Welcome to the brutal world of Game of Thrones. Get better acquainted with some of your favorite characters. They're just waiting to fall in love with you in these pages.
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"I SHOULD'VE known better than to wait this long," you paced the floor of your best friend, Jon Snow's room. You had snuck in earlier that night to drink and spend some much needed time together. However, winter snow was now raging in the black night. It must've been one in the morning at this point and trying to walk back home in the torrent did not sound ideal.
"Can I take Ghost?" You questioned sheepishly. The dire wolf perked up at hearing his name. You turned your gaze to Jon who looked about ready to throw up. He swallowed hard, slowly meeting your gaze.
"It's too late, (Y/N). You'll have to stay." His words were soft, cautious for the first time that night. Usually there wasn't an inch of distance between you two, emotional or otherwise, but suddenly you felt the weight of ever present tension crash over you. You understood that was what made Jon look so sickly all of a sudden. You two had managed to dance around it for months, but now there was no room to hide.
"Stay?" You repeated. "Stay where?" You turned to look around the small quarters. Jon eyed the single bed before returning his gaze to you to gauge your reaction.
"Jon—"
"Don' be ridiculous (Y/N). You'll have to stay." He ran a hand down his face, tiredly rising from his seat. You bit your lip, nervously watching him drag a long shirt from a dresser. He held it out to you, turning around as you took it. ——— "Cold?" His gravelly voice broke through the howl of wind outside. You had curled into a fetal position away from him on the other side of the bed. Ghost was laid out along the bottom. So far you hadn't got a lick of sleep. You had laid there in the pitch black for close to forty-five minutes now and you had been sure Jon had already drifted off.
"A little," you whispered in response, not daring to turn to face him. The heavy furs rustled as Jon's hands reached out searchingly. One fell against your elbow, pausing to see if you would pull away. You held your breath. The hand drifted to your waist and pulled you back into a hard chest. Jon's shallow breath tickled your ear. His arms wrapped around you, clutching you against him. Big palms pressed against your stomach. A forehead and nose buried into your hair. His thighs even pressed against your dangerously exposed ones. The shirt he provided you had barely enough material to reach mid-thigh.
"Better?" He murmured. You try to ignore the hot tingle at every junction of your bodies.
"Much." Your voice cracked in the middle. You lay there in tense silence until the roar of the wind outside overtook your senses and you drifted into a blissful sleep against your best friend. ——— WORD COUNT 484
