#jaqen x you

[novaursa]

Jaqen x Smallfolk!reader.

Reader always instinctively knows Jaqen, even when he's taken a different name or face, which is why he keeps coming back.

Reader is an orphan, but an adult. Her profession is probably seamstress or town healer.

I don't know if that's enough details, but that's about as much as my mind will come up with. Sorry if it's not enough.

Thank you either way. Big fan of your blog!

The Girl Who Saw

Requests are closed

- Summary: He would always return and you would always know it was him. No matter what face he wears.

- Pairing: smallfolk!reader/Jaqen H’ghar

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: Due to lack of information this short story only has 960 words.

The bell above your shop door jingles softly, a silver chime that barely cuts through the hum of your needle gliding through linen. You don’t look up right away—not until you’ve finished the last stitch on the hem, biting the thread cleanly between your teeth. The light in the doorway is strange, distorted as if the sun were unsure how to shine on whoever stands there. But even before your eyes lift, before you glimpse the stranger’s silhouette, something curls in your chest like a waking cat. Recognition. Instinct. You always know. No matter the name he gives, the color of his eyes, the bend of his smile—it’s always him.

When you finally glance up, he is already watching you.

He’s different this time. Not the sly Lorathi with red and white hair, not the gaunt merchant with dull eyes and a limp. Now, he’s taller, broader across the shoulders. His face is dark, weathered by sun and wind, with a soldier’s stoic mouth and a jagged scar that cuts through his left brow. A northern sellsword, by the look of him. Rough leathers, old steel. Nothing like the others. And yet... your heart stutters, all the same.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice casual, hands busy folding the small tunic you’d been mending. You give no sign that you know him. Not yet.

“A cloak,” he says, stepping inside. His voice is deeper now, rougher — but not enough. “For the cold. This one was told a girl here makes them well.”

You hum, tilting your head as you examine him. “Plenty of girls make cloaks. You came a long way just to find one.”

The man smiles—and there it is. Not the expression itself, but the delay. The fraction of a second where he shifts behind his mask, adjusting to a role that does not fit quite right. It’s always that moment that gives him away.

“You’ll want wool, then,” you continue, as if nothing inside you is clawing forward. You gesture toward a folded bolt of dark green cloth. “Strong, tightly spun. Keeps out the wind.”

He approaches the counter, silent steps that echo nothing. “That will do,” he says.

You begin cutting without asking for measurements. You already know what size he wears. “What name do you go by today?” you ask softly, your scissors slicing through fabric like whispers through air.

The silence that follows is thick and stifling. You hear it in the way his breath pauses. When he speaks again, it’s careful, measured. “A man does not understand the question.”

You smile faintly, eyes still on the cloth. “Don’t you, though?”

He says nothing.

“Last time, you called yourself Rorik. Before that, you were Tomas. And before that… gods, what was it? Harnel? No, that was in Gulltown.” You look up finally, pinning him with your gaze. “It doesn’t matter. I always know. Always.”

There’s a flicker in his expression then—not fear, not even surprise. It’s something stranger. Curiosity, yes. But also something rarer for him: uncertainty.

“You are clever,” he says, quietly. Almost to himself. “Too clever, perhaps.”

You shrug. “I don’t try to be. I just… feel you. Even if you change everything, the way you look, the way you speak—something inside you stays the same. Maybe it’s your soul.”

He chuckles at that, though it’s a dry, strange sound. “A man has no soul.”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tell lies. Not here. Not to me.”

He watches you in silence, and for once, he doesn’t have the upper hand. You’ve unsettled him. You see it in the way his hands flex slightly, the faint twitch of his brow. And yet, he’s drawn in closer—not retreating, not leaving. He never does.

“Why do you keep coming back?” you ask, setting the half-finished cloak aside. “Is it me you’re looking for, or do you just want to see if you can fool me this time?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, “A man is not supposed to be known. Not this way.”

“Well,” you say, softly, stepping around the counter to face him, “maybe a man isn’t supposed to linger in the same dream more than once. And yet, here you are.”

He breathes out, as if your words strike somewhere too close. “You should not know. No one ever does.”

“But I do.”

You reach up then, not to touch him—not quite. Your fingers hover near his jaw, and his eyes track the movement like a predator who suddenly realizes he’s been cornered. Your voice is a murmur now, intimate. “You wear a hundred faces. But when you look at me, it’s always the same eyes. Always the same shadow behind them.”

He leans into your hand then, just a breath—no more than that. But it’s enough.

“You could name me,” he says. “And unmake what I am.”

You shake your head. “I would never.”

He studies you for a long, quiet moment. The mask wavers. And for the first time, you think you see a glimpse of the real man—the one beneath all the names, the faces, the assassin’s creed. Tired. Lonely. Searching for something even he doesn’t understand.

“Then why do you let me play this game?”

“Because I like watching you lose,” you whisper, smiling gently. “And because… even when you try to hide from me, you always come back.”

His lips twitch into something that almost resembles warmth. “Yes,” he says. “A man does.”

You don’t finish the cloak that day. He stays longer than he should, sitting by your hearth as the shadows lengthen, and though he never gives you a real name, for once, he doesn’t try to be anyone else.

[sarahscribbles]

𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐉𝐚𝐪𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐚𝐪𝐞𝐧 𝐇'𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒𝟏𝟒

𝐀𝐍: 𝐈𝐝𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐉𝐚𝐪𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲. 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 :)

“A woman is becoming petulant.” 

Jaqen’s smooth voice is laced with irritation. It’s an unfamiliar sound to you, but not unwelcome, and, with your back to him as you gaze out across the grounds of Harrenhal, he can’t see the tiny smirk that curls across your lips. 

Your plan had worked.

For a few seconds longer you continue to look out at the bustling yard below. It’s filled with Lannister soldiers shouting and swearing as they organise their next move, but the sound is all but muffled to your ears. Right here, right now, it’s just you and Jaqen. 

And whatever this thing is between you both. 

Eventually, you turn to face him in a quiet swish of skirts and folding your arms tightly across your chest. “I would argue that I am growing bored!” you bite back, feeling indignation rise like a storm within you. “I grow weary of waiting, Jaqen. You promised before the next turn of the moon…are you craven as well as a liar?”

Even from across the room you catch the dangerous glint that flickers in his eyes, but it awakens no fear in you. Jaqen glances around silently, then approaches you in several measured steps, not stopping until he’s looming over you. Those hypnotising eyes hold yours, daring you to look away, and then you feel him take your chin firmly between his fingers. It doesn’t hurt - he would never hurt you - but his vexation is evident in that one small action. 

“A woman may call me many things, terrible things, but she will keep the word craven from her lips,” he says, his voice deathly quiet. Your heart is racing, but you hold his gaze defiantly until he squeezes your chin. Finally, you jerk your head in submission, and the beginnings of a smirk pull at Jaqen’s lips. “Lovely girl, a man is honourable; a man made a promise by the old gods and the new. You must find patience.” 

A resigned sigh escapes you at the same time your body sags. “I know…but patience is not an easy virtue when desire is so consuming,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. 

You watch Jaqen’s eyes darken, and your stomach swoops excitedly in response. For a moment, a dizzying, electrifying moment, you think he’s finally going to kiss you. 

But the warmth of his lips never comes. 

Instead, he traces the pad of his thumb softly over your lower lip. “Soon, lovely girl. A man has promised.”

[macabrebatz]

GAME OF THRONES MASTERLIST

(No fanfics here….yet)

Characters I write for:

Jon Snow

Robb Stark

Tywin Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Jaime Lannister

Brienne of Tarth

Bronn

Jorah Mormont

Daenerys Targaryen

Sandor Clegane

Jaqen H’ghar

Oberyn Martell

Mance Rayder

Benjen Stark

And maybe more will be added, we shall see…

[marsconer]

the traveller: okay, ringo star, you can stay

mizu: no he can’t

ringo: you think i’m a stAAAAAAR🥹🥹🥹🥹

[ewinofthelake]

Jaqarya Netflix romcom AU where Jaqen is the gruff vineyard's keeper born and raised in the mountains and Arya is the exhuberant city girl who inherits the vineyard and goes to claim it. What in the Seven hells could ever happen when they meet-not-so-cute? XD

[insp.]

[first-of-her-nxme]

I wish we had more fanart of ASOIAF Arya and Jaqen. 

There are so many meaningful moments between them in the books. Naturally, there are more of those to come in the next books but those that have already happened deserve more recognition. After all, many of the fans have only seen the show. Even some of the fans who read the books have forgotten the original story because Game of Thrones overshadowed it.

