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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years ago

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in the dark of the moon I planted, but there came an early snow 1/4

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It hadn’t been hard, really.

The Hound had been far too distracted by filling his gut with his coveted chicken that he hadn’t realized she’d slipped away. With Needle clutched tightly in one hand and blood still rushing under her skin from killing Polliver, it had been easy. The stout gray mare tied up outside had shown no distress at her untying and mounting her. She moved surprisingly fast for an old nag.

The day after she leaves, it begins to rain. She doesn’t feel the cold or the wet. She’s just pleased it’s covering her trail.

That day the hunger begins to get at her. All she manages to find is a handful of berries, and she barely checks to see if they appear to look edible before shoveling them down. Might that be better, if they gave her stomach cramps and shakes and she died out here, alone.

She has no idea where she’s going. Is she still in the Riverlands? She thinks about finding a village, it’s dangerous out here for a lone girl.

She finds one one day, and stares from out in the trees. The people look blessedly ordinary. They push their carts and smile and laugh. Their buildings are still in shambles. The war has not stopped here. Arya sees several crying.

Arya turns her back to them and leaves.

She wonders if the Hound is still following her.

The rain continues, and the air becomes colder.

The hunger pit in her stomach gets stronger the further she rides. It grows and grows and threatens to swallow her alive. To burst forth from her gut, a demon all it’s own.

She steals a loaf of bread off a windowsill. The beast abates, enough for the girl to feel guilt.

She’s getting closer to the sea, she thinks at least. The smell of salt is on the air, the way it was on the Kingsroad when they passed through the Riverlands. She guesses that she’s heading southeast, she’d tried so hard to turn away from the Eyrie, and away from wherever it was the Hound wanted to take her. Her Aunt Lysa. She might be her only remaining family, but Arya has never met her.

At night, as she recites her list, her mind cycles through their faces.

Her father, she is glad Yoren stopped her from seeing him. Her mother, throat slit from ear to ear like that Frey man had laughed about. Robb and Grey Wind, defiled even in death.There are rumours out of Winterfell, about Bran and Rickon that she can’t even contemplate.

Who knew what had even become of Jon, at the wall?

Sansa, wed to a Lannister, rumor had it. Though Arya mused, the Imp was far superior to Joffrey. Lost to her either way.

She doesn’t let herself think of Gendry, of his face as they dragged him off tied like a hog, sold for coin like one too.

Afterwards, she goes through her list of names again, before passing out with Needle on her lap.

She keeps her ears perked up, and at the tiniest hint of voices in the distance, she and the old nag will flee.

One night, she hears men laughing. Even without hearing their words she feels the rage ball up in her chest and has to press her head into the ground to try and block it out. They’re probably only laughing at a fart.

Though most days she prefers the rage to the numbness.

She tries to exhaust herself, so that the dreams won’t plague her. Even the wolf dreams, where she runs through the underbrush, the scent of blood on her nose, don’t please her the way they used to. If she ran into Nymeria, would she even let her see her? Or had she gone wild again?

The smell of salt leaves the air, and Arya’s less sure of where she’s going. Eventually, she finds another village, but to call it a village seems wrong. It’s a corpse. Buildings are crumbled, destroyed, burned. The fields too. The people too, walk around as though dead themselves.

Arya remembers vaguely hearing about the rampage committed by Lannister men led by the Mountain. That had been near Pinkmaiden. Clearly she was further west than she had first thought.

It was easy enough to tie Nan (she’d decided sometime before Nan was a good enough name for a horse) to a tree and begin helping the men and boys who were clearing debris. They don’t ask questions.

She’s not sure how long she’s been here, fetching and carrying, sleeping in the woods, eating the gruel they all share when they have it, not talking to people. Maybe a sennight or two. It rains the whole time.

It helps. She still feels cold and angry inside, but now she’s too tired to dwell on it, and in the freezing rain she supposes no one else can tell.

Sometime past the third sennight, one of the women who brings them food twice a day shoves a bowl of gruel into her hands and tells her to take it to the smithy.

“We need more nails, and he don’t come outside for nothing it seems.”

The forge could barely be called a building anymore, half of it’s roof has been caved in and smoke billows from it. But it is still being worked.

She didn’t give it any sort of thought. There were thousands of blacksmiths across all of Westeros, every keep and every town and every village had one.

She had absolutely no reason to think that when she came in and called out, “the men need more nails”, the smith would turn to her voice and she would meet a pair of blue eyes she was certain belonged to a dead man.

She drops the bowl.

Sometime later, over the remains of the gruel, she asks.

“What did the Red Woman want with you?”

Gendry wipes his mouth and says, as slowly as possible.

“My blood. She would have killed me, but one of Stannis’s men put me in a boat and set me free.”

Arya is skeptical.

“You got here from a boat?”

Gendry shrugs.

“I can’t row, or swim. I tried to follow Ser Davos’s directions….but I got lost. Got out as soon as I saw dry land. Meant to head back to King’s Landing, got lost again. People here needed help, seemed a good enough place. Better than King’s Landing. No kings and queens.”

No kings and queens to help them rebuild from the rampage of the king’s man, Arya thought.

They’ve finished up, and Arya plans to leave to sleep beside Nan again, when Gendry asks.

“What about you?”

Arya had been hoping he wouldn’t ask.

“I ran from the Brotherhood, got grabbed by the Hound. Immediately. Made it to the Twins, then we left. He let his guard down and I ran again.”

Gendry’s face goes cold. It’s not been warm before, not even like it had been when she’d seen him last.

“There-there have been stories making their way here about the Twins…”

Arya’s voice is even, dead.

“They’re true. I was there. I was outside. They killed my mother, my brother, his wife, their child, most of their men. Many men I’ve known since I was a child. They slit my mother’s throat and threw her body in the river. They killed my brother’s wolf too, cut off his head and sewed it to Robb’s body…”

Her words are pointed. Saying them makes the ice in her gut begin to burn again. It’s something more than the nothing that it’s been.

Gendry, to his credit, lets her talk.

When night falls, Arya looks him up and down.

“Where have you been sleeping?”

He points to a blanket in the corner, in the part of the forge that still has a roof.

He has a blanket, she has a horse. They’ll get soaked either way, so when she tilts her head out the door, he follows her without comment.

Her stomach swoops slightly, when she realizes that in the handful of moons since she’d seen him, she’s already gotten a bit taller.

The first night, overcome by the memories of the nights on the road to Harrenhal, she rolls onto her side and lays a hand across his shoulder.

His muscles tense up underneath her fingers.

“Please don’t touch me.”

His voice is rough, rougher than she’s heard him before. She obeys, rolling to lay in the opposite direction, heart a little more of a hole than before.

In the morning, she shows him Needle.

“The Hound and I found Polliver. A fight ensued, I got this back and stabbed him through the throat.”

“Just like Lommy,” Gendry says, with understanding. He doesn’t flinch. Maybe someday she’ll even tell him about the stable boy.

It’s while they’re still in Pinkmaiden that they hear what happened to Joffrey.

As soon as they’re away from the others, Arya doubles over in laughter. It’s hollow laughter.

“I wanted to be the one to do it,” she admits, “I thought I’d slit his throat with Needle, or poison him, or choke him on a chicken bone if I had to.”

She giggles more at the thought of Joffrey’s beautiful golden face purple with lack of air.

“At least that’s one name off your list.”

She still recites the list every night, without fail. She leaves on the Red Woman and the others, and she feels Gendry shift at her back every time. His breathing is rough, even in sleep, and some nights he tosses and turns. Bad dreams, Arya imagines, much like her.

After maybe two or three moons, Arya’s feet feel the need to shift underneath her.

“I don’t think we should stay here,” she tells Gendry, “As things get better here, people will start to talk, to ask questions. Especially if they see me with Needle.”

A girl wearing trousers was unusual enough, a girl with trousers and a sword would definitely be remembered. And though she knows she’s no beauty, she has felt her arms and legs lengthening and suspects her years of disguising herself as a boy are coming to an end.

The first days in Pinkmaiden, Arya had tucked Needle carefully away under a rock near where Nan was tied. Once she’d found Gendry, she’d taken to leaving it in the forge.

Gendry’s face is grave.

“Where can we go?”

Arya sighs, tucking her knees up to her chest.

“I don’t know. Winterfell has been taken, Riverrun’s under control of the Freys. The Hound is probably still in the Vale trying to find me. I’m not going back to King’s Landing. I don’t know enough about the Stormlands or the Reach to risk it…”

Gendry’s quiet for a long time.

“We could just pick a direction and go. If something happens, we’ll pick up and move again. We’re getting good at it.”

She looks at him, a touch of longing in her eyes. He doesn’t want to leave her again. And she supposes that that’s something.

They set off in the night, with little more than the clothes on their backs and some of Gendry’s tools. They still have Nan though, and that’s something too.

Despite their plan, Arya deliberately does not guide them west. The Westerlands are Lannister lands and if they end up there Arya does not think she will be able to keep a lid on her rage. These days, she mostly settles for level instead of dead. She would have thought rage would keep her warm, but most nights it just threatens to help her freeze.

It’s in a tavern, somewhere in the Riverlands that they hear of King Tommen’s coronation.

Arya shoves her last bite of her pie down. Gendry had a tiny bit of coin left from what Davos had given him, but they didn’t want to waste it. That day, they had found the tiny tavern, off the beaten path, and they were just too hungry to resist. They forage some, hunt and trap with their miniscule knowledge, but it barely keeps them fed.

“Looks like a babe he does,” the man swears, “Not even a hint of a beard.”

“Babe or not, he still the spawn of incest-”

The innkeep comes over and cuts him off with the slap of a wooden spoon to the head.

“There will be no talk of that here. I won’t be bringing the king’s men down on this place.”

And Arya and Gendry slink off to their spot in the woods.

“I remember Tommen,” she admits, “He was really shy, always off playing with his kittens. Joffrey was horrid to him as well.”

“Do you think he’ll make a better king than his brother?”

Arya shakes her head slowly.

“They’re right, he’s basically a babe. He’ll be under one thumb of his mother and one of his Hand, Tywin.”

Gendry can’t keep the distaste at the name of Tywin Lannister off of his face. Arya thinks grimly, that he had somehow seemed to like her.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll kill each other.”

And Arya laughs, again.

After a day or two of hitting water, with a sinking feeling Arya realizes they’ve hit the God’s Eye. It’s a decent spot, good fishing as long as winter hasn’t set in. But up, directly north of the God’s Eye lies Harrenhal.

Sometimes at night, Arya wakes up early in the dark, and thinks she’s still there.

Sometimes she stares off into the lake, where the isle of faces lies. Maybe they could swim out there, live among the weirwoods, like the children of the forest did.

It’s by the shores by the God’s Eye that Gendry wakes one morning to Arya rustling through their belongings, her breeches unlaced and halfway down her legs.

“Arya, what are you-”

“Do you have any bandages, extra stockings, an old shirt maybe?”

Her voice is almost panicked. He almost joins her when he notices the dark red stains on her smallclothes, before his mind catches up with the situation.

She eventually finds an empty burlap sack that she slices with Needle and folds thick. It would do until they could reach a village and she could trade for some lambswool.

She spends most of the morning in the lake, nude from the waist down, trying to scrub her small clothes clean. She can’t fight the feeling that the blood might attract predators, even though part of her brain insists that that’s stupid.

When she returns to camp, Gendry can’t look at her.

“Don’t be stupid,” she chides him, sitting and eating from their pitiful stash of nuts and berries. She’s the same as yesterday, just now bleeding from the cunt.

Later that day, she admits.

“Know what I keep thinking of? If I hadn’t ran when I did, I might have been with the Hound when this happened.”

She wonders if the Hound knew anything about how women’s bodies worked. Would he have let her ride her own horse now?

She laughs roughly, though Gendry remains silent.

Later that night, with her stomach aching, she wishes Gendry would rest a hand on her middle, just for the hint of warmth. Arya remembers the stories her septa told her, of lost maidenheads and childbirth. It wasn’t fair. Did every part of womanhood involve pain?

And quietly, a few moons later, she confides to Gendry.

“I’ve flowered. If I had gone back to my family, they could marry me off now. Might have already betrothed me to someone, for all I know.”

But they’re dead now, she doesn’t say. They’re dead, and she can’t know. Can’t be angry at them, even if they had done it, because they’re dead and she’s grieving. She continues though,

“That’s all a highborn girl is. A tool for her family to use for their benefit, no input from her required.”

She’s needling him, because after all of this, sometimes he still slips up and calls her “milady.” The last time had been in a tavern, in front of people. People who might hear him.

Sometimes she catches him looking at her now. Looking at her in a way. It doesn’t bother her, the way she often thought it might. In fact, secretly she might admit she likes it. But she hates what comes after, the look of self-loathing that always seems to follow. She hates that he still thinks of himself as less than her.

And he still won’t touch her.

One early morning, Arya twitches awake to the sounds of leaves rustling. She smells the man’s breath, heavy with ale, before she feels the hand even reaches to cover her mouth.

Her heart hammers itself to life. She still sleeps with Needle under her.

The man is alone, and drunk. It is easy enough to slice up the arm that’s grabbing her, splitting the artery that bleeds heavily. He screams and falls half on top of her, his weight trapping her, pressing her into the ground.

She hadn’t even realized Gendry had woken, but the man clearly hadn’t either. Had he just seen a young girl asleep in the grass, ignoring the lad and horse along with her? Arya’s mouth tastes of bile as Gendry pulls the man off her, and she crawls to her feet and slashes his throat. He howls as he dies.

Gendry is breathing as heavily as the bull he was often accused of being, and looking at Arya like she was a creature from one of Old Nan’s stories.

The dead man has a dagger in his belt, and Arya feels a fresh rush of bile at the thought that he could have used it. He could have gutted her before she could even grasp for Needle.

“Take it,” she tells Gendry, “You’re not armed. What if you had been on your own?”

She thinks on the man’s throat gaping open, and retches, remembering what had become of her mother. She imagines Walder Frey meeting his end in the same way, skin sagging open as the life drained from him.

The rains start again. They’ve managed to avoid Harrenhal, but Arya still often notices patches of land that ring familiar to her mind. The rain stops this, leaves them wandering.

There’s no water to fish in, they can’t forage as easily in the rain. The hunger begins to get to them, and so it’s unspoken between them. They must find an inn, somewhere to both fill their bellies and rest their bones. They’re down to the very last of Gendry’s coin, miraculously having not lost it to robbers.

It’s raining too heavily, so they don’t recognize it. They tie Nan up as best as they can, and push through the front door against the wailing wind.

The inside isn’t large, but it is blessedly dry, and a girl about Arya’s age approaches them, her feet skidding.

“Are you lookin’ for a room or just a meal?”

Arya barely opens her mouth when a head sticks out from where the kitchen is and yells.

“Willow! The soup’s done!”

Arya freezes. She feels Gendry go tense beside her. Not a sound will escape.

Except from the cook.

“Arry? Gendry?” Hot Pie says, abandoning his soup to come out and embrace the both of them. He’s somehow gotten both taller and rounder since the last time they’ve seen him, and Arya watches as Gendry’s face pinches and winces at the touch.

Sickness slides into Arya’s gut like an oil slick when she recognizes where they are.

“Sit, come on,” Hot Pie insists, “It’s been what, nearly two years? WIllow, bring us some bread and ale.”

“No,” Arya says firmly, and Gendry agrees.

“We won’t be staying.”

“What, why not?” Hot Pie asks, confused.

“Because this was the inn where those Brotherhood fucks brought us, and if they find us again, we’re fucked,” Gendry explains.

There’s a harsh laugh from behind them, coming from a woman who looks like Willow, but older.

“As if those fucks would come back here, now that winter’s coming. Bridge out over the hill stopping most of our business. Used to come by all the time they did, buying our ale and brings us more orphans to protect, but where are they now that they need food?”

“That’s Jeyne,” Hot Pie explains. “Masha Heddle died a bit back. She runs this place now. And she’s right, the men of the Brotherhood don’t come here anymore.”

“They probably stay near Acorn Hall now that the bridge is out,” Willow interjects, “There’s always whores over that side.”

Hot Pie’s voice quiets a bit before his next comment.

“There’s stories come from a couple of the younger boys about the lot of them now...but we don’t know for sure. It’s been moons since we seen any of them.”

The food they are served is more than adequate at least. Throughout supper, a group of young children make their way into the walls, soaking wet. Most of them are thin, but obviously not starved. One of the older girls, maybe Arya’s age, but looking far more Sansa, hands a bag of flour to Hot Pie.

“Miller says use it slow. With winter on the way, the wheel won’t turn if the river freezes.”

A couple of the children approach Arya and Gendry throughout the meal, most out of curiosity, some of suspicion. They answer questions in vagaries. Some of the younger children try to touch Gendry affectionately, as Arya once had. He still scoots away.

One of the older girls tries to touch him a little less innocently. She’s the one that sort of looks like Sansa, like she’s used to boys acting a certain way around her. Gendry jerks so violently at her touch and her coquettish voice that he falls off the end of the bench, and quickly excuses himself.

“Are you and him, like,” The girl, her name is Elinor, later asks Arya when they’re alone, “Or is he one of those men who just doesn’t like girls?”

Arya sighs. Once she would have felt a glimmer of pride to be considered on the same level as the Gendry, that ordinary people might think they went together.

“No. Someone’s hurt him.”

The room they are given is the size of a pantry, but the roof doesn’t leak, and if the door only sticks instead of closing, that’s fine enough too.

Tossing the bag of their meager possessions at the foot of the narrow bed, Arya mentions.

“One of the older girls asked me if I was yours.”

Gendry’s expression is gruff.

“Should have said you were my sister again.”

Arya sighs and sits beside him.

“That isn’t going to work anymore, we’re too old and we don’t look anything alike. I don’t think it will be an issue here. This place is full of orphans, we’re just two more.”

Arya swallows the sob that surges up in her throat at her own words. She’s an orphan now.

Gendry nods.

“Hot Pie says we can probably stay as long as we’re willing to work. If we hear anything from the Brotherhood, we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

They’re both silent. Neither of them are ready to sleep yet, it’s too early and they’re too warm and too full. And there’s too much between them.

“What did the Red Woman do to you?” Arya finally asks.

Gendry turns away.

“I already told you, she wanted my blood-”

Arya cuts him off.

“No. I asked what she wanted you for before. I want to know what she did to you to get it.”

Gendry stares at the floor, but eventually begins to talk.

“On the way to Dragonstone, she asked me if I knew who my father was. She insists it was the former king.”

Arya pauses before commenting.

“You do look like him, in a way Joffrey and Tommen certainly don’t.”

That’s not to say she sees a bit of fat, drunken, lecherous Robert Baratheon in his though.

Gendry nods.

“When we got there, she sent me to my rooms, and then came up alone. Started telling me all kinds of big words, things about king’s blood, and how important I could be. And then she started taking off her clothes, and mine too...at that point, I would have done anything she said, I couldn’t think. I barely remember any of it, until the point I realized I was chained down and couldn’t move, and then Stannis was there, and she was dropping leeches on my cock, and there was fire and chanting...I cried and screamed, and no one cared. Then they left me alone in a cell for days. Davos let me out when he realized they intended to sacrifice me to their Red God.”

Arya watches his face. There’s shame there, shame and fear and violation. In his face, she sees ghosts. Ghosts of the girls Lannister soldiers would drag into bushes along the road. She feels the ghost of the man by the road, and his ale soaked breath.

“I’ll kill her,” she says, even and low. “She promised we would meet again. When we do I’ll split her down the middle and let her entrails spill out on the road.”

Gendry’s avoiding her eye.

“If all she needed was your blood, there’s a thousand ways she could have done that. She didn’t need to…”

Gendry’s eyes are squeezed shut now.

“I fall asleep and she pops up in my dreams. When people touch me, I remember her touching me. Fuck, whenever I see a pretty girl, I remember her and suddenly I’m disgusted at myself and want to retch.”

Arya shifts, moving so that she’s kneeling on the end of the bed between Gendry’s knees. She looks him in the eye.

“I’m going to hug you. But first, open your eyes.”

He obeys.

“This is just me. We’re not in Dragonstone, we’re in the Riverlands, at the Inn. Both of us have our clothes on. I’m not the red woman. I’m not that tall, I don’t have red hair, I don’t use big words when little ones will do. And lets be real, my tits are tiny.”

Gendry’s laugh is rough.

“I’m going to hug you, and that’s it. I think we both need it. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

Gendry waits, his eyes trailing shut. But then, there’s a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Her arms fit more easily around him, than they ever did before, and she rests her chin on his shoulder. After a long moment, she feels his arms come up around her too. Before Hot Pie today, she can’t remember the last time anyone hugged her.

