#coughs and dusts off this blog bc i love him

[jays-bookmarks]

The Cat House (various genshin x reader)

Jay: I swear I'm not a writing blog

Also Jay: *posting yet another genshin fic bc she had a dream about writing one*

In all seriousness tho I still don't take requests but you're free to check out my blog if you want some fic recs!

Also shoutout to @rheawritessometimes for writing some of the funniest cat!Kaeya hcs I've ever read go check them out!!

[Part 2]

Summary: What the Genshin characters would be like as cats ft. the tall lads (Thoma, Childe, Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli, and Itto). Platonic relationships + gn!reader. Bulleted hcs.

Words: 236 (Thoma), 245 (Childe), 282 (Kaeya), 259 (Diluc), 232 (Zhongli), 289 (Itto)

Warnings: mention of dead animals in Childe's part

Thoma:

Literally the sweetest boy

Cream colored American bobtail - they're really easygoing and get along well with other pets, just like our local "fixer" of Ritou

He's so eager to help you with your chores, even though he can't do much as a cat :(

He'll follow you around when you're cleaning the house, doing the laundry, washing the dishes, etc. and offer moral support... which sometimes results in you getting distracted by his cute face and petting him instead of finishing your work

He does actually help you out a lot by stopping Childe from attacking the sheets when you're trying to change them :)

Watches you cook! You've set up a chair for him at the kitchen counter and he always sits there like a good boy when you prep your meals. Even if you're just making instant ramen he'll still watch you boil water lmao

Really good at sensing when you're sad and will cuddle up against you to cheer you up

Has a really loud purr and you can feel his body vibrating when he's sitting against you

Gets along super well with all the other cats. Never gets into fights and sometimes jumps in to mediate conflicts before they escalate

He plays fetch! He'll fetch any toy and even paper balls you crumple up. Sometimes will bring you one of his toys to politely ask to play :)

10/10 very well behaved boy <3

Childe:

The opposite of Thoma

Orange tabby. Doesn't matter the breed. He's orange :)

Look we all know orange boy cats are stupid and Childe is no exception. He has two braincells: one for picking a fight with anything that moves and the other for loving his family (you!)

Also loves to follow you around during chores but instead of helping he gets in your way

He just wants your attention :(

Absolutely tries to fight the broom when you're sweeping and ends up w dust all over his fur... then after cleaning himself off he coughs up a hairball on the nice, shiny floor you just cleaned :/

Also likes to watch you cook! Pls let him sniff the ingredients or he'll try to jump onto the counter while you've got the stove on

Always challenging the other cats to a fight. Usually Kaeya is his playmate bc he's the most tolerant of Childe's shenanigans but sometimes he gets into a fight with Zhongli. It always ends with Childe being pinned down and him crying to you for help

You brought this on yourself Tortellini don't expect any sympathy from us

Please don't ever let him outside this guy is a menace to the environment (moreso than the average cat anyway)

Definitely an escape artist and has slipped out of the house on multiple occasions to bring you dead animals

You lecture him every time but he never learns... smh :/

He's a troublemaker but you still love him :)

Kaeya:

Absolute menace pt. 2

A siamese - known for being very social and intelligent, just like our favorite cavalry captain

When he and Childe aren't fighting, they're banding together to cause problems on purpose

You often find them working together to get to the food pantry. Or if you use an automatic feeder and hear a crash in the other room, it means these two have knocked it over again and are about to feast if you don't grab them

He knows how to open doors and will trap other cats in the closet (most often Diluc or Itto) and you always have to check all the doors before going to bed in case someone got stuck in there

Smug face. You know when cats tilt their head slightly and give you that half-lidded expression and it almost looks like they're smirking at you? Yeah this bastard does that all the time especially after he gets in trouble. At least Childe has the decency to look ashamed when you scold him

Side note - cats actually do that bc they love you (it's how mother cats watch over their kittens) so Kaeya is actually saying "ily pls don't be mad <3"

Also an escape artist. You've started taking him and Childe on walks to satiate their desire of going outside. The neighbors were so surprised the first time they saw you walking around with two cats happily following you without a leash