I would love to see more of artists’s interpretations of Arya’s prayer under the weirwood tree with Jaqen watching over her. Or Jaqen passing by on the horse with Arya disappointed that he doesn’t look at her and the girls giggling in admiration. Or that night conversation of theirs when he kissed her. Or the moment he kneels before her and gives her the coin and tells her it means as much as life and death.

I’m eternally grateful to the artists who have blessed us with their Jaqarya fanart so far but I would love to see more.   

[godjustkys]

╰┈➤ ❝ masterlist ❞

SUPERNATURAL ;

- Dean Winchester

perv dean . . .

hate sex with dean . . .

dean smut drabble . . .

older reader x dean smut drabble . . .

older reader x dean smut drabble pt2 . . .

jealous silly dean . . .

passionate car sex with a pathetic dean . . .

- Sam Winchester

sam being a total sub . . .

older reader x sam smut drabble . . .

- Castiel

cas really wants to please you . . .

- Andy Gallagher

- TFW; smut headcanons . . .

- Robert Singer

- Crowley MacLeod

HOUSE MD ;

- Gregory House

smut drabble (hj) . . .

- Lisa Cuddy

- James Wilson

- Allison Cameron

- Robert Chase

denying the accusations whilst taking it up the ass (smut) . . .

- Eric Foreman

THE WALKING DEAD ;

- Rick Grimes

- Carl Grimes

- Michonne

- Negan Smith

- Daryl Dixon

gentle sex . . .

- Eugene Porter

- Rosita Espinosa

- Maggie Greene

- Glenn Rhee

- Carol Peletier

- Gabriel Stokes

- Dwight

- Simon

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE ;

- Tony Stark

- Peter Parker

- Bruce Banners

- Thor Odinson

- Loki Laufeyson

- Steve Rogers

- Natasha Romanoff

- Yelena Belova

- Stephen Strange

- Wanda Maximoff

- Clint Barton

- Bucky Barnes

- Sam Wilson

- Wade Wilson

- Peter Quill

- Nebula

- Eddie Brock

TEEN WOLF ;

- Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski

sex with Stiles . . .

- Scott McCall

- Melissa McCall

- Derek Hale

- Allison Argent

- Lydia Martin

- Isaac Lahey

- Jackson Whittemore

- Peter Hale

- Malia Tate

- Liam Dunbar

- Theo Raeken

- Christopher Argent

MERLIN ;

- Merlin

- Arthur Pendragon

- Morgana Pendragon

- Guinevere

- Lancelot

- Mordred

- Gwaine

- Percival

- Elyan

- Leon

STRANGER THINGS ;

- Mike Wheeler

- Nancy Wheeler

- Will Byers

- Jonathan Byers

- Joyce Byers

- Jim Hopper

- Jane 'Eleven' Hopper

- Lucas Sinclair

- Dustin Henderson

- Steve Harrington

- Eddie Munson

- Robin Buckley

- Maxine Mayfield

- Billy Hargrove

- Dmitri 'Enzo' Antonov

ALL; stranger things headcanons . . .

GAME OF THRONES ;

- Ned Stark

- Catelyn Stark

- Robb Stark

- Jon Snow

- Theon Greyjoy

- Sansa Stark

- Arya Stark

- Tywin Lannister

- Jaime Lannister

- Cersei Lannister

- Tyrion Lannister

- Tommen Baratheon

- Joffrey Baratheon

- Daenerys Targaryen

- Sandor Clegane

- Margaery Tyrell

- Brienne of Tarth

- Jaqen H'ghar

F.R.I.E.N.D.S ;

- Rachel Greene

- Phoebe Buffay

- Monica Geller

- Ross Geller

- Chandler Bing

sfw + nsfw headcanons . . .

- Joey Tribbiani

sfw + nsfw headcanons . . .

HARRY POTTER ;

- Harry James Potter

- Hermione Granger

- Ron Weasley

- Fred Weasley

- George Weasley

- Draco Malfoy

- Luna Lovegood

- Neville Longbottom

- Severus Snape

- Sirius Black

- Remus Lupin

BROOKLYN NINE-NINE ;

- Jake Peralta

- Amy Santiago

- Rosa Diaz

- Ray Holt

IT ;

- Richie Tozier

- Eddie Kaspbrak

- Beverly Marsh

- Bill Denbrough

- Stanley Uris

- Ben Hanscom

- Mike Hanlon

DEAD POET'S SOCIETY ;

- Neil Perry

- Todd Anderson

- Charlie Dalton

- John Keating

SHAMELESS ;

- Fiona Gallagher

- Philip Gallagher

- Ian Gallagher

- Debbie Gallagher

- Carl Gallagher

- Liam Gallagher

- Mickey Milkovich

- Mandy Milkovich

SPIDER-MAN UNIVERSE ;

- Peter Parker (A. Garfield)

- Peter Parker (T. Maguire)

- Peter B. Parker

- Miles Morales (Earth 1610)

- Miles Morales (Earth 42)

- Miguel O'Hara

- Hobie Brown

[random-imagines-blog]

Poison Oak {Jaqen H’Ghar x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3568 Summary: You travel in disguise to visit a fellow no one. Along the way, you become a someone. Notes: It is Jaqen and follows the show, so there will be death mentioned.

The armor, these ‘uniforms’ that the Lannister men wear had to be more uncomfortable than the most grizzled of faces. The squeakiness of the metal, the weight of it. A woman does not complain, though she wears something that was not made for her. A woman does not let anyone else know that she is not a man. You wore the face of a man for now, becoming one in manner, voice, and appearance. That was a gift from the Many-Faced God. You were no one behind the face. You were simply ‘A woman’ when you did not wear it, no name of your own, no past, only freedom, only unlimited skies. You were not currently on a job; you had no target near you that you were meant to assassinate. You were here for the company, despite the troublesome circumstances. You were a woman coming to meet a man. 

“Jaqen H’Ghar,” you said, your eyes catching onto those of your friend. A Faceless man recognizes another, and for a second, you see that his own eyes brighten up. You were always able to read his faces better than any book in the Citadel library. Every little twitch, glint in the eye, even the way that his nostrils would flare. Whatever face that he wore, you would be able to tell. That was a gift from the Many-Faced God.  

His head bowed to you, and he turned a corner into a corridor leading into the great castle. A quiet place, where we could talk alone. Despite the desolation of the castle, it’s near ruin, and the rumors of it being a cursed place - quiet was hard to find here. Echoes of those being tortured by ‘the Tickler’ were often bouncing around, reaching the ears of everyone, no matter how hard they held their hands to try to attain silence. “You’ve used this face before,” He hummed, firelight bouncing off of his red hair.  

“It is one of my favorites,” You admitted, your smile pulling at the hollowed cheeks of the person you were wearing. “Do you remember when I wore it last?” 

“Raventree Hall,” He nodded. “A man does not forget a kill. Especially when it is a team effort.” 

To others outside of you and him, this might sound like a stiff conversation. To the point. Almost impersonal. But your heart was beating fast beneath all of this metal, flesh and bone. Feeling first and thinking later was not the way that the Faceless Men operated - all except for you. Feelings were the only reason you were here. 

“A job well done, in my books. It may be foolish for a woman to believe in luck, and yet I find this face to be the ... a charm for me. And it has worked again.”  

“Who are you?” Jaqen asked, curiously. The two of you could do this all day. Coming up with backgrounds and names for the faces that you wore, weaving together a life that could be discarded and forgotten at any moment. That was the thrill of it. It was such a short time to be someone, before returning to being no one. 

“My name is Barrish Falwell,” you said, in a low and gravelly voice that matched the face. “I grew up in Gulltown, the son of a fisherman, and became a sailor meself, having my first fishing boat by the time I was thirteen. I found there was more money in transportin’ than in Fishing, so I made my livin by ferryin’ people to and fro, across the waters. I found me a wife, an’ I had two daughters, the most precious people in my life they’ll forever be - though they were drowned during a storm, and I had no more love for the sea. I gave up my vocation to become a soldier for the Lannisters, who I’ve chosen to give my loyalty to, as I have no love for the Starks or the Baratheon brothers. Joffrey is and should be the one true king by right, and it is only what’s right that keeps the world goin’ round. If I should die for them, I’ll be back with my family, and it will be the most noble way to die.” 

“What made Barrish so interested in the line of inheritance to the throne?” Jaqen asked, as if testing. I had an answer for everything, though. I paid close attention to my story. Details were my strong suit. 