“You were right,” he admits, “We did both need this.”

He doesn’t let go.

“Don’t talk about killing her anymore though. I don’t like knowing you had so many demons that needed killin’ even before you took mine upon you..”

Arya sighs, breathing in the scent of his neck.

“Alright, I won’t talk about it. I will do it though, I have to. She tried to take you away from me and nearly succeeded. They’ve already taken my family, they won’t get the rest of my pack.”

Eventually they part. They sleep back to back that night, still not touching, but Arya hears Gendry’s breathing much more evenly than on the road. She waits to recite her list until she’s sure he’s asleep.

And outside the window, she swears she hears a wolf howl.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #fic

13 notes · View notes

madamebaggio · 5 years ago

Photo

Notes: Hey!!!!

I’ve done everything I wanted to do today and now I’m dead tired, but feeling like an accomplished human being... hahaha

So this follows this.

Also, don’t worry so much about how a real University works, this is fanfic University and it works in any way that’s necessary to the plot XD

***

Chapter 2

“Hey, Sansa.”

Sansa looked up from her book. “Yes?”

“We’re having a party later at Hot Pie’s.” Arya said. “Do you wanna come?”

Sansa arched a brow. “You want me to hang out with your friends?” She sounded surprised.

“Well… If you want to. I mean, do you have any plans?”

Sansa went back to her book. “No, thank you.”

***

“I don’t know what is wrong with her.” Arya declared frustratedly the next morning. “I came back, she was already sleeping. I offered to watch a movie with her last week and she chose a documentary about climate change!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Hot Pie asked confused.

“Sansa was the queen of rom coms. She remembered lines from ‘You’ve got mail’ by heart. She watched ‘A Cinderella Story’ so many times she had to get a new DVD.” Arya ranted. “Last week I asked her if she’d seen ‘The kissing booth’ and she called it problematic and irresponsible!” By now Arya was getting a few strange looks from the people around. “I mean, I agree, but Sansa thought the dude from ‘The notebook’ was perfect!”

Hot Pie wasn’t sure how to contribute to this conversation. “So your sister doesn’t care about romances anymore….” He concluded carefully. “Why is it so bad?”

“Because this came out of nowhere!” Arya was moving her hands around. “Sansa was the most nauseatingly romantic person on earth. How is that she’s now calling rom coms problematic?”

“Maybe she just got tired of them.”

“I don’t think it’s just that.” Arya insisted. “Her attitude isn’t one of ‘I saw this so much it doesn't impress me anymore’. It’s something like ‘this disgusts me’. And the thing is, it happened out of nowhere.”

“Look, even if something happened…” Hot Pie started carefully. “You won’t know until you talked to her.”

Arya groaned. “I don’t know how to do that!”

“Well, then it’s gonna be hard.”

***

“Professor Bedrydant, you wanted to talk to me?” Arthur Pendragon asked, putting his head inside the Professor’s room.

“Come on in, Mr. Pendragon. And close the door.”

“Yikes. You’re calling me Mr, asking me to close the door…” Arthur sighed as he came closer. “It can’t be good.”

Bedivere’s face showed no amusement at all. “You haven’t been in class lately.”

“I’ve been busy.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Business.”

Bedivere pulled the cigarette from his lips. “Your business is coming to class.” He told Arthur seriously. “You need to finish University soon, Arthur.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Bedivere, I’m aware. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

Bedivere pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just get out.”

“Love our talks, Beddie.” Arthur called cheerily as he left the classroom.

***

“Ah, there you are, Miss Stark.”

Sansa stopped a few feet away from her teacher.

Professor Hart gave her a flat look. “Are we still on this?” He indicated the space between them.

“It’s nothing personal, Professor. But you do look way too much like my creepy teacher from high school.” She shrugged.

Bill sighed. He had checked said teacher’s Facebook -some man named Petyr Baelish -and they really were disturbingly similar; and since Sansa always kept a good distance between them, he assumed the man must have done something to her.

It angered him that she’d gone through something like that, but it was impossible to get Sansa Stark to speak about anything.

“How can I help, Professor?” She asked him, that politeness that was more fitting to a Lady from the past than a young woman.

“It seems there was a problem with your group.” He started carefully.

“Yes, they weren’t working as they should have.” She told him quite simply.

Bill asked the gods for strength. “The point is, Miss Stark, people perceive you as somewhat…”

“Tempestuous?” Sansa offered.

“‘Heinous bitch’ is the term used most often.” Bill admitted.

Sansa snorted.

“You might want to work on that.” He advised.

“As always, thank you for your excellent guidance, Professor.” She told him politely, before turning on her back and leaving.

“That one is a cold one.” He murmured to himself.

***

“Okay then.” Bedivere turned his eyes to his class. “What did everyone think of ‘The Sun Also Rises’?”

Some girl on the front row raised her hand. “I loved it.” She sighed. “It was so romantic.”

Sansa snorted, first because of the high school level of comment, but also by the naivety. “Romantic? Hemingway?!” She scoffed, clearly dismissing the girl “He was an abusive alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.”

Bedivere rolled his eyes and seemed to be seriously reconsidering all his life choices that had led him to that moment.

“As opposed to a bitter self-righteous hag who has no friends?” Harrold Hardyng pipped from his place, making some students snort and giggle.

Sansa din’t even turn to look at him. “I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time.” She fixed her eyes on Bedivere. “What about Sylvia Platt or Charlotte Bronte or Simone de Beauvoir?”

Before Bedivere could open his mouth, the door of the classroom opened and a tall strong boy came in.

“What’d I miss?” Gendry Baratheon asked breathless.

“The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.” Sansa grumbled.

“Right…” He drawled, then turned and left, closing the door after himself.

Bedivere could feel a migraine getting closer.

“Professor Bedrydant.” Harry -as Harrold was more commonly known as - raised his hand. “Is there any chance we could get Stark to take her Midol before she comes to class?”

More snickers from the class.

Bedivere gives him a flat look. “Some day you’re gonna get bitch-slapped and I’m not gonna do a thing to stop it.” He turned his eyes to Sansa, ignoring everybody’s reaction for the last part. “And Stark... I want to thank you for your point of view.”

Sansa was a smart young woman. She didn’t react at all to what he said, because she was waiting for the trap; she always was.

“I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of upper middle class suburban oppression.” He told her, a hand to his chest. “It must be tough.”

It was absolutely fascinating to see how she didn’t give an inch. Bedivere could only guess what she was thinking just then. Bill -who seemed to like her well enough -would often wonder what had possibly happened to Sansa Stark to make her so hard to read.

“But the next time you storm around the campus, crusading for better lunch meat, or whatever it is you white girls complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a black man.” He finished, staring at her, the whole silence in complete silence.

He waited for her answer, but she didn’t seem to even blink before giving it. “Could I suggest Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie instead? Even though she isn’t a man?”

Bedivere closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Stark…” He looked at her. “Out.”

She didn’t say anything, she just got up and went.

What a strange young woman.

#madame baggio #crackship #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #gifs not mine #modern au #10 things I hate about you AU #Sansa Stark #Arthur Pendragon #Sansa x Arthur #Arya Stark #Gendry Waters #please come find me

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syfygirl1998 · 5 years ago

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Listen, I’m not saying episode four is full of holes and bullshit, but yes, it is, that’s exactly what I’m saying.

I have come to a conclusion that I think is true. The events of episodes 3 and 4 are weeks, if not months apart. And, after I show my thought process as I came to this conclusion, I think it will change the way we all think about the events that came from episodes 4-6.

Warning, there will be math. I give you said warning because I know I’m not a fan of math of any kind but I did this whole blog in equal parts of bitterness and dedication.

~ ~ ~ >>Review of the Battle<< ~ ~ ~

Lets start by looking at the armies- both the offensive and defensive forces. The total of both being over 138,000+ moving bodies including a dragon, whether or not they were living or dead. After the Night King is unceremoniously killed, all of his army is destroyed, over 100,000 bodies, just laying there. In episode 4 we’re told that half the army of the living has been killed, leaving an estimate of 19,130 living men. (Which brings a lot of questions to mind about where all those Unsullied and Dothraki from episode 5 and 6 came from but that’s not the issue for now.)

Just to give you all a reminder, ^that^ is what the army of the living looked like. The smaller army, might I say again. There’s also the wall of fire they made around Winterfell with the buried wooden stakes and ripped apart trebuchet over the battlefield.

I don’t think I’m overreacting when I say that that’s a whole LOT of dead bodies just laying about, rotting away, not doing much at all but getting in the way when the battle was finished. Bodies that need to be cleaned away and burned.

When The Long Night ends, we see several shots that shows how the remaining living are literally SWIMMING in corpses, the ground flooded with dead bodies. From Gendry and Tormund standing on an actual mountain of bodies, Jaime and Brienne being pressed against the wall surrounded by an ocean of bodies, the fields around Dany and Jorah being covered by dead (and chunks of burning trebuchet pieces), to Arya and Bran being in the Godswood surrounded by the Greyjoy’s and icicle remains of the Walkers. Basically, the showrunners make it a point to show how much carnage is left from the battle.

The damage done to Winterfell was also extensive. Firstly, undead Viserion destroys the wall between one of the high towers and the main gate. But then, the Night King simply walks through the giant hole but this time it’s between two towers instead. Ignoring that mess, we also see Viserion burn and crash through one of the inner courtyards of Winterfell. (Reminder: this is the Jon yelling at dragon scene). And finally, during the funeral scene in episode four, we see that the whole wall is repaired with no visible damage.

Episode 4 starts with a funeral. We see dozens of pires. Dozens, but definitely not enough for over one hundred thousand bodies and a dragon. Especially since the first row seems to have around 8-10 people per pire and then maybe 12-20 in the rest of the rows. Absolutely not enough for all the dead bodies we know are piling up. In the time it would take them to build those pires and wait for them to burn up a couple hundred bodies, only to rebuild them again, it would be at least two weeks.

Let’s be positive, say they built 12 rows x 12 pires per row = 144 in total and let’s say 15 bodies per pire (minus the first row of 8 in the front). 132 x 15 = 1,980 + 96 (front row). 2,076 bodies were burned at the funeral out of over 119,00. Including a dragon. Can you imagine how long it would take them to burn all the dead at the rate they’re going?

How are they supposed to have cleaned up thousands of dead (and a bigass dead dragon) so quickly? We’re led to believe the next episode happens right after the battle, all the characters have their injuries and Sansa’s comment about letting the troops rest after the battle and Gendry acting like he hasn’t seen Arya at all since the store room shag before the wights attacked.

How did they move Viserion anyways? That would take the most amount of time, not to mention rebuilding the damage Viserion did. Did they use those magically appearing chains the wights had in season 7 or did Drogon and Rhaegal tag-team carry him wherever Dany ended up after the final?

~ ~ ~ >>Sense<< ~ ~ ~

Now, working under the assumption that I’m right (and looking above, I’m pretty certain that I am) and it’s been months between episode 3 and 4 there are several (more) inconsistencies that appear the longer you think about it.

~ ~ ~ >>Gendry’s Proposal<< ~ ~ ~

Thinking about it now, it doesn’t seem that shocking that he would propose. Weeks of cleaning up and repairing Winterfell by her side, being thankful that they’re both alive, impressed with her killing the Night King, having time to think about his future (now that he knows he has one) and his feelings, and (I’m assuming) more store room shags since they both looked comfortable kissing in E4. And with the addition of having a sudden Lordhood and time to realize he’s in love with Arya, it’s not surprising at all that he would propose. Which honestly makes Arya’s refusal and then permanent disappearance west, that much more of a terrible writing decision.

~ ~ ~ >>Dany’s Depression<< ~ ~ ~

Dany being lonely and grief stricken for Jorah and Viserion for months presumably since no one looked like they were interested in speaking to her at the feast, it probably wasn’t much different in the months following the battle. Her begging Jon not to tell anyone makes sense too, she probably spent the time between E3 and E4 thinking that she was unloved, losing everything she loves, Jon only pushing her away and the North/Sansa continuing to be cold with her despite everything she gave to fight for the living.

Sansa saying ‘the troops need rest’ during the war meeting is kind of bullshit because the army have had months of just hauling around bodies, building pires and repairing Winterfell in the day and sleeping and resting when they weren’t doing that. Manual labour followed by at least a month (depending on snowfall) of travel towards King’s Landing is what armies have been doing in war times for centuries and during the show. The only logical reason I can think of as to why Sansa spoke out was because she was undermining Dany.

~ ~ ~ >>Bran<< ~ ~ ~

It also means Bran definitely knew what was coming and he had time to tell people what to do to avoid it. And he didn’t.

~ ~ ~

Bottom line, there should have definitely been an episode between E3 and E4 because we missed months of the characters lives.

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katlyn1948 · 5 years ago

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On My Way: For the Gendrya Gift Exchange

@thereluctantbadger this is for you! I enjoyed doing this for the @gendrya-gift-exchange

I hope you enjoy!!

Also I wanted to add, I left the story quite open ended, so don’t hate me if you don’t like open ended stories!!!

On My Way

Katlyn1948

Summary:

Based off of the prompt: Gendry is trying to get to the hospital before Arya gives birth.

Notes:

For TheReluctantBadger.

So...this is my submission for Gendrya Gift Exchange. I am not going to lie, I had a hard time with this prompt and this story is REALLY dialogue heavy. I had a lot of different ideas of what I wanted to do, but they all just seemed meh. I finally came up with this alternating POV's idea and what Arya and Gendry are doing individually. I didn't have time to edit this as well, I've been really busy at work (it is always like this at the end of the year) and have hardly any time to write any of my WIPs. The deadline for this was tomorrow and I wanted to post it today because I know I wouldn't have time to do it tomorrow. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!!

Work Text:

ARYA

Arya was uncomfortable.

She was more than that; she was miserable.

It was two weeks well past her due date and she was sure that her child would never come into the world. Why she even agreed to have a child was beside her. Sure, Gendry had begged and pleaded and gave her the cutest, stupidest puppy dog eyes known to man. However, the fact that she actually caved still astounded her. She never considered herself the motherly type, yet as her pregnancy progressed, she found herself falling in love with the being growing inside her.

She was ready, that she was sure of; she just needed to get it out of her womb.

Restless nights began the beginning of her third trimester and eventually kicking Gendry out of the bed was the only sure way she could get a moderate good night’s rest, but when the end of her pregnancy (or so she thought) approached, sleep was the last thing she could get. Her swollen stomach and the constant somersaults her baby insisted on doing kept her up most of the night. Not even the kind presence of her husband could soothe her insomnia.

“Maybe we should walk the neighborhood. I heard it could help induce labor.” Gendry stated three days after her due date.

Arya was sitting on the couch opposite him, fiddling with crochet needles and yarn. She taken up the hobby the moment her OBGYN put her on strict bed rest because of her petite frame and sheer size of her over grown belly. She wanted to make a simple hat of the baby, but it was turning more into a sock, despite her constant efforts.

“Gendry, I’m fine. The doctor said that these things are normal. I’m sure the baby will come in a few days’ time.” She said as she struggled with the current row of stiches.

Gendry snorted, “Watch it come so unexpectedly, not even you nor I will be prepared.”

Arya’s eyes snapped up to meet his, a very distinctive glare pooling from her irises, “Don’t you dare jinx me. I have been prepared since the doctor put me on bed rest. I am ready for this baby, are you?”

“Of course I am! I just finished setting up the crib and the walls of the nursery are pained that soft pale yellow you wanted.” Gendry pretended to be insulted by Arya’s words, gasping with feigned innocence.

Arya scoffed, “It’s more to it than that.”

She shook her head at him, returning her attention to the pile of yarn sitting on her lap. It really was futile effort, for she was never one for such crafts. She knew how to sew a button on shirt of course, but crocheting was an entirely different feat.

Arya struggled with the last few stiches before finally throwing the needles across the living room with a resounding clank.

“Is everything alright?” Gendry asked as he moved by her side.

“No.” Arya whimpered. “I really want this baby out of me.”

Gendry sighed, pulling Arya into his arms so she could rest on his chest. “The baby will come and she will be perfect just like her mother.”

“She?”

“I feel like it’s a girl, don’t you?”

Arya groaned, “I don’t know, maybe it should make its way into the world so I can find out!”

She poked at her belly, trying to get a ruse out of the babe within her. A few moments passed before a noticeable kick protruded, causing Arya to grunt in discomfort.

“I don’t think she liked that.” Gendry teased.

Arya turned in his arms, punching his gut a little more forcefully than she intended, “Shut up, stupid.”

GENDRY

He had fallen asleep on the couch with Arya nestled in his arms.

She has been so uncomfortable as of late, that he tried to do anything he could to help with her ever growing stomach, even if it meant giving up his bed.

The first time he was kicked out of their room, he was sure that he had done something stupid. There were plenty of times where Gendry would do something without thinking, causing Arya to completely ghost him, even if he was two feet away.

But that night he knew that there was nothing that he had done that day that could have caused her to be upset with him, so instead of marching off to the couch without question, he huffed and barged into their room, with the lights on full blast.

“What in the bloody seven hells is wrong with you!” She barked from their bed.

“Why are you kicking me out of our bed. I know I didn’t do anything.” Gendry countered, his lips pursing in annoyance.

He could hear Arya’s muffled groan from under her pillow as she threw their duvet off her body, “I know you didn’t do anything, you stupid bull! I kicked you out because you’re uncomfortable.”

Gendry looked at with confusion, “I’m…uncomfortable?”

“Yes! With this growing baby and your sheer size, I cannot find a comfortable position to sleep in, so I kicked you out. Surely, you don’t want your pregnant wife sleeping on the couch.” She questioned.

Gendry’s cheeks went red, “No?”

“Good answer. Now, if you please, shut of the damn light and let me sleep!” Before Gendry could understand what was going on, a white pillow came flying towards his face. He dodged it easily but complied with his wife’s wishes and made himself comfortable on the couch.

Three months had gone by and he was still confided to the couch, unable to get a decent rest since. He didn’t complain, but his back sure was screaming from the lack of a proper bed. He knew how miserable Arya had been, considering she was nearing two weeks past her due date, and anything he could to help appease her uncomfortableness, he would gladly do.

This night, however, she had fallen asleep right with him, and he was sure that this was the first night she truly had a good rest since kicking him out of their room.

He groaned a bit as he shifted from under her, being mindful not wake her. He reached to the couch side table and clicked his phone, watching as the screen illuminated to read the time. It was nearing 7 am and he was surprised that he already had four missed calls and six text messages from Clegane.

“Shit!” he whispered as he read one of the messages sent.

Two of their mechanics had rang sick and the shop was behind on appointments.

Although Gendry was out for the rest of year, considering Arya was about to pop, he knew that Clegane would need the extra hands. He may have been co-owner, but he still had a responsibility to their clients. So, with a defeated sigh, he gently shook Arya to wake her from her slumber.

“Arya, love, I need to get up.”

He watched as she crinkled her face in annoyance, letting a yawn escape her lips, “Why? You don’t have to go to work.”

“But I do.”

That got her attention. She sprang up from his chest and gave him a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that. Clegane called and two of our mechanics rang sick, I have to go.” He countered.

“Gendry, Sandor can call any of your other mechanics; let one of them come in.”

Gendry shook his head, “I can’t do that. Lem is out on holiday; I doubt he is even in the country, and Anguy his with Beric on a supply run. It will only be for a few hours and I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone.”

“It’s three days before Christmas, Gen. It is one of the busiest days of the year for travel. Everyone is trying to get their car maintenance before they leave on gods know what kind of road trip. Imagine the traffic out there now; you won’t be home until late.”

“Isn’t Sansa supposed to stop by today and have tea? Spend some time with her, I’m sure there is lots you two need to catch up on.” He smiled.

“I’m not some gossiping house wife, but it would be nice to spend time with her.” She said with a defeated sigh.

Gendry smiled, “Great! Now I have to get ready.” He placed a quick kiss on her lips before shuffling out from under her.

“You tell Sandor that if you’re not home by seven, I’ll castrate him!” Gendry heard her yell as he ran off into their bedroom.

He chuckled under his breath before yelling back, “As you wish, milady.”

ARYA

It was nearing 10 AM and Arya was bored out of her mind.

Gendry had left her to do the right thing and Sansa was 45 minutes late due to the ridiculous amounts of traffic that had transpired, leaving Arya alone and miserable. She had given up on her crochet hat, unable to take the painstakingly precision it required to make such a thing. She opted out on buying a light-yellow knitted hat on Amazon three minutes after she threw the yarn and crocheting needles in the garbage bin.

There were so many Nintendo Switch games she could play and the stupid computer players on Super Smash Bros. were not taking it easy on her.

Being bed rest, or as she liked to call it, ‘House Arrest’, was becoming more an issue for Arya than she thought it would be.

