa, the mastermind.  But seriously, Theon loves the arcade but hates admitting it.  I’ll ask him to go through it with me and that’ll leave Robb for you.”

Sansa grinned.  “That leaves Jon to go through the haunted house with me.”

“No it doesn’t!  I want to go through the haunted house too!” Arya protested.

“And me!” Bran added.  “What about the mirror maze, or the Ghost Tunnel?  I think you’re the only ones who wanted those.”

“Um, maybe not the maze,” Jon mumbled.  “Reminds me of my ex.”

“The one who shot you with an arrow or the one who’s now running that cult?” Sansa asked.

“Dany,” Jon replied. He hadn’t even told his best friend Sam, or Robb, that his narcissistic to the point of God-complex girlfriend had once hired out the entire mirror maze for an hour so she could make him fuck her while she watched their reflections in about ten different mirrors. There were reasons he’d stayed with her as long as he had - almost all of them sexual.

“Ghost Tunnel then?” Sansa asked brightly.

“Sure,” Jon said agreeably. “It hasn’t been here before, so I’m up for the new experience.”

Leaving their younger siblings in Robb and Theon’s sometimes-capable hands, Jon and Sansa headed across the fairgrounds.

Sansa looked up at the night sky, and smiled.  “I love full moons, and this one’s special, did you know?”

“Wasn’t Bran talking about this at breakfast the other day?” Jon asked.  “It’s a blue moon, yeah? The second in a month?”

“Exactly.  It’s very good for charging spells and ceremonies.”

“You don’t talk much about your magic studies,” Jon remarked curiously. “Even when I helped you study for the botany section.”

“It tends to upset Mother.  I inherited the talent from her, but she’s so devoted to the Seven she always refused to do anything with it.  At least she’s never tried to keep me from it.  Though I think it’s partly because Uncle Brynden and Aunt Lysa had a discussion – the kind with a capital D - with her about it when I was younger.”

“So you’re not doing any of those spells or ceremonies?”

Sansa shook her head. “My mentor’s doing something tomorrow, but as a solo practitioner I’m not at the stage yet where it would be useful for me. At my level, without a circle or coven, I might even do myself some damage.”

Arriving at the head of the line, Sansa and Jon tore some tickets off their pre-bought roll, and handed them over to the attendant, dressed in what looked like a Shakespeare heroine costume with a fake vampire bite dribbling down her throat and pale sparkly face paint.

“A water ride? I haven’t seen one of those in a Ghost tunnel before,” Sansa remarked, as Jon handed her into the boat.  She stashed her messenger bag in a cage underneath the prow, before she settled into the seat.

The boat’s shape forced them to sit very close together and it took several attempts to find a comfortable position, Jon having to put his arm around Sansa as they headed off into the dark.

A lifelong connoisseur of haunted attractions, Sansa murmured comments to Jon as they slowly floated along.

“Glow in the dark paint usually looks a bit tacky, but these ghosts are painted really well.”

“Oooh, that’s a lovely effect on those floating candelabra!  Maybe there’s some actual magic being used here?”

 “I wonder why there are no scare actors?  There should have been at least one by now if this ride has them.”

 “Can you hear a crackle? You think there’s a set-piece up ahead with lightning effects?”

Just as Jon muttered his agreement, they rounded the curve and saw a large alcove holding what looked to be Frankenstein’s laboratory, complete with a semi-covered body on a lab table, and even a pseudo-skylight above showing lightning constantly flashing.  Their boat settled to a halt, either to change passengers at the beginning or to let them admire the showpiece, when a particularly large thunderclap made them jump.

Then the already dim lighting went out, leaving them in pitch darkness.

“What the hell?”

Silver runes glowed at several points along the wall, and Sansa exclaimed, “So they are using real magic!”

A soothing voice echoed through the darkness. “We are currently experiencing a power failure, and are working to restore the lights and movement of the boats.  In the meantime, we are providing an alternative soundtrack.”

Piano music echoed in the tunnel, and Jon absently identified, “Tchaikovsky. Kind of romantic for a haunted tunnel.”

“Still better than the creepy sound effects, given the situation,” Sansa murmured.

Sansa wasn’t sure how long they floated in the dark, before she found herself snuggling closer to Jon.  His arm tightened around her in response.

“Cold?” he asked quietly.

“Not exactly.”

Actually, she was feeling quite warm. Sansa opened up her zippered hoodie and pulled her sweater out from the waistband of her short skirt. She turned her head sideways to bury her face in Jon’s neck.  He smelled really good, and Sansa absently pressed her thighs together, enjoying the sensation.

Jon rested his head on top of Sansa’s, as his hand curved around her hip, his thumb at just the right angle to dip under the hem of her sweater to stroke her soft skin just above the waistband of her skirt. It felt really good, holding her close; her slim form fit perfectly into the angles of his own. He felt her lips on the sensitive skin on his throat, and bit back a groan as his cock stirred. Now was probably a bad time to remember all the times he’d fisted his cock to thoughts of his lovely step-sister. Even if those pretty tits of hers were pressed softly against his chest, and he was fairly sure that he could feel her hardened nipples through her sweater and his shirt.

Sansa could admit to herself, here in the dark, that her panties were wet and her breasts ached with need.  That she wanted to be even closer to Jon.  She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers, and to wrap her arms and legs around him. Her heart pounding, Sansa let her hand drift along the contours of his torso and down, until she could feel the hard bulge between his legs.  She sighed as she curved her hand around it, then gasped as she felt Jon’s lips against her ear.

“Let me,” Jon murmured, his voice almost soundless as he brought his free hand down to cover the fingers rubbing at him through his jeans.  He moved them aside just enough to undo the button and zip, and groaned in relief as he parted the slit in his boxers to free his erection.  Had Theon added something to that joint?  He was so horny he was pretty sure he could hammer nails with his dick.

Jon couldn’t see Sansa’s fingers gently, tentatively wrap around his rampant cock, gingerly fisting and stroking him, but it was really working for him. The hand he’d latched around her hip slid up and under her sweater, until he could feel the lace of her bra.  He ran his fingertips along the curve of her breast until he found the hem of the cup, gently tugging until her now-exposed breast fell into his palm, where his fingers could rub and flick at her nipple. She was half-way in his lap, her knee hooked over his thigh, and Jon used it as a guide for his other hand, gliding his fingers along her inner thigh until he found her mound.

Sansa whimpered as he stroked and rubbed her pussy through the soaking wet fabric of her underwear, but he wanted more.  Jon pulled and fumbled until he felt her bare folds, and expertly found her clit.  Sansa moaned, and Jon’s cock all but jumped in her grip in response.

Sansa’s head was spinning, and in the dark she was blind to everything but Jon.  His touch on her breast and between her legs, and the hot throbbing rod of muscle in her hand.  She felt so good, and she loved it.  Why had no one ever told her she could feel so good? She moved her hips against Jon’s hand, and his thick fingers slid in her slick folds until one slipped right inside her. She felt herself squeeze down on him in reaction.

“More. Jon, I want more,” she whispered.  Another finger pushed it’s way inside her, and they both wriggled and curved, and when Jon touched a certain spot Sansa slammed her hand over her mouth as she shivered and writhed through her first climax.

Jon had never fucked a virgin before, but Sansa was so tight around his fingers he was sure he was about to.  She was so wet she was dripping onto his hand, and he wouldn’t have any issues working his dick into Sansa’s cunt even though he was on the larger side and she was so tight.

“You need to sit on my lap,” he murmured.  It took some manoeuvring, untangling their legs by feel, but both Jon’s hands latched on Sansa’s hips, and he pulled her body flush to his with her knees bracketing his hips. His cock rubbed against her soaked underwear, and Sansa sighed and rocked her pelvis to increase the friction.  Jon could already feel the pressure building along his spine; he needed to move quickly. “Sansa? If I lift you up, can you put me in the right place?”

Sansa reached down and gripped his cock in answer. He felt her pull her underwear aside with one hand as the tip of cock brushed against her folds. As it notched into her opening, Jon eased Sansa down, groaning as he sank into her tight, slick cunt.

Was it her delectable pussy that felt so good, or was it because he’d never fucked raw before? Either way, Jon was pretty sure he was having the best sex of his life.

 “Your thing is inside me!” Sansa whimpered.  “It’s so big, I’m so full.”

“Are you hurting?” Jon rumbled softly in her ear.

“Mmmph, ah!  It feels really good, though,” Sansa gasped. She wriggled and squirmed, not sure whether she was trying to get Jon deeper inside her or find a position that didn’t feel like she was going to burst.  She pushed her sweater up to her armpits, and wrenched at the front hooks of her bra.  As Jon’s grip on her hips urged her to rock back and forth, Sansa slid her arms around his neck and rubbed her bare breasts against the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“Lean back a little,” Jon ordered.

Sansa arched her back, mourning the loss of stimulation to her breasts, but Jon somehow shifted his hips, changing the angle of his hardness and Sansa yelped as he rubbed against the place inside his fingers had found earlier, making her feel like a lightning-bolt, sizzling and ready to strike. He did it again and again, and Sansa felt herself explode.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clench down hard on my cock,” Jon growled in her ear, and Sansa convulsed, her inner muscles trying to squeeze the delicious intrusion that already stretched her open without remorse.

Jon moved his hands to her tits, just the right size to fill his hands, and clutched them as his own climax slammed into him.

“Ah!  I can feel your hot stuff coming out, it’s squirting inside me,” moaned Sansa.

Thing? Hot stuff?  In the fragment of his mind that wasn’t drowning in pleasure, Jon wondered just what version of The Talk his stepmother had given the girl taking his dick like she was made for it. At least he could cum inside her without reservation; having helped Sansa study for her herbalist lessons, he knew she was licensed to brew moon tea.

Sansa pressed her forehead against Jon’s as she gasped for breath, and his tight grip on her breasts softened, gently cradling them in his big hands.

The rattling of chains broke their silence, and the boat jerked.  Sansa sat bolt upright as the boat started to move.

“Fuck, we’re moving! You need to get off me!” Jon yelped.

Sansa nearly fell out to the boat, trying to disentangle herself from Jon and sit back down while shifting her panties back into place.  At the same time, Jon was cursing beside her; Sansa caught a glimpse of his still-hard cock as he pushed it back into his jeans, and a swift after-shock of need ran through her. The dim light grew brighter, and Sansa gave up fumbling with her bra to yank her sweater down, hurriedly zipping up her hoodie, glad she’d borrowed it from Jon earlier in the evening and it was thus two sizes too big.

Their boat cruised through a curtain of strings of moss, and bumped into the dock.  Blinking away after-images of the bright carnival lights, Sansa ignored the ride attendant’s droning voice.

Looking down at the bottom of the boat, Sansa’s eyes widened in horror at the obvious stains surrounding Jon’s fly. His leather jacket wasn’t long enough to cover them.

“Hang on, I need my bag!” she exclaimed.  Bending forward, half-over Jon’s lap, Sansa groped for her messenger bag with one hand.  With the other, she passed her fingertips, faintly glowing river-blue, over Jon’s crotch while she whispered a key-phrase.

Jon had to help her out of the boat, too – her legs could barely hold her up.

Jon’s fingers circled her wrist, as he led her away from the ride, the attendant’s smirk not hidden by the fangs of his B-movie Dracula costume.

“There’s bathrooms under the stairs to the grandstand, hardly anyone should be there until it’s time for the fireworks,” Jon told her.  “Meet you outside once we’ve both cleaned up.”

Keeping his body turned away from the man at urinals, Jon shut himself into the farthest cubicle with a sigh of relief.  What in the seven hells had Sansa been playing at, fondling his crotch like that in front of that vampire jerkass?

Jon grabbed a fistful of toilet tissue and looked down to assess the damage.  In the bright light of the bathroom, he could see no tell-tale stains. Looking in the direction of the ladies’ room, Jon sent a mental apology to Sansa.  She’d been using her favorite cleaning spell; if he’d been paying attention to her words instead of her touch he’d have recognised it.  She’d certainly used it on Arya and Bran to help them avoid Catelyn’s wrath enough times.

In the only available stall in the ladies’ room, Sansa hung her messenger bag and hoodie on the hook on the back of the door.  Reaching underneath her sweater, she pulled the cups of her bra back into place but couldn’t quite fasten it.  With a sigh of exasperation, Sansa pulled off her sweater, static electricity making her hair crackle, and shrugged out of her bra.

Standing topless in the small concrete-walled building, Sansa felt her nipples harden again from the chilly air as she inspected her bra.  She’d somehow managed to pop the stitching that kept the hooks in place.  It would be quite uncomfortable if she tried to wear it now and she was sure to lose at least one set of hook-and-eyes. Folding the garment carefully, Sansa slipped it into the laptop sleeve of her messenger bag. Sitting down on the toilet, Sansa needed three lots of tissue to clean Jon’s spend from between her legs, and two castings of the ‘neaten-up’ spell to make her sodden panties wearable again.

Dragging her sweater back over her head, Sansa inhaled sharply as she tugged it into place over her hips.  The soft wool felt so good against her still-sensitized breasts, and the place between her legs ached with longing.  Even though she was sore down there from being forced wide open, she missed the fullness.  Shrugging on the hoodie, she left it open. After washing her hands at the communal sinks, Sansa settled the strap of her messenger bag in a cross-body position between her breasts.  Looking at her reflection, Sansa could see her hard nipples ever so slightly distorting the surface of her sweater, her unencumbered breasts framed by Jon’s hoodie at the sides and the bag-strap pulling the wool flat between them and taut across them. How easy would it be, for Jon to slide his hand under the hem of her sweater and feel her bare breasts?

Sansa smiled at her reflection as she smoothed the static from her hair.

When they met outside the bathrooms, Jon and Sansa were almost as immaculate as when they went into the Ghost tunnel. Maybe Jon’s curls were a little wilder, and Sansa’s lips were so red it looked like she’d been drinking the smoothie van’s ‘Bloody Brew’.  But so what?

Jon’s eyes traced along the curves of his step-sister’s breasts, which he was certain were bare beneath the jack-o-lantern patterned sweater.  He had to fight the urge to drop to his knees and bury his face between her thighs.  He’d come inside her fifteen minutes ago, and all he could think of was getting Sansa somewhere private enough that he could see her naked before driving balls-deep inside her.

Sansa licked her lips as her gaze flickered from his eyes to his crotch and back, and Jon knew without a doubt that she wanted the exact same thing.

“We could say that you’re not feeling well.  Theon can fit everyone else into his Rover, and we can take the car and find somewhere to park on the way home.”

Sansa shook her head, her face regretful.  “If I’m sick, Robb would insist on taking me home himself.  We’ll have to wait.”

“How long?” Jon asked, his voice gravelly with need.

“I’ll get Theon to invite Robb to stay over, so we can drive Bran and Arya home. Once they’re in bed, come to my room.  I can close the curtains around my four-poster so no one can see in even if they open the door.”

“Keep the curtains open to the window,” Jon ran his eyes slowly, deliberately over her breasts, tracing every covered curve with his gaze.  “I want to see you naked by moonlight.”

Sansa moved closer, until he could feel the heat of her body against the bare skin of his hand.

“Same here.”

ONE WEEK LATER

“I have to admit, Agatha, that ghost caves idea made us a mint.  Maybe we should look into leveling up the spooky decorations, and offering it as a permanent alternative option?  Could be in more demand than the Tunnel of Love for things like school carnivals.”

“Ha!”

“Agatha, what are you doing?”

“I’m doing the ‘Agatha was right and she’s telling you so!’ dance.”

“Well, could you please point your booty that way,” (point) “before you shake it?” (mutter) “Like I don’t see enough of your ass during sky-clad ceremonies.” (paper rustling) “The switch from romance to spooky takes, what, a day? And that’s mostly covered during set-up anyway.  The only thing I don’t have a cost breakdown for is the spell-paint and spell-removal.”

(full-body pause) “Spell-removal?”

“Yeah, what did it cost to erase the lovey-dovey and horny spells?  And what will it cost to re-apply them for the Tunnel of Love?  It’s not like that shit works off decals.”

(silence)

“Agatha... you did remember to remove the lovey-dovey and horny spells, right?”

“Um...”

“RIGHT?”

DISCLAIMER: Neither Kathryn Hahn or Elizabeth Olsen were fan-cast in this fic. Aubrey Plaza maybe.

Title comes from the song ‘Counterpane’ by The Birthday Massacre; mostly because I didn’t like the original title, and I was listening to the song during final edits.

[jonsaslove]

Please rant about whichever WIP you're most excited about! And also, which one you anticipate to be the most challenging or out of your comfort zone. And why. Just rant in general, lol. All about them. I'm gonna sit here like

Ask and you shall receive! (dying at that gif too lol)

and the stars forgot us

This is the only one on the list that has a title that is likely to change and it is also the fic that has technically been a WIP the longest. I have had this idea for years, basically since I first started writing for jonsa, and it is all inspired by this post.

I have been interested in writing a Jonsa Lord of the Rings AU, or at least LOTR adjacent, just for the elf!Sansa and dwarf!Jon of it all. This isn't going to be some long sprawling tale or anything, it would just be a one off but it definitely is out of my comfort zone and I've put it off so long because I want to get it right!

brimstone and ash

This is one I have only just started working on but it's definitely going to be a challenging one. Also for the @jonsa-halloween event but for the prompt 'Dragon'.

Without giving too much away I am essentially looking to write an AU where the Targaryens have been an established dynasty for much longer than they ever were in canon, still fantasy still ASOIAF similar but with some changes. The Targaryens are falling out of favour and the realm is in a state of unrest. Jon is raised as a Targaryen and Sansa is alone in the world after a failed Northern Rebellion.

The challenge here is that I am really going to play with Sansa's character in a way I haven't before, she will still not be say 'Arya-esque' in that she is not going to be picking up a sword, but she is going to be forced into situations outside of her normal realm of strengths and will have to navigate that.

solace sought//bewitchment bought

This is the last one I'm going to talk about and it is another one I'm super hype for, and again for the @jonsa-halloween event, prompt being 'Magic'.

Our jumping off point is Sansa, unaware of what she's doing, wargs into Lady before Ned can kill her and her direwolf journeys North while she goes to King's Landing like she does in canon. Mostly I'm super intrigued by diving into the warging aspect since it's not something I've really explored in depth before.

Thanks so much for all the asks Orange :D <3

[rise-my-angel]

You are sooooo right about shippers not engaging with Jon as his own character. It’s especially weird for me (despite enjoying Jonerys in theory) to see Jonerys shippers doing this because like. They haven’t met. None of them are show!Jonerys fans for obvious reasons so it’s just the book versions of these characters and they have not met. Literally it’s all speculation about their dynamic. Despite being open to the ship under specific circumstances I don’t think it’s undeniably foreshadowed at all. Everything that gets called foreshadowing is tenuous. You can’t generally definitively call something foreshadowing until the events being purportedly foreshadowed actually come to pass, unless it’s truly really screaming in your face obvious but if it’s that obvious I’m not sure if it’s that good from a writing perspective. I think foreshadowing should only really be clear in retrospect. Shippers also are so selective in what they’ll acknowledge just do they can hold onto these moments. Like jonsas and the Slynt beheading. You’re so right that it is a JON moment. And shippers refuse to acknowledge that George say he was originally going to have Slynt HUNG, not beheaded, until someone pointed out that Jon would want to do it the northern way. Of everyone I think Jonrya shippers do the best at acknowledging Jon as his own character and I think it’s because there’s so much in the actually text demonstrating how much Jon and Arya care about each other. It’s not speculation unlike with Jonsa and Jonerys. It’s just that they read this and think it’s romance instead of sibling love. I can’t say I blame them because of the original outline, but it’s also a ship that is really really not for me because they were raised as siblings.

I actually sent you an ask months ago and forgot to check your response. I finally found it. I discussed how much upbringing influences how we know who our relatives are and that that’s why Jonerys doesn’t make me uncomfortable the way Jonrya and Jonsa do. I’m an evolutionary biologist so I fully understand why incest is avoided. However, I didn’t know how much we actually CAN detect our blood relatives without being raised to know who they are. I fully believed it was entirely upbringing, because upbringing is sufficient to establish someone as “relative” in our brains (ie adopted siblings recognize each other as siblings and are repulsed by the idea of mating despite not sharing blood). But I came to the false conclusion that because it was sufficient it’s the only mechanism. I did some looking into it and you’re right! There’s evidence that we can subconsciously smell our relatives based on MHC complexes—however this isn’t 100% reliable because sometimes our relatives will have differing MHC complexes and nonrelatives will have very similar ones just based on recombination and the gene pool of the population, but that’s why the upbringing factor exists as a supplement to innate biological factor. I appreciated being prompted to learn more!

However I’m not sure George would take this into consideration. Within the universe of the books, I think it’s perfectly feasible that they wouldn’t biologically recognize each other as relatives because there are many cases of non first degree incest (first degree being siblings and parents) being carried out without any disgust. However real life is obviously different I do not blame anyone at all for being opposed to a ship based on real life principles. There are lots of ships I oppose that would be fine in-universe based on my own real life principles.

Anyway I’ve said a lot here and sorry for all the words. I just really enjoy discussion and it’s hard to have any nuanced conversations in the fandom because of the issues we’ve mentioned here and I’m eager to find someone so willing to engage with people who have different opinions

You wrote me an essay, so I wrote you a novel in return. I am sorry in advance but I love rational and calm, respectful discussions and debate and you thus far have been a great sport for my word vomit.

This isn't directed at you personally, but more of a blanket statement in saying, it is just very odd and funny that in this specific fandom, I find myself having to be more knowledgeable about the harmful physical, genetic, and psychological impacts of incest, to explain why I am against it, then those who are for it. It is just very funny how much defending I do about not supporting incest ships, compared to any other fandom where any incest shippers live in the dark because they know it's weird and gross.

That being said, I'm addressing Jonrya first. Because, I have gone on record to say I personally think shipping that is very gross.

Show or Book, that is a dynamic where any romantic implications being attached to it are very uncomfortable. Arya is so deeply ingrained in his head as his baby sister that adding any romance to that makes Jon look incredibly predatory. Arya is still a very young child in the single digits in the books, and Jon is very clearly at the start of the show a man in his 20's.

I do not think claiming anything of the outline is any reasonable argument. It was in an outline which was scrapped for a reason. As a writer, I wouldn't want any of my initial outline ideas to be used as proof of canon. It isn't canon one way or the other and I do not accept it as fair use of evidence for a ship. Jons canon thoughts about her are textbook loving older brother. It feels predatory to make Jons thoughts of a very young, child Arya to be that of romantic. It makes him appear as if his closeness and kindness were all tinted in a different intent towards a child.

Arya in every adaptation, is too young. I will never support any evidence of that ship because it is the exact kind of predatory dynamic which Jonrya fans denounce in other ships involving older man/younger woman characters. I hate this idea of taking Jons point of view and deciding his affection is not brotherly, only when discussing his sisters. It takes away the validity of Jons character being a good big brother, because now his good brotherly nature only towards his sisters is rooted in predatory behaviour whether they realize it or not. This goes for Jonrya and Jonsa both.

Moving on, you did hit the nail on the head about the “proof” about Jon and Dany. Foreshadowing is not a common tool used whenever grrm writes anything. Foreshadowing is a very specific tool he uses to elaborate more on motifs and themes and over arching plots, rather then for every minute character dynamic. Jon and Dany have literally no evidence that a ship will exist. They are not even on the same continent and they are constantly shown to be at extreme moral opposites to one another.

There is no scrap of proof a relationship or even base attraction will ever exist. That is all pure fan theory with no in text evidence. Same with Jon and Sansa. Jon doesn't not think about Sansa because he loves her the most. That is not Jon Snow, we know that. He thinks constantly about the people he loves, and there is no evidence backing up he doesn't think of her often for love that is not also pure fan theory with no empirical evidence. Sansa had rarely ever thought about Jon and when she has more times then not, it was associated in a negative light. Her points of view about her bullying of Arya showcase that, as she insults and wishes to denounce Arya as someone she should care about in ways that connect her to Jon. Wishing Arya was a bastard like him because she doesn't want to call her a trueborn sister. Repeatedly noting Arya looks just like Jon and then exploring the times Sansa constantly thinks Arya is ugly. The only time she has any growth about this is when she is being talked down to when posing as Petyr Baelish's bastard daughter, and she doesn't like being treated that way, but it is not explored that Sansa has literally treated Jon worse then this her whole life. She has not yet even realized she engaged in the exact same kind of classist treatment that Catelyn treated him with.

So much of what Jonerys, Jonsa, and Jonrya shippers do, is look at Jon and discuss it in a way that supposedly symbolizes their ship. They do NOT analyze their female fave and associate how deeply it all ties to their ship. Jons story is always secretly about the ship, but the other female part of the ship is their own story who will only be about Jon when they get together. Jon is not the character they like, it is the girl. Jon is the love interest, the accessory to their story. Not a unique half all of his own.

As for the incest, because these people all function biologically the same as we do, other then when magic is inferred, it is reasonable to assume real life science is included. Grrm does not need to tell me about invisible pheromones or scent markers for me to apply that to the characters. It is indirectly supported by the sheer fact that most characters within the world of asoiaf do not engage in incest and do not support it. Meaning, 99% of the average population of asoiaf are not attracted to their family members what so ever. Meaning it is reasonable to assume the same biological factors are at play here.

But the thing about certain incest dynamics not being carried out with disgust doesn't really apply with Jon ships here. Jons three biggest ships are his little sisters, and his aunt. Two family relations that both physically and psychologically are the most harmful to engage in. The dynamics of incest shown to be the most psychologically harmful is sibling to sibling incest, parent to child incest, and aunt/uncle to nephew/neice incest. Those are such close familial ties with SO many shared biological markers that it is not reasonable at all to think not knowing each other at first would make that biological connection less important. I only met my aunt in my mid 20's and from that moment on she has been as much my aunt in my head as my mother is my mother. Once that knowlede of family is made, it will not be severed. If Jon is not inclinced already towards incest, he will never engage in it with that knowledge.

Dany is his aunt. Dany also, has very inbed genetics to a shocking degree, meaning the biological markers she shares with Jon would be so strong she basically would wreak of red flags. And learning they have such a close biological connection would instantly sever any possible ability in Jon to view her in any romantic or physical attraction sense. He was not raised like her. Jon does not now think incest is normal, and thus he never will.

Also, learning Dany is his aunt would make any physical or romantic dynamics extremely traumatizing for him. The second Jon learns the truth of his birth, Jon will realize that he is related to Dany in the exact way Jon spent his whole life thinking he was related to the woman who was his mother. Jon learning his aunt was actually his mother, would destroy any capability of a relationship with Dany.

That would utterly change every single way he views any character in a motherly or aunt manner. It would destroy that potential in an instant because now Dany is to Jon, what Jon previously thought his mother was to him. It would be traumatizing should a relationship already exist and it would sever any chance of a relationship forming if it hadn't existed already.

The reason the Targaryeans did the most incest and are almost extinct, is because their engaging in incest was not sustainable and it was harmful.

Shown by characters like Egg, who literally grew up his whole life trying to escape the incestual nature of his family. One of his brothers made threats about cutting off his manhood in terms of making a wife for himself. That is not a family who engages in incest beceause they think it is normal. This is a family raised to view their incest in terms of furthering a bloodline because they see themselves as superior to those they rule over. They do not think it is fine, they do it because they raise each other to think it is necessary to further their superior bloodline. And they paid the price. Targaryean women the more inbred they were struggled to give birth, struggled to carry pregnancies to term and often died on the birthing bed with alarming freqency for how short their dynasty lasted.

It is not sustainable and it is harmful. The main plot beat of the story was literally how so many people viewed the incestual relationship of a brother and sister to be an abomination, that wars were started to dethrone them and the population and faith turned against them for it. This is not a world where people think incest is fine, unless it is a learned behaviour their whole life.

People can ship it, it's fine. But despite how much he writes it, grrm time and time again has shown that those in asoiaf who engage in incest, pay a deep, harmful price for it. He writes it a lot, but writing a lot of it does not mean he thinks it is behavior which should be supported for his charcters. Otherwise those who engage in such close incest, would not constantly be punished for doing so.

I have to apply real world logic to being anti incest, because my excuse of “I think it's gross” has been deemed as hateful and unfair. So you can imagine it is frustrating to see my favourite character is primiarly shipped with either women with VERY close biological or familial ties to him, or his rapist.

So, yeah I love talking about Jon but so much of it is me defending why I have never been convinced of any pro incest arguments. It is a goofy situation to be in.

Those who followed me for my pedro pascal content are dying on the inside, I decided I loved Jon Snow and suddenly my blog keeps becoming a haven of debates around the morality of incest.

It is silly silly silly.

[ginger-danica-snapps]

I adore Lord Jon and Lady Sansa of the Gift works. There are very few fics that I've found over time, but I have been working on this one forever and it might just be my favorite Jonsa art ever.

Lord Jon and Lady Sansa Stark of the Gift, as presented by King Rickon on the day the regency expired and he became King in his own name.

(If anyone actually wants to write that prompt, I'll make lots of art for it).

[part-timewonders]

i'll take some fic prompts either in replies or ask box! photos, words, lyrics, anything! you'll get a few sentences out of me, at least. just feeling like i need to stretch my muscles a little bit and get out of this writing rut.

ships:

kylux, gingerpilot, darkpilot (sw)

darklina (s&b)

jonsa (got)

prideshipping, scandalshipping, puppyshipping (ygo; i'll write almost anything except puzzle)

feydpaul (dune)

clegan (mota)

twiyor or damianya (sxf)

hell, i'll even take some wild cards from some of these fandoms, or older ones if you happen to remember my old fandoms lol