They did start breaking out less often after that, but sometimes Kaeya will slip out of a window and wait for you at the front porch when you get home just to tease you >:3

Stinky bastard cat I love him <3

Diluc:

Quiet but sweet boy

Russet colored Norwegian forest cat - independent and reserved with strangers, preferring to just quietly sit in the same room with you instead of playing, much like our stoic Darknight Hero

You adopted him together w Kaeya from the shelter. You were pretty sure they definitely didn't share the same parents but the shelter staff were insistent they don't get separated, so you came home with two cats that day

It took him a while to warm up to you and the other cats but Thoma easily befriended him and you still see the two of them lounging around together in the sun :)

He's very quiet. You've never heard him meow and the only time he's ever hissed or growled was when Childe or Kaeya were really getting on his nerves

But if you can find him in a quiet moment you can hear his soft purrs as you stroke his fur <3

Has a lot of hiding places around the house where he sits and watches everyone's shenanigans

Kaeya has an unusual talent for finding all of Diluc's hiding spots, much to Diluc's chagrin. If you're ever looking for Diluc, just ask Kaeya "where's your brother?" and he'll make a beeline for Diluc's most recent hideout

As much as the brothers like to fight, you always see them curling up with each other on stormy nights. Maybe it was because they were abandoned at the shelter on a night such as this that they put aside their differences and find comfort in each other's presence

Zhongli:

Old soul

Chocolate colored oriental - this one is based more on looks than personality but they're just so regal and elegant just like the refined and elegant Zhongli so I gotta go with it

He's strangely quiet and calm for an oriental cat. He spends a lot of time sitting at a window or glass door and looking outside

He's never tried to escape so you assume he just enjoys watching the scenery :)

Gets along with the other cats but never play fights with them, except for Childe who just never leaves him alone

Very particular about everything and clearly communicates his desires. If he needs a window opened so he can sit on the sill he'll come to you and meow once, then sit until you get up to follow him. He'll lead you to the designated window and meow again, waiting patiently for you to open it

Likes to sit beside you instead of on your lap

Always sits with his front paws tucked like a proper little gentlecat :)

He enjoys being pet but if you're doing it wrong or being too aggressive he'll duck his head away and put a paw on your hand, giving you what looks like a disapproving stare

You like to joke that Zhongli is a human in a cat body, but sometimes you look into his eyes and it's like he actually understands you

Itto:

Dumb but affectionate™

Red and white ragamuffin! - a big fluffy cat that's super friendly and has been described as a teddy bear, very fitting for our big friendly oni

He never causes you problems on purpose. He just doesn't think before doing anything :')

Huge cuddler. Will curl up right next to your face and you always end up with a mouthful of cat fur when you try to sleep

A loud boy. Yells every time you come home. At first you were worried something had happened but he's just excited to see you :)

The third escape artist. He usually just impulsively follows Childe and Kaeya out the door whenever they break out. One time he got sprayed by a skunk and you had to give him a bath. He cried so much

Did he learn his lesson? No. Luckily you caught him before he got out the door the second time

Always trying to challenge Childe to a fight but always loses :( he never gives up though and keeps calling you over to watch as he inevitably gets his butt kicked again

It's kind of funny considering how much smaller Childe is compared to him but don't ever bring that up or Itto will get huffy

Give him some pats though and he'll forget all about it in a second

He loves bugs so much. You always know when you've got a stinkbug problem bc this boy will bring you every single one he catches. It's actually pretty nice bc you don't have to hunt the critters down yourself but Itto always ends up smelling like a stinkbug at the end of the day

He's trying his best and you love him for that <3

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #thoma x reader #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #itto x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin au #genshin imagines #my writing

[sophiashortcake]

since u told me to request ... daichi and a character of ur choice that ISNT TSUKKI seeing reader for the first time and being like awooga 😍😍 (bc I am a sucker for men being whipped 4 me from the beginning) 🥰🥰

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

includes sawamura daichi & kuroo tersurō

*·˚ ༘♡ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sawamura daichi x reader, kuroo tetsurō x reader (gender neutral!)