“I once had the displeasure of ferrying Stannis across a short way. He paid me poorly for the pleasure. Did not even give a tip, not the flash of an extra coin. A man like that should not be in any sort of power. He’ll cheat all the common man. But not the Lannisters. No, it is in their motto. t’s only right that a boy raised with those values continue to sit on the throne. Bring the Seven Kingdoms to prosperity by payin’ everyone who is loyal to them.” 

“And you believe you’ll be paid for this?” 

“Aye, I do. A Lannister always pays his debts, so surely, I would be paid for my loyalty and hard work, no?” You said, your voice still gravelly. You sounded pathetically naive. You sounded like just the kind of man that a Lannister would let into his service willingly. And to give one of the shit jobs that no one cares about. There were more than enough men to watch over the castle, without having some slim ferryman like you around.  

“Hello, Barrish Falwell,” Jaqen said with a small smirk, leaning against the stone wall. “Do you miss your wife?” 

“Very much so, friend. She was the mos’ amazing woman that I’ve ever met. I was quite the lucky man to have her. Enith, her name was. The jewel of our town too, the prettiest pearl that ever lived. Aye, that she was.” 

“I once knew a woman like that myself,” Jaqen said, his eyes darting over your playfully.  

“An’ what happened to her?” You asked, your own shining brightly through the face that you were wearing. It was so unlike your own. Such masculine features to cover any feminine that you had. Even your body seemed to transform in the garb that you were wearing, in the way that you walked, your mannerisms, had all become that of a weary widowed man just trying to get through the day.  

“She became no one,” Jaqen said, a rare smile crossing his handsome face. His true face, on this occasion, was the one that you admired the most.  

“What a beautiful thing to happen,” you said. Though it wasn’t entirely the truth. To be truly no one - one must have no attachments, no past, no future. You had one attachment, and he was standing in front of you. To be attached to a man with no attachments - it was a torturous way to live. But you could not help yourself - you were not just a woman, but you were a woman in love.  

The sound of approaching footsteps, more like clanks in the armor, came to your attention and you and Jaqen both straightened up, faces serious, looking like men on duty. A soldier walked past with barely a look at the two of you. “It is dangerous for a woman to be here,” Jaqen said, that slight hint of joviality in his eyes gone. 

“It’s dangerous for anyone to be here, there’s a war,” you said, your own mouth in a straight line. “Why do you stick around so? There’s much work to be done back in Braavos. Prices are high during these dire times.” 

“A debt needs to be paid, and I must stay until it is done,” Jaqen said, and with those words, you knew that there was nothing that was going to get him to leave. 

“To the Red God?” You asked in a low tone. 

“To the Red God,” He affirmed. 

“A woman understands. If a debt is to be paid, then a debt is to be paid,” you said with a nod. “I will stay until your business is over.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, and moved in closer, his breath warm against your worn face. “Why does a woman choose to stay?” He asked you. “It is perilous, even for us. Faces - they cannot save us from this war.” 

“Death will come when it comes,” you said, shrugging that off. “A woman is no coward to it. But it is dangerous to travel alone in these times, so I shall wait for you. And then we shall set back together.” 

After a moment, he nods. “I can agree to this. Be careful - we are not the only ones who do not belong here. I will signal you when the debts are paid.” 

“Excellent,” you said, right as a feeling of cold goes through you, his breath removed, Jaqen gone down the hallway to attend to his duties - those of a Faceless man, and those of the soldier that he was pretending to be. You breathed out yourself, and then set off, one foot in front of the other, to a soldier’s patrol, blending in seamlessly. 

This face got you through the next while. No one suspected you of a thing, and not even the slightest about being an outsider here. You were never apart from this face, not when you slept among the rest of the men, not when you thought you were alone, not for a second. You lived and breathed being Barrish Falwell. You were flawless in this, truly becoming the man, moaning out his dead wife’s name in his sleep to the displeasure of the others around, taking part in the drinking of ale and having a preference for sitting close to the fire, and even talking dirty about women, making sickening jokes.  

Jaqen was never too far, his eyes either on you, or on a masquerading girl who poured wine for Tywin Lannister. It was a wonder to you that others did not see through her short hair and boyish face to the female beneath. It was she who had saved Jaqen, and thus owed the Red God three deaths, using Jaqen to get them. The Ticker - he was the first. You knew Jaqen’s handiwork, the body lying dead in the courtyard, under the windows. What a relief, you may finally get a night’s break from the screams. Ser Amory Lorch. It was not done with the usual grace, so it must have been under extreme haste. That set Tywin on guard who starts to order the assassination of many of his own men. Although Jaqen seemed safe, it seemed as if time was running out for you. You kept your head down, keeping to yourself, still giving off the appearance of a man who was too loyal to do this, too scared of Tywin to do something like this, too pathetic to kill someone of his own volition. But it felt as if eyes were ever on you. 

It would be only too easy to remove the guise of Barrish Falwell. To rid yourself of the face and slip on another, become someone else. But a newcomer now would only be under more suspicion. A woman had to be smart, smarter than any man in order to survive this. But you were running low on ideas. You had gotten the call - Tywin wished to see you and three other soldiers that night, after dinner.  

As you were thinking, silently having your stew and your ale, a slight nudge on your back told you everything that you needed to know. It was calculated. It was purposeful. It was the signal that something was to happen. Your eyes darted to the back of Jaqen as he walked through the tables to his own, sitting down with some of the other men. His own blue eyes looked back at you, and you turned back to your bowl.  

It would not be your death given to the Red God today. He would make sure of that.  

An escape plan had been forged. Jaqen had wordlessly met you after the sun had gone down, when you were meant to be making your way to Tywin. Instead of going to where you were supposed to be, you walked with Jaqen towards the gates, and silently dispatched the guards there. Killing was as easy to you as eating, as drinking water from a fresh stream. Blade through the flesh and move on. The Red God would be happy with your offering. Jaqen pinned them in place with their own spears to not arouse suspicion until the morning shift came around to relieve them, giving plenty of time to escape. You left with him in the hills, leaving Barrish behind. Your own skin was touched by the wind for the first time in days, a sigh of relief escaping from your lips. 

“So, a girl has given you your name?” You asked towards Jaqen as you walked away from the girl and her companions. “That is quite a cruel twist. A girl will go far in life.” 

Jaqen looked grumpy as he remembered the sound of his name coming out of the lips of Arya Stark. The girl had pushed him into doing more than he had intended to do. Killed more than the God had required. “I would have had to do it.” 

“I know, you’re a killer with honor,” you said, looking amused, nonetheless. “If such a thing exists, it is surely you.” 

Despite the heavy armor that you were stuck wearing - there was not much else that would protect you if you were to come across others on the road back to the Braavos - you were walking quickly, near skipping, energy in your stride. You held your hands behind you, walking a short distance ahead of Jaqen, turning your head to face him. His blue eyes looked at you and then down at the ground, and if you didn’t know better, you would almost think that he was blushing.  

“A man is,” He nodded, his eyes continuing to look down at the worn trail that you were taking. It was not a road; you were both avoiding those. Besides - the roads took too long, creating detours. “Has to be, when a girl lacks it.” 

“Has it left a bitter taste in your mouth?” You teased. 

“Like poison oak,” He stated.  

“And yet you have given her the coin, our codeword,” You reminded him. “I think that you secretly saw something in her. More of that poison oak that you could help grow, to spread towards targets.” 

“There was something there,” He admitted, more so to himself than to you. “A potential, yes. Sometimes it can be found in the most unlikely of places.” 

“It almost sounds as if a man has a heart,” you said, tilting your head towards him as you walked. 

“A man has never said that he hasn’t,” He retorted, making you smile. And making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like you were sitting by a fire after coming out of the rain. It felt as if he were flirting with you. Almost too good to be true. 

And when things are too good to be true - they usually were. Because all of a sudden, his arm shoved you away from him, hard, sending you falling onto the ground. Your head hits one of the rocks, causing your vision to grow fuzzy. You were struggling to hang onto it, to stay conscious. Your hand went to the back of your head and pulled away with crimson on your fingers. You had seen enough blood to know exactly what it was. And you had also caused enough head injuries to know that it wasn’t a good thing at all.  

Where you had been standing only seconds before, an arrow was sticking out of the ground. The feathers attached to it were red - The Lannisters. They had found their dead and sent trackers after the two of you. 