For three months straight she had to ‘take it easy’ and ‘be mindful’ so that she didn’t put her baby or herself as risk. Arya understood that she had to be careful, but she wasn’t expecting bed rest to be so restraining. Sure, she could get up and walk about her house or even make her way to the back yard for some fresh air, but anything else seemed like a big no-no.

Her OB-GYN gave her the go ahead to do some light exercises, but not at the gym and certainly nothing that she used to do before getting pregnant.

It was suffocating, and she was beginning to hate being pregnant.

She wanted her freedom, or a least a trip to the grocery store without having to get permission. She couldn’t wait for the baby to be here and in her arms, for at least she would be able to get out of her house when it did finally arrive, even if it is a trip to the hospital.

She grumbled in frustration for a few more minutes before her doorbell rang, indicating that Sansa had finally made it through the traffic.

Arya struggled a bit to lift herself from the couch, huffing for a breath as she finally got her bearings. She waddled over to the door and swiftly pulled it open, immediately pulling her sister into an awkward hug.

“Oh, look at you! You’re so-”

“If you say big, I will punch you.” She deadpanned.

“Radiating. You’re so radiating.” Sansa quickly recovered.

Arya stepped aside from the entryway and allowed her sister to enter the house.

“So, where is Gendry?” Sansa said as she shrugged off her coat and draped it across a dining chair.

“At work. Apparently two of his mechanics rang sick and he had to go and cover the shift.”

“But he is supposed to be out until the new year. What was Sandor thinking?”

Arya shrugged, “I tried to convince him to stay, but you know how Gendry is. He wouldn’t be able to leave the shop like that.”

“He is such a good man; you really did get lucky with him.” Sansa sighed.

“I did, didn’t I?” Arya chuckled.

The two sisters enjoyed the comfortable silence as Arya made her way into the kitchen, pouring two mugs of hot tea. She shuffled her way back to the dining table and gently placed the mug on the table for Sansa to grab.

“So, how have you been?” Sansa asked as she took a sip of her tea.

“Tired, irritable, cranky…I mean the list goes on.”

“Well, you look like you’re about to pop.”

Arya scoffed, “I wish! The baby is nearly two weeks late and it won’t stop kicking me to death!”

Sansa’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she hears her sister’s words, “Two weeks! Arya, have you told your doctor?”

“Of course, I have!”

“And?”

“They will induce on Christmas Eve, if the baby doesn’t come before then.” She admitted.

Sansa sighed, “Okay, does Gendry know? And that is just in two days, It won’t be long until you have your baby in your arms.”

Arya groaned in frustration, “No, he doesn’t know and that’s not the point, Sansa.”

“Then what is it?”

Arya took a breath in order to gather her bearings, “I don’t want to be induced. I want this baby to come when it’s ready, not because some doctor had to make it so. I want to do this the right way.”

Sansa looked at her sister. For the first time in her life, she saw Arya vulnerable and afraid and all she could do was sweep her little sister in her arms and hug her.

“It will be alright. You have two days, right. That gives this baby plenty of time to come on its own volition.”

Arya embraced her sister tightly and was thankful for her visit.

She hadn’t seen her Sansa since last Christmas, and she was sorely missing sister constant advice. They may not have gotten along when they were younger, but now as adults she was grateful for Sansa.

“I hope you’re right.” Arya whispered as they pulled away from their hug.

She hadn’t realized that Sansa’s tea mug was sitting on the edge of the table when she knocked it over with her elbow, causing it to shatter on the hardwood floor.

“Shit!” She cursed as she bent down to pick up the mess.

Arya was no more than halfway over when she felt an immediate pressure in lower back, along with the steady stream of liquid running down her legs. She gasped and pulled herself straight before placing a hand over her protruding stomach.

“What is it?” Sansa asked as she rose from her dining chair to aid her sister.

“I think…I think my water just broke.”

GENDRY

The normal fifteen-minute drive it took to get from his house to the shop turned into a 45-minute obstacle from hell. To Gendry, it seemed as if everyone on the face of the planet was trying to get out of King’s Landing, making it near impossible to get to the shop any sooner.

He could already hear Clegane’s mouth and would have to brace himself for a whole slew of profanities that was sure to come his way as soon as he entered the shop.

Why he went into business with the famed boxer, Sandon ‘The Hound’ Clegane, was beyond Gendry. He knew he had a soft spot for Arya, considering he trained her for nearly decade in competitive boxing, but Gendry never believed that he would agree to open a mechanic shop with him.

It was a desperate move on Gendry’s end, that turned out to be rewarding. Sure, he had to suffer constant verbal abuse from the man, but it could have been worse, or at least that’s what Gendry tells himself.

For three and half years they’ve been in business. One would think that after spending all that time with one another, they would grow to become friends, but that was far from what happened. If anything, their constant bickering has only gotten worse, making for interesting work days.

Gendry rounded the corner, seeing his shop come into view.

It was modest; no where near some of the other mechanic shops that were around King’ Landing, but it had a welcoming feel that invited all types of people from around the area. In the short time they’ve been open, the shop has grown quite the clientele. Everything from high politicians to working class citizens; they all came for the services that Gendry and Clegane had to offer.

“Gendry? What are you doing here?” A familiar voice stopped him on the way to the back of the shop.

He turned as was greeted by the same blue eyes that he possessed. His sister, Mya, was seated at the receptionist desk with a large cup of coffee and a half-eaten cheese Danish. She looked exhausted and hadn’t expected her brother to walk in.

“Clegane called me in, considering we are two men down.” He said with a shrug.

“Fucking Clegane! I told him not to call you. He knows that Arya can pop at any moment, besides you are on holiday for another three weeks!” She scolded him.

Gendry rose his hands in defense, “Hey, don’t take it out on me, tell the other boss man.”

“I’m going to kill him.” She huffed.

Gendry chuckled before realizing that she shouldn’t have been there.

“Wait, what are you doing here? Don’t you have today off? Where is Bella?” He threw questions at her.

Mya sighed, “Bella had an audition today, so she asked me to cover her shift. She should be here in a couple of minutes to relieve me. I must get back home to the girls.”

“How long have you been here?” He asked as he wandered over to the desk, placing his elbows on the desk.

“Since one in the morning. You know, you should really re-consider this whole 24-hour thing.” She said with a yawn.

“And who is with the girls?”

“Edric.”

Gendry scoffed, “You left Edric alone with children? I’d say you have a better chance at keeping them alive here at the shop.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will be hiding away in a corner when I get home.” She chuckled.

Gendry smiled before turning back to head to the back of the shop.

“Oh wait! Before I forget…Edric told me that father wants to spend Christmas with us. I really don’t want to and I’m sure you and Arya want to take it slow, with the baby and everything.”

“Actually, the Starks are coming for Christmas, so Arya and I will be spending the holiday with them.”

“In your tiny house?”

“Gods no! The Starks have a manor here in King’s Landing, we will be there. You’re welcome to join. I’m sure the girls would love it and Robb’s boys are going to be there.” He admitted.

Mya nodded, “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. The girls loved spending time with them at Sansa’s wedding last summer. They will be glad to see them again.”

“Good then it’s settled. Now, I have to hurry to the back before Clegane rips my head off.”

Mya chuckled and waved her brother off, “Go.”

Gendry smiled and jogged off towards the back, preparing himself for the worst.

He managed to slip into the break room without Clegane seeing him and pulled on his work overalls. Every inch of the grey-blue suit was covered in grease spots. There was a whole in the front left breast area and the seem of one of his sleeves was coming apart. The overalls had been with since his first days as a mechanic and Mott’s and he wasn’t willing to part with them just yet. The zipper still worked, and for the most part, it was in one piece. Clegane had called is a piece of shit, and Gendry couldn’t argue with his sentiments, but they were nostalgic for Gendry and so long as they still did their job, the overalls were staying on his body.

He pulled on his steel-toe work boots (he learned from his past mistakes) and laced them tight to keep them in place. Slamming the locker closed, he made his way to the work floor where three of his workers were working on two different cars.

“Oi! If it doesn’t need two people, then one you lot get our arse working on that back car.” He yelled, pointing to the mini van across the shop floor.

One of the newer mechanics, Oliver, scurried over to the minivan and began assessing what needed to be done.

“Well its about fucking time you showed up!” Clegane staggered over to Gendry with a very distinguished glare.

“Sorry, Clegane, the traffic was horrible.” Gendry tried to reason.

“Cry me a fucking river, Baratheon. We have appointments back up to fucking Winterfell and not enough men to cover it. I’ve already got bitched on by some snooty politician’s wife and a butcher nearly severed my head. I don’t have time for your sob stories. Oh, and turn off that fucking phone of yours, yeah? I don’t need you distracted.”

“But, Clegane, I can’t do that. Arya is-”

“I know the she wolf is about to pop, but if she hasn’t given birth now, she ain’t going to in the next couple of hours. Now, turn it off before I break the fucking thing.” He turned on his heel and stomped off towards the other mechanics on the floor, barking out commands as he did so.

Gendry cursed under his breath, praying to the gods above that nothing happened while he was working.

ARYA

The pressure in her back began to increase as Sansa weaved her way through the horrible traffic that had descended upon King’s Landing. She could feel the throbbing pains hit her every five minutes and she was sure they would never make it to the hospital on time.

She tried to focus on her breathing and not the buzzing world around her, but Sansa’s constant screaming at people who couldn’t even hear her made it near impossible.

“Have you tried calling him again?” Arya asked through gritted teeth. Sansa had been trying to ring Gendry for the last hour, but the call would go to voicemail every time. It was becoming annoying and Arya swore that if Gendry missed the birth of their child, she would string him up by his testicles and never sleep with him again.

“There is no answer-move out of the fucking way!” She yelled once more.

“Well did you try the shop?”

“The line is busy. Probably all the last-minute people trying to get their cars fixed before the new year.”

Arya groaned as another wave of pain hit. “Uh…try Mya. I think she has a shift today-ahh.”

Sansa nodded and began dialing the number on her phone and placing it to her ear.

“Uh, Mya?...Hi! this is Sansa Stark-yes, Arya’s sister. Are you at the shop?....Oh, well is there a way to reach them?....Well the line is busy…..Arya is in labor….yes, and we’ve tried his cell, but it goes straight to voicemail….he what?!....My sister is going to kill him…..will you?.....that would be great!....see you then, bye!”

“Wha-what did she say?” Arya huffed.

“Well, she’s not at the shop. She left about fifteen minutes ago, but she doesn’t live far and is headed back over there. It seems Sandor made Gendry shut off his phone.”

Arya groaned and she clutched her stomach, “WHAT! I’m going to murder them both! Oh my gods! Are we there yet?!”

Sweat was dripping down her face and the pain was becoming increasingly unbearable. She wasn’t sure how long it would be until the baby finally did come, but she hoped it wasn’t until its father made his appearance.

“We should be there in about two minutes, maybe five.”

Arya grimaced, “For your sake, I hope its two.”

GENDRY

Work came easily for Gendry and he could easily find himself distracted with it. He enjoyed the pastime and found a real comfort in doing what he did. Since he was a teenager, he had been working in shops across King’s Landing, picking up skills from other mechanics along the way.

It wasn’t until he reached Mott’s shop that he realized he could do this for a living.

Mott taught him almost everything he needed to know how to do the trade and when it was time for him to leave and try to make is own way, he took all that knowledge and made it into what his shop is today.

There was something about working with steel and metal and all the intricate little parts of car that intrigued Gendry. It was like a puzzle that he couldn’t wait to piece together.

He was working on a very expensive car with a very expensive engine problem.

Tyrion Lannister had used it for street racing…again and ruined the engine by doing so. It wasn’t an easy fix and it sure wasn’t a fast one, but Gendry new what the problem was and could easily have it done before the end of the day.

He had quoted the play boy for two days work, but if he managed to stay on schedule, then he could be a full day ahead.

He was under the car, so anything going on around him he could hardly hear. He was trying to patch through some wires when he was dragged out from under the car with Sandor Clegane looming over him.

“What the fuck, Clegane! I was working!”

“Not anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

Clegane threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to a person behind him.

Gendry groaned as he lifted himself up, wiping his dirty hands on his overalls. He thought he was about to meet with another client, not his older sister who he last seen just two hours prior.

Her expression looked grim and her face pale. It looked like she had received bad news. Gendry swiftly made his way over to where his stood, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, “Mya, what’s wrong? Are the girls okay?”

Mya nodded, “The girls are fine, but you’re not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Arya is in labor and she nor Sansa have been able to get ahold of you! Why in the seven hells would you turn off your phone!”

“Well Clegane made me-wait, what? Arya is in labor!”

Mya scoffed, “Yes, you daft buffoon! Now come on, we have to go!”

Gendry nodded and scurried after his sister, leaving the shop and Sandon Clegane behind.

ARYA

The steady beep of machines echoed around the hospital room.

As soon as Sansa pulled up to the ER, the nurses were able to get Arya situated into a room, with everything she needed to be settled.

The epidural was less than pleasant, but the effects the medicine was giving was like heaven to Arya.

Sansa had been making phone calls to all the necessary people, letting them know that she was due to give birth at any hour. Of course, she may have been over exaggerating, considering Arya’s OB-GYN put her at seven centimeters dilated.

“Well, Arya, it’s a good thing you came in when you did. You very well may have had this baby in the car if it wasn’t for your sister’s driving.” Her doctor, Margaery Tyrell, explained.

“I didn’t realize she has such road rage until today.” She laughed.

“Yes, well you were-are in labor.” Sansa countered.

“Let’s hope your husband is able to make it through that unruly traffic.” Dr. Tyrell assured.

Sansa nodded, “Yes, let’s hope.”

Dr. Tyrell gave a small smile before exiting the room, leaving the two sisters.

They had tried to call Gendry four more times since settling in, yet there was still no answer. Arya was beginning to worry and hoped that he would make it. His lack of communication was not comforting, and the last thing Arya needed was the added stress of not knowing where her husband was.

Gendry was never late…for anything, yet he decides that today would be a good day to be.

GENDRY

Gendry was a timid man, for the most part, but now he was keeping true to the nickname Arya had given him. Like a bull, he was forcing his way through the traffic, trying to reach the hospital before his child entered the world. His hand was on the horn more than it was on the steering wheel, and his anger flared anytime someone decided to cut him off.

“Gendry, brother, maybe you should slow down? The last thing you need a speeding ticket.” Mya tried to reason with him, but he was unstoppable.

“Mya, I have to get to the hospital. Arya could be giving birth as we speak!”

“Okay, she’s not. I just texted Sansa, and the doctor puts her at about eight centimeters. I’d say we have an hour or two tops before she ready to push, that is if she is progressing normally. But if she’s progressing faster than normal then…”

“Then what?”

“Then maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Shit!”

ARYA

“Where is he!” Arya exclaimed. She was becoming increasingly paranoid, and it did little to help her current situation.

“I told you he is on his way. Mya said they should be here in ten minutes.” Sansa said calmly from across the hospital room.

“Sansa, I’m not sure I have ten minutes. I am eight centimeters, probably nearing nine. I can feel the pressure and I’m sure I will have to push here soon.” The tears began to stream down her face, and she was sure she looked like a blubbering idiot. This shouldn’t have made her emotional, but between her missing husband and the impending birth of her child, she couldn’t help but let them flow.

“Arya, he will be here, and if not, then I am right by your side.” Sansa crossed the room and bent down to give her sister a hug.

Arya smiled and returned the embrace, hoping that Gendry made his appearance soon.

A ding from Sansa’s phone interrupted their sisterly hug.

Sansa grabbed the phone from the small table and huffed in frustration.

“What? What is it?” Arya asked.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Well, where are you going? Sansa? What’s happening?”

GENDRY

He wasn’t sure how he made it to the hospital in under twenty minutes, but he did. His truck was parked haphazardly and his paces to the front desk were large. Mya was struggling to keep up with him, but he didn’t care. His main goal was to find Arya’s room and be there for his wife and child.

“Excuse me?” He said to the receptionist at the front desk.

She was chatting with several nurses, completely unaware of his presence.

He cleared his throat and said once more, “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” The receptionist asked with a very snooty voice.

“I am looking for Arya Stark’s room number.”

“Name?”

“I just said it was ‘Arya Stark’.” He deadpanned.

The receptionist sighed, “Your name.”

“It’s Gendry Baratheon, I’m her husband.”

“Then why isn’t she under Arya Baratheon?” the receptionist stalled.

“Because she kept her maiden name…look that is besides the point. I need to know what room number she is in. She is about to give birth to our child, and I need to be there.” He said a little frantically.

“Sir, there is no need for hostility. Please be patient while I look her up in my systems.”

Gendry gave a curt laugh, “Hostility? I am not being hostile. If anything, you are the one being hostile! I just need to know my wife’s room number!”

“Sir, please calm down before I call security. Now we have to verify who you say you are, that could take a couple of minutes. So please be pati-”

“Fucking hells!” Gendry yelled as he slammed his fists against the desk.

He grumbled in frustration as he fished his forgotten phone out of his overall pocket. He quickly turned it on and typed frantically on the keyboard, waiting for a reply. A few seconds later and his phone dinged with a response.

“Sir, we need your ID.” The receptionist cooed from the desk.

“Look, I forgot my wallet in the car, but my sister-in-law is coming down and I’ll go up with her.” He assured.

“We cannot allow th-”

“Is there a problem?”

Gendry’s lips curled into a smile as he saw the familiar red flame of hair make her way to the desk.

“Ma’am, please give me a moment.”

“No, you see, this is Gendry Baratheon. Maybe you’ve heard of his father, Robert Baratheon? The famed political power house that nearly became Prime Minster? Or perhaps you’ve heard of my father, Eddard Stark? Councilman of the north? How do you think they would react if I told them that Gendry here had to miss the birth of his child because of silly nonsense?” She smirked.

“I-I, well…”

“Exactly what I thought. Now, please excuse us.”

Gendry smirked and followed Sansa up to the maternity ward, where Arya’s room was now filled with doctors and nurses alike.

“Just in time, Mr. Baratheon. Mrs. Stark here is about ready to push.” Dr. Tyrell smiled.

Gendry smiled and pushed his way through the nurses in order to get in Arya’s side.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it.” She huffed.

“And miss this? You’re crazy.” He gave her a small kiss and prepared to meet his child.

#arya/gendry #Arya Stark #Gendry Baratheon #pregnant arya #gendry gift echange #thereluctantbadger #for you #gift exchagne #this was kinda thrown together #hope it makes sense #enjoyeverymoment

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dragongoddess13 · 5 years ago

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Shirtless Joe Dempsie Month #10

No graphic for this one, cause it’s kinda random and I only wrote it as an exercise, but now I’ve got ideas about how Arya and Gendry met and I’ve always wanted to write a workout couple AU, so here’s something to hold you over until I finish that one.

“Damn, who is that?” Jeyne Poole groaned, secretly watching the man at the rowing machine across the gym.

“I don’t know,” Sansa replied. “But I bet he’d like to go to the gym without being ogled by a thirst bitch.”

Jeyne huffed. “You’re so mean anymore.” she said, sitting back on the weight machine and restarting her reps. “Did you even look at him. He looks like he’s been carved from steel.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, but looked up nonetheless. Jeyne was right of course, the man was extremely attractive. Dark hair, neatly groomed facial hair and thick cords of muscles in his arms and back. He had piercing blue eyes and a hard set look to his face that screamed dark and brooding. He looked familiar the longer she stared at him, but she couldn’t quite place where she had seen him before.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” Jeyne spoke up as she finished.

“No you’re not.” Sansa protested. “This is a gym, not a club.”

Jeyne rolled her eyes. “When did you stop being fun. Seriously, you’re single now, you should be the first one over there.”

“One, I’m still plenty of fun. Not wanting to harass someone while they work out does not make me less fun. Two, you know exactly why I’m not ready to date yet and your blatant ignorance of that fact is beyond telling.”

Jeyne huffed. “Whatever.” she muttered under her breath. She looked across the room again, only to see the rowing machine now occupied by someone else. “Great, he’s gone, and who knows if I’ll ever see him again.”

Sansa sighed, going back to her work out.

Two days later, Sansa was again questioning why she still remained friends with Jeyne Poole. They were currently in her room at Stark Manor, and the other girl was pacing the floor at the end of Sansa’s bed complaining about how “rude” Arya was to her. Honestly, as far as Sansa was concerned, Jeyne deserved it. She’d spent their childhood tormenting Arya in school and even in her own home, and Sansa, unfortunately, let her get away with it. It took a lot of retrospection between she and her sister to heal the relationship they’d never let form, but they were finally to a place where they could legitimately say they liked being around each other.