*·˚ ༘♡ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: of course jackie comes onto my blog and requests daichi >:(

*·˚ ༘♡ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing

*·˚ ༘♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢

daichi is the absolute worst when it comes to love at first sight, because he’s so painfully obvious.

inside his head? pretty sure he’s internally combusting, he can’t get ahold of himself, because wow, he just finds you so cute.

luckily for him, he knows how to keep his composure.

up until you approach him, that is.

that usually calm and cool composure he has as a captain? gone.

he has to snap out of his awestruck daze to properly answer your question.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“pick up your jaw!” sugawara scolded, smacking daichi sharply on the back. the captain’s flushed expression morphed into embarrassment, knowing he got caught. asahi chuckled, amused at daichi’s flustered expression. had he been that obvious? he hadn’t even realized he was staring. he coughed, and straightened his back to compose himself.

“who’s that?” daichi asked, ever so casually. (that was total bullshit, and he knew it.)

“oh, you mean the person you’ve been looking at since they walked in?” sugawara teased with a snicker, “that’s l/n y/n, they’re new.”

“heard they transferred from nekoma,” asahi added, looking at your direction.

“nekoma, huh?” daichi hummed, observing you from across the classroom, you all too distracted by studying your new schedule to notice him.

god, you were pretty.

he hadn’t seen you before, so obviously he had taken a peek at you when you entered the classroom. however, he didn’t think he’d that captivated by you, but he found the way your fingers skimmed over your new papers, and the way you were tapping your pencil against your desk softly, extremely cute. oh, and not to mention the way your forehead creased in concentration, or the way your tongue stuck out as you studied your papers. he could go on, really.

he couldn’t help but wonder what he could say to get you to talk to him. maybe he could just go up and introduce himself? no that’s too bold. maybe he could ask you--

“hey, loverboy, your sweetheart is coming over,” sugawara snickered, elbowing his side. he was having a real kick out of seeing karasuno’s oh so mature captain, reduced to a blushy mess.

before daichi could get ahold of himself, you already made your way over to the three boys.

“hi, i was wondering if you guys know where i could find the club rooms?” you asked, “i wanted to turn in a club application paper, but i can’t seem to find them on the school map.”

“oh, i’m sure daichi here would be happy to show you, he’s the volleyball captain y’know,” sugawara answered, with an all too mischievous grin on his face. if he could applaud himself for being a great wingman, he would.

“oh, if you wouldn’t mind, that’d be great!” you exclaimed, turning to him and smiling warmly. he swear he could feel his heart clench, fuck, you acted cute too. this definitely couldn’t be good for his heart rate either.

“y-yeah!” he answered a little too quickly, “i’d love to show you, sweetheart!”

fuck.

he was going to kill sugawara.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that in a creepy way-- we were just having a discussion earlier-- i’m so sorry--”

he rushedly tried explaining himself, flushed embarrassment flooding into his face. way to make a first impression, sawamura, he scolded himself.

but his profuse apology was cut off when you started laughing.

“don’t worry about it, sweetie,” you giggled, “so are we going to the club rooms or what?”

𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐮

another mess of a captain, except he swears he isn’t. (spoiler alert: he’s arguably worse than daichi)

he thinks, in his words, he’s incredibly ‘suave’. (kenma cringes at the word).

kenma asks if he thinks he’s such a good flirt, why doesn’t he just go talk to you?

and that’s where kuroo draws the line.

him? make the first move and talk to somebody cute? who does kenma think he is?

he’s gonna need a little (read: huge) push in your the right direction.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“do you think they like mackerel?” kuroo hummed in thought. his head was too cloudy with thoughts about you to notice the agitated glares coming from his friends.

kuroo’s eyes had landed on you immediately when you walked into the gymnasium to speak to coach nekomata on taking up the position as club manager. he was ecstatic the team finally had a potential manager, so it’s not his fault he wanted to wonder what you were like. but to his teammates, they were just getting an earful of kuroo’s new crush.