Jaqen managed to make quick work of them while you stayed low to the ground, putting pressure where the wound was despite the fact that it hurt. You were moaning, unable to keep it from coming out of you. The rising sun hurts your eyes, making you close them tightly. Clenching, more like. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” He asked, returning to your side, using the name that you often used in your disguises. It was close to the name that you had been born with, but not close enough to bring back all of the bad memories.  

“Hit my head - on the rock -” you said, pointing towards the spot where your head had made contact. There was a bit of your blood there, oxidizing in the sunshine. It would be brown soon, rather than red, but still a sign that you had been there.  

“I - have pushed you too hard,” he said, using first-person speech. “I should have noticed -” 

“You still saved me,” you said, opening up one of your eyes to look at him. There was more concern in his expression than you had ever seen from him before. “I would have been shot with that arrow if you hadn’t pushed me.” 

“I do not owe the Red God your death,” Jaqen said, putting his arms under you and picking you up, armor and all. You winced at the movement, still holding your head. “I will not let him have it until the time is right.” 

“I feel a little dizzy, Jaqen,” you said, though that was an understatement. The world was spinning, and he was spinning too. You closed your eyes again to keep yourself from growing sick, though that didn’t help the vertigo. He managed to move as stealthily as ever, while keeping his stance solid. You weren’t being jostled around inside of his arms. And then, to your surprise, you found yourself lying on soft, sweet-smelling hay.  

You opened your eyes to see that you were somehow in a cart, and Jaqen was beside you. He had changed his clothes, into softer linens, no longer looking like a soldier. He pressed his finger to your lips, to stop you from speaking. 

“I cannot apologize enough,” he said, looking deep into your eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. Never you.” 

“Ja-” You started, but he pressed his finger a little rougher against your lips, stopping you. 

“Seeing you hurt - it makes me ... it makes me want to rage against the Red God, for even attempting to take you. It is blasphemy, but I cannot help myself. I cannot help myself. Not a man-”  

He looked out the back of the cart, at the road that you were on. You didn’t question whose cart you were in, or who was driving, where you were going, how Jaqen had convinced them to let you both on. All of those details were unimportant. All you could focus on, or tried to focus on as the world was spinning, were his eyes.  

“I do not know when I became I - but it is because of you,” he said, his voice softer than anything that you had ever heard before. Like velvet. You could feel it like a texture over your skin. “A man has become ... a man who loves you.” 

Your breath caught in your throat - if you even had any breath left. It felt like it had been pushed out of your lungs, and then all of a sudden, bellowed back in, making you breathe in deeply. A look of concern came over his face and he lightly started to look over your wound again, moving the hay beneath you to get a better view.  

“It’s okay - I’m okay,” You tried to convince him, reaching up to his arm to stop him from touching the wound, from poking around it. That wasn’t your focus either. “Who are you now, tell me again.” 

“A man in love,” he said, more resolutely this time, like he believed it rather than realized it. 

“Ask me,” you said, weakly. His eyebrow raised at you and so you nodded at him slightly, trying to get him to do the same.  

“Who are you?” He asked, in the exact same tone that he had when he asked you in the castle days ago. You had given him all the details of a false identity back then. A fake name. A fake life. A fake dead wife and children. But what you were going to say now was going to be the truth, the whole truth. 

“A woman in love.” You answered him. 

His coarse fingers skimmed over your forehead, caressing it in a way he made sure was nowhere near the wound on your head. And then he lowered himself down and kissed it, his lips chapped and dry but felt wonderful, nonetheless.  

“We could be somebodies,” You whispered, feeling the energy draining out of you. “When I wake up - we could be somebodies together.” 

“I would enjoy that,” he said, his own voice softer than touch. “When you wake up.” 

“When I ... wake up...” You said again, before everything went black. 

[sicko4smut]

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. @smutmaniac -main blog

Marvel

✰ Baron Zemo ✰ Bucky Barnes ✰ Steve Rogers ✰ Bruce Banner ✰ Peter Parker ✰ Wanda Maximoff ✰ Vision ✰ Robert Reynolds ✰ Steven Grant ✰ Loki

Stranger Things

✰ Eddie Munson ✰ Steve Harrington ✰ Jonathan Byers ✰ Robin Buckely ✰ Mike Wheeler

TLOU

✰ Joel Miller ✰ Tommy Miller ✰ Ellie Williams ✰

Harry Potter

Harry Potter ✰ Neville Longbottom ✰Ron Weasley ✰ George Weasley ✰ Hermoine Granger ✰ Severus Snape ✰ Sirius Black ✰ Remus Lupin ✰ Bill Weasley ✰

X-men

✰ Peter Maximoff ✰ Kurt Wagner ✰ Storm ✰ James/Logan Howlett ✰ Scott Summers (older) ✰ Alex Summers ✰ Hank Mccoy ✰ Sean Cassidy ✰ Jean Grey ✰ Rouge ✰ Mystique/Raven ✰

Gotham/Batman

✰ Bruce Wayne ✰ Edward Nashton ✰ Jervis Tetch ✰ Jerome Valeska ✰ Ed Nygma (pre-riddler) ✰ Tabitha Galavan ✰ Victor Zsasz ✰ Jonathan Crane ✰

Peaky Blinders

✰ Arthur Shelby ✰ Alfie Solomon✰

Maze Runner

✰ Newt ✰ Thomas ✰ Minho ✰

AHS

✰ Tate Langdon ✰ Vivien Harmon ✰ Violet Harmon ✰

Twilight

✰ Edward Cullen ✰ Alice Cullen ✰ Bella Swan ✰ Jasper Hale ✰ Charlie Swan ✰ Sam Uley ✰ Seth Clearwater ✰

The 100

✰ John Murphy ✰ Finn Collins ✰ Monty Green ✰ Jasper Jordan ✰

TWD

✰ Daryl Dixion ✰ Rick Grimes ✰ Negan ✰ Michonne ✰ Carl Grimes ✰ Glenn Rhee ✰ Laura ✰ Ron Anderson ✰ Maggie Greene ✰

The Terror

✰ Henry Goodsir ✰ James Fitzjames ✰ Henry Foster Collins ✰ Thomas Terry ✰ Thomas Hartnell

Star Wars

✰ Ben Solo ✰ Finn (star wars) ✰ Poe Dameron

The Bear

✰ Richie Jerimovich

TopGun Maverick

✰ Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw ✰ Robert “Bob” Floyd

Game Of Thrones

✰ Brandon Stark ✰ Robb Stark ✰ Sandor "The Hound" Clegane ✰ Jon Snow ✰ Podrick Payne ✰ Arya Stark ✰ Brienne of Tarth ✰ Tormund ✰ Petyr Baelish ✰ Jaqen H'ghar

K-pop/K-drama

✰ Joshua Hong ✰ Hansol Vernon Chwe ✰ Lee Seokmin ✰ Lee Chan ✰ Lee Jihoon ✰ Choi Seungcheol ✰ Wen Junhui ✰ Xu Minghao ✰ Jeon Wonwoo ✰ Min Yoongi ✰ Kim Taehyung ✰ Kim Namjoon ✰ Jung Hoseok ✰ Kim Seokjin ✰ Kang Haneul

Miscellaneous

✰ Xavier Thorpe ✰ Tyler Galpin ✰ Bill S. Preston, Esq. ✰ Ted 'Theodore' Logan ✰ John Wick ✰ Charlie walker ✰ Maurizio Gucci (h.o.g) ✰ Luke Castellan ✰ Eric Draven ✰ any alex wolff/nat wolff character ✰ Eric Draven (1996 & 2024) ✰ Travis Hackett ✰ Max (The Quarry)

LET ME KNOW WHAT CHARACTERS, YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR IN MY INBOX

[novaursa]

jaqen h’ghar x fem!stark!reader! there in harrenhal and she’s Aryas older sister. “if i do this thing, a girl must obey.” “a girl will obey.”

jaqen h’ghar is obsessed

A Game of Faces

- Summary: You meet your sister’s “friend” and he offers his help, for a price.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaqen H’ghar

- Note: The reader is Arya's older sister.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Next part: name

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The walls of Harrenhal loom dark and foreboding, each stone etched with the torments of those who have suffered within. You move silently through the damp corridors, eyes sharp and ears keen, every sense attuned to the danger that lurks in every corner of this cursed place. Arya is at your side, her small hand gripping yours, knuckles white with fear and anger. The men who captured you—those cruel soldiers in Lannister red—tore you from one nightmare and cast you into another.

Your sister’s “friend” Jaqen is never far from you. His presence is a mystery, his identity a mask more impenetrable than any helm. You’ve watched him from afar, seen the way he moves like a shadow slipping between torchlight. There is something unsettling in his eyes, a depth that swallows you whole when he looks your way.

One evening, you find yourself alone in the courtyard, watching the sun sink behind the jagged peaks of the mountains. Arya is with the other prisoners, her task for the day yet unfinished. You feel the weight of the castle pressing down on you, a suffocating presence that seeps into your bones.

“A girl looks troubled.”

The voice is smooth, with an accent that lilts like a melody. You turn, startled, to see Jaqen leaning against a stone column, his gaze fixed on you. His red-and-white hair glows in the dim light, a vivid slash against the drab surroundings.

“I am fine,” you lie, your voice steady but your heart hammering in your chest. There is something about him that makes you wary, though you cannot say why.

“A lie,” he says softly, as if amused. “A girl carries many burdens on her shoulders. Perhaps too many.”

You bristle at his words, but before you can respond, he steps closer, his movements fluid and graceful. There is a scent about him, something foreign and faintly sweet, like spices from lands you have never seen.

“You are Arya’s friend,” you say, more statement than question.

“A friend, yes.” He tilts his head, studying you with eyes that seem to pierce through all your defenses. “And perhaps a friend to you as well, if a girl wishes it.”

“I don’t need friends,” you reply sharply, your voice low. “I need to protect my sister and find a way out of this place.”

Jaqen’s smile is enigmatic, his eyes gleaming with something you can’t quite decipher. “A girl’s desire is a noble one. But sometimes, to protect, one must first obey.”

His words send a chill through you, and you take a step back, instinctively putting distance between you. He doesn’t follow, merely watches, his gaze never leaving your face.

“If I do this thing, a girl must obey,” he says quietly, his voice a whisper of silk and steel.

“What thing?” you ask, though you already sense the answer, a dark promise hanging in the air between you.

“A girl must say a name. And in return, a man will grant her wish. But a girl must obey.”

His words are simple, but the weight of them settles heavy in your chest. You know what he means—Arya has told you about his offer, the deaths he can deal with a whispered name. But you are not Arya, and you do not want to wield death like a blade in the dark.

“I don’t want anyone to die,” you say, your voice trembling despite your resolve. “I just want us to be free.”

Jaqen’s expression shifts, something softening in his gaze. He steps closer, and this time you do not move away. His hand, cool and gentle, reaches out to brush a lock of hair from your face.

“A girl’s wish is a pure one,” he murmurs. “But in this world, freedom comes at a price.”

You meet his eyes, feeling the pull of them like a tide. There is a power in this man, something dangerous and compelling, and it frightens you as much as it draws you in.

“What do you want from me?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Jaqen’s smile returns, a shadow of itself, and his hand drops back to his side. “A man wants nothing. But a girl must remember: if a man does this thing, a girl will obey.”

The words hang between you like a vow, a binding promise sealed by the intensity of his gaze. You nod, unable to look away, and he inclines his head, satisfied.

“A girl will obey,” he repeats, as if to himself, before turning and walking away, his steps as silent as a ghost.

You watch him go, your heart a wild drum in your chest. You do not understand him, cannot fathom the depths of his motives, but you know one thing with a certainty that burns in your veins: Jaqen H’ghar is no ordinary man, and the game he plays is one of life and death. And you, caught in the web of his interest, are now a piece on the board.

When Arya returns to your side, her face smudged with dirt but her eyes alight with fierce determination, you pull her close, holding her tighter than before. You will find a way out of Harrenhal, you vow. You will keep her safe.

But as you look back at the shadowy figure disappearing into the castle’s depths, you cannot shake the feeling that your fate is now entwined with his, in ways you cannot yet see.

[gendrie]

the interesting about clash within the context of arya's arc is that its the only book - so far - that ends with arya fully embracing her identity. it ends on a, relatively, high note as far as that is concerned. which i would argue makes it feel a lot different from the rest.

in game her last chapter features ned's execution and arya's life is torn apart. her identity and future are both thrown into doubt.

in storm arya is left reeling from the aftermath of trw and she is flung further off course than ever when she sets sail for braavos

in feast she is blinded

in dance her last words are "no one" as she prepares to receive a new face

but clash is different. it breaks the pattern. which is why ive always felt it represents arya's greater arc on a smaller scale. when it opens arya is using her first true alias. over the course of the book she struggles until arya is doubting who she is and where she belongs. its at that point that the old gods intervene. they remind arya; her identity and her place ("arya of winterfell, daughter of the north") and of what matters most to her ("the pack survives") arya hears wolves howling from outside harrenhal again and again and again as these last few moments play out in clash.

arya grabs a hold of it with everything she's got. she smashes the broomstick over her knee. she gathers her boys. she steals supplies. she cuts thru the guard standing in her way. she gets her hands bloody. she is resolved to return to her life as arya.

i ALSO think arya's twow arc will mirror clash in terms of storytelling more than any of the other books so far. arya's clash arc is split into two equal sections: 5 chapters in the wartorn countryside and 5 chapters as a "servant" (pow) in harrenhal for a total of 10. twow will reverse this with x number of chapters as a "servant" in braavos to start and x number of chapters back in westeros @ war to finish. the ratio might be different but i think she will have a similar number of chapters in total.

when clash opens arya is forced into the identity of arry. yoren has done this to try and protect her from arrest and assault.

Afterward he told her that from there to Winterfell she'd be Arry the orphan boy. [...] "This lot, half o' them would turn you over to the queen quick as spit for a pardon and maybe a few silvers. The other half'd do the same, only they'd rape you first." (ACOK)

and we have arya's opening twow chapter

Mercy, I’m Mercy, and tonight I’ll be raped and murdered. Her true name was Mercedene, but Mercy was all anyone ever called her… (TWOW)

arya is once again using an alias and one of her first thoughts is that she will be raped and murdered. but arya is no longer the one in danger here. at least not from that.

arya's early clash chapters also introduce some key components that have already become relevant as of her first twow chapter. lommy greenhands, arya's traveling companion, is ruthlessly murdered by raff the sweetling which is echoed in mercy. arya makes raff beg for mercy. despite what was supposed to be 5 years of indoctrination she hasn't forgotten anything.

jaqen h'ghar is also introduced in arya's early clash storyline. jaqen is an incredibly mysterious character. when he first speaks arya is instantly reminded of syrio forel, her braavosi mentor. jaqen is a faceless men, but this is never directly stated in the text. his fake persona claims to be from lorath - the free city nearest to braavos. where this man was born will never be known but the assassin is a braavosi figure at his core just like syrio. which is reinforced when he sends arya in that direction as they part.

"You don't know what's out there, Arry. I heard wolves before." Yoren wouldn't like it if she fought with him. She tried to look afraid. "Wolves? For true?" (ACOK) Mercy looked down at her feet, so shy. “Izembaro said to please the lords,” she whispered. “If there is anything you want, anything at all…" (TWOW)

in clash we see arya have to start acting. she is in a dangerous situation on the road. she has to conceal her true identity. in mercy its official as arya trains with the mummers. she is playing a role within a role. her acting skills has improved, but arya does still show thru the mask.

I won't cry, she thought, I won't do that. I'm a Stark of Winterfell, our sigil is the direwolf, direwolves don't cry. (ACOK) “I would like to see a dragon,” Mercy said wistfully. “Why does the envoy have a chicken on his chest?” Daena howled. “Mercy, don’t you know anything? It’s his siggle. In the Sunset Kingdoms all the lords have siggles." (TWOW)

part of the routine is that arya is foolish and braavosi born. she pretends not to know what sigils are with mercy's friend daena despite arya's own sigil being the direwolf.

the biggest role arya takes on in clash is that of a servant. her secret girlhood is "taken" like everything else when her and the boys are captured. arya then becomes weasel - a serving girl. servitude is a major component at this point in her storyline as it has become again in braavos. both ask the same question: can arya forget who she is and submit to this?

the answer is no. arya reaches this conclusion in harrenhal as she prays before the heart tree. she remembers who she is and finds a way out of the situation that was causing her identity crisis. the situation in the hob&w is very similar. arya will remember herself and get out.

