If you still accepting promts I would love to read something about a very jealous Jon about Littlefinger being to close to Sansa. Thank you so much! I love your stories!
(This is a little bit short but I hope you like it! Thank you for being so wonderful!)
Jon’s knuckles turn white as he clenches and unclenches his fist.
“What was that about?” he asks. His voice betrays him, as it shakes with anger. Sansa’s face is set in stone and her eyes are void of any emotion.
“Lord Baelish wished to speak with me,” she says.
“And what does he want?”
“I thought that much was obvious.”
It is, but Jon still doesn’t want to believe it. He’d walk through hell before he lets Sansa into that monster’s hands again.
“Come do something with me,” he says.
“Like what? Help run the north? You’ve made it abundantly clear that you’ve got no interest in that.” That stings, but she’s right.
“We can go riding. Take a walk through the Godswood. You can teach me how to sew, or I can teach you how to fight. I don’t care, I just don’t want him anywhere near you.”
The ghost of a smile flits across Sansa’s face. Jon wishes she weren’t always so solemn. Her approval is what he longs for, and to make her smile is what he strives for.
“Your hands are too broad, you’d never be able to make a proper stitch,” she says.
“I’ll take that bet.”
Her lips quirk upwards, and then her face breaks out into a wide grin. His heart skips a beat. She’s so beautiful when she smiles. Across the courtyard, Littlefinger is leering at them, but Jon doesn’t care. Today, he has the upper hand.
“Jon? What is it?”
Sansa reaches out and squeezes his arm.
“Nothing,” he says. “I’m just… you know I’d do anything to protect you?”
“Of course,” says Sansa, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world.
Jon swears to himself that he’ll always keep her safe, no matter who stands in their way.