“kuroo, why don’t you just talk to them?” kenma sighed, too distracted by clicking on his switch to listen to what kuroo was saying.

“yeah! somebody has to go talk to them,” yamamoto jested. “if you don’t, i will gladly do it on your behalf.” he smirked.

“oh, i wanna go say hi too!” lev gasped.

“absolutely not!” kuroo barked. like hell those two were gonna introduce themselves before he could. the two reeled back, grumbling to themselves.

“oh, does our captain have a crush on our new manager?” yaku smirked, giving kuroo an eyebrow wiggle that he scoffed at.

“no,” he fumed, pretending his cheeks weren’t dusted pink, “i just think--“

“that they’re cute?” yaku interrupted. kuroo wanted to smack that shiteating grin right off his face, but he didn’t think you seeing him slapping his friend would be a good first impression.

“i think you should talk to them,” fukunaga added, giving him a thumbs up. “the captain has to make an introduction afterall.”

“what? no!--”

before he could protest, yaku was already dragging him by his team jacket to the bench where you were currently talking to coach nekomata. if he wasn’t busy trying to get out of yaku’s clutches, he would’ve been almost impressed with how easily yaku could drag him despite the size difference.

“boys! come meet your new manager,” he called to the two of them.

“yaku, i swear to god, if you--” kuroo hissed under his breath, but yaku shoved him in your direction before he could curse out the libero.

kuroo thanked his lucky stars he had stopped himself before he was shoved right into you. he hoped his face wasn’t flushed too noticeably, unfortunately it definitely was. oh no, you were cute.

“hi! nice to meet you!” you smiled, sticking out your hand for kuroo to nervously shake. “and yes, i do like mackerel.”

🏷 taglist (open!): @iwaizoom @zumisace @savvamuras @tsukisemi @dai-tsukki-desu @kurooskult (you’re not on my taglist but it’s kuroo content so i just had to <3)

© 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭. ੈ♡˳·˖✶

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurō #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #kuroo x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tersurō x reader #sawamura daichi headcanons #daichi sawamura x reader #kuroo tetsurou headcanons #kuroo tetsurō headcanons #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #[🍰] — headcanons #[🌟] — jackie #[🍓] — mutuals #[💌] — savvamuras #[📨] — inbox

[random-mha-thoughts]

Blush (Todoroki x Reader)

@psychicbearpoetry asked: “Hey can you please do a scenario with shoto X flirty!reader”

Pairing: Todoroki x flirty!Reader

Genre: Fluff/spice for minor teasing ofc

Word count: 520

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​​ @liviitehe​​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​​ @bunnythepipsqueak​​

a/n: Thanks for the request babe!  I couldn’t figure a way to include this in one of the ShouCat Week posts, so I decided to do this separate.  Lemme grab myself a cup of tea to write this *sips tea* Let’s do this thing! I also might have died looking up Todoroki formal fanart for inspo hhhhh (Reposted bc I forgot the gif!!)

“You cleaned up nicely.”  A smirk plays on your lips as your finger lightly touches your lip.  “As expected from the most handsome boy in our class, I guess.”

You relish the blush coating his otherwise emotionless face.  His navy blue suit is immaculate, as if a minute speck of dust or lint is afraid of tarnishing his spectacular appearance.  Neither of you knew navy was Todoroki's color until Aoyama so casually pointed it out when the boys were shopping for their prom outfits.  He'd been so kind to stealthily snap a picture to give you a sneak peak of the special night.  Because of that picture, you knew to select an ensemble matching his scarlet tie, as "those were the unsaid rules of prom couples" according to the French fanatic.

A flash of blue that nearly blended with his suit almost went unnoticed by you.  As your boyfriend approaches your form, you feel his hetero-chromatic gaze sweep over you, his blush intensifying.

"Like what you see?"  With a flourish, you give a little swirl.  You never miss the opportunity to pull his leg or make his cheeks heat up.  As much as it gives him a rush, it has the same effect on you.  Something about knowing your teasing can still evoke a response floods you with something equivalent to pride.

"You look amazing, as usual."  His hands clench at the ceremonial flower in his hands.  "Aoyama said I should give this to you."