[rhaenyrasdoll]

yandere game of thrones x arya stark

Arya sat cross-legged on the cold, stone floor, her back pressed against the damp wall of the dungeon. Her stomach grumbled, a persistent reminder of the meager meals she'd been given. The smell of damp earth and stale air filled her nose, a stark contrast to the fresh scent of the sea she had come to know in Braavos. She had thought that returning home to Winterfell would bring comfort, but instead, she felt more lost than ever.Her eyes darted to the tiny window high above her, the only source of light in the room. The moon was a mere sliver in the night sky, casting a silver beam through the bars and onto the opposite wall. It danced and flickered with the occasional gust of wind, painting shadows that taunted her with the promise of freedom. Arya's thoughts drifted to the hound and Jaqen, who had taught her so much. They had cared for her, protected her, and allowed her to be something more than a lost child.The echo of footsteps grew louder, jolting her back to reality. The heavy door creaked open, and a guard stepped in, his eyes scanning the room. She knew he wouldn't see her, not if she remained still and silent. This was a skill she had honed over the years, and it served her well in the game of faces she now played. The guard grunted, his torchlight briefly illuminating the damp straw before he left, the door slamming shut behind him.Suddenly, she heard a whisper, faint and barely audible, "Arya, it's me." Her heart raced as she recognized the voice. It was Sansa, her sister, or at least the girl she used to know. The one who played dress-up and shared secrets, not the woman who now called her "Arry" and looked at her with suspicion. Arya debated whether to respond, fearing a trap. But the desperation in Sansa's voice was too real to ignore."Sansa?" Arya whispered back, her voice cracking from disuse.Sansa stepped into the light, her once-fine dress now tattered and stained. The sight of her sister brought a mix of relief and anger. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "It's not supposed to be like this."Arya's eyes narrowed, her hand sliding to the hilt of her hidden dagger. "What do you want?" she hissed.Sansa took a step closer, her own hand trembling. "I know you're not happy here. I've seen it in your eyes. But we need you."The room grew colder, the shadows deeper. "Need me?" Arya spat. "Why should I trust you?"Her sister's gaze softened, a glimpse of the girl she remembered. "Because we're family," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And we need to stick together if we're ever going to get out of here."Arya felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Was this a trick, or was Sansa truly reaching out to her? The doubt gnawed at her

[yourworstkeptsecret]

Jaqen X Arya - The Middle Of The Night

-X-

…You're seducing

A beauty savant

You're all I want

Your lips taunt

The urge in me…

-X-

It was a brief touch, nothing more than a brush of fingers across the sensitive skin of her waist. A touch made so that he could slip past. As there was only a small space between her and the stone walls of the narrow stairwell. A stairwell that led down into the bathing chambers of the house. But the touch was a spark that ignited her in a way that she'd grown to relate to him and him alone. 

It was wrong. She knew it was. They were No One. They were faceless. He was older and he already had a lover. She knew because she'd heard him with her. On nights when the House was at its most silent. The hour of the wolf. But she would be up. Usually because her dreams had ripped her from sleep and all other methods to find it again had failed. So she would walk the quiet, familiar stone halls of the House of Black and White. A path that always led her, silently, passed his chamber door. It was then she would hear him with her. 

She didn't know who she was. She'd never seen her and he'd never spoken of her. But she was envious of this mystery woman. Not jealous because that denoted negative emotions towards another. And she was a woman that preferred to uplift other women, to press her back against theirs and support them. It was something her mother had drilled into her and her sister both. Women needed to protect, support and help other women in a world built for men. Because God's knew no one else would. So although she didn't know who his woman was? It was still another woman and although envious, she would never harbour negativity towards her.

She had captured his attention and he seemed happy. So Arya would never hold it against her, particularly when it seemed he was happier because of his woman. And she just wanted him to be happy. That's what she wanted for him the most. Happiness. Even if she wasn't the source of it, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was.

But as he moved to slip free of her completely, he paused and looked at her in an assessing manner. He must have seen something in her eyes when they'd briefly met when he'd murmured an apology for almost knocking her down the steep stairs. She met his unflinchingly but in question and his brow raised. 

“Are you…well, lovely girl?” He asked her softly, pausing in the middle, uncertainly. 

Lovely girl. Gods how she loved that endearment. Even though she was a girl no more. She knew not why he'd started using it to begin with. But the whys didn't really matter. It was what he called her and she would never tell him to stop, even if she was a woman now. She knew others questioned it, she'd heard them do so and heard his response that he was free to call her what he liked. Free because she was his and only she could tell him to stop if she disliked it. 

But woe betide someone else tried to call her something similar. Because then he had a problem and he righted it quickly. He didn't let anyone speak to her or refer to her out of the appropriate ways in which their congregation operated. So to everyone else she was ‘a woman’ or ‘the she-wolf’ but to him? She was always ‘lovely girl’ and she was content with that. 

“Yes?” She replied quietly, blinking up at him curiously. “Why wouldn't I be? But thank you for your concern all the same, Jaq.” She added and saw as something flashed behind his, achingly beautiful, blue eyes at the nickname she'd given him long ago. 

Not wanting to look too closely though for fear of becoming lost, she quickly moved to carefully push past him. But he caught her about her waist and held her in place. He reached up then and lightly pinched her ear lobe, making her hiss in momentary pain, reaching up herself to rub the sting from it. 

“A lie.” He breathed and she froze. How was it a lie? She was well. She knew she was. But then a thought whispered through her mind. 

Physically you are but emotionally you're not. You want him but you can’t have him. He belongs to someone else. And that…hurts.

“Some things are best left unsaid, Jaqen.” She finally sighed after a moment of them gazing at one another. “A woman's heart is her own. Its secrets are not for the ears of others. Physically I am well. That's all you need concern yourself with.” She added quickly and tried again to slip away from him. 

But this time when he caught her waist, he pressed her against the wall. One arm coming up to rest on the cool stone just above her head. The other slipped down to drape over her hip. She could feel the thick rope that served as a handrail, dig into the small of her back a little. But it was more a vague awareness than anything she was properly focusing on. And that was because now her focus was on him, just him and the position they were in. He'd caged her between himself and the wall and all of a sudden the narrow stairwell felt almost suffocatingly cramped. She wasn't sure what to do now. She wasn't scared. She would never be scared of him. He would never hurt her. Not really. 

But she was wary of him because he was dangerous for her in other ways. Lethal, even. Her thrumming body proof enough of that, as her blood began to heat. She started to feel, then, the forbidden tingle of want as it danced through her teasingly to settle boldly and brazenly in her lower body. She also felt the warmth begin to make itself known between her legs. Her womanhood, working to prepare itself for a part of him that it was unlikely to ever meet. 

“A woman's heart-secrets are not meant for the ears of anyone except for the one those secrets pertain to, lovely girl.” He corrected her, his voice rolling through in a velveteen rumble that settled into her ears like sweet music. His words more heavily accented than usual, the Lorathian lilt more pronounced. And she found herself forcing down the need to shudder in dark delight at the sound. 

“Exactly…” She challenged, giving him a look of warning. “So mine are not for your ears.” She lied smoothly and convincingly. 

Or at least she thought it had been convincing and if it was anyone other than him? It would have been. But this was Jaqen and he knew her too well. The next blossom of sharp, brief pain came to her hip, where he had pinched at her. This pinch hurt more than the last and it made her release a soft ‘ouch’, much to her annoyance.

“A lie, Arya. That was a lie.” He almost growled, although his voice was still controlled. But it was obvious he was annoyed as well.  

“I do not owe you anything, Jaqen. I can choose what I keep to myself and what I don't. You are not my master anymore. Besides, why should you care? I hear you with her, you know. In the night when you believe the House to be lost to sleep. But you should know better than anyone, this house is never completely asleep.” She fired back, pulling out her wildcard. 

She had never planned to confront him about his lover. What he did within the privacy of his bedchamber was his business. Not for her to be privy to beyond the accidental overhearing of the activities from time to time. But she was hoping the shock of her knowing would be enough. Enough for him to step back and give her the opening she needed to slip away from him. But a strange thing occurred instead. Rather than stepping back or even appearing shocked? He smirked before he started to chuckle in mirth. 

“You hear, do you? And just what do you hear, lovely girl? As you pass by my chamber door like a ghost?” He asked darkly, his smirk never once leaving his handsome face. 

She pushed down the blush that threatened to consume her cheeks at the bold, intimate question. Why would he even ask that!? Her words were pretty self-explanatory. What else could she possibly hear from his rooms, so late in the depths of night? 

“Don't play games with me, Jaqen. You know what I mean. Sounds of pleasure are unmistakable for anything else.” She snapped, glaring up at him. Her hands came up then, to press against his chest and physically push him away from her. But frustratingly, he planted his feet and tensed his muscles, making him as immovable for her, as the wall at her back was.

Rock, meet hard place…

She thought absently, as she tried to push at him again with a little more force. But it was fruitless as he still didn't move an inch. He let her try though, watching her with amusement and something else. And she huffed in agitation, as she went to shove him this time, his words froze her in place. 

“Sounds of pleasure are unmistakable, yes. He's passed by a woman’s room, late at night, more than once as well. But tell a man, lovely girl? Did she hear another's mixed in, as she hurried passed the door? Or did she only hear him?” He questioned her and she felt a sense of dread wash over her. 

It was cold and icy as though she'd been thrown into the Royne in the dead of Winter. Along with the hot blast of embarrassment at his insinuation that he'd heard her in the night as well. But as his words tumbled around in her head, she came to a mocking realisation. She had only ever heard his gasps, sighs and decadent, rumbling moans. She'd never heard the answering cries or calls of a woman. Just his. Only his. Something she had noted before this on more than one occasion. 

But at that time she put it down to not sticking around long enough to hear everything. Because why in the hells would she!? Accidentally overhearing someone's pleasure was one thing. It was understandable, almost inevitable in communal living. But to stick around and listen that was something else entirely. It was invasive and it was wrong. So when she heard those delicious noises coming from his chamber? She'd quickly hurried away, not wanting to invade his privacy. Thus she would hear them for a few moments at most, before they faded from her hearing range. But not once, in the months she'd been overhearing him as she passed his room, had she ever heard the sighs or moans of a woman. She'd just assumed that he was with one. She'd never even remotely considered the possibility that he was…she did blush then and he chuckled darkly. 

“It seems a man has his answer then and a woman is finally realising what it was she was hearing. But he wonders if she's made the other connection yet?” 

“What other connection!?” She snapped, angry now at his blatant mocking. But he just smirked. 

“On those nights where she would hear him taking pleasure from himself. Has she noted that those were also the nights when she had been taking pleasure from herself. Shortly before she went on her late night wanderings? Pleasures that, at their height, would cause her to call out a name. Only one and always the same one.” Here he leaned down closer, his nose running along her cheek teasingly before his lips reached her ear. 

“Jaqen…” He purred, his breath tickling her ear and neck. 

She felt as her entire world shattered and upended on itself. Oh no, he'd heard! He'd heard her and knew it was him that she'd been pleasuring herself to thoughts of. But how did that relate to him and what she'd heard? But the answer came to her, at the same time as his arm slipped around her waist and he answered the question himself. He pulled her into him then, drawing their bodies flush against one another. 

“A man heard. A man understood. And a man…was driven mad with his own enduring desire. But a woman has secrets. They are not for him to spoil. So he would never offer, uninvited, to give a woman what she so clearly wanted of him. So he chose to wait for her to speak.” He murmured in a decadent rumble, tilting her head to allow his lips to run over the skin of her neck. Their brush feeling almost ghost-like as his breath teased the sensitive flesh. But then he brought them up to her ear again. 

“But in the meantime, he dealt with his desire in the easiest way. That is what she was hearing. A man, answering a woman's need, with his own. He always knew when she was there. I've told you before, lovely girl. Clever girls go barefoot on stone, if they wish to be undetected.” He explained hotly, his voice dripping with seduction as she felt the beginning swell of him against her. But before she could say or do anything, she was pressed against the wall again and his lips were crashing down on hers. 

A kiss that proved fatal to her as she released a moan and melted into his hands. His kiss was possessive, claiming and sent sparks of need firing through her in all directions. A kiss that she returned with a desperation that had been building for months. All this time she thought he was with someone else. But in reality, he was doing what she'd been doing. Pleasuring himself to thoughts of her and the sounds she made when thinking of him. Gods! It was all so painfully obvious and clear now that she wanted to kick herself! How could she have missed such a vital piece of context? Context, that if she'd paid attention properly, could have ended this dance between them once and for all. Breaking the kiss she gasped. 

“Baths.” She choked out in need and he didn’t need to be told twice. That one word, consent enough for him. Taking her hand, he quickly took the lead and led them back down the steps that he'd been ascending when they'd met, tonight. 

Getting to the bottom, he turned and made short work of her robes, pulling them off and over her head. Her small clothes following shortly thereafter. As soon as her clothing was gone, she was fast in divesting him of his as well but he didn’t give her time to admire him, before he was kissing her ravenously again, picking her up to wrap her legs around him. He turned then and quickly walked them to the steaming, fragrant waters of the spring that was nestled beneath the house far above their heads. Breaking the kiss momentarily as he carefully stepped into the waters and sunk down into them, he spoke. 

“Are you still untouched?” He asked cautiously and she blushed but shook her head in the negative anyway. She'd expected him to have a problem with that but it seemed he liked it instead as it drew a smirk from him. 

“Good because a man's patience is gone.” 

And then he was kissing her again, devouring her with his mouth as he sat more comfortably in the spring, bracing his back against the edge. And then he was lifting her hips, and once he'd adjusted himself, he slammed her down on him. She threw her head back and called out with a cry of bliss. Gods! She thought. The feeling of him! 

It was indescribable for her. She felt so full and so consumed that it took her breath. He was…large she realised almost too big for her. But she wasn't complaining. He was finally inside of her. She was finally feeling him in a way she'd only dreamed and imagined until now. So she didn’t hesitate as she placed her hands on his shoulders to balance herself. Then she was rising to drop back down on him. She gasped out his name then as he snapped his hips upwards to meet her.  

“I want to hear it screamed, lovely girl. Not gasped. We have waited much too long for this, for you to be meek. So take your pleasure from me, with abandon. Take it well. And let me hear your bliss-filled voice screaming my name, so loud that it wakes the old Gods and calls them back once more.” He rumbled up at her and she shuddered before she shifted and began to ride him for all she was worth. 

Bliss hot, wild and delirium-inducing began to pound through her as their bodies moved as one. There was no gentleness between them in this. It was rough, it was dirty and it was made to impart maximum pleasure for both of them. But though it was wild and animalistic? Jaqen’s hands on her body were careful, reverent and worshipping. His caresses and his kisses made to tantalise and ensnare her. A complete antithesis to the surging, demanding and relentless movements of his hips as he rose and fell with her. 

She could hear the water as it was flung across the edges of the spring. Their ravenous motions displacing it as it sloshed and splashed against and over the sides of the hewn stone. A mess. They were making a mess but she didn’t much care. All she cared about was the end she was chasing and getting to feel as Jaqen spilled into her. He'd be the first man to do so, she thought absently. She hadn’t allowed Gendry to do it; as soon as he warned her he was close she'd pulled free of him and worked him with her hand instead. Bringing him to completion that way. Even if she hadn't found hers. 

But that was OK. Because later that night? She'd happened to think of Jaqen. Initially wondering what he was doing now and how he was? It was then that the forbidden thought had floated across her mind. 

I bet he would have had me screaming until I was hoarse tonight…

The thought had been so unexpected that it had almost brought her a measure of shame. But it had also tantalised her imaginings and her mind had gone gleefully on a rampage of a most naughty sort. A rampage that had found her allowing her hands to do what they would. The first time she'd ever thought of him in such a way. It was also the first time she'd realised that he'd meant more than she'd believed. The release alone, though given by her own hand, was unlike any other before it. Strong, breathtaking and had left her shuddering and trembling so hard that she'd grown concerned she'd hurt herself some how. But she'd soon realised that it was only because it was Jaqen that she was thinking of. 

Only the thought of him brought her to a shaking, screaming climax like that. Others brought on by the thought of someone else were never like that. It was like sweets, nice and all, but not life changing. Whereas Jaqen? Now Jaqen on the other hand? He'd been like water. Life-saving and essential. Thus her releases over him were mind-destroying and otherworldly and it seemed. The one brought about by him, himself was going to be no different. She felt the tell-tale rush and then tightening of her lower body as her eyes blew wide and she gasped. Their gazes met and it was clear that he could see what was about to happen. 

“Scream.” He purred on a gasp. “Wake the Gods for me…” 

And his words proved her undoing and as the pleasure rushed in and her body grew taut as a bow string. His next, savage thrust shattered her. Shattered her so very completely that her vision blinked out for a moment and scream she did. His name, ripped from the air of her lungs, to sing past her throat and drench him in the sound of it from her lips. Her body clamped around him, her walls taking grasp of him in a chokehold. A hold that had him cursing as his own body betrayed him and then he tensed and she….was flooded. Pulsing, decadent, taboo warmth spilled into her as he anointed her in a most intimate way. 

