#jxsff

so i’ve been meaning to do this for literal years but i was too lasy to do it. however, i’ve been asked a few more times and i’ve seen my friends do some excellent masterlists so i finally, finally, finally decided to complete my jonsa tumblr fic masterlist! these are just my fics from tumblr, not those from ao3, however some of them might overlap (i just dont remember which)

Jon rescuing Sansa from King’s Landing *

Medieval bedding ceremony *

Sansa teasing Jon publicly and making him hard af *

Jon and Sansa share the Lord and Lady room of Winterfell.

Sansa helps Jon clean up after the Battle of the Bastards

“Jon wargs into Ghost so he can watch Sansa undress. He gets the shock of a lifetime when Sansa reveals she knows what he’s been doing.“ *

much more below the cut: 

Across the Stars, a Jonsa Star Wars AU

Separated by light years, Jon and Sansa find themselves connected through the Force. Or, a Star Wars AU.

When Brandon Snow was born on 31 October, weighing six pounds, seven ounces, his mother was white as a sheet. Well, white as a ghost, for whom she was dressed. Before changing into her hospital gown she had worn a ghostly white dress, shredded across the hem and sleeves. Her face had been covered in white paint and powder, her eyes red rimmed and dark, her lips red as though stained by blood. She had been the only soon-to-be-mother who had arrived at the hospital in full costume and while, in another life, she might have been embarrassed by it, now she could only laugh.  

The Stark family had always had a great interest in all things Halloween. From the time Sansa was a child she could remember her mother and father excitingly draping the house in fake cobwebs and plastic ghosts. Catelyn always took great pleasure in baking some great pumpkin treat- her favourite was pumpkin bread and cinnamon butter- and her father loved to eat them. They had even taken to planning some elaborate family costumes, from the members of the Scooby Gang to the Addam’s Family. It was a time of year they all loved.

And luckily for them, even as the Stark kids grew up their love for Halloween did not fade.

In the living room Arya Stark was circling Sansa and Jon, scrutinizing their potential costume before deciding if it was good enough to be worn in attendance to Loras Tyrell’s annual Hallow’s Eve party, a massive, raging blowout.

“I still think you should have been Han and Leia.” said Arya, frowning. “The theme for the party is famous movie couples isn’t it? Who else is more famous?”

“Because I’m sure everyone and their mother is going to show up dressed as Han and Leia. I want to try and make an impression.” Sansa said. “And after what happened last year I want it to be a good impression.”

if i burn // written for jonxsansafanfiction’s 15 days of valentine’s day celebration | 🌸  day seven: flowers 🌸

Preview: 

He had gripped her hands so tightly, the small bushel of winter roses he had picked for her held tightly in her free hand, as thought Sansa had hoped that if she did not let go, he would not leave her.

“You should stay.” She repeated.

He was warm against her as they embraced, their bodies both so awkward and ingrown. “I must.” He said. She could feel his jaw moving against her temple, his lips brushing against her cheek lightly, the blush that filled her face hot against his skin. “I’ve got to…You deserve a Lord or a Prince. Not a bastard.”

The city crumbled beneath her, the tinny vibrations of stone on stone rattling through her bones. She could hear the screams and cries of battling knights, the grating clatter of swords just below her as she looked out through the bars of the wide window. Sansa had been imprisoned late into the night, dragged into the chamber by a masked knight who tossed her down with nothing but a crust of hard, stale bread and a slab of grisly meat on a dented china plate.

With a belly full of bread softened with bitter wine she had used the plate to try and dislodge the bars from the head of the window. She would not be taken by another enemy’s army. Not again. If need be she would throw herself from the high tower and know freedom if just for a moment.

A loud screech filled the air, accompanied by a thousand howling knights. Sansa looked to the skies, catching sight once more of the dragons that filled the sky with bolts of crimson flame. Half the city had already been engulfed, from the charred remains Cersei had left of the Great Sept of Baelor to the burning surface of Blackwater Bay, the fire so hot not even water could extinguish it.

continue below? or read on AO3

thank you so much! this made my day :) now it’s my turn to thank you. I’ve been trying to write another drabble for the Jonxsansafanfiction October Fanwork Challenge for almost a week and it was only because of your prompt that I was able. So here you are, I do hope you like it!