"And he would be correct."  You step to close the space between you two a little more.  "And you're supposed to put it on me while I put this-" You hold up his boutonniere matching the flower he prepared for you as well.

"I shall be the gentleman and put mine on you first."  He states firmly.

You hum in response.  "I love it when you take the lead."

Todoroki coughs and chooses to ignore the innuendo, as he typically does.  After he's finished, you get closer up that you probably needed to pin the flower on his jacket.  "You're getting a bit hot, Shou.  Does me being this close to you already set you off?"  You coyly glance up and bite your lip before returning to what you were doing.

Your boyfriend's head turns away, the wall suddenly more interesting than you.  But you still continue.  His head snaps right back to when you pull his tie and flash another smug smile you know he secretly adores.  "You'll have to keep your eyes on me all night, you know."  Parted lips graze his helix tenderly, his muscles strain against your touch to remain calm.  "We're gonna have fun together tonight, trust me."  Your whispers reverberate, sweet tones bouncing against his eardrums.  You aren't expecting him to come back from your sensual ambush.

A frigid hand seizes your nape.  "Count on it, baby.  Rest assured, we'll thoroughly enjoy our night."

A sweetly tantalizing electric current flows through you, your eyes dilating as you savor every last raspy pitch and intonation.

You realize you actually like it more when he decides to flirt back with you.

#todoroki x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki scenario #todoroki fluff #spice #drabble #request #gender neutral reader #todoroki imagine #todoroki shouto #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

[likesomekindofcheese]

Alrighty! How's about... Reader is Catherine's sister and was sent with her to the Russian court to keep her company. The moment he first sees her, Grigor is smitten and determined to do things the right way. He keeps her company when Catherine is busy, shows interest in what she thinks and helps her practice Russian. He even formally asks Catherine permission to court her sister before making actual advances.

Awwww, that’s so cute! I love that idea!!! I can’t tell you how much I love writing for The Great!!

Stepping out of the carriage, your heart hitches a little faster at the sight. It was far more massive than your home in Austria had been.

Your sister was there. Her blonde hair was gleaming in the sunlight and her smile radiant as spring.

“Oh, Y/N! Y/N!” she cheered.

Stepping out, you dipped into a curtsy.

“Your majesty…” you said, knowing it was courtesy when approaching the Empress of Russia.

“Oh- damn all that! Y/N-I’m so glad to see you!” she said, wrapping you into a hug.

Servants and courtiers stared at you both with wide eyes at your informality. But you could feel that there was a joy in Catherine that could not be contained.

Quick, let’s get your things in. I have to show you to your rooms. Oh god, in between all of my meetings, we’re going to spend a lot of time together!”

There was one servant who had trouble and you offered to carry that bag for them. It was incredible in court.

You knew you had to go. Poor Catherine. She was so excited, bursting at the seams for her marriage to take place. But her letters reported otherwise. It tore you apart to read about the reality of her husband and of the court culture, so you bravely offered to go there to be by her side. You didn’t care much if it was dishonorable. You didn’t care what would happen. You only wanted your sweet, clever, brilliant, and beloved sister to write a letter that was not stained with her tears.

As you made your way down a wooden hall, you noticed in the distance there were two men who were, of all things, playing tennis against the wall. Scoffing in slight laughter, you kept of the pace. But the weight of your bag was starting to win over your arms.

Suddenly a tennis ball shot by, right before your feet. With a shriek, you dropped your luggage and out tumbled a few of your clothes.

“Oh shit-let me help!” he cried.

“Thank you!”

Looking up, you recognized it was one of the men who was playing tennis. You froze with embarrassment and he froze as well. You both looked at each other.

“I…don’t fold them up, just put them in…” you insisted.

He fumbled as he got the things in and you prayed he didn’t think too hard about seeing stockings and petticoats. And looking up, you saw he was a handsome man and began to curse silently.

“I…I’m Y/N, Catherine’s sister…”

“Grigor. Ah, no need to use my last name. This isn’t a formal place. Just call me Grigor. If you need any help with anything, Y/N…just go ahead and ask!”