The word ‘yes’ fell from her lips as her arms tightened around him. Her head fell back lazily, her hips pressing tight to his. She refused, absolutely refused to lose even a single drop of him. Something that he seemed to appreciate, if the kiss he laid upon her lips was anything to go by. He was a man possessed as he ravished her mouth with his, his hands tangling into her long, chocolate coloured hair. The other arm, tightening around her waist. 

When the kiss came to a slow, sensual stop. The silence reigned between them, charged but comfortable. Resting their foreheads together, their eyes closed, they simply took a moment. A moment to breathe. A moment to process. A moment to decide. Where did they go from here? How would they interact? Would this happen again and again? So many questions in need of so many answers. But Arya found that, at the moment? All she wanted was this. Right now. Right here. Them entangled within one another's arms, Jaqen still sheathed within her. Together. That's what she wanted. For them to be together. 

But she didn’t think it would be possible. Faceless had no spouses. Faceless had no children. Faceless were no one. And at this moment? Neither of them were no one. And maybe, she thought, maybe they hadn’t been for a long time. Maybe it had all been a puppet show of the finest quality and believability. No one had no desires. No one sought to sate their baser urges because no one had no urges. Someone did. Someone felt desire. Someone sought to sate their urges. Someone ached for another someone to experience life with. Someone…someone loved. Someone wanted and no one didn't. How long had she been someone? How long had he? Because if not no one, then they had to be someone. 

Jaqen H'ghar

Arya Stark

Their names. Those were their names. And they'd inadvertently claimed them back tonight. Declared that he was Jaqen and she was Arya. Declared that Jaqen and Arya had become not only someone but one as well. Abhorration. That's what they now were, at least, in the House of Black and White.

“What now?” She asked him cautiously, unsurely and felt his arms tighten around her once more. 

“Now?” He breathed out in a sigh. “Now we tread a new path. It's time to leave…” He added and then he kissed her. 

-X- 

[longeyelashedtragedy]

twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by @tetrapod7 ...i did some of them already, but not all! so i might as well answer the ones i didn't already answer!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 155! now that i have an anonymous fic these all will get more annoying to answer, looool

2. what's your total ao3 word count? 478,822

3. what fandoms do you write for? right now i just write for "men's football rpf." i'm occasionally tempted to write for the Old Fandom again.

4. top five fics by kudos: top 5 of all time are all from a song of ice and fire days:

drabbles of ice and fire

captivated

egg baby

arya saves the day

ends and beginnings

was i the best writer of aged-up arya/jaqen AUs in the fandom? uh, yes, since 4 of those are...that, lol.

if we're just talking footy though...

shakira ex machina

doce

two hundred words to say i love you

ça c'est ma dope

hairbrush

oh ffs...removing the crossovers....

shakira ex machina

two hundred words to say i love you

hairbrush

the right kind of blue

desperate times

5. do you respond to comments? sometimes....when i don't lose track 😭 i need to be better...

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i answered that here!

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? ummm...not sure. could it be 5.VII? that's a really satisfying ending. i'll go ahead and say that one.

8. do you get hate on fics? only once, and it was a very pathetic stab at armchair activism "how dare you write a fic on this problematic topic" shit. it could happen again at any time i guess.

9. do you write smut? unfortunately...i'm not very good at it and it stresses me out.

10. craziest crossover: i wrote hozier x jaqen h'ghar for my bestie long ago and posted it at like ass am in zurich airport :')

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? yes! answered here. it was this rakidric! published 3 days before we all locked down. i have not read this in a zillion years.

12. have you ever had a fic translated? also answered here!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? answered here but also i want to cowrite with someone so very much!

14. all time favorite ship? also answered here!

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? my ivantoine, "In The" :'( and others too...my post-WC modren for example. i'm wondering if Mare Liberum will ever be finished. we'll see...

16. what are your writing strengths? i think i am confident and experienced and that comes across (?) even things i wrote a while ago, that i think are "better" (more artistic, more daring) sound less experienced at the same time. my dialogue has improved so much. i think my fics have a good rhythm--varied sentence lengths, good use of repetition and parallelism, line breaks, etc. i like to think i can get people to empathize with/care about people they didn't expect. my writing helps me examine my own flaws. i am not sure what else? my bff said i describe love and loss really well <3

17. what are your writing weaknesses? i think i'm a weak writer, actually! i think my writing is shallow and always sounds the same. a lot of angsty endings, alienated characters, sounds more immature than it should. i don't know how to make porn hot (because i think strange things are hot, i guess?). truly, i've been grappling with how shallow it all sounds. i am a deep feeler (lol) but not a deep thinker at all and i think that shows.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language? answered here

19. first fandom you wrote in? answered here!

20. favorite fic you've written? honestly--my favorites are probably still trophy boyfriend and then "chief of the armed forces" because that's just an absolute crackfic masterpiece. in footy...i probably should pick some favorites, no? let's go with dangerous, i tore off the golden branch, possible red card - violent conduct, rojo y blanco/crvena bijela, and 5.VII. i feel like some franko fics belong here but i just chose 5!

[veeralux]

“On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty.” Arya VII, aCoK

“The words felt like a kick in the belly. He could never have helped you anyway, she thought as the sisters drove the wagon through the gate. He couldn't even help himself, you stupid mouse.” Arya VII, aCoK

“Arry was a fierce little boy with a sword, and I'm just a grey mouse girl with a pail.” Arya VII, aCoK

“She was very small and Harrenhal was very large, full of places where a mouse could hide.” Arya VII, aCoK

“She took a step, and another, and with each she felt less a mouse. She worked her way down the bench, filling wine cups. Rorge sat to Jaqen's right, deep drunk, but he took no note of her. Arya leaned close and whispered, "Chiswyck," right in Jaqen's ear. The Lorathi gave no sign that he had heard.” Arya VII, aCoK

“The weight of steel in her hands made her feel stronger. Maybe I'm not a water dancer yet, but I'm not a mouse either. A mouse couldn't use a sword but I can.” Arya VIII, aCoK

“Arya would wait until she heard him snoring, then creep barefoot up the servant's stair, making no more noise than the mouse she'd been.” Arya IX, aCoK

“She thought of the little boy who'd been hit in the face with the mace, of stupid old All-for-Joffrey, of Lommy Greenhands. I was a sheep, and then I was a mouse, I couldn't do anything but hide. Arya chewed her lip and tried to think when her courage had come back. Jaqen made me brave again. He made me a ghost instead of a mouse.” Arya IX, aCoK

“So long as she could kill with a whisper, Arya need not be afraid of anyone . . . but once she used up the last death, she would only be a mouse again.” Arya IX, aCoK 

“"The debt is paid," Arya agreed reluctantly. She felt a little sad. Now she was just a mouse again.” Arya IX, aCoK

“She should have gone, silent as a mouse, but something had hold of her. "My lord," she asked, "will you take me with you when you leave Harrenhal?"” Arya X, aCoK

[first-of-her-nxme]

why is gendrya ship more popular than jaqarya ?

Mostly because people think that My Featherbed song is the song GRRM wrote for Arya and Gendry. A long time ago someone came up with that idea and popularized it on social media. It is worth noting that GRRM has never confirmed it. He did confirm however that Arya and Gendry have no future together.

In fact, My Featherbed is the song of Rhaegar and Lyanna and also Arya and Jaqen. It's not even "My Featherbed" like fans call it, I'm certain it's "The Maiden of the Tree" and I'm sure it was written by Rhaegar for you know who :)

Also Gendrya is a teenage ship rather and social media like tumblr are dominated by teenagers. The more active fans the more popular the ship seems to be.

It doesn't mean that a teenage fan of ASOIAF can't ship Arya and Jaqen or that there are no Gendrya fans among older people. But it is a ship fit for teens. For boys it's easier to identify with a simple boy like Gendry. It's also easy to recognize boys you meet in high school in the Bull. It feels familiar. While Jaqen is a deadly assassin who also happens to be a sophisticated intellectual, well-mannered and aristocratically handsome. He is a larger than life type of a character.

However, I remember that lots of people shipped Jaqen and Arya having read A Clash of Kings. Season 2 of Game of Thrones also earned the ship popularity. There were many fanfics and fanarts about them. Trouble is, GRRM hasn't completed the books and the show took a different direction. So, many people moved on and stopped actively shipping Jaqarya on social media. But believe me, if by a miracle, GRRM publishes The Winds of Winter someday, Arya x Jaqen tag will explode.

Thank you for the question!