#jonsansafic

singing how long is love going to be

Chapter 5 of 5

v. physical touch

Her eyes drift down, and for a moment, she’s almost certain she’s hallucinating. That her lonely subconscious has merely tricked her into believing the handsome young man in a fitted gray suit standing near the podium looks like Jon Snow. But then he smiles, and all the air rushes out of her lungs.

She doesn’t really feel Gilly’s arm slip from hers, or even consciously mean to take two steps forward. Jon’s eyes are locked on her as his dress shoes echo softly across the marble.

“You’re here,” she breathes as he stops just a few feet before her, brain still struggling to reorient itself. “How?”

He grins and reaches out to take her hand in a shock of contact. “Well, I was really tired of fish and chips.”

singing how long is love gonna be

Chapter 1 of 5

(Written for the Jonsa Valentine 2026)

i. acts of service

The reason I stay

Chapter 10: Jenny of Old stones AO3 link

Jon is frustrated with his injury while Sansa tries to cope with a serious set back. They reconsider the terms of their partnership agreement.

Sansa receives a gift from the universe.

Walk into a smoke-filled room

One-shot, smut, mutual pining, porn with feelings

She smooths her hands over her dress as she watches her reflection. She looks good. Pretty. She wants him to think she’s pretty and grown-up looking. Mature. He is in his first year of grad school, so he’s probably surrounded by smart, beautiful women.

Marg had told her she needed a good summer fling, and maybe Jon could be that. Robb wouldn’t like it, but, well, she’d deal with that if it came to it.

Chains of Love

Rating: T

Prompt: Sansa and Jon keep meeting under the mistletoe.

In truth, Sansa had never particularly warmed to Cousin Jon. Consequently, when King Rhaegar Targaryen announced a few months before Christmas that Jon Stark was actually his illegitimate son–whom he had since legitimized–she liked him even less.

OR

A Very Victorian Stark Christmas, featuring several encounters with rogue mistletoe and scandalous ankle touching.

The reason I stay

Jon/Sansa, modern au, ranching/western, hurt/comfort

Chapter Two

At last he looked up. She was watching him like a hawk, almost predatorily. “You’re offering me… a partnership?”

She nodded once, sharply. “Yes. Equal split.”

“But why,” he demanded, floundering. “I have approximately a hundred dollars to my name and a truck that needs a new transmission. I can’t buy into a partnership.”

“You’ve already bought in, Jon,” she said, and there was something about her saying his name, this apparition of the girl he once knew, that made the hair on his arms stand on end. “You bought in with every pay check you didn’t take, every task you did that was completely outside of your job, and every year you stayed even though this place was falling apart. You’ve kept the lights on, Jon.”

The reason I stay

Chapter 4: Hope only gets a man so far AO3 link

Jon sat in the corner, perched on an overturned joint compound bucket because all the chairs were taken. He had a beer in his hand, but he hadn’t taken a sip in ten minutes. He just held the cold bottle against his forehead, letting the condensation cool his skin as he leaned back against the wall.

singing how long is love gonna be

Chapter 4 of 5

iv. quality time

It’s 5 pm her time, 10 pm Jon’s time, and they are studying together. Well, Sansa is trying to study, but mostly she keeps getting distracted by the way his forearm flexes every time he jots something down in his notebook. God, she wants him. Misses him.

He’s in his apartment–flat–surrounded by books and wood panelling. A mug of coffee steams in one corner of his cluttered desk. There is a cloistered silence about the space that exudes loneliness. The sort of melancholy that lingers in transient spaces occupied by people for a small capsule of time before they move on.

Something flashes across his face, fully drawing her attention. “What are you reading?” she asks.

He startles a little and blushes, intriguing her further. She puts her own pen down and sets her notebook aside.

“Oh, uh, just some Cummings.”

“Read some to me,” she says, bracing her chin on her palm and fluttering her lashes at him.

He rubs at the back of his neck and looks at her sideways. She’s not above begging. “Pleeeeease?”

He chuckles and draws the text closer. “Alright, alright.”