Another voice called out to Grigor.

“Don’t just stand there fucking wanking yourself over some strange woman’s petticoats. Save it for an hour from now-we got a game to play!” he chastised.

You froze and dipped down your head into a curtsy.

“Your majesty, it is an honor. I am so glad you allowed me to…”

Looking back up he was back into his game of hitting his tennis balls as hard as he could on the walls. With a heavy bag, you scurried to your quarters. Though before you turned the corner, you indulged a look back at Grigor. He glanced back at you and smiled. The cogs in his head were turning despite the soreness of his thighs and the sweat on his brow. This time would be better. This time it would be better.

------------------------------------------------------------

“Da…” he began.

“Da….” You repeated, hands folded over the table.

“Nyet…”

“Nyet…”

“Very good- Dasvodanya…that means goodbye,” Grigor explained.

“Das…vo…dan…ya…” you parroted slowly, feeling the word come togehter

“There, Y/N. Little steps. That’s all!” he encouraged with a shrug.

“I was nervous. It’s hard to learn from books.” You admitted, staring down at your hands. Being alone with him made yourself feel so self-conscous that every move you made you felt you would explode. Your heart was pattering and you indulged in glances up at Grigor to admire him. And always with a smile.

“We barely speak any Russian here. Our Emperor doesn’t even speak the language at all! You’ve heard him-he’s speaking the very language you and I are speaking!” he said.

You laughed. “Well, that relived one fear of coming here…”

“Y/N, I do hope you like this place…”

“I…I like it a lot…”

“And the people here aren’t too…too wild, for your tastes…”

With a twinkle in your eye, you added “not all of them…”

There was a cough in the back and you turned with a jump.

“Oh, Catherine! I’m surprised! I wasn’t expecting you for another hour!”

“It’s alright…I just, wanted to borrow some books. Is the Russian lesson going alright, Grigor.”

“Smoothingly. She’s a good student.”

“Good. Y/N…there’s a dress party and Lady Svenska said you are most welcome. You can get whatever you’d like. I’ll pay for it…”

“Oh-all those lovely gowns!? Catherine, I couldn’t-“

“Why-my treat! It’s what you deserve! All that is good and only the best of the best…” She said, though she turned her head to Grigor with a slight frown.

“You’re the kindest, most generous person I know-thank you!” you said before walking off. But as you ate macaroons and picked what decadent gowns you would like to have for yourself, little did you know it was a timely distraction.

Grigor and the Empress looked at each other.

“Empress, I know why you’re really here…”

“She lost her family and was taken in by mine. She may not be my sister by blood, but she is in soul and spirit.”

“Which is why I have great respect for her. Empress…I’d like to…to court her.”

“Court her!? I wasn’t expecting that”

“What were you expecting?”

“To ask if you could stuff your cock into her arse. To leave her in the dust with a pregnant belly and a broken heart!”

“I…wha…no! Please, no-let me…let me court her. I think…I think she may like me back.”

“Your last heartbreak…it ended tragically but…Georgiana won’t be brought into this? Are you ready to move on?”

With a sigh at her name, he nodded, “yes….I promise I will do nothing without your sister's consent. I’ll…I’ll love her. And she is not a child, but she will be safe with me…”

“Grigor, if you lead her into a fool’s paradise, I’ll cut out your testicles.”

He cringed at the thought and turned white, and then he shook his head.

“Then I better lead her to a lover’s paradise, then…”

He rushed out. Catherine secretly following behind. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him with Y/N as he led her out the door. He whispered a few words into her ear and she smiled. She then reached up and kissed his cheek. Sweetly. Tenderly. And he smiled in a way he had not for a long time. And so did Catherine.

  The Great Taglist: @always-a-fairycat @itsametaphorgwil @ewannmcgregor @queenlover05 (will be edited bc I’m tired and just want to share this and get it out ngl) @sugahunnynoicetea @iwritefanficnotprophecies @raerae27 @vintage-and-hypnotic @xviiarez @fueled-by-novocaine @sebxstiianstxn @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @isitstraightvodka @bens-jawline @gwiilymslee @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @rhapsodyrecs

deck-heart@simonedk

[avatarsarny]

Post S8 Arya/Gendry? With a cherry on top?