🎃  just a warning: something fluffy this way comes 🎃

“Are you s-sure you should w-wear that?” Jon asked. Sansa reached out to balance herself on the handle of the armchair she had sat in, her ankles suddenly seeming to turn the consistency of clotted cream. “You look very…cold.”

Her teeth chattered despite the fact that the iron-barred heater that stood shivering in the corner had lifted the room from its usual forty degrees to ninety.

Sansa took another shaky step forward in another attempt to model her costume for him. She was lovely enough to draw a low gasp from him when she had first stepped out into the light, swathed in the soft pink and white fabrics of her old ballet skirt and bodice. Her tights were so pristine a white they looked almost like snow, the Pointe shoes she had dug out from the box hidden beneath her bed that housed the special memories she was unwilling to throw away making her grit her teeth in pain when she had first put them on. But almost as though one had flipped a switch she had gone dancing around the house in them, standing so much taller than Jon when she stood on the tips of her toes that she had been able to kiss the crown of his head. 

“M-Margaery’s party is tonight.” Sansa protested. Despite the ridiculous amount of hot water she had used in her bath and the fact that she had nearly boiled herself like a crab in a soup pot Sansa still felt cold. “I have to go. It’s t-tradition.”

“You’re sick.” Said Jon. His voice was distorted with congestion and the hoarseness brought on by his sore throat. He curled tighter into the jumper he had nestled himself in, ducking his head until his red tipped nose was covered by its neck.

“You’re sick.” Sansa retorted childishly, ducking under his hand as he reached for her brow in hopes of gauging her temperature. She danced away- quite literally- though she wobbled uncertainly on her ballet slippers as she made her way towards the door.

Jon followed after her, the pads of his Monster’s Inc. themed slippers shuffling against the wooden floorboards. Sansa looked down at them pointedly, knowing he only donned such cartoonish things when he truly felt ghastly and wanted to be reminded of the days when his mother used to care for him and let him eat ice cream for every meal when he was sick.

He frowned, tapping a slippered foot. “You have a fever and you look terrible-“ she shot him a look, reaching for the house key that hung on the hook beside the door. “What I said was- you look great.” He corrected without pause, turning to switch on the volume of the telly as it returned from commercial. His eyes flicked to her hand. “And you just put a compass in your purse.”

“That was on purpose.”

“Oh?” he asked, crossing his arms. Sansa could tell he was struggling to keep the chatter from his teeth, knowing that any shiver he might exude would diminish the seriousness he was trying to display. “What are you going to use it for?”

“To count how many steps I need to take before you get off my back, you wanker.” Sansa replied, squaring her shoulders before being overtaken by another shiver. “B-besides. I worked on my costume for t-two months.”

“And it’s lovely.” Jon snapped, sounding simultaneously annoyed and impressed. “But it’s really no-“

Sansa’s cheeks began to shift from a dull pink to a blotchy red and with each word uttered her voice became more and more raw. “I spent t-thirty pounds repairing this fabric. Tulle is very difficult to sew you have to-“

“Sansa!” Jon shouted. His fingers gripped her shoulders, shaking her just roughly enough to snap her out of her reverie. “There will be p-plenty of other parties and plenty of other Halloweens. But not if you go out in the blizzard and die of frostbite.”

He continued, noting the narrowing of her eyes and set of her jaw that only meant she was mulling over his words. “You should stay. We can call for take away- maybe I’ll even shell out for that Thai place you love so much-“ he stifled another cough, his throat aching with every word. “And watch the horror movie marathon that’s playing on that channel, you know that one with that weird alien creature’s head they use as an ‘o.’ And-“ he added, shifting his hands until they slid down her bare arms, thumbs running over her cold skin. The fabric of his jumper nestled against her, so soft and smooth that she felt her eyes flutter closed for a moment, remembering how comfortable her bed had been and how much she had not wanted to get out of it. “Nobody else is home. We have the flat all to ourselves…”

Sansa still looked wary, though she had not uttered another word of protest. With a small smile Jon knew just how to tempt her. “I went to the market this morning,” he whispered, the mischief in his eyes making Sansa all the more mistrustful. “I was going to surprise you with these later but I think now is as g-“ he sneezed, bringing his jumper over his mouth to block the motion. “-good as ever.”

Turning back to the mahogany chest that stood just before the kitchen he rummaged around for a moment before coming up with a bag that made Sansa’s eyes widen. “You didn’t!” she shouted gleefully, the loudness of her words making her voice crack. “Tell me those aren’t Caramacs?”

Jon quirked an eyebrow, tossing her a single, bit sized candy piece and smiling as she hurried to unwrap the package. “Just so.”

It had taken Sansa two and a half hours to ready herself for Margaery and Loras’ annual Halloween costume party. She had showered and brushed out her hair until it was shining like copper, dabbed her skin with the sweet smelling lotion that always drove Jon mad with the perfect Sansa-ness of its scent, applied the makeup that stood in the case on top of their sink with such perfection that it made Jon marvel. The only thing she had even required help with was doing up the small laces and buttons that decorated the back of her bodice, Jon’s fingers never feeling as large and clumsy as when they were against the tiny pearl buttons.

For all that she had done and all of her beauty it had only taken her two hours where it would have taken Jon six. And it only took her five minutes to throw off her costume, scrub her face clean, and collapse back on the couch beside him.

Sansa had traded her chiffon and silk for wool and cotton, donning one of the jumpers she had pilfered from Jon’s side of the closet, the fabric so large on her body that it almost blanketed her. The dainty ballerina skirt was tucked back into the closet, her legs shrouded in a pair of plaid striped pyjama pants and her feet with wool socks and pink slippers. She was sure she had never been so comfortable in her life.

And that was before Jon had dialed in the Thai food, tucked a fur blanket around them, and fumbled with the telly remote until finding an edition of Scream that was just beginning. Then she was sure she had never been so comfortable.

An array of bowls and plates were laid across the ottoman of the sofa, bearing half a hundred types of foods and candies from which they picked from generously. Sansa turned until she was curled close to Jon, her head laid against his shoulder and her back sinking backward into the cushion of the sofa as though it was absorbing her. She thanked him once more for talking her out of the party, the gushiness of her sentiment perhaps the product of the cough syrup she had taken a spoonful of that made her insides feel as warm as the tea she was sipping.

My first attempt to write something for the Jon x Sansa Fanfiction October Challenge. I hope you all enjoy it!

In her pocket Sansa’s phone buzzed loudly, making her jump as she dug through the costume drawer that the memories of Halloweens past. She reached for the phone and answered with a polite greeting but by the time she had reached the telly there was no voice on the other end, making her brows furrow. Turning back to the costume box she could she had already passed the ghost and pirate costumes that she had donned almost each year of her elementary schooling, the fabric small and worn and falling apart from the stress she had placed upon it while running around the yard with her siblings.

After that she had found the hamburger costume that Sansa, thinking it would be quite funny, had worn when she had turned thirteen and had celebrated her first teenage Halloween. Only then had she realized that it was teenage tradition to not be funny but to instead wear as little as possible while passing it off as some sort of animal or occupation. Like when she had seen one of the older girls wearing a pair of white fur lined gloves and a mini skirt, pretending to be an ice woman. Sansa had not pointed out that if the girl had worn that out in the snow she would have been an icicle instead of an ice fisher.

“What is that?” Jon laughed.

He set his beer down on the table and leaned forward, catching sight of the hand sewn stripes of ketchup and mustard Sansa had set onto the meat of the hamburger.

She blinked back at him. “It’s a hamburger. Well…it was a cheeseburger but I lost the cheese in an unfortunate fence climbing incident.”

“I remember that.” Jon laughed. “What exactly happened?”

Sansa sighed, remembering first hand how incredibly stupid she had felt that day. “You, Robb and Theon hopped the fence into that old abandoned lot” she grumbled. “and Arya and I tried to follow you.” Sansa grunted her agreement.

Jon choked on his bear, a burble of foam rushing through his nose. “You got caught at the top when you and Arya tried to follow them. We had to climb up there and get you down.”

“Is that when you first fell in love with me?” Sansa teased, folding the hamburger and stashing it back in the case.

“Yes.” Jon said in a false dreamy voice. In a flash he had swept her legs out from under her and pulled her onto his lap, laughing as she settled her arms around his neck. “I just could not resist such a good set of buns.”

Despite the voracity in which she rolled her eyes Jon could see the smile playing on her lips and chuckled, turning back to his own armful of costumes. “Can’t we just get something new?”

“We can.” Said Sansa. “I just thought we could check here first. There are a bunch of oldies but goodies in here.” As though to prove a point she lifted up a pair of striped trousers.

“A clown?” Jon asked, eyeing the pants.

“No.” she said pointedly. “A bird. Specifically Kevin. From Up. That was the year I let Rickon choose my costume.”

“What were we last year? I can’t remember.”

“Mary Poppins and Burt.” Said Sansa. “And you can’t remember because you and Loras has thirteen shots between you. Luckily for you that picture of you wearing a-”

Jon grimaced. “Ugh! Not the picture.” As though trying to change the subject he offered a compliment. “That was actually a good one. You looked quite cute with that umbrella.”

“Keep it in your trousers, Snow.” Said Sansa. “We are on a mission here. Loras’ party is tonight and we don’t have costumes yet.”

“Mrs. Pacman?” Jon questioned, lifting a bright yellow garment from the wardrobe box. He eyed her suspiciously, as though trying to imagine what she looked like dressed as the sun.

“That is a sunflower, you prat.” She said, snatching it away. “I’ve gotten better at sewing over the years.”

“So what have we got on the list so far?” Jon asked.

Sansa looked over her shoulder at the notepad where she had sketched a few names. “Morticia and Gomez Addams, Han and Leia, and Margot and Ritchie Tenenbaum.”

After pondering this Jon said, “I still think we should be Sonny and Cher.”

“We can do that.” Sansa agreed. “But you’re being Cher.” She sat back on the couch, Jon’s hand warm as it rested upon her knee, drawing slow circles with his thumb and index finger. “We can be Han Solo and Indiana Jones again,” she said, turning towards him. “Although this year we won’t both be Indiana Jones.”

“I swear I thought that you said you were being Han!”

“Water under the bridge…” she pursed her lips in thought. “Speaking of bridges...We can be James Bond?”

“We would probably both show up as Connery.”

“Damn it, you’re right.” Said Sansa. “Clever bastard.”

Her phone rang again, though this time when she picked up there was a voice on the other end. “Hello.” Said Arya, her voice muffled by the phone.

“Hello.”

“Hi Arya!” Jon called from across the room, having gone fishing back into the bowl of candy corn.

“Jon says hi.” Sansa relayed. Arya returned the sentiment. “Jon, Arya says hi. By the way, while I’ve got you on the line which one sounds cooler: Morticia and Gomez Addams, Han and Leia, and Margot and Ritchie Tenenbaum.”

“Definitely Gomez and Morticia .” Said Arya. “Although Jon’s Sonny and Cher suggestion is growing on me.”

“Aha!” cried Jon, triumphant.

Suddenly another voice broke through on the line. “Sansa?” asked Gendry, as though unsure. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh, hell.” He said. “I didn’t think she would actually call you.” In the background Sansa heard Arya mutter something about Gendry owing her twenty pounds. “Well…there is a bit of a…er….situation.”

Sansa bit her lip. At once every terrible and terrifying possibility flooded her mind so ferociously that for a moment she was unable to speak, causing Gendry to continue. “It isn’t a big deal, so don’t freak out. But- don’t freak out- there was a bit of a mishap- don’t freak out- while we were carving our pumpkin.”

Sansa shrieked so loud that Jon jumped, candy corn flying around the room like yellow and orange confetti. He wheeled around, looking half startled and half confused, as he mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

“Well…” Gendry began tentatively. “We were cutting out the insides of the pumpkin and making the shape-“

“-a really funny and creative shape-“ came Arya’s voice.

“-the shape.” Gendry said and Sansa could practically hear the roll of his eyes. “And some git decided it would be proper to sing-

“-to the Monster Mash.” From Arya.

“-while she was carving the bloody thing. Don’t freak out. There was just a little, tiny slip with the knife.”

“Gods.” Sansa breathed. “Is she alright? Is there a lot of blood?”

Jon was at her side, his eyebrows risen halfway into his dark curls, the look in his eyes as confused as she felt within. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, waiting nervously for Gendry’s response.

“Well…yes.”

“’tis but a scratch!” Arya’s voice reappeared.

“It is definitely more than a scratch. We’re at the hospital now. I wanted to call you and tell you everything is alright before you saw the picture…”

“What picture?” asked Sansa.

Gendry let out a sigh. “Arya posted a photo on Instagram. She thought it was very Halloween-y.”

“Is it really alright?” Sansa asked, lowering her voice in hopes that Arya could not hear. As she listened closer she could begin to recognize the sounds of hospital life, the wheeling of gurneys, the dull voices going through the announcement speakers. They mother would probably faint when she heard.

There was a pause before Gendry continued, lying easily into the receiver. “Yeah I’ll go and see if they have cable. Be back in a sec.” he added, presumably to Arya.

A few seconds and a door slam later Gendry was back on the line. “It is not alright and it is not a scratch. The knife almost went clean through her hand. At first I thought she was playing a prank on me. Again.”

She chuckled in discomfort, wishing Arya had not told him that it had originally been Sansa’s plan to play the joke the Halloween before in which they staged Arya’s death. In the moment it had been hilarious as they watched the dummy they had dressed up like Arya tumble down the stairs. Its wooden head had even popped off. But then Gendry had started crying…

Gendry continued. “But there was a lot of blood. Like a lot, a lot. Almost comical if it wasn’t so terrifying.”

“Did you call an ambulance?”

“No I took her in my car.” He said. “Blood everywhere. Looks like a murder scene. But I called Talisa and she walked me through the first aid part of it until we got to the hospital.”

Sansa let out a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad she’s alright. Did she have to get stitches?”

“Eleven of them.” said Gendry. “And they gave her something for the pain so she’s pretty out of it. A few minutes ago she tried to eat a cotton ball because she thought it was a marshmallow. Should have taped it.”

“We’ll come visit-“ Jon began.

“Don’t worry about it. The doctor says we can leave in a few hours. We should still make it to the Tyrell party.”

“Did you guys pick a costume before Arya tried to cut off her hand?” Jon asked as nonchalant as someone asking about the weather.

“Yup.” Said Gendry. “Alan and Ellie from Jurassic Park.”

“Everyone has a cooler costume than us.” Said Sansa after hanging up the phone, but not before making Gendry promise her three more times that Arya would be fine. She frowned, feeling Jon wrap his arms around her and pull her in for a soft kiss.

“We could go as Mary Poppins and Burt again? Or Lord and Lady Macbeth? That was fun, right? Don’t you remember that? I got to say my hilarious Macbeth joke?”

“I remember.” Said Sansa, her voice muffled by the cloth of Jon’s shirt as she buried her face into his chest, frowning.

“E.T. and Elliot?” he asked. “Mary Jane and Peter Parker? Merida and…well we can both be Merida?”

“Stop suggesting redheads.” She said, but she laughed nevertheless.

“I love you.” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “Even if you don’t dress up as Merida.”

Sansa looked up at him, suddenly grinning. “I think I’ve got it.”

Her blue eyes blinked with the mischief that he had not seen since two years prior when, at the last second, they had decided to forgo the Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI costumes that had taken two months of careful design in favour of a simple Jaime and Claire from Outlander. It was until that moment that Jon had never realized how perfectly comfortable a kilt could be and, nearing midnight and his fourth vodka shot, he had tried to convince Sansa to move with him to Scotland.

Jon narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to gauge her excitement. “Is it the hamburger costume again? Because I have to tell you that a man dressing up as a hot dog is way less funny than when a woman does it.”

“Not a hamburger.” She teased, walking toward his bedroom. “Or a hot dog. Just follow me. I’ve got to take your measurements.”

Jon winked, dragged along behind Sansa as they headed for the bedroom where her sewing box was kept.

It was only a few hours until Margaery and Loras’ party began and by the time they reached the lofty Tyrell flat it was in full swing. Music thundered through the walls of the flat and the metal of Jon’s car as he pulled onto the well-manicured grass of the lawn, multi-coloured lights flashing through the many windows and reflecting prettily in the silver moonlight.

The October air was cool and crisp against her skin as Jon helped her out of the car, his fingers taking their place through hers, his other hand settling against her hip as he pulled her closer for a quick kiss.

“You look great.” He whispered, his nose icy against her cheek as he nuzzled against her.

“So do you.” She returned, hands reaching up to straighten the fabric of his collar. “Every woman will be hanging on you all night.”

“Every woman?” he teased. His hands lowered to curve around her arse, warm against her skin through the thin fabric of the pencil skirt she wore, the high heels that pressed through the snow positioning her body at a tantalizingly perfect position. Jon was loathe to resist.

“Perhaps.” She said, her lipstick leaving a smudge of red against his lips. They continued along the cobblestone path towards the front door, the light snow making Sansa shiver.

“Maybe we will find ourselves in Margaery’s broom closet again.” he said, ducking to avoid one of the feux skeletons that hung from the branches of the large oak tree in the yard. The leaves glittered with white ghost shaped fairy lights and the front porch was lined with several carved pumpkins in an assortment of shapes and colours. Sansa reached out a hand to knock but found Margaery seemed to have beat them to it.

“You’re here!” she announced, pulling the auburn haired girl into a tight embrace.

As predicted, Margaery was dressed to the nines, clad in a pristine white floor-length gown, a braided gold cord hanging about her waist and a matching on laid on the crown of her head. A perfect Aphrodite. She turned to hug Jon, “and you two look great! The most perfect Lois Lane and Clark Kent I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks.” The couple said in unison, shaking the snow off of their shoes as they entered.

The house had been magically transformed into a breathtakingly beautiful Halloween wonderland. Pumpkins, ghosts, and witches punctuated the space of the room. A long table stood on the opposite side of the room, holding trays and plates and bowls of Halloween themed foods, including monster mash’d potatoes and devil’s eggs. Beside it the bar- complete with a shirtless vampire bartender- served witch’s brew on the rocks and vampire blood cosmopolitans.

The music was its typical fast paced, thumping self though a few Halloween hits were sprinkled here and there, including some songs from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which played as they entered. All of the guests had dressed in beautiful or funny costumes, some of which she had to squint to see through the darkness of the eerily lit room.

Nevertheless Sansa had been right, every female eye on the room was on Jon, and even some male eyes. With his already broad chest emphasized by the open collared shirt Sansa had put on him and his dark curls arranged in the same way Superman so often wore. But he had eyes only for her, pulling her onto the dance floor, planting his leg between hers, and dancing so close to her that Sansa was sure she could feel his heart beat against her chest. But that wasn’t all she could feel.

“Come on.” Sansa said, pulling him towards the stairs to the guest room Margaery had already set aside for her and Jon to spend the night in.

“Going to the broom closet again, are we?” Jon asked, the way she nibbled at the lobe of his ear both answering his question and making his blood run hot as fire. “What on earth would Clark Kent say?”