This again brought up the question, why Sansa was still friends with Jeyne Poole, who had not grown out of her childish attitude toward anyone she deemed beneath her. Arya for her part took it in stride. She was a lot stronger than Sansa in that regard. Instead of stooping to Jeyne’s level when the girl was being cruel, she merely ignored her. She didn’t acknowledge her presence, didn’t refer to her in anyway and she never spoke to her, not even when Jeyne spoke first. It was the least of what Jeyne deserved.

Now Jeyne was pacing the floor, going off about how rude Arya was for just ignoring her and Sansa had to resist the urge to smirk. She didn’t know if it was Arya’s intention, or if she was just trying to rise above, but she was literally driving Jeyne insane.

“You don’t even like her, why waste your time.” Sansa finally interrupted, standing from the bed. She was hungry and with or without Jeyne she was going downstairs to get something to eat. Jeyne of course, followed, still complaining about Arya. honestly, she could have at least cut her a break for a few days, the poor girl was cooped up in the house with a nasty cold.

As they made it to the bottom of the stairs, a knock sounded at the door and Sansa turned to open it, stopping short at the man on the other side. “It’s fate.” Jeyne muttered behind her, taking in the sight of the man from the gym, now dressed in dark jeans, a t-shirt that must have been at least a size too small and a black leather jacket.

“Hi, can I help you?” Sansa asks, snapping out of her stupor.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet Jon and Robb.” he replied.

“Oh, yeah, right, the concert, you must be Gendry.” She said, stepping aside to let him in.

“And you must be Sansa.” he replied.

“I am.” she said, feeling a slight jab in her back. “And this is my friend Jeyne.” she introduced them. Jeyne stepped up, smiling at him in a way that Sansa had only seen when she was after something. Gendry barely acknowledged her, a half smile, if you could even call it that, in return. Jeyne was nothing if not persistent, however.

“We saw you at the gym a couple of days ago, didn’t we?” she asked.

“Uh, probably.” he said.

“I don’t think we’ve ever seen you there.”

He looked uncomfortable talking to her, and Sansa wondered if perhaps Jon or Robb had mentioned her before. Neither of them particularly cared for her either.

“Yeah, I usually go early in the morning, but my girlfriend was sick and I had to take her to the doctor.”

“Oh, how awful.” Jeyne said.

“Yes, well, she’s usually my workout partner, so it weird not having her there.” he said and Sansa couldn’t help but notice that he was pointedly speaking to her and not Jeyne. There was a moment of clarity for her and then;

“So how did you meet Robb and Jon? They only just recently started talking about you?”

“Through my girlfriend.” he said, giving her a knowing look. Sansa smirked, but before she could say anything, Robb and Jon appeared from upstairs.

“Hey mate.” Robb greeted him. “Ready to go?” Gendry agreed and with a quick goodbye to Sansa they were gone.

xXx

“Why are you still friends with her?” Jon asked as he plopped into the seat next to her. The family was gathered around the pool, Robb and Gendry talking over the grill in the outdoor kitchen, Rickon and Bran out in the yard playing with the dogs and now he and Sansa are sitting on the pool lounge chairs. Jeyne, who’d invited herself to the little gathering the day before, was sitting on a beach chair a little ways down, in perfect line with the grill where anyone there would have a perfect line of sight of her in her very skimpy bikini. “She knows he has a girlfriend.”

“That’s never stopped her before. I didn’t tell her who his girlfriend was either, because I knew she’d try harder.”

“There’s something fundamentally wrong with her.” Jon says leaning back in his chair.

“I’m aware. I know this sounds awful, but I can’t wait for her to leave for her study abroad this semester.”

“Are you going to ghost her?” Jon laughed. Sansa shrugged.

“I know that’s awful, but I can’t think of another way to pull away from her. We used to be good friends, it seems so wrong to be cruel about it.”

“Maybe she’ll make new friends, or better yet, grow up.” Jon suggested.

“Fingers crossed.” she replied, reaching for her phone as it buzzed. “Arya’s on her way home from training. She should be here soon.”

“This oughta be good.”

“Mmhmm.”

Not long later, the back door opened and Arya stepped out, a beach towel in one hand a book in the other. She was already dressed, a simple black bikini and her oversized sunglasses. Sansa and Jon turned as one to spot Jeyne’s reaction. The scowl was enough to tell them everything they needed to know. As they watched her, they saw her scowl shift to outrage and turned back to find Arya in Gendry’s arms, her feet dangling off the ground as he held her to him, kissing her sweetly. She held on with her arms around his neck, laughing as Robb complained loudly about PDA.

Arya laughed, wrapping her legs around Gendry’s waist and sticking her tongue out at Robb. Gendry laughed at Robb’s disgruntled look.

#gendarya #gendrya au #gendry x arya #arya x gendry #arya stark #gendry baratheon #gendry waters #joe dempsie #shirtless joe dempsie #dragongoddess13

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wonwoosthetic · 6 years ago

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Escapees || Gendry Baratheon

MASTERLIST is in my bio!

Request: hello! i was wondering if i could have a gendry imagine. could you do something where the reader is davos seaworths (idk if i even spelt that right) daughter and she kind of keeps him company while he’s the red woman’s prisoner and then later helps him escape with davos. i’m sorry if that’s a really shitty idea

This is absolutely not a shitty idea, I loved writing this so much!! Thank you for the request, I hope you and everyone else enjoys it! :) <3

Characters: Gendry Baratheon (Waters) x Reader, Davos Seaworth, King Stannis Baratheon, Melisandre of Asshai (mentioned), Ramsay Bolton (mentioned)

Season: 3

Warnings: none (besides of a couple curse words)

Words: 3,593

Escapees

You had been sitting in your cell for longer than you would have wanted, looking at the brick walls, leaning on one of them while sitting on the cold floor. Your thoughts drifted to how your life has changed within a few weeks. After being captured by severs of the House Baratheon of Dragonstone your faith had been destined. King Stannis Baratheon had been keeping your father, Davos Seaworth, and you separated from each other ever since your arrival, you were only allowed to see him every third day. You guess, you could say, that you got lucky in the sense that you had not been killed yet... under one condition: you are going to marry Ramsay Snow. Ramsay Snow, a high born bastard.

With this, Lord Baratheon is hoping to come to terms with the House Bolton, only to take it over once "peace" settled over them. Your arranged marriage had made it possible for your father to stay alive as well but from what you had heard of the guards' conversations, King Baratheon was considering your father for the position of Hand of the King. Which would mean freedom for him... and possibly for you too.

Nights and days went by before you were allowed to see your father again, more than usual, or so it felt. One day you were awoken by two guards dragging you out of your cell. Confused and scarred for your life, you tried freeing yourself out of their tight grip around your arms - while you were screaming and kicking, the man holding you did not flinch once. The light of the day hit you, making you squint your eyes as you entered one of the many rooms in the castle, where your father and King Baratheon were already waiting for you. After standing on your own feet again with no one's hands on you, you ran across the room into your father's arms, hugging him as tightly as possible.

"Thank the gods. I thought I was never going to see you again", you mumbled into his chest. "It has been very stressful for the last days. I wanted to make some arrangements", he answered, taking your face in his hands, looking at you, like you were the last close family member he had because... you were. You scrunched your eyebrows when he said "arrangments" and tilted your head but before you were able to ask your question, Lord Baratheon took the word, "So, Ser Davos and I have been talking", your head spun to your dad as you heard "Ser" and you proudly smiled at him "(Y/N), after your father is now Hand of the King, you shall too receive something. I am going to give you a bed to sleep in one of our chambers. You cannot look like this when you are supposed to marry Ramsay Snow." Your eyes fell down as soon as the Lord finished his announcement, still feeling ashamed of what was awaiting you in a near future. But quickly, you rose your head again and looked him in the eyes, "Thank you, King Baratheon, I will stay forever thankful." He just gave you a nod and did not mention it again, "One of the guards will guide you and your father to the chamber, so he knows where to find you." "Thank you", your father and you nodded and exited the room, following a guard to the room, which you would be able to call your own.

In the chambers, you were left alone with your father to talk and catch up on news from outside of the cells. "So, you're a Ser now?", you asked with a grin of pride on your face. Your father chuckled and looked at the ground, "Yes, I suppose I am", then his eyes drifted towards you, "I'm deeply sorry." With a confused look, you got closer to him, "What for?", "That I wasn't able to call the marriage off", you nodded and looked away while he continued, "I don't want you to marry that Snow lad and I will find a way out of this." "Father", you tried calming him down by your hands on top of his, giving them a squeeze, "you do not have to be sorry. It's not your fault nor has it ever been. I will find happiness eventually - I'm sure." You always tried to find the positive side of conflicts, it was the last thing you could do.

He gave you a tight smile, not wanting to believe your words because you deserve better than to be married to a monster like Ramsay Snow. "But enough of me. What about you? What are you doing all day long?", you tried getting his thoughts off you, being more worried about him. "A little bit of everything right now...", you could tell his mind wandered off to something else. "There's something else you're not telling me", you claimed, taking a step back, "We never have secrets in front one another." "A boy... Gendry. Gendry... Baratheon", he started but you cut him off, "Lord Baratheon has a living son?" "No, Gendry is his nephew... but the bastard son of King Robert Baratheon. They're keeping him down in a cell", the look on his face was pure sadness. "Why ar- what are they planning on doing with him?", you wondered. To which he answered, "They wanted to take his blood to kill King Joffrey, King Robb Stark, and King Balon Greyjoy, which they did... and now... I think they're planning on killing him." He knew they wanted to kill him. "But he's family. He doesn't know anything about this here", you were waving your hands around in anger, "he's an innocent man, they cannot kill him." "They can and they will", he admitted. "You can't let this happen, father, you're better than them", you couldn't believe your ears that your father, who was once the kindest, most loving human being you had ever known, would let an innocent man get killed. "I suppose, I am not", with his head down, ashamed of himself about what he said to his daughter, his own flesh and blood, he left your chamber and made his way to the King's room.

It was late at night, everyone had gone to sleep, you had been giving better clothes earlier during the day, and were laying in your bed, unable to sleep. You had never met the boy who was being kept in a cell with the name of Gendry, yet you felt very deeply for him and those thoughts kept you awake - you made a decision. Carefully, you got out of the bed and made your way to the door. As silently as possible, you opened it, immediately looking for guards who would not let you get out. As there was no one in sight, you quickly ran across the hall, to the staircase that would lead you downstairs. The stones were cold and you regretted not putting on shoes. As you reached the basement, you noticed how dark it was and that a few halls weren't even lit up by torches. One was right next to you, so you took it from its holders on the wall and carried on walking towards where you thought to remember the cells to be.

After a couple of wrong turns but more right ones, you reached the cell blocks and noticed, not a single guard to be there. Discreetly, you inspected each and every cell, trying to find the King's nephew. Then, to your right, you found a cell a little bit further in the back, like yours used to be. You made your way down that hall and actually came to sight with a young man sitting on the ground, his back leaning on the steel cell door.

He heard your footsteps and turned around to look at you - he immediately sat up straight. You put the torcher in a free holder on the wall near the cell to give you at least a little bit of light. "How are you?", you started the conversation. "Great. Never been better", he sarcastically stated, making you chuckle, which made him grin. You sat down, leaning on the steel just like him, so you were able to look at him. "Who are you? I've never seen you down here", he wanted to know. "(Y/N) Seaworth. You're Gendry, right? Gendry Baratheon.", your answer made him turn around properly. "Words spread fast", he chuckled, "Seaworth like Ser Davon Seaworth?" "Yes, he is my father." "Kind man", he nodded, "he's been down here a couple of times, never mentioned you though." "He doesn't like to talk about his children much." "Children? You have siblings?" His question made your eyes water slightly, "Had." And guilt filled him, "I-I-I'm sorry, I didn-", but you cut him off kindly, "Don't worry, it's... fine." "May I ask how it happened?" he tried keeping up the conversation but didn't want to go too deep, since this was the first time he had ever met you. "When we fled our home, King Baratheon's men captured us and... put a sword through his heart as he tried to free himself", you told the story with your head down, not wanting to remember it too much. "Where was your home?" "Flea Bottom. A beautiful, litt-", " Sure, you were. I'm from Flea Bottom." You turned towards him with a smile, "I am, truly. I lived below the Street of Flour." His eyes looked directly into yours, "How far below?" "Well, to quote my father, The shit that poured from their privy pipes flowed down the side of Aegon's Hill along Tanner's Row and right in front of our front door on Gin Alley", you immitated your father, making you both chuckle, "it wasn't much that we had but it was enough for me to be happy." "You live in a castle with your father and a king, you're not happy?", Gendry was oblivious about your faith. "How can someone be happy when one is being told to marry Ramsay Snow to keep her and her father alive", you confessed. "I'm sorry", "Me too."

Your conversation went on for a bit longer than you had expected - you got on better than with any other person you had ever met. Later, or rather early in the morning, you decided to go back upstairs into your chambers to not get caught. Therefore, you stood up and made your way back. You were not able to see any guards but you also didn't exactly look for them as you were deep in thoughts about the young man you had just spent hours with. Suddenly, strong arms grabbed you, hold you tight and didn't let go. You started screaming and kicking while being dragged into the King's room you had been in once before. "What is all this screaming about?", the King asked. The guard set you down, "I found her down by the cells, she was talking to Gendry, my king." "So so, (Y/N)", his creepy voice made you look up from your sitting position on the floor, "I negotiate with your father and you go behind my back. I do not recall allowing you to go there." You stood up, straightening out your nightgown, "I'm truly sorry, King Baratheon", and bowed. "King Stannis, I ask you to forgive her for what she did", your father spoke from the other side of the room. You hadn't even noticed him, yet. "Well, Ser Seaworth, I don't know what to do now", Stannis Baratheon spoke. "I... I would ask you to let her go to the cells. Gendry should be allowed to talk to one his age... He's going to go soon anyway, I plead you to let them at least have this little amount of communication", your father tried negotiating more. The other older man started thinking about it. "I suppose we can give him at least this as his satisfaction. Well then, (Y/N), you will be allowed down to the cells. I do not want to find you anywhere else in this castle or your old cell will become your home again and the floor your bed." "Thank you, King Baratheon", with a head bow you left the room once again.

Back in your chamber, you had to catch your breath. You thought that he was going to kill you, there in this room and Gendry right after. A knock on the door made you jump. It opened and your father walked in. "It was very risky what you did", he stated sternly. "I know father, I'm sorry. I just... I want to help him." "Well", he took a deep breath, "you get to keep him at least a bit of company now. Do not misuse his act of kindness." "I won't, I promise."

A couple of days later

"Your father is a funny man", Gendry laughed. You had just told an amusing story from your childhood, making the both of you laugh out loud - something you had thought you would never be able to do again. Over the last few days, each night, you had come down to talk to the young man. He truly had become one of your closest friends and he was very thankful for you.

All of a sudden, Gendry got more serious, "I have sinned." "And I'm not a priest, so confessing to me will not free you", your comment made him chuckle. "It will free me because I feel like I have betrayed people and I have to tell somebody", he admitted. "Alright, what happened?" "I trusted her." You scrunched your eyebrows, "Who?" "The Red Woman", Gendry stated, making you turn around quickly, looking straight at him with your face right in front of the steel door. "Wh- what? I thought you didn't like fancy people." "I don't trust them." "If you mistrust fance people so much, why were you in such a hurry to trust her then?", you started getting slightly pissed off, not exactly sure why. He turned around to look at you, sitting in the same position as you - yet, he didn't dare to look at you... he couldn't. At first, he hesitated to answer, "... Never been with a woman. Never talked to a woman, really. Now you, of course, but before...", the young man took a deep breath, "And then she comes at you - big words, no clothes. What would any other man have done?" "That I don't know...", instead of being mad at him, you decided to lighten up the mood, "What I do know is, that she does know her way around a man's head, I'll give her that." Making you both chuckle. "Why are you telling me this?", you wanted to know since you had no relation to the story whatsoever. With that, his eyes drifted up, looking into yours deeply, "Because you're one of the most important people on my life right now - I don't have many." His comment made you blush slightly and your heart jump, a feeling you had never felt before but surely enjoyed when you were in his company. "I really enjoy our late night talks, you know", you said with a smile on your face. "Yeah", he chuckled, "I do too." After a couple of seconds in complete silence, he took the word again, "What would the perfect life look like for (Y/N) Seaworth?" You smiled, "Well, I would get out of this hell hole here, to marry the man that I choose to be my betrothed. I... I would live somewhere quiet. Somewhere in the forest maybe. Have a little cottage... a garden with loads of vegetables, fruits, and flowers that I've seeded myself. I would want to be happy." Gendry listened closely and carefully to every single one of your words - his eyes never drifted anywhere else apart from you. "How many children do you want?", his question got you thinking but also look at him with nothing but adoration. "You're quite nosy", the both of you smile at each other, "Three", you answered calmly, "maybe four", and with a shrug.

This was the last night you spend together divided by a cell wall.

You were quietly sleeping in your bed when the door to your chamber was ripped wide open, awakening you from your slumber. "(Y/N), love, you need to wake up, come on", you heard the voice of your father speaking. Slowly you rose your head from your pillow, "What? Father, what are you doing?" He was going around the room, looking for possibly important things to take with you. "You need to get up, you're going." "What?", you took the duvet off you and got up, putting on the shoes you had right next to the bed. "No questions, we need to be quick", he hastily hushed you out of the room. "I'm still in my nightgown." "It doesn't matter. You can get new clothes." Confused, you let yourself be dragged downstairs to the cells. Panic started to rise inside of you, and you tried to free yourself from your father's grip. "Wait! No! Where are you taking me?!", you shouted. Slightly too strong, he pulled you closer to him, coming to a stop, "Shh! You're going to wake everyone up. I'm bringing you away from here, you deserve better than this. Trust me." With a nod, you continued your walk to the cells, until you reached Gendry's. Your father loosened his grip on you and started opening the young man's cell. "What are you doing?", he asked, shocked at what was happening. "You're leaving", your father answered. "Is this some kind of trick?" "Yes, but not on you." As soon as he walked out of the cell, he saw you standing there, "What are you doing here?", he asked you, then turned to the older man, "What is she doing here?" "You're leaving together", he simply stated.

Outside, you got dragged towards the sea, through the sand, where a small boat was waiting for you. "Aim for that star. Don't stop", your father started explaining, handing you a bag, "There's bread and water. Go slow with it. If you finish it off, no matter how thirsty you get, don't drink seawater." Gendry interrupted him, "I know not to drink seawater", but the other man continued, looking at you both, "Row for a full day and night and you'll reach Rook's Rest. You'll want to stop there", he kept on pushing the boat into the water while Gendry put the things into it - you just kept on standing there, stunned by what was happening. After pushing your thoughts to the side, you focused on the two men in front of you again, "You ever been in a boat before?" "No." "You know how to swim?" "No." "Don't fall out. Go on", he pushed him slightly, then turned around to you, "go on, love." "No", you answered, "wh-what is going on? I can't just leave." "Yes, you can. This is your only chance. I promised you, I'd find another way, this is it. This is your only chance of being happy. I want you to be happy." "I am happy. Here, where you are too", you argued. "No, no, you are not. You deserve so much better than this", he took your face in his hands, "I love you, princess. And I trust you to be happy with him", he nodded towards Gendry, "you are going to be doing so many great things. But not here, I won't let this happen." He started pushing you towards the boat and you let him. "But about you? I can't leave you here, he will kill you!" Shortly before reaching the sea, you stopped. "I will find a way and one day... I will find you again", tears were running down his face, as well as down yours. You put your foreheads against each other, enjoying this last moment together. Then, you got in the boat. "Why are you doing this?", Gendry asked. "Because it's right, And because I'm a slow learner", he pushed the boat away, "when you get to Flea Bottom, have a bowl of brown for me! I trust you Gendry!" Those were the last words you heard from your father. You turned towards the young man you were from now on going to share your life with. "I will protect you. I will keep you safe, away from all the evil", he started, trying to calm you down, making your tears stop, while paddling, "I will find the prettiest cottage in the woods of Flea Bottom. With a garden where you can plant flowers, and vegetables, and fruits." You started calming down, smiling at his words. "I will marry you, one day", his words made your head shot up, looking at him, "Of course, I'm going to ask you properly. I will make you happy. I promise all of that." You smiled now at him, widely, "Thank you." His eyes drifted to look over the sea, "And who knows... possibly three kids", then he shrugged, "maybe four", making you smile even wider, even laugh. Standing up, you tried balancing your weight carefully, making him worry - he thought you were going to jump off the boat - you came closer to him and sat down right next to him, taking one of the paddles and started helping him getting further out into the ocean - further towards home.

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Uuuuuuh, I loved writing this SO MUCH! I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much :) <3

Thank you once more for the request! Sorry for any grammar and or spelling mistakes.

Hope you all have a great day/night, wherever you are! :) <3

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mars-626 · 6 years ago

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Sunset

(Disclaimer: I own nothing

Please be gentle this is my first leggit attempt at a fic 😊

This is based on the s8e06 Game of Thrones leaks about Arya "leaving alone"

This is my attempt at a preemptive fix it

Also forgive me, it's not as nuanced as I'd like it to be... it is 1 am rn)

Leaning on the banister Arya looked straight at the horizon watching the sun set. She had left the Red Keep, said her goodbyes to Jon, Sansa, Bran. Left everything she knew behind...

But she couldn't say goodbye to him. She saw the new Lord Baratheon across the council table as they made their decisions about the realm. She even saw his small glances towards her when he thought she wasn't looking, not that she was looking at him too.

She could face death but why couldn't she face him?

Before his damned proposal she wouldn't hesitate to tell him how she feels... What's different now?

It doesn't matter now. He's going to be a great Lord. One of the people. She has faith in him, but she can't be beside him. He needs a lady by his side, and that's not her...

If she's not a lady then what is she? A face-less man? An assassin? A warrior?

Her list is done.... All that she worked towards is over. So what is left?

The Hou- Sandor spoke of death and vengeance... Urged her not to take that road. Choose life. But what is life?

"Hmmmm never been west of Westeros..." a voice interrupts her thoughts. "Come to think if it... never been off of Westeros."

Hands gripping the banister, she is afraid to turn around in case her mind is playing tricks on her. She's heard of soldiers having delusions after the traumas of war.

"Arya...."

She breathes. Closes her eyes. "What are you doing here, my Lord?"

Back still turned to him, she hears a chuckle. "Heard there was some need of some deck hands."

Turning around to face him. To face the truth. "Have you even sailed before?"

"No. But I've been rowing before."

He steps closer to her. Arya stiffened as he stands next to her, looking at the horizon. She gazes upon his face studying his features. Trying to understand his motives.

"You can just ask me what I'm doing here? You don't have to try and read my face, although I assume I'm like an open book to you" he replies.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have lands to look after my lord?"

"Stop calling me that. I'm just a bastard... my lady" he replies with a smirk.

"Really? Call me my lady one more time and I'll start a new list.... You haven't answered my question."

"Davos is looking after Storm's End for now. There's been whispers of another Baratheon Bastard... one of noble birth. They call him Edric Storm, hidden for his safety." He says as he turns to look her in the eyes.

"That's unfair! They legitimized you! You deserve it! You'd be much be-"

"Would I? Like I said I barely know how to use a fork... and besides I don't want it."

"What are you saying!? You were ecstatic when you were legitimized."

"And I told you none of it matters if I can't share it with you," he holds her hand as she begins to open her mouth. "Please let me finish... After all we've been through, together and apart, all the fighting...." Gendry takes a pause trying to find his words, "All I ever wanted was to have a purpose and .... have a family. I thought I found purpose. Fighting the dead and then getting legitimized only to have to face another battle and more destruction. I've helped with what I can with the council and made sure to give voice to the lowborns... But you know me, I'm no politician... I'm a bastard but I know I'm more than that too, I like to find out who I am... with you if that's ok?.... I know my proposal wasn't the most romantic the first time- NOT that I'm proposing again- OR that I won't-"

"Gendry..."

"Right sorry... what I'm trying to say is I don't want you to be something you're not. You wouldn't have to be my lady, you'd be my family. If you'll have me?"

Arya stares into those eyes she's stared at many times before. Once in curiosity. Once in amusement. Once in anger. Once in disappointment. Once in relief. And once in love.

Gendry continues, "But if you'd rather not have me, I will respect your wishes and leave you in peace-"

Ayra takes his face into her hands and kisses him. With all the longing, passion, and life she has.

She breaks the kiss and leans her forehead against his.

"You stupid bull. I can be your family" she whispers.

"As my lady commands" he replies.

#game of thrones #arya stark #gendry baratheon #gendrya

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sincerelydayyy · 6 years ago

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My brain is still tired after last night's episode (8x04) so lemme shoot some things at you real quick:

Dany's change was not sudden - I've seen people saying her drastic shift into Mad Queen is sudden and OH BOY WHAT SHOW HAVE YOU BEEN WATCHING. It's been foreshadowed for ages, it's not that surprising.

Jaime is very much still in love with Brienne but he has a fucking conscience so he has to get all his ducks in a row before he can let himself exist in full happiness with Brienne and all the kids they're gonna have in Tarth (with Podrick of course because Oathfamily will not die)

Jon, honestly are any of us surprised about him. I will say what he did to best boi Ghost is unforgivable and he doesn't deserve another pet at all. Like I'm sorry but FUCK DRAGONS (I love them, I'm just salty because they wouldn't give Ghost what he deserves). Ghost was there since day 1 and you treat him this way. (I'm literally shaking so bad I started crying AGAIN)

Sansa, so fair she probably shouldn't have told Tyrion but I had a feeling she would. These two have been insanely honest with each other especially on Sansa end this season. It makes sense. As much as she loathes Dany, I think it was more so that not everyone would die standpoint because they really ignored her real concerns about the soldiers. Like who else cares about all the people except homegirl Sansa. I mean.

Also shoutout to Sansa for putting her thoughts aside about Jaime because she could see that he made her sworn knight happy and letting him stay in Winterfell. I like to think she'd slap him when Brienne tells her what he did. I'll also take Podrick doing this because he's been lowkey rooting for the two. Also Brienne because obviously she has words after the heartache bullshit.

Arya, oh something is really broken in you sweetie but that's okay. You go finish your list then idk reconcile with the only man you've ever loved.

Gendry, his name is Waters you dumbasses who wrote the show. Also his legitimacy was so cheap. It wasn't clever and the boy didn't even want it. He just wanted to be with Arya, and maybe someday that could still happen. I think he knows that he went too fast with that and if she comes back to him its time to take things slower. At least he said he loved her, I actually didn't know if we would ever get that on screen.

Varys, YOU MVP and I honestly hope it doesn't get you killed. You're the only one on Team Dany that has any sense and I just...bless you a man who has the biggest balls even though you have none.

Tyrion, you're trying too hard sweetie. Like Cersei never listens to you. Although it was nice to see how concerned you were about your ex wife. Can we have more of that concern for the realm and yourself maybe? It's not looking good.

Greyworm/Missandei I'M SO SORRY THEY DID THAT TO YOU. It was not shocking at all, so why they did that I will never know. I also couldn't watch the scene because it made me very uncomfortable. So barely any POC left, huh? That's telling.

Clegane, I like you. I hope not only you get to end your brother but that you are involved in helping Arya out or whomever it is who ends up finishing this circle of Cersei...she gotta go.

Cersei, do I even have to go here. You dying. Both you and Dany are dying. You should have gone a long time ago but you know what its whatever.

Bran, my boy, my homie I would love to say I love your reaction to your cousin making you tell your sisters because Aegon has a mouth, he could use it. I know you're tired of it. Me too honestly. D&D pls learn how to effectively use Isaac because this is so sad at this point MY GODS.

Have I mentioned how tired I am??

*runs off to write some celeb/bodyguard au for Braime because I can't think about canon for the moment*

#got spoilers #braime #gendrya #overall thoughts #i'm so tired y'all #game of thrones #day talks about tv #someone check on me in a few days

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 years ago

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The Quest to Bedding the Lead Singer of Frontman

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Creative Contributor: @moonmangyu FOR THE PERFECT MOODBOARD *sweats*

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Warnings: (oral, dirty talk, slightly dom!kook?)

Word Count: 9,582

Summary: Frontman is your favorite band in the world and honestly, the only reason you waited this long in line is to stand at the front for a shot with the lead singer. Enter sexy sound boy, who just won’t leave you alone. (punk!Jungkook)

Aaron Gendry is, without a doubt, the hottest individual you have ever laid eyes on.

Everything about the man oozes sex; from the taut length of his thighs strutting across the stage that cool, slicked-back hairstyle he wears. Just one look beneath sky-darkened lashes and every girl in the vicinity is panting for more – including you, although you try and play it cooler than the rest. Rather than scream, you twist a lock of hair around a finger to glance up from the crowd. As luck would have it, you are right at the front – standing directly before the fabled crotch of Aaron Gendry, lead singer of Frontman.

Except that being here was not by luck, it was due to arriving at the venue thirteen hours prior in the hopes of snagging this very seat. You have seen Frontman before but never front row – a fact which, today, you were determined to change.

With a final swing of his hips, Aaron finishes the song. Bright neon lights flash and then fade, the crowd all around you smelling of sweat and of beer. Screams mingling with the others, you cannot help but grin. As the stage plunges into oblivion, only those nearest to Aaron see him wiping his brow. This, obviously, prompts more screams and you fight not to roll your eyes – as if Aaron would go for someone that easy.

Shifting your weight, you press closer and that is when it happens. The Moment. The dividing line between your life before and your life after – the Moment when Aaron Gendry notices you. He squats at the edge of the stage, reaching out for his water (a clear bottle which happens to be located before you). His gaze scans the crowd and when he looks down at the row, his eyes lock on yours.

Time itself seems to still while Aaron’s gaze sweeps your body. Every inch of you is on edge. You are aflame, ice tingling your spine because he does not just look – he lingers, which is another thing entirely. Holy shit, you have no idea what to do because he continues to stare and does not look away. The stage is dark in between songs, meaning only those in the first rows can see.

Another hand clutches your arm, someone shoving their way forward and the moment is broken, world resuming around you. Aaron stands, offering a grin to the crowd and the lights blaze overhead to show his ridiculously handsome face. Smoke drifts overhead and when the venue lets out a cheer, Aaron raises both arms.

You are still standing motionless, stricken by the fact that the unthinkable has happened. At the first chords of the guitar, you manage to exhale a breath you did not realize you held.

“Oh my GOD!” your best friend, Cindy shrieks. “HE SAW YOU! RIGHT THERE! AARON GENDRY, DEBATABLY THE WORLD’S MOST FUCKABLE MAN, HE NOTICED YOU!”

She starts shaking your shoulders so hard, you cannot help but laugh. Bass reverberates through the crowd, nearly drowning out thought – but who cares about that, when Aaron Gendry locked eyes?

“He saw me!” you squeal, grabbing Cindy right back. “He did, didn’t he? That wasn’t just my imagination, right? I’m not crazy?!”

“Oh, hell no.” She grins, curly hair flopping. “That totally happened – Aaron looked at you. Not only that, Aaron smiled at you.”

Her words make you shriek with excitement, unable to contain your enthusiasm. You jump in the air, ecstatic as someone pushes you – hard – from behind. “Oof!” you exclaim, stumbling forward. The metal rail hits your stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and for a moment you hang there, dazed and confused.

“Hey!” someone yells, loud in your ear. “Are you okay?”

The voice can be heard over the music, which is surprising given the decibel of the concert. Cracking open an eye, you spot a guy through neon lights. He stands on the other side and there is a small, black earpiece dangling around his neck. For a moment, you can only stare because fuck, is he hot.

He is on the taller side, dressed in all-black with a t-shirt that reads, I Really Do Care, Do You? The political commentary is at eye-level and when your gaze sweeps upwards, you take in his whole frame – broad shoulders, narrow waist and the kind of arms which could lift deadweight with no problem. All of that is fine, all of that is good but when you come to his face, your eyes widen.

The guy is pretty – like, really pretty. With a strong brow and the kind of jawline you fear cutting yourself on. He peers at you from beneath scarlet-colored hair, small, silver hoops lining the curve of one ear. Swallowing hard, you push yourself up on the rail. The crowd behind you has shifted, no longer pressing you forward and (without thought) your gaze flicks over his shoulder to the stage.

“Ah.” The guy nods. He is chewing on something, probably gum. “I see you’re back to ogling the talent. Means you’re not hurt. Good.”

Slapping the railing with his palm, he replaces the bud in his ear and turns back towards the stage. You blink at him for a moment, confused – which is the only logical explanation for what you do next.

“Hey!” you yell, reaching out for his t-shirt. “You! Sound guy!”

The guy stops, turning around with one eyebrow quirked. He glance at the stage, then at you. “What?” he half-yells, straining to be heard over the crowd. “Did you drop your phone, or something?”

Scowling, you lean forward – this is one of your favorite songs and his rudeness is making you miss it. An unforgiveable offense. It is only, you do not want him to think of you are like all the rest – especially not if this guy works for Frontman. Especially not if he knows Aaron.

“No!” you yell, shaking your head. “I didn’t. I just wanted to tell you you’re wrong!”

The guy seems taken aback. He hesitates for a moment before smiling. “Oh?” Laughing, he pushes a hand through red-pink hair. “I’m wrong about what, exactly?”

“Me!” you huff, attempting to ignore the people elbowing your sides. “I wasn’t… ogling!”

The guy grins, crossing both arms over his chest. “Oh?” He leans forward, making you blink. “Then, what was the whole thing with the water bottle? You might as well have thrown your panties onstage.”

Cheeks heated at the accusation, your scowl deepens. “I was… that wasn’t – hey!” you say, slapping the bar. “That’s none of your business! It’s not like I’m wearing a sandwich board, asking to have sex!”

“Oh?” Coyly, he arches a brow. “That’s good to know. I’ll tell Aaron.”

When your mouth drops, he smirks and walks away. “Wait.” Head spinning, you reach again for his sleeve. “You know him? You know Aaron?”

Stopping in his tracks, the guy turns his head. “See?” he says, biting the inside of his cheek. “Told you. You’re the same as the rest.”

Realizing you have been tricked, you cross your arms over your chest. The act does great things for your cleavage. Tonight’s venue is hot and the crowd is all dressed in a similarly scantily-clad fashion. You, yourself are dressed in fishnets, high-waisted shorts and a cut-off which leaves little to the imagination.

What you are not imagining though, is the way sound guy’s gaze darts to your breasts.

“Hey,” you say, raising a brow. “My eyes are up here.”

The guy jerks upwards, but he has already been caught and both of you know it. It feels nice to have the upper hand for once, since everything he just said is startlingly spot-on. You do think Aaron is hot and you would definitely sleep with him if he asked – that is a large part of the reason you stand here, front row at his concert. Hearing it from this guy’s lips though, thrown back in your face… well, it kind of makes you feel like an idiot.

At least sound guy thinks you are hot, though.

“I wasn’t...” The guy sputters, glancing around. “I mean, I –”

Lowering your arms, you grin. “Whatever, sound boy.”

Frowning, his jaw clenches. “Jungkook, actually.”

“What?”

“Jungkook,” he repeats, pointing at himself. “My name is Jungkook!”

“What?!”

“JUNG-FUCKING-KOOK!”

“I know.” Grinning, you drop him a wink. “I heard you the first time. I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook’s face reddens, at an apparent loss for words and you cannot help but notice how cute he is. His gaze has a singular focus, as though you are the only person he sees. A rarity, at a concert like this. Just when he opens his mouth to respond though, someone squawks in his earpiece. You can hear it from here, the urgency obvious and Jungkook winces, returning the bud to his ear.

“Yeah?” he yells, turning away.

You realize this means your conversation has ended – at least, for now.

Jungkook looks up and, catching you staring, raises a brow. Scowling harder, you turn to the stage but now are self-conscious Jungkook might be looking. It did not occur to you before, but now that it has, you feel more than a little awkward. It is hard not to think about what you are doing and why – he is right, it makes you cringe to consider throwing yourself at some guy.

But this is not just some guy, though – this is Aaron Gendry and as soon as you think this, Cindy grabs your arm. “Y/N,” she says, shaking you hard. “Remember that time, about five minutes ago, when Aaron SAW YOU AND SMILED?!”

Laughing, you allow yourself to be pulled from the rail. You came here for the concert, not to flirt with some boy – no matter how cute said sound boy might be. You are here for Aaron, for the band and will not let this experience be ruined by a stranger. As soon as you think this, the chords to the next song sound and you let out a squeal.

“I love this song!” you cry, breaking into a dance.

The concert flies by, each song melting into the next and you feel so high from the energy, so in tune with the music that you fail to notice the passage of time. When Aaron stops at the end, grabbing the mic and pushing sweat-dampened hair from his gaze, you find yourself whining along with the rest.

“Alright!” he yells, glancing up at the crowd. “Thank you so much for coming tonight! I’m not exaggerating when I say this is our favorite city each tour! If we could come every weekend, we would – no, really!” he laughs, speaking over the cheering.

“As if!” Cindy yells out, shoving your side.

Aaron waits for the crowd to fall quiet, exhaling into the microphone. Your gaze finds his hands, tight on the stem and you cannot stop picturing those hands elsewhere. On your body, your hair, your – gaze darting sideways, you see Jungkook. He stands at the edge of the stage, barking orders into a headset and gesturing into the crowd. You cannot hear what he says but he seems pissed – you have no time to wonder why, since Cindy tugs on your arm.

Aaron is in the middle of his goodbyes, blowing kisses to the crowd and when he exits, he glances again at the venue. Scanning the rows, he turns and when Aaron, the lead singer of Frontman, finds you – he winks. Then he is gone, ushered offstage and you are left standing in silent shock at the rail.

“I,” you say, unable to process. “What the... fuck just happened?”

All around you, the lights in the arena flicker on – people start to leave but you are locked in paralysis, hands wrapped around the cold metal of the railing. Cindy stares as well, open-mouthed in the direction of the wing Aaron exited.

“I – holy…” she chokes, trailing off into silence. “I guess the two of you are married now, huh?”

This breaks your confusion and you laugh, turning to smack Cindy on the arm. “Shut up,” you say, already leaving. “He just winked at me, that’s all – he probably does that to girls all the time. In every city.”

“Yeah, but not to you!” she counters. When you start to walk away, Cindy shrieks. “What are you doing?” she says, grabbing you quickly. “Where are you going? What if he comes back out? What if he sends a bodyguard to come gather the sexy babe at the front? You won’t be here!”

Rolling your eyes, you continue. “Yeah, because that would happen,” you say, reaching the base of the stairs. “Maybe pigs will fly, too– let’s just go, before the traffic gets bad.”

Exhaling loudly, Cindy reluctantly follows. When you pause to look back, you feel unsure what you are searching for. Aaron has not come out – although, oddly enough, this is not where your gaze travels first. Between the stage and the railing, there is no red shock of hair and exhaling gently, you turn towards the doors.

It takes you awhile to leave; even longer, to battle through traffic to Cindy’s place and then yours. Collapsing onto your bed after a shower, you cannot help but feel as if the whole day was a dream – even the colors of memory have faded, nothing but smoke on your clothes to remind you. Flicking through the feed of your Instagram, you decide you will upload the photos tomorrow. You are about to go to go to sleep when a notification appears.

It is from Cindy, tagging you in a shot from tonight – your fingers flick to her page, finding the two of you grinning like idiots before the front row. Unsurprisingly, the picture already has almost a thousand likes, because Cindy is something of a legend amongst the concert-hopping crowd. She goes to a lot of shows, tons of people follow her page and you send a like and comment before returning to yours.

Barely do five minutes go by before another notification chimes in your DMs. Somewhat confused, you sit up on your bed. The username is unfamiliar, their entire profile Private but you recognize the face from the small icon of the message. Clicking hastily on accept, you read the words of one Jeon Jungkook.

KookierThanThou: Hey, sorry if this seems weird – ignore me if it is. I just was scrolling through the concert hashtag and saw the photo of you and your friend. This is super awkward, because I don’t want to seem as though I’m telling you what to do... but I thought you should know that Aaron Gendry is kind of a dick. He makes a list of the girls each concert that he liked in the crowd and it’s the job of the bouncers to round them up at the end. He doesn’t use protection, either – just an FYI. I wanted you to know, before… yeah. I’m really sorry if this is inappropriate, again.

Staring down at the message, your thumbs touch the screen. You re-read the message once, twice, then several times over because on the one hand, he is right – this is inappropriate. You can sleep with whomever you want, even if they are kind of a sleaze; it is to be expected, really, from someone as famous as Aaron.

On the other hand – you did not know about the list and the bouncers. Nor did you know Aaron does not use protection and staring down at the message, you feel your stomach twist. That could have been you, you realize. If you had stayed, you could have been one of the girls ‘rounded up at the end,’ and reading the words in this context makes you feel slightly sick.

Lowering your fingers to the keyboard, you type back.

RageAgainstTheRegime: Hey. Thank you for sending me that message… I mean, not that I’m at his trailer, or anything. I didn’t stick around after the concert but thank you… for well, thinking of me. And thank you for sending this. That’s a lot of thanking lol but I appreciate it

It doesn’t take long before he types back.

KookierThanThou: Anytime.

That is it. Although you wait, staring at his words, he does not say anything more and you eventually exit the page. Turning to face the wall, you stare blankly before you manage to fall asleep. It is hard, since the events of today still race through your mind. Your ears still ring from the concert, from the adrenaline of the crowd and part of you is itching to send another message to Jungkook.

That would be dumb, though – he has already expressed how he feels. You were one of those girls standing in the front row and Jungkook saw right through your antics. It would be strange to reach out again. Lowering your face to the pillow, you somehow manage to sleep.

Cindy: Hey [4:10 PM]

Y/N: hey haha what’s up [4:15 PM]

Cindy: you’re going to love me [4:17 PM]

Y/N: oh, really? Why’s that? [4:18 PM]

Cindy: guess who [4:18 PM]

Cindy: has tickets [4:19 PM]

Cindy: for tomorrow’s …. POP UP FRONTMAN CONCERT!!! [4:19 PM]

Y/N: SHUT UP!!!! [4:20 PM]

Y/N: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! [4:20 PM]

Cindy: Y E S!!! [4:20 PM]

Cindy: you know that terrible family I used to baby-sit for? Well, their dad posted on Facebook his work gave him free tickets and I happened to see before anyone else reached out. They’re OURS! We’re GOING, Y/N! TOMORROW, 8PM! [4:22 PM]

Y/N: AHHHHHHHHH I LOVE YOU [4:32 PM]

Cindy: more than Aaron?? [4:33 PM]

Y/N: honestly yes, Aaron can suck my dick compared to my feelings for you [4:34 PM]

Cindy: wow, babe 😢 [4:34 PM]

Sitting back in your chair, you do a silent dance of celebration. The office is mostly dead at this time but still, you need to be quiet if you want to take off tomorrow. Because you will take off work in order to be front row again; mostly for Aaron, although Jungkook also pops into your mind.

Which is silly. Ridiculous, really. You banish his presence.

This venue is smaller than the last, which makes you excited because it means a more intimate concert. The personal day you sent in was accepted with ease, prompting celebration on your behalf from Cindy

(“Shots!” she declared, to which you countered, “No!”)

“Ugh,” Cindy groans, dropping her bag on the ground. “We’re getting too old for this, Y/N. Doing our make-up in line, changing clothes in the bathroom of Target. Nope. Next time, we buy VIP like real hoes.”

Snorting, you settle your butt to the pavement. “Sure,” you say, popping open your mirror. “With what money, though?”

“Good point.” Cindy exhales, lowering herself down beside you.

When they begin to let people in, you and Cindy find yourself at the front of the queue and – running inside – manage to wriggle your way to the front. “Holy shit,” you laugh, glancing around. “We’re so close, it’s unreal.”

“I know!” Cindy squeals, bouncing beside you. “This is perfect – this time, Aaron will definitely notice you.”

Nodding absent-mindedly, you cannot help but remember the message from Jungkook. It would be great if Aaron noticed you, sure. He is amazing – you read his interview in Rolling Stone twenty times over, memorized and loved each word that he said. His lyrics are so inspired, their meaning insightful in a way you cannot help but relate to. It is difficult to reconcile that Aaron, the artist with Aaron, the fuckboy.

Thinking about Jungkook makes you glance around the venue but there are only a few staff members in sight and he is not among them. Leaning onto the rail, you peer up and down the sides of the stage. Cindy chats with someone at your side, not paying attention – meaning, you know it is not her when someone taps you on the shoulder.

Jungkook waves at you when you turn, one hand in his pocket. “Hey.”

He is dressed similarly to last time, although this time he has layered a leather jacket over his t-shirt. He quirks a brow when you stare, hair somehow redder than before.

“It is natural?” you say, glancing upwards. People trickle in from all sides, pressing you closer but Jungkook does not step away.

“Yep,” he says. “My mother has red hair and my father has pink, so when they made me – voila! This happened. You like?”

When he bends his head, you almost mechanically lift a hand to his hair. The strands of it are soft, supple as you push your hand backwards. Nearly forgetting yourself, you brush the base of his scalp and Jungkook stills under your hand, seeing to forget his place as well.

Quickly, you pull your hand back. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely audible over the crowd. “I like it.”

He looks up at you, gaze darker than before. All banter is momentarily forgotten, until his headpiece crackles around his neck. “Yeah?” Jungkook jumps, turning around.

Slinking back, your thoughts are tinged with panic because now, the truth is staring you smack in the face – you are into this guy. You are big, fat into him – the kind of interest which can move mountains or, at least, move you closer to the railing. The start of the show cannot be far off but oddly enough, you do not feel as excited. No matter how dreamy and enticing the idea of Aaron might be – he is not real.

Not in the way you want him to be, anyways. You have this vision of Aaron in your mind – you, standing in the wings every night, him glancing over as he sings (because of course, you are the only person he cares about) and then him taking you to his room and fucking you senseless before you fall asleep. The vision is romantic, inspired, set to the tune of his music. The daydream is all the more romantic because of the lyrics he writes, the songs that he sings and the adoring fans he turns down because he is so madly in love.

It is only a vision, though – that is both the beauty and drawback of dreams. They are shiny, lovely things to look at but tend to turn transparent when put in the light. Real life – real love – is far more complicated, but far more fulfilling, once you are past its pitfalls. Looking at Jungkook, you realize he is much more solid than Aaron.

Noticing your stare, he pulls a face. “Do I have something in my teeth?” he asks, clicking off his headset. “No – on my face, then? Is my hair somehow less red than before?”

“Well, definitely not the last one,” you say, leaning an elbow to the railing. “You look like a tomato perched on top of a leather jacket.”

Jungkook bites down on his lip, stifling a grin. “Let’s not tell lies, Y/N,” he snorts. “Hey – you! Hey, hi, hello,” he nods, waving at Cindy over your shoulder.

Cindy looks up, glancing between the two of you. “Hey!” she says, taking a step closer. As she approaches the rail, you remember the clothing she wears.

A top cut even lower than yours with the words, BITE ME, I LIKE IT, emblazoned in red on the front. Her skirt is high-waisted, cut just below the ass and when she bends over the rail, her smile is dazzling. To his credit, Jungkook barely blinks.

Cocking a brow, he returns to looking at you. “Y/N,” he says, “thinks my hair looks bad. What’s your opinion?”

Cindy’s brows shoot up. “Are you crazy?” she asks. “Y/N, this guy is smoking hot – his hair is to die for. You keep doing you, bb,” she nods, shooting Jungkook with finger guns before turning away. Cindy resumes conversation with the tall, tattooed dude at the rail and you look over at Jungkook.

You cannot help but stare. Cindy is gorgeous – so the fact that Jungkook simply ignored this fact is amazing.

“See?” he says, smugly folding both arms over his chest. “My hair is to die for.”

Exhaling, you roll your eyes. “I imagine people have died for tomatoes before.”

The corner of his lip quirks. “I’d like to hear that story.”

When you open your mouth to respond, someone bangs into you from behind. You lurch suddenly towards the railing, déjà vu plaguing your thoughts. Jungkook moves fast, grabbing your arms to steady your fall. He is close, so close that you now know he smells like leather and mint, due to the gum he is chewing.

He freezes there, fingers gripping your arms. “I, uh – I’m sorry.” Jungkook shakes his head, stepping away.

Warm air rushes between you, the noise of the venue growing steadily louder. It buzzes in your ears, blood pounding in your veins due to the proximity to him. It is not just that he is gorgeous, although he is – there is something more here, something almost electric between you.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

Jungkook seems surprised. “Thanks, for what?”

“For the message you sent,” you clarify, feeling oddly shy standing before him. Though you have no idea of the time, the concert must be starting soon – the pitch of the crowd has heightened, taking on that urgent, feverish tone. “Thank you for the warning. Most people wouldn’t have done that.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush. “Yeah,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry if that was weird, or whatever. I didn’t mean to intrude, but… I don’t know. You seem nice and he’s, well – he’s not.”

“I seem nice?” you say, smile tugging at your lips. The way Jungkook reacts, poking his cheek hard with his tongue, makes you grin. “Is that what you think? What if I’m not?”

When Jungkook swallows, his grip tightens on the rail. He looks swiftly away, red hair falling into his gaze. It makes you want to feel it again, push it back from his face – you imagine tugging this between your fingers, crushing those full lips to yours.

It seems Jungkook thinks the same thing, based on the way his gaze drops to your lips. “I’d ask you to prove it,” Jungkook says, hoarse. “You seem pretty damn nice to me.”

Before you can speak, Jungkook steps even closer. His lips brush your ear, making you shiver. “You seem like the kind who sneaks out not because they can’t leave, but because they don’t want to wake anyone up.” His smile curves, breath brushing over your cheek. “You put up a good front but at the end of the night, after you’ve been fucked, you just want someone lying beside you.”

Breath catching, your gaze darts to his. “Like you’re so different?” you say, barely able to hear yourself over the music. “You think not caring makes someone bad? Please,” you scoff, not looking away. “That’s the most cliche bad in the book. I’m bored just thinking about it.”

Rather than disagree with you, Jungkook just smiles. “Hm.”

“And besides,” you say, nodding up to the stage. “You know I’m no saint. You know I came here, am standing here because I wanted to be fucked by him.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkens. “Wanted?” he says carefully. “Past tense?”

You do not look away. “Maybe there’s someone else I’m more interested in now. Maybe there’s someone else I want to, how did you put it?” Leaning forward, your lips brush his cheek. “Fuck me like hell.”

Jungkook’s throat bobs when he swallows. “Shit,” he mutters beneath his breath. Before he can reply, the lights go out around you.

The entire venue erupts, people screaming and pushing you forward. By the time the lights blaze back on, you find yourself far way from the rail. Jungkook is not longer paying attention, expression is frantic as he barks orders to no one. Turning around, he seems consumed by his job – until your gaze finds his pants, lips parting at the way he walks. Stiffly, tightly, hiding an obvious bulge.

Before you can linger, Cindy grabs hold of your shoulder. “Y/N!” she screams. “I CAN SEE THEM IN THE WINGS!”

Turning around, you attempt to scream with the crowd but everything about this seems less exciting than before – your gaze keeps darting sideways to the small amount of space between the rail and the stage. Jungkook keeps looking at you, as well – the amount of times your gazes meet is borderline obscene. Definitely noticeable, if anyone else were to look.

It is midway through the concert when the thing happens again – Aaron is singing his heart out, one of your favorites and when his gaze searches the crowd, he spots you. Lingering on your face, his lips lift in a smile and although he is undeniably handsome, your body does not tingle the same way as before. Instead, you find yourself glancing at the other thousands of doe-eyed girls looking at him. Aaron must be used to that; he must be fine with girls throwing themselves at his feet and, with a small shiver of disgust, you look away.

Aaron moves on, a tiny crease in his brow and when his gaze slides to your left, he finds Cindy. She gasps, clutching your arm to shriek in excitement. You join in because it is exciting – just not as exciting as Jungkook, biting his lip and scanning the crowd. Fuck, he does not seem to realize how hot he is – which makes sense, given that 99% of the individuals here tonight are here to bone the lead singer.

You are the only one looking at him and when his gaze drifts to you, he sees. Jungkook stares, the air burning between you and it is hard not to think about what he said earlier. Hard not to think about his reaction when you mentioned wanting to be fucked.

The rest of the concert passes in a haze of neon lights and dark crowds. When the last song is over, Cindy turns to you with a sigh. “I miss them already,” she whines, draping herself over the rail. “When will they come back?”

Trying not to laugh, you nudge her. “I know, I know – but hey! Aaron looked at you, remember?”

Cindy instantly perks up. “You saw that, too? I’m not crazy!”

“No,” you say, starting to leave. “You’re not crazy.”

When she starts to break down the details, you glance over your shoulder – it is more than a little disappointing to find Jungkook nowhere in sight. You wanted to give him your number, or at least say goodbye but it appears this was a one-sided desire. Facing Cindy again, you suddenly key in on what she has been saying.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you say, holding up both hands. “You want to go where? With who?”

“The Bar!” she cries out, clapping her hands. “It’s that place right outside the stadium – Jeff texted me he’s heading there with friends. I don’t want to go home, yet, Y/N – don’t make me go home!”

She looks so sad, lower lip protruding that you cannot help but laugh. “Ah, shit.” Groaning, you glance down at your phone. “I don’t know, Cindy. It’s late and I just kind of want to go back.”

“I can take you there, if you want.”

Head snapping up, you watch as (like something from a dream) Jungkook steps into view. He seems more normal now, with his earpiece removed and hands stuffed in his jacket. There is writing on the back, you realize. Something about punk not being dead – but this is of little importance, when compared to his offer.

Cindy looks triumphantly at you. “See!” she says. “This is perfect. I can meet Jeff and the others while sexy sound boy takes you home.”

Your mouth drops, appalled because Cindy does not even know Jungkook – she just wants to party.

“Uh, Jungkook,” he says, arching a brow. “I’ll also answer to sexy sound boy, though. It’s cool.”

Cindy squints up at him. “You’re not a psychopath, are you, sexy sound boy? Or a murderer? Or a drunk? Or high on any sort of drugs – legal, or otherwise?”

Jungkook appears to fight back a smile. “Nope, to all of the above.”

“Right, then!” Cindy claps both hands together. “I’ll be off and Y/N – maybe take a cab,” she says, looking dubiously at Jungkook. “Sexy sound guy sounds super boring.”

With that, she is gone – disappeared into the crowd and leaving you gaping behind her. Tomorrow, you two will have some words because your concept of safety differs wildly from hers. Clearing his throat, Jungkook brings your gaze back to his.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he says. “I totally get it if you don’t want to ride with a stranger. I just thought – I don’t know, it would be nice to get to know you.”

Jungkook pauses, finger running over the hoops in one ear. He seems nervous and in the end, this is what convinces you.

Before you can change your mind, you begin to walk up the stairs. “Just a ride,” you caution. “I assume you’re parked in the staff parking lot, and I don’t want to deal with the traffic.”

Jungkook nods, following silently and not contradicting your statement. As you leave the venue, the noise lessens until the only audible sounds are your footsteps, distant traffic and the fading yelling of people. Jungkook walks casually alongside you, both hands in his pockets while you sneak glances at his profile.

He really is gorgeous – which is strange, when paired with the way that he acts. He has this blunt, almost caustic edge laid over genuinely good intentions. It is a combination almost too good to be true, which is why you come to a stop on the other side of his navy-blue Camaro.

“Hey,” you say, laying both arms on the roof. “Tell me something about yourself that kind of sucks.”

Jungkook pauses while opening his door. “I’m sorry – what?”

“You know.” Casually, you wave a hand. “Tell me something you’re bad at, or some fault that you have because right now, you seem almost perfect and I’m kind of concerned.”

“Uh.” Jungkook smiles, clearly holding back laughter. “What if that’s my fault? Everything I do is too perfect, it’s a burden.”

“Pass,” you sigh, shutting his door.

When you move towards the building, Jungkook’s laugh rings out from behind you. “Okay, okay!” he says, grabbing your arm.

Coming to a stop, you let him turn you to face him. “Yes?” you ask, eyes dancing.

Staring at him, the electricity between you is palpable. This, you will admit, is part of the reason you stand here. Jungkook makes you curious, since this is something you have not experienced before – you have never been so aware of another person, never wanted another person’s hands on your body so badly.

“Communication,” he blurts, only to wince. “I’m that guy in the group chat who never texts back. You know, the one who sees a message, tells himself he’ll respond and then doesn’t. I hate one-on-one conversation because it makes me uncomfortable – unless I know the person. I – yeah.”

“Hm,” you say, glancing down at his hand on your arm. “Okay, makes sense.”

“Okay?” Jungkook says, eyebrows shooting up.

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was honest. Previous responses I’ve gotten include, ‘my dick is too big,’ and, ‘people say they climax too much when they’re with me.’ Your comment was Shakespearian compared to them.”

“… Who?”

“Lord. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Jungkook laughs, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket. There on his forearm is a tiny line of text. “Super violent, super aggressive,” he says. “I don’t think any harm will be necessary.”

Leaning forward, you read the words of his tattoo.

These violent delights have violent ends and, in their triumph die like fire which, as they kiss, consume.

Staring down at the stark ink, you swallow. “Why that line?”

“I liked it.” Jungkook shrugs, tugging his jacket back down. “Thought it sounded badass, you know. Plus – it’s fun to tell people it’s a lyric of Frontman and see how they react.”

With that, he turns towards his car and leaves you staring after him. You cannot help it; you laugh. “How do people usually respond?” you say, lowering yourself into his passenger seat.

Jungkook smiles, switching into reverse. “They normally agree with me,” he says. “They say it’s one of their favorites lyrics – and then I silently judge them for the rest of the concert. Kids today,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Not knowing classic literature.”

Trying hard not to laugh, you lean your head to the seat. “Seems kind of rude,” you say. “To lead them astray like that.”

“Maybe.” Jungkook shrugs. “I happen to think it’s ruder to pretend you know something you don’t. No one is omniscient – better to say you don’t know, than spread wrong information.”

Opening an eye, you survey his profile. Lights from the highway flick over his features, casting him in alternating illumination and shadow. “I agree,” you say softly. “10 S Maple Ave.”

“Huh?” Jungkook looks over.

“My address,” you remind, lifting a brow. “It’s 10 S Maple Ave. – do you know where that is?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods, switching lanes. “That’s not too far from my place.”

Hearing him say this, you sit up in your seat. “Your place?” you repeat, confused. “You live around here? I thought... you were a part of Frontman’s crew?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I am,” Jungkook says. “Kind of. Whenever Frontman’s in town, I like to manage their performance myself but more accurately, I’m their lead sound engineer.” He grins. “Aaron and I go way back.”

Staring at him, your mouth drops a little. “That seems like a crucial bit of information to leave out.”

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, then shrugs. “Well, add that to the list of flaws, I guess.”

“Great. I’m also adding you’re kind of a dick.”

Jungkook laughs, choking on the sound. “You can insult me however you like, I can take it.”

“Oh, really?” you say, curling your legs higher to face him. “And why is that?”

Smirking, his gaze flicks to yours. “Each insult you give just makes me want to wipe that smirk from your face even more. Makes me want to hear my name moaned even louder.”

Mouth turning suddenly dry, your fingers grip the edge of his seat. “That… you…”

“Yes?” he says calmly, tilting his head.

Having no response, you face forward. Far be it from you to acknowledge the sudden heat in your veins, the way his look makes you want to pull over the car. “We’ll see about that,” you mutter, staring out at the road.

Jungkook exhales, continuing to drive and although your conversation continues, it is only surface-deep. He asks you a question, you answer and vice versa, while in the back of your mind, there is only one thing you think about. Fucking him every way imaginable – in the kitchen, on your sofa, in the shower. Jungkook taking you hard from behind, his fingers digging into your ass. Maybe once or twice with him on top, powerful thighs thrusting into you with ease. Already you know you are wet and Jungkook has not even touched you yet, has not even kissed you.

You are so busy thinking about him, you barely notice the moment you arrive. Jungkook parks on the street beside your building, background music still playing, soft on the stereo. When you glance sideways at him, he is already looking your way.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, even though you both know the night is not over.

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, then releases. “Not a problem. I hope you get in safely.”

“Oh,” you say, glancing over his shoulder. “To be honest… the guy who lives next door is kind of a creep. I wouldn’t mind if you walked me to my apartment?”

“Sure.” Jungkook nods, turning off the car. “That seems like a good idea. Whatever you want.”

Unbuckling your seat belt, you exit – Jungkook follows, locking the car behind him. “Better to be safe,” he explains, holding open the door to your lobby. “I won’t be gone for long, but you never know.”

“Of course,” you say. Grabbing his hand, you step into the elevator. “Just in case.”

Jungkook’s fingers trail your wrist, sending sparks down your spine. “You should probably stand closer,” he murmurs when the elevator starts to rise. “Just as a precaution.”

“Mm,” you agree as Jungkook steps forward, hovering before you. His hands slide down your sides, your back hitting the elevator. “How sensible.”

Jungkook inhales, bending his nose to trace from neck to jaw. “Sensible – my middle name,” he murmurs, lips stopping at yours.

“I thought your middle name was fucking,” you say, hips pressing upwards. “Jung-fucking-kook.”

“If you want it to be,” he agrees, opening your lips with his own.

His kiss is hot, bruising while your mouths move roughly together. Jungkook’s hand digs into your hip, the weight of his body heavy and you cannot help but moan when his leg pushes between yours. Arms finding his neck, you press yourself closer – Jungkook tastes like the gum he was chewing, although this dissolves in your mouth the longer you kiss.

When the elevator dings, you do not want him to stop. Breaking out of his grasp, you struggle to catch your breath before pulling him into the hall. “This way,” you say, adjusting your top. “I think I’d feel better if you... checked out my place.”

Jungkook chuckles, coming up from behind to kiss the nape of your neck. You pause at your door, fumbling with the keys because Jungkook’s arms are already around you. His lips are hot on your throat, hands soft on your hips and your eyes keep fluttering, losing yourself in his touch.

“Jungkook,” you croak, nearly unrecognizable. “Please… I have to get open the door.”

He lets go, taking a step backwards but just one look at his face shows he is as affected as you. Jungkook’s breathing deepens, gaze dark while you shove the door open. Barely do you make it inside before he shuts the door and you are finally alone.

“Come here,” Jungkook growls, pushing you against the frame. He kisses you rough and you respond to him in kind. Your purse hits the floor, biting down on his lip. Jungkook’s breath hitches, making a mad scramble for the hem of his t-shirt.

Grabbing your wrists in one hand, he yanks these above you and pins your back to the door. Jungkook kisses your neck as you shiver, his other hand drifting towards the front of your jeans. He stays there for a moment – his lips painfully teasing while he holds you taut to the wall.

“Jungkook,” you moan, into his mouth. “I want to touch you.”

“Do you?” he says, hand grazing the curve of your breast. His thumb flicks a nipple, making you squirm. “How bad?”

“Bad,” you gasp, head hitting the door while he sucks a bruise to your neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you all night.”

Keeping your hands overhead, Jungkook lowers his thumb and traces your wrist. “You couldn’t?” he murmurs. “What did you think about?”

“Everything,” you confess, barely over a whisper. “Your dick in my mouth, your head between my legs, you fucking me sideways – bent over, on top, below me. Any way and every way, God.”

Jungkook hisses, the noise painful. “Shit,” he mutters. “I wanted to tease you more, wanted to see you beg underneath me but…” With a whine, he grabs your wrist to lower your hand to his pants. “You’re so fucking hot, I’m practically bursting.”

Eyes wide, you trace over his bulge – Jungkook was not kidding when he said he was hard. Pushing his hips forward, you feel the clear outline of his dick and when you swallow, Jungkook brings his thumb to your lips.

“Suck,” he commands, and you obediently open.

Lips closing around him, you start at the base of his finger. Hollowing your cheeks, you pull back until he stares at you in awe. You repeat this, adding tongue until Jungkook groans, imagining the same on his cock. Free hand finding his belt, he unbuckles this quickly and lets it fall to the ground.

Before he can utter a word, you drop to your knees. Staring up at him, you spread your legs slowly. There are some who do not like to suck dick, feeling it allows for little attention while they do so. You feel exactly the opposite. The sight of a guy undone by your touch; turned in to a needy, whimpering mess – for you, this is more of a turn-on than most guys eating you out.

Jungkook’s eyes widen when he sees you on your knees. Keeping his gaze, you tug his jeans to the floor. Jungkook is left in only his underwear, those powerful thighs concealed from your view – it seems wrong to keep them hidden and so, you gently pull his underwear to the ground. Inch by inch, Jungkook’s cock is revealed and when he stands naked before you, you sit back.

He is incredibly turned on – if that was not obvious from the way he keeps licking his lips, hair messy and ragged from his hands running through it – it is clear by the thick shaft of his cock, erect from his hips. You stare for a moment, gaze tracing over his veins, his tip hardened and red. When you bend to lick upwards, Jungkook barely is able to stifle his moan.

Closing your mouth over the tip, you gently add your hands. Jungkook groans even louder, eyes fluttering shut when your hands slide even lower, stroking him fast while your mouth sucks him off.

“Shit,” he exhales, sounding a little unsteady. “Y/N, god.”

Emboldened, you suck harder. Lowering a hand to his balls, you run your fingers over him gently, pulling him closer to deep-throat at the same time. The combination is overwhelming, you can tell by his expression – eyes scrunched up in pleasure, roughened moans on his lips. Jungkook reaches suddenly down, grasping your hair. When he pulls your head forward, you try not to gag.

“Look at me,” he gasps. When you do, Jungkook inhales at the way your eyes water. Gaze narrowing, his thighs flex as he fucks your mouth. “You look so pretty like that,” he murmurs. “Taking all of my cock. Can you fit more, baby?”

Moaning in approval, you let him feel the vibrations while you relax your throat. Jungkook’s expression turns to bliss and his hips stutter for a moment before he regains his motion.

“Shit,” he exhales, thrusting harder. “You’re so good, Y/N… so fucking good, holy – I’m going to come, ah!” With a gasp, he withdraws his cock from your mouth. Exhaling deeply, Jungkook’s chest rises and falls while you sit back on your heels.

“What’s wrong?” you say, innocent from your place on your knees.

Jungkook opens his eyes, staring at you swollen lips and spread legs. “Get up,” he rasps. “Take off those clothes.”

Standing slowly, you tilt your head sideways. “No,” you say, smug. “Undress me.”

Jungkook pauses a moment before moving, striding fast to your side. Pulling you forward, into a kiss, he makes you to feel every inch of him. Cock digging into your stomach, his fingers slide into your hair and when he is done with your mouth, he breaks free. Jungkook’s hands find your shirt, lifting the material overhead to drop down on the floor.

His fingers slide beneath your jeans’ waistband – you did not wear fishnets tonight, opting for less complicated clothing. Jungkook undoes first one button, then the next until your jeans are shoved down to the floor. Kneeling, he presses a kiss to your panties.

He hovers for a moment, breathing in your arousal and you whimper at the sight, nearly breaking control. Gaze flicking upwards, Jungkook meets your own. “Are you already this wet?” he murmurs, slipping a finger between your legs. He strokes over your underwear. “Just from sucking me off?”

“Yes,” you whisper, watching him stand.

Jungkook does not respond, leaning forward to open your mouth with a kiss. His hands slide down your body, gripping your ass and grinding his hips against yours. You give in, arms curving about him while Jungkook undoes your bra with one hand. The straps are quickly shrugged off, leaving you mostly naked against him.

Jungkook bites down on your ear. “Where do you want me to fuck you?” he pants, fingers pushing your panties aside. He slides in a single digit, making you gasp – you stand halfway on tip-toe while he finger-fucks you in your living room.

“I,” you groan, tipping your head back. “I don’t care – I just want you to fuck me.”

Jungkook chuckles, sucking rough against your throat. “Just once?” he teases, curling his finger inside, then adding another. His thumb brushes your clit and you whimper, grabbing hold of his biceps to keep from coming undone.

Normally, it would take much more than this to get you off. There is something about him, though – the night, the build-up and Jungkook’s lips and his fingers. It all hits in just the right way. “Oh,” you gasp, when his thumb circles the hood of your clit. Biting down on your lip, you bury your face in his shoulder.

Jungkook’s chuckle vibrates your body. “I want to fuck you more than once tonight,” he says quietly. “In each way imaginable. I want to spread you out on your bed and lick your pussy until you scream – but that may have to wait until the second time, because I’m fucking dying to be inside you.”

“Oh?” you groan, too concentrated on the feeling of his fingers inside your soaked cunt.

“Mm,” Jungkook nods, continuing his torturous motion. “I might come just standing in front of you – that’s how hard I am. Y/N,” he groans, pleading. “Please let me fuck you.”

Already, your body is tightening, clenched around the length of his fingers and you nod, jerking your head towards the door. “Let me get a condom,” you say, while Jungkook withdraws from your body.

He nods, bringing his hand to his mouth and you watch, jaw slackening, as he licks his fingers clean of your juices.

“Hurry,” Jungkook exhales, his gaze dark.

The sight leaves you weak, body trembling as you disappear into the bathroom. When you emerge with a condom, you fairly fling it his way. “Put that on,” you demand, shimmying free of your panties. “I want to be fucked by you from behind, over the armrest of this couch.”

Jungkook stares at you a moment, before coming to his senses and ripping open the packet. He is at your side within seconds, pulling you forward – he does not turn you around just yet, opening your mouth against his in a heated kiss.

“Shit,” Jungkook groans, playing with your nipple between you. “I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life. I swear to god, Y/N... what are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know,” you groan, because you do not – you have no idea what this is, nor why he feels like an addiction. Wildfire spreads through your veins and you only know that you want him, and want him now.

Jungkook nods, turning you around. When he spreads your legs to either side, you inhale. His cock teases, brushing over you for a moment – he trails a slick path from your clit to cunt several times. He does this again, until you whimper against him and then he grabs for your hips, pushing inside.

You gasp, chest hitting the couch as your hands scramble for purchase. Jungkook groans, unmoving and stays like that for a moment, cock buried inside you. He is so large, stretching you in the best way possible and when he withdraws from you halfway, you whimper in protest.

Chuckling, Jungkook’s hands smooth your back. “What?” he asks, kissing your neck while he slowly pushes back in. “Is that better?” he murmurs, hips rolling against you. “Do you feel better like that, full of my cock?”

Nodding, your fingers clench around nothing because fuck, you have never felt like this before – never been so turned on, so aware of your partner. Jungkook seems to slip in and out, that is how wet you are for him and rather than be turned off by this, Jungkook hisses in pleasure.

“I can’t take how fucking drenched you are,” he murmurs, fingers spreading your arousal. “You feel so fucking good. I’m about to cum right now, inside you.”

“Do it,” you moan, arching your back while he fucks you. “I want you to cum, baby – please, I can’t take it much longer.”

Jungkook speeds up, hips moving faster. Your legs somewhat collapse, knees hitting the couch. Now it is only Jungkook’s hands holding you up, pulling you onto him with each thrust of his hips – he fucks into you roughly, letting the couch brush over your clit.

“Shit,” you gasp, knowing he will leave bruises but not caring in the slightest. Nothing matters besides his cock hitting deep, your entire body clenching with each stroke and when he makes a strangled moan of your name, it is too much. “Fuck!” you cry, pushing your hips backwards. “Please, Jungkook – oh! I’m going to come, I can’t, I – Jungkook!”

With a final groan, you let go – waves of pleasure crashing around you. Jungkook makes a choked noise of approval, feeling you come. He keeps going, fucking you through your orgasm until he gasps out your name and releases as well.

Dazed and fucked out, you simply lay there like that – Jungkook’s chest rises and falls, pressed to your back before placing a soft kiss to your spine and slowly withdrawing.

Exhaling shakily, you move to sit on the sofa – feeling suddenly self-conscious, you grab a pillow before you. Jungkook removes his condom to tie in a knot, tossing this into the garbage and glancing at you.

“Why’re you so far away?” he asks, noticing your expression. Walking closer, he smooths a hand through his hair that does nothing to fix it.

Shrugging, you hold the pillow tighter. “I – I wasn’t sure, if…”

Jungkook expression softens. “I...” He exhales, almost hesitant. “I was hoping you wanted someone to lie beside you tonight?”

Cheeks heating, you stare. “I – only if that person wanted to, that is.”

“I want to.” Jungkook moves closer. Lowering one knee to the sofa, he brushes your lips with his. “If you want me, too.”

Pillow falling, you reach up to kiss him – properly, tongue and all. “I’d like that,” you whisper, grinning when his forehead drops to your own. “Besides, didn’t you say something about a second time…?”

Jungkook’s answering smile is wicked. “And a third and a fourth,” he agrees, standing up from the couch. “Might want to go get some Gatorade, it’s going to be a long night.”

“Hm. Isn’t that a Frontman lyric?”

Jungkook pauses in the door to your bedroom, scowling over his shoulder. “Give me ten more minutes to get hard, and I’ll wipe that name from your lips.”

Giggling at his petulance, you scramble up from the couch. “You should send that to Aaron,” you nod, brushing past. “As a song title idea.”

“That’s it!”

Squealing, you dart past when Jungkook makes a grab for your waist and, tumbling into bed, you grin at him from the covers. Jungkook flips you off, walking into your bathroom and you laugh out loud, unable to help it.

It is hard not to consider what he said on your couch. Honestly, you have no idea what this is, either – but it sure as hell is something. Something much, much better than bedding the lead singer of Frontman.

#noonanet #kwriterskollection #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts writing #jungkook writing #jungkook humor #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts humor #jungkook #bts #jeon jungkook

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longclawislightbringer · 5 years ago

Text

Arya Stark and the Green-Eyed Monster Chapter Five: Arya Stark Knows Nothing

Rating: T

Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Elinor Tyrell/Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Trystane Martell, background Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Characters: Arya Stark, Gendry Waters, Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Elinor Tyrell, Hot Pie, Trystane Martell

Summary: Arya ends up sitting next to Gendry at the highly anticipated Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw match and certain things come to light.

Lol, finally uploading the final chapter here. Really should keep to a better schedule. Anyway, have the original author’s note:

This is it! The final chapter. I'm glad I got it finished before the final episode. Thanks to my wonderful beta reader sansapotter for that.

Thank you so much to every person who has read, left kudos, commented, and bookmarked this story. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Four. Chapter Five.

Also on AO3.

Chapter Five: Arya Stark Knows Nothing

Candles flickered, casting dark shadows over the crowded patrons of the Three Broomsticks. Smoke hung thick in the air. Trystane stopped at the end of the bar to order them a couple of butterbeers. He nervously signaled to the bartender as Arya tapped her foot against the floor. The bartender placed two tankards of butterbeer, each overflowing with golden foam, on the bar. Trystane tossed down a few coins before taking the mugs. Weaving through the tables of students drinking their own butterbeer, he lead her to a small table in the back corner. Arya flopped into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well?” she said. “This better be good.”

“Right,” Trystane stammered, passing her a tankard. “I should start by saying that I do think you’re cool and that I did want this date to go well.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” She took a big gulp of her butterbeer. The butterscotch bubbles bounced around her mouth before careening down her throat. “Why did you ignore me for half of the date and then tell me that I looked like 'a girl for once,'?”

Trystane gulped. “Okay, that does sound quite bad thinking about it now . . . I don’t know why I said that; you look pretty all the time. Can I make a confession?”

Arya raised a brow and gestured for him to continue.

“I wanted this date to work because I’m trying to get over Myrcella.”

Arya nearly choked on her butterbeer, the golden liquid dribbling out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, what?" She mopped the spilled butterbeer off the table. “Myrcella is your best friend, even I know that.”

Trystane glanced around the pub before lowering his voice. “I’ve been in love with her for years, but she’s too caught up in her crush on your older brother—" Arya spat out her butterbeer again, ”—To ever think of me as a possible romantic partner. I guess I thought I could get over my unrequited crush by trying to find someone else. I do admire you; you’re probably the coolest girl in the whole school.” Trystane hung his head. “I’m just too in love with Myrcella for this to have ever worked.” Arya stared at Trystane, the words to respond dying on the tip of her tongue. He fiddled with a napkin while he waited for Arya’s reply.

"I understand perfectly," Arya responded after she finished processing his confession. The part about Robb was particularly hard to wrap her head around. “I also have a confession to make. I said yes to this date because I’m trying to get over someone too.”

Trystane jerked up. “Gendry?”

“How did you know?” Arya gasped, flushing a deep crimson.

“Please; the whole school has shipped you two together since he stood up for you down by the lake in our first year. You know, I wouldn’t have asked you out if he was still single.”

“The whole school knows?” Arya panicked, the pitch of her voice rising with each word. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Had Gendry known this whole time?

“Relax,” Trystane assured her. “I don’t think he’s caught on yet.”

Arya breathed a sigh of relief. She gulped down the rest of her butterbeer.

“Where does that leave us?” she asked.

“I don’t think a relationship would work out.”

“Seconded. But I do think you’re cool. Friends?” Arya stuck out her hand.

Trystane grinned and took her hand. “Friends.”

***

A week later, Arya glared at her ever-problematic Arithmancy homework. The equations seemed to swim together in impossible combinations, the numbers and letters blurring. She pounded her head against the desk. If only Elinor were here. The great clock chimed three times, piercing the silence of the library and startling her from her reverie. Arya bolted upright, one of her papers sticking to her face.

"Shoot!" she yelled, jumping from her chair as she shoved her papers haphazardly into her knapsack. Trystane, across the table, looked up from his History of Magic paper. "I'm late; Jon would kill me if I missed his last game."

Trystane nodded, cleaning off his quill. “I guess I should get going too. See you Tuesday, then?"

"Yep," Arya smiled. "Bye!" She darted out the library doors in a flurry, her furious footsteps pounding on the pavement floor as she dashed through the corridors. Outside, she sprinted down the hill, skidding to a stop at the spectator entrance. She paused for a moment, leaning against the door to catch her breath before she entered the stadium. Students milled about in the hallway, waiting for a chance to enter. Arya pumped her fist in victory; she made it just in time after all. She tapped her foot against the ground, waiting for the line to move. At last, she entered the stadium.

Perusing the stands for her sister, Arya wove through the large crowd assembled for the highly-anticipated Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw match. She spotted Sansa in her usual seat, though she had swapped out her red and gold Gryffindor scarf for one of Jon’s. Arya waved to her as she climbed the steps to the top of the stands.

“Hey,” Arya greeted her sister when she reached Sansa’s mostly empty row. Sansa took removed her handmade sign with Jon’s name in perfect glittery letters from the seat so Arya could sit.

“I brought snacks.” Arya held out an assortment of sweets.

"Excellent," Sansa replied, taking a proffered chocolate frog.

Arya plopped onto the wooden bench beside her sister. “Are you nervous?”

“Nope,” Sansa answered, popping the frog into her mouth before it could escape. “Jon’s the best chaser at this school, and he’s been preparing for this match for weeks.” The pitch crackled to life as both teams entered the field. “Look! There he is,” Sansa sighed, her cheeks flushed.

Arya gagged.

"You know, sometimes, I wish you guys weren't so insufferable together, but then I remember how you were when you were both still pining, and this is infinitely better."

“Haha, very funny.”

Margaery's voice rang out through the stadium. "Welcome to today's match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw." Arya cheered, clapping her hands. Margaery began to announce the player's names, but the noise of the crowd faded when she noticed Gendry climbing the stairs two at a time in a beeline for their row.

“What is he doing here?” Arya hissed, her heart pounding as he stepped closer. She curled in on herself, attempting to hide behind her much taller sister.

“I invited him to sit with us,” Sansa responded. “I thought you would want to sit with your best friend.”

Arya cursed under her breath. She still hadn't figured out what to do about her Gendry problem, which was precisely why she been avoiding him for the last week aside from Quidditch practice.

“Hello, Gendry.” Sansa smiled.

“Hey there,” Gendry grinned as he turned onto their row.

“Hi,” Arya squeaked, her voice suddenly an octave higher. Gendry plopped onto the seat beside her. Arya tensed, holding herself very still to avoid looking into his ocean blue eyes. She tried to concentrate on the game, but every now and then Gendry’s leg brushed against her, sending jolts of electricity through her body.

The whistle blew, and the players took off. Jon got the first possession of the quaffle. Leaning forward in her seat, Arya followed him down the field toward the Ravenclaw goalposts. He had nodded to his two other chasers, Gilly and Shireen, and they flew in formation to protect him from flying bludgers. Jon may have been the kindest and most loyal Hufflepuff in her acquaintance, but he was ruthless on the Quidditch pitch. He lobbed the quaffle straight down the center goal post. Arya, Sansa, and Gendry cheered; Sansa waved her sign like a maniac.

“That’s ten points for Hufflepuff!” Margaery’s disembodied voice rang out.

“He’s good,” Gendry remarked. “Wonder if he’ll share his strategies with us now that he’s graduating.”

“Yeah,” Arya replied, trying to keep her voice steady and not so high-pitched. “Then maybe we wouldn’t keep getting absolutely destroyed like the last time we played Hufflepuff. They don’t call him the Lord Commander for nothing.”

Gendry laughed.

One of the Hufflepuff beaters knocked a bludger into the Ravenclaw chaser, sending the quaffle spiraling into the air. Gilly soared in to catch it just before it hit the ground.

“Quiet, you two,” Sansa shushed them, leaning forward in her seat. “I’m trying to watch the game.”

“I didn’t even think you liked Quidditch that much.”

"I don't," Sansa answered. "But you, Robb and Jon like it, so I'm supporting you all. I even helped Jon come up with some new strategies for this game." She game Arya a smug smile.

Arya rolled her eyes but kept her commentary related to the game at hand.

Sometime after the snitch entered the pitch, Arya spotted Robb and Dany sitting together several rows down. Dany stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth. When they noticed that they had been discovered, they whipped back towards the game, whispering conspiratorially in each other's ears. What weirdos. Arya shook her head and thought nothing of it for the rest of the game.

The game passed in a couple of hours, much faster than Gryffindor's game against Slytherin last fall. Jon and the rest of the Hufflepuff crushed the Ravenclaw keeper in points so in the end the Ravenclaw seeker dove for the snitch to end their humiliation.

"Hufflepuff wins!" Margaery announced through the speaker.

Arya, Gendry, and Sansa leaped to their feet, yelling and clapping. Sansa pulled her sister into a crushing hug. Arya hugged her back before releasing her. The Hufflepuff team dove to the ground, tumbling off their brooms to dogpile on Jon in the center of the pitch. When they pulled back, dinkon Tarly and Dolorous Edd pulled Jon onto their shoulders. As his teammates carried him off the field, he searched the crowd. When he located Sansa and Arya, he waved. Sansa blew him a kiss.

“I’ll see you guys later.” Sansa scooted past them, bounding down the stairs through the crowd of students exiting the stadium to meet Jon outside the player’s tents. She only paused to give Robb a high-five.

The euphoria of the Hufflepuff victory faded, leaving only awkwardness behind. Gendry was looking at her again, the way he had while they were under the mistletoe at the Yule Ball.

“Guess we should head back in,” Arya broke the silence before she got lost in his blue eyes.

"Yeah," Gendry agreed. They joined the line that funneled out the door, walking together in uncomfortable silence until they made it back into the castle. Arya stopped in an empty corridor.

“I should go,” Arya said. “See you around.”

“When?” Gendry asked.

“I don’t know,” Arya answered, turning to leave. “Sometime.”

“Nope,” Gendry shook his head. “That’s not good enough.” He grasped her wrist, dragging her into a nearby closet. The door shut with a bang behind them, cloaking them in darkness.

“Lumos,” Gendry said, lighting the lantern hanging from the ceiling. Arya’s breath came fast and shallow as she noticed how close they were.

“You’ve been avoiding me again.” Gendry crossed his arms, stretching the muscles underneath his shirt.

Arya flushed.

“No, I haven’t,” She stammered, turning to leave the closet. Gendry put an arm up to stop her. Arya huffed, avoiding his searching gaze.

"Don't lie to me," Gendry implored. “Does it have something to do with Elinor? Because Elinor and I—”

"Elinor's fine." Arya snapped, crossing her arms.

"What is it, then?" He dropped his arm. ”Arya, please. I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend.” His voice broke on the last sentence.

“You want to know what’s wrong?” She whirled to face him, full of fury as her heart sped up like it was on fire. “What’s bothering me is that I’m so jealous that I can’t think straight.”

“What? I don’t understand—”

“Gendry, you dolt. I don’t want you to kiss her stupid face, I want you to kiss me!” Arya gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Her pulse quickened; had she just said that out loud?

Gendry stood dumbstruck.

“I’m so sorry,” Arya apologized, paling. “Forget that ever happened.”

The gears turned in Gendry’s head.

“Do you like me?” He asked after a moment’s contemplation.

“I thought that was kind of obvious from my desire to make out with you.”

A wide smile spread over Gendry’s face. “Elinor and I—”

“I don’t want to hear about how happy you are with your girlfriend.” Tears welled in Arya’s eyes as she turned away.

“You don’t understand.” Gendry grabbed her shoulders. “Elinor and I were never actually together—she was using me to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. And we' fake broke-up' a week ago."

“What?” It was Arya’s turn to be dumbfounded.

Gendry pulled her close, cupping her cheek with one hand. “Arya, I’ve been in love with you for years.”

"Really?" Arya murmured as he closed his eyes and leaned down.

“Since the moment I met you,” he breathed.

She punched him in the arm.

“That’s for lying to me,” she said.

“Arya, I . . .”

Arya surged forward, devouring him in a bruising kiss. She molded herself against him, reaching her arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hand gripped her hip, setting her aflame.

They separated when the need for air became too high.

“Wow,” Gendry panted.

"You can say that again," Arya smirked, shoving him against the wall of the broom closet to dive back in.

A broom clattered to the floor.

Arya winced.

“Do you want to go somewhere without brooms?” Gendry asked.

“Yes.” Arya laced her fingers through Gendry’s and pushed the door open. After checking that the coast was clear, she pulled him out into the corridor. They walked hand in hand through the hallway. “I’m curious; how did Elinor rope you into her being her fake boyfriend in the first place?”

Gendry rubbed the back of his neck as he walked. “Robb and Dany apparently suggested me to her as a viable candidate when she was looking for a date to the Yule Ball.”

Arya halted. “Robb and Dany?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why, though.”

“I do,” Arya groaned gritted her teeth as she thought on every interaction she’d had with those two meddlers. The strange comments at the victory party; the yellow dress that Dany picked out and the mysterious mistletoe at the Yule Ball; Dany's surefire plan for getting over Gendry; she even thought she recognized them sitting at a table in the back corner while she was on her date with Trystane. She smacked her forehead. “We’re so oblivious. They've been trying to set us up for months." She stormed down the hallway, their earlier plans wholly forgotten.

“Where are you going?” Gendry struggled to keep up with her fast pace.

“Come on; we’ve got to concoct a revenge plot.”

“Revenge? What for?”

“I’m tired of their meddling.” She paused just before they entered the main hallway, her fists clenched.

"How are we going to do it?" Gendry asked.

A sly grin spread across Arya’s face.

“Gendry, I know what we’re going to do today.”

#gendrya #arya stark #gendry waters #my fic #hogwarts au #jonsa #BUT IT'S IN THE BACKGROUND #daenerys the matchmaker #robb the matchmaker #asatgem #arya stark and the green-eyed monster #quidditch #love confessions #broom closets

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years ago

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No more math and history, ch4

AO3 link

The three week long sessions at Camp Durrandon end with a day of no scheduled cabin activities.

The last full day brings first the camp wide games. Session three played capture the flag, session two hide and seek, and the first session of the summer always played zombie tag.

Zombie tag was the best one of course.

The zombie was selected. Brienne had approached Arya after dinner one night to see if she was interested. She beamed.

In the morning, right after breakfast she would go down to the drama barn where Sansa and the other drama leaders would do her up in her zombie makeup.

In the morning, after breakfast, all campers would be led to the flagpole. There, they would sit under a canopy and watch the original Night of the Living Dead and then Brienne would explain the rules.

While this was going on, Arya would sneak off to the drama barn, where Sansa and the other drama counselors would give her a suitable makeover.

“Want to come?” she asks Shireen at breakfast, “Every time Sansa does makeup on me she gets into a serious zone and I could use someone to talk to while she stares and hums and fusses.”

“Sure,” Shireen says, “I don’t like horror movies anyway.”

The drama barn has a tote full of stage makeup, in mostly half full tubs and tubes that are partially dry. Supplementing this is Sansa’s own carefully curated and packed stash from home.

“I can’t believe you brought all your makeup to camp,”

Sansa shushes her and goes to work. Off to the side, Shireen idly pokes around in the box by Sansa’s side. She pulls out a tube of pink gloss and applies some on her lips, glancing in the mirror while Arya is getting herself turned deadly pale.

“That looks nice on you,” Arya says, resisting the urge to sneeze at the smell of the powder Sansa’s using.

Shireen looks dubious and Arya chuckles.

“Just because I hate wearing makeup doesn’t mean I don’t think it can look nice on other people.”

Shireen shrugs, and puts the tube back.

“I’ve never worn it much. My mother would never allow it, and after going into care, it seemed silly to spend money on it.”

Sansa’s working on the gelatin-skin base for her head wound, so Arya starts telling Shireen the zombie tag rules.

“It’s the whole camp against me at first. I sneak around with a big bottle of red paint- tempera of course, jumping in the lake would wash it off- and if I catch you and spray you with it, you’re a zombie too. You report to the flagpole, get your own bottle of paint, and you start chasing the others too. Whoever we catch last, or who doesn’t get caught, wins.”

“Sounds fun I guess.”

“Arya was camp-wide champion two summers in a row,” Sansa says, “and back then the zombies could chase you into the lake.”

“That was how I won so often,” Arya admits with a grin while Sansa affixes the wound to her head with the spirit gum, “I would swim out to the rock in the middle and hide. No one else would swim well enough to catch me. Mum used to always say the gods had given me a blessing like in one of those old stories.”

Arya stills for a moment. It’s a strange thing to say so suddenly.

Shireen looks confused, and her next comments save them from any awkwardness, at least on the topic of Mrs Stark.

“I hate to ask this, but what gods are those?”

Arya blinks.

“What gods?” Sansa interrupts, preparing the stage blood to apply to the fake wound. “The Seven! Mother, Father, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger? This camp is run by the church of the seven!”

Arya glares at Sansa.

“You’re not from the north, “ she starts softly, trying not to let Shireen get defensive, “So I doubt you believe in the Old Gods. Were you just not raised religious?”

Shireen’s not looking at either of them, and her hands are squeezing her arms tightly just above the elbow.

“Have either of you ever heard of the Lord of Light?”

Sansa shakes her head, but Arya bites her lip.

“Isn’t that something some people in Essos believe in?”

Shireen squeezes her arms tighter, leaving little red marks in her skin.

“Most in Essos, but there are some in Westeros too. My mother always was a follower, and when I was little she converted my father too. It was all I ever knew, I don’t know anything about other religions. Eventually we got more and more involved with the church. Most of Dragonstone did. I’ve met a ton of Red priests and priestesses- one of them was Gendry’s foster mother for a year- but then later-”

Her voice is getting thin and high pitched. Despite Arya’s curiosity (especially at the mention of one of Gendry’s other foster parents) she cuts her off.

“It’s okay,” she insists, “You don’t have to tell us everything. We did only meet three weeks ago.”

Shireen calms back down, and Sansa finishes up her work. Arya stands, and prepares to go, obtain her paint bottles, and pick her perch.

Underneath a table at the mess hall is always a good possibility, but then fewer people might pass her. On a whim, she chooses behind the third boys cabin.

Brienne usually has everyone in a line and take off in slightly different directions, but often they stray towards the center of camp. And right on time, Arya hears two girls, maybe ten years old, walk out in front of the cabin.

She’s spent years perfecting her zombie groan. One of the girls turns and actually screams when she sees her, but she does nothing to stop the spray of paint.

“You are both part of my horde now,” Arya groans, “Return to the flagpole and obtain your tools.”

They grumble but follow her directions.

The campers have no weapons, no defense against her beside their speed and cleverness.

She catches Rickon surprisingly fast. He’s fast, but she knows his movements. She smears big handprints of paint along his front and back just to make a point.

Her most difficult catch is Lyanna, the youngest Mormont, the only one who’s still a camper. The girl is fast, and quiet, and good at hiding. But eventually Arya catches her by being quiet as a mouse and then running full speed at her directly from her side.

Her game is backgrounded with screeches and squeals as other newly minted zombies find their own victims.

After maybe an hour’s play, Arya hears the alarm Brienne sounds that announces they have their sole survivor. Every time a camper returned to the flagpole, their counselor would check off their name until only one was left. She counts off the ones she knows, trying to figure out who the winner is.

Sitting in the chair under the flagpole when Arya reaches the front, is pale, tiny, twelve year old Tommen Baratheon.

“I went to the mess hall,” he says, when Arya approaches him to give him a pair of high fives, “And I curled up under the breakfast bar. You didn’t even come past there, and no one else did either!”

Arya grins. Most obvious hiding places are now blocked off, the bathrooms, the cabins and the lake, but somehow the ones who hide always end up winning. One year, she remembers, one camper tried to run into the Mistwood, so now there’s a line of CITs guarding it.

Once her role is over, Arya heads on out to the lake. Gendry’s in the lifeguard stand even though there are no cabins swimming at this time, with everyone at lunch.

She winks over her shoulder at him before diving into the lake. She swims a bit, splashing herself with water to wash off all of the remaining paint. She could have gone and taken a regular shower, but this feels better during the hot weather.

Eventually, she climbs from the lake by where he sits, and shakes herself off. Gendry grins at her.

“Turn around?” he says, and she does.

“Paint free,” he declares her. His eyes linger on her, and Arya feels her cheeks become a bit warm, though she’s not wearing anything scandalous- even her bathing suit is skimpier than her t-shirt and shorts, and she’s even wearing a bra.

Gendry’s head is still cocked, maybe he just likes the way her clothes stick to her skin.

She offers him her crooked arm.

“Walk with me to lunch? We’re late but there still should be peanut butter at least.”

He takes her arm and her heart leaps.

Their linked arms earn Arya a wink from Ygritte and a knowing look from Meera when they sit at the table. Arya’s wet shorts squelch when she sits, but she’s mostly dry by the time she inhales her sandwich.

Sansa’s not at lunch because the afternoon means watching the drama barn’s first session show. Once trays are cleared and the unit counselors begin herding everyone towards the theater, Arya asks Gendry again.

“Sit with me during the show? We get the good seats in the back.”

The seats in the back are the best ones, as the ground before the barn starts slopes upward, so the back seats under the canopy can see over the heads of the campers in front.

Arya has seen so many productions of Alice in Wonderland over the years that she can follow almost without paying attention.

When the Queen of Hearts appears, Sansa in her heart-spangled dress over her camp shirt, she feels Gendry watching her.

“You get along with your sister so much better than you used to. Seems like we used to spend half of our summers short-sheeting her bed.”

“I know,” she admits, “We’ve always been so different, but when things started to happen...most of the things that divided us stopped seeming important. And it was so much easier to have each other’s backs.”

Sansa’s going a great job dominating the scene, bossy and loud. Twelve year old Arya had thought that was who she was, but she’d learned better.

When the show is finished, Arya squeezes his hand.

Dinner is quick, spaghetti tonight. Arya wipes the last bit of sauce from her face and asks.

“Do you have to go to the dance tonight?’

Gendry snorts.

“Thank Gods no. As a lifeguard, I am spared that particular indignity.”

He’d always hated the end of session dances, having been tall and broad even as a preteen, and feeling like a sore thumb on a dance floor. Arya’s a little disappointed, but doesn’t show it.

“I have to give a token appearance, I told Missandei I’d help her set up the new music system. Maybe I’ll find you after?”

And with another over-the-shoulder grin, Arya takes off to change.

When she leaves the cabin to go up to the circle for the dance, she’s in her cleanest pair of jeans and a loose embroidered top.

The ground around the campfire has been cleared of it’s benches and chairs, and another set of canopies has gone up, hung with battery-operated paper lanterns. In the center, where the fire would usually be, Missandei has the table with the music set up. It had taken years, but the camp had finally upgraded from a CD boombox to a mp3 dock, but she wasn’t sure how to get it to work.

It ends up just being a matter of how to navigate the menu and turn on the shuffle mode, which Arya figures out easily enough, and Missandei thanks her.

“Are you still in uni?” Arya asks her.

She nods.

“Second year, I got into the international relations program.”

“Still want to be a diplomat?”

Missandei nods.

“I do like Westeros, but I miss Essos sometimes, and there was so much of it I never got to see at all.”

Arya nods, and once she gets the music going and the kids begin to shuffle in, takes her spot next to the punch bowl.

Arya didn’t particularly like dances. She liked dancing just fine, but something about making it into an event just turned it into a big mess of hormones and awkwardness with the added fun of having attention on you.

Camp dances have some advantages over school ones at least- no one knows you here, so you can be whoever you want. School dances are worse, Arya can’t remember the last time she even went to a school dance…

No, that’s a lie. She can remember perfectly.

Once the dance starts, she watches over the dancefloor, where most of the campers are giggling and keeping to their own sides, and she decides it’s a good enough time to leave.

She’s walking past the waterfront to return to the cabin, when she notices a figure at the end of the pier.

“Not a fan of dances, I imagine?” she asks Bran as she sits on the end of the dock beside him.

“I didn’t even like going to dances before,” he says, gesturing at his wheelchair, “Now I have an excuse besides ‘I hate them’.”

They sit quietly for a while before Arya remembers.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you. Ygritte and I were clearing out the hayloft the other day, and we found the adaptive saddle. The next time your cabin comes and rides you get to do something besides sit and watch.”

Bran turns away from her.

“I can’t mount by myself though,” he starts, thinking, “And I’m taller than you now, I don’t think you and Ygritte could get me on very easily.”

Arya’s heart sinks.

“We could try-”

“It’s okay, Arya,” Bran tells her, smiling, “I’m happy you tried so hard for me, but I don’t want to do the whole ‘you can do anything you want to’ schtick here at camp, I just want to have fun.”

Arya looks at her little brother, really looks at him. It hasn’t even been a year, but it seems like he’s become so wise in some ways.

“Are you?” Arya asks him, “Having fun? Not just here, but are you finally having fun again at home?”

Bran snorts.

“I do more sports now than I ever did before, even at home. I can get out of pretty much any activity I don’t feel like by saying I feel like I need to go to the nurse and I get to use the shower with the removable handle and pretty much everyone lets me go first. Being here is the best I’ve felt since the doctor told me I didn’t have to shove a tube up my dick six times a day anymore.”

Arya punches him.

“Gross dude, go ahead and go to bed if you’re going to be like that.”

“Starting to question whether I should even try and stick myself in the middle of this conversation.”

Arya turns her head and hears Bran say, “Hi Gendry.” He sits down on her other side.

“Ignore him,” Arya insists, “He likes to get super graphic so people will stop talking to him.”

“You didn’t go to the dance?” Bran asks, ignoring his sister.

“No. Tom went though, and Lem’s snoring like a jackhammer, so I figure I’d come on and sit for a while before I try to sleep.”

Bran’s eyes slide between the two of them.

“I didn’t come out and sit in the middle of a make out spot did I?”

Arya punches him in the arm again, her cheeks only turning a little red.

“Bran, everyone knows the make out spot is that tree behind the stables.”

Bran rolls his eyes, but turns his wheels and heads back

“Not very many people go out back there anymore,” Gendry tells her once he’s gone.

Arya’s eyebrows fly up.

“No one goes to the kissing tree anymore?”

Gendry grins.

“Well I suppose it loses its appeal once you realize everyone knows about it and might well butt in on you while you’re fooling around.”

Arya frowns.

“Where do you go now?”

“Last summer sneaking back to the campfire circle was popular, but I doubt anyone will do that tonight with the dance still going. “

He pauses, and then stands. He extends Arya his hand, and she takes it.

“Follow me.”

The lifeguards cabin is out of line of the other cabins, because it’s supposed to still be within eyesight of the lake. Behind it, is the equipment shed, which is wide enough that there is a small patch of grass beside it, which cannot be easily seen from any of the usual paths.

Arya’s heart is thudding in her chest. They haven’t really talked about anything, but the very conversation is so thick with intention, and expectation.

When they reach the spot, Gendry turns and looks at her, almost shyly. Arya presses her back against the shed, head tilted up, smiling, butterflies in her stomach.

“Well then?” she says, smiling. She’s trying to hold herself openly while enjoying the butterflies.

It doesn’t take long, and then Gendry’s hands are on her shoulders and his lips are on hers. It’s sweeter than the first one, her eyes fall closed and she lets the warmth wash over her. When he pulls back slightly, she giggles against his lips.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks. Arya nods, before her stomach catches.

“Is this one of those secrets I’ll have to trade you for?”

Gendry shakes his head.

“Not unless you want to.”

“Then you can tell me whatever you like.”

He pulls away, and Arya resists the urge to whimper. He sits on the little patch of grass and after a moment, she sits beside him.

“Your first kiss was mine too.”

Arya blinks. That wasn’t what she was expecting.

“Really? Gods, you seemed so much older than me then.”

Gendry laughs ruefully.

“Being a foster kid, I moved so much I barely had time to make friends, much less spending any effort trying to impress girls. Then, when I moved in with Mr. Davos and his wife, I spent so much time keeping my marks up in school and working to save money that it didn’t leave much time to find a girlfriend. I’ve dated a bit, and i’ve kissed a handful of other girls since then, but I’ve never been serious about anyone.”

A shadow passes over his eyes, and Arya hates that they both have these that come over them.

“It was hard enough getting past what happened with…” he trails off.

Arya coughs and interrupts him. She lays back on the grass, head propped up on her arm.

“Is this your way of admitting that you’re a virgin?”

Gendry makes a face at her.

“I’m barely eighteen, it’s not like I’m forty, is it really that shocking?”

“Jon’s been going out with Ygritte since he was fourteen, and Robb always had a girl on his arm. But I’m pretty much in the same place you are. I’ve gone out a bit, but never met anyone I really liked.”

She sits back up, ignoring the push of her own shadow passing behind her eyes. It’s too nice of a night for this. She wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“But I don’t want to talk about anyone else.”

This next kiss is less sweet, more exploratory. After a moment, Arya runs her tongue along Gendry’s bottom lip, and his lips open to let her in eagerly.

The moon that night is full, hanging over them. All in all, Arya considers this a triumphant end to the first session.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #summer camp au #fic

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