Well, anon, since you asked so nicely. Just in time, bc I really needed to get this out of my system. This is for @gendrie, @gendryadempsie, and @starrynightshade, whose blogs and fics have kept me sane over the past few weeks of D&D’s clownery. Thank you guys for feeding us with that sweet sweet Gendrya content throughout :)

For context: In my head, everything ended similarly to D&D’s bad fanfic version with some notable adjustments: Jon is not exiled to the (nonexistent) Night’s Watch; he decides against being king and goes to bring the Wildlings back down to the North with Tormund (bc the lands beyond the wall are a barren wasteland wtf) and thereafter settles at Winterfell to be Hand to Queen Sansa. Bran is made King of the 6 kingdoms as he was in the show, with Tyrion as his Hand and ruling with his council. Jaime did not turn on Brienne in the last moment, didn’t erase years of character development, and instead left to kill Cersei himself, finally realizing the disease she really was, and became Queenslayer for the good of the realm. He survives Daenerys’ attack on KL and is serving Bran in the new Kingsguard, under Brienne the Commander. 

Finally, Arya does not randomly decide to become Christopher Columbarya and sail the ocean blue, erasing years of her own journey to finally be home with her family again, no sirs, she finds Gendry after the sack of KL, after she realizes what Sandor was trying to tell her to do, to choose life, and tells him to ask her again. You can guess the rest from what you read below :)

And in keeping with the pack survives narrative (bc that’s what good writing is about!! Consistency!!) the Starks remain closer than ever, visit each other often, and don’t end up alone and separated! Hope yall enjoy!

P.S… Okoye. You’ll see why soon. definitely not taken straight outta black panther Ahem. Continue.

“And reinforcements from the Stormlands will arrive tomorrow, Your Grace, if I’m not mistaken. Lord Buckler of Bronzegate sent me a raven saying twenty ships worth of food and supplies will be here just after sunrise.”

Bran nods in approval and looks up at the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the newly - reconstructed King’s solar. Daenerys’ rampage had left little of the Red Keep standing, but some of the personal chambers had remained mostly intact, so the new King and his council lived in close quarters for the past three months while they supervised the city’s recovery. There were still many injured and many more starving, so Bran called upon every Lord and leader in Westeros, high and low, to contribute whatever they could to the city’s smallfolk; who had suffered the most.

Bran glances over at the man across him. His blue eyes are bright with belonging and purpose, his dark hair is gradually breaking free of the short crop he had sported when Bran had first met him, and he wears fine leathers in same way his father and uncles had, only this time adorned with clawlike marks on the shoulders of his tunic.

The young King smiles at this observation. Stags don’t have claws. But he can think of another animal that does. 

Gendry catches his King’s gaze. “What is it, Your Grace?”

Bran’s smile grows ever so slightly. “When is my sister returning, my Lord? It’s been a fortnight since her last raven.”

Gendry sighs and looks out a window, where the city gates rise from the sea of ruined buildings far out in the distance on one end, and the azure waters of Blackwater Bay lay calm and still. “I’m not sure. She said she wouldn’t leave Queen Sansa at Winterfell until she’s made sure she’ll be well protected.”

“Won’t Jon be there soon?”

Gendry blinks. “Yes - er - I didn’t know that until this morning - got a raven from Tormund. How’d you find out?”

Bran throws him an unimpressed glance. “Well I am the three eyed raven. I flew over Jon and Tormund’s group last night. They’ve settled the Wildlings in some unoccupied lands about a day’s ride from Winterfell. Sansa wants Jon to be her Hand, and it looks like Jon’s agreed to it.”

Gendry nods slowly, trying to process the King’s extraordinary statement in a way he can understand. “I’ve heard of your abilities, Your Grace, but forgive me, I’m not sure how one flies when they can’t even walk. But if what you say is true, then you can see where your sisters are, too, can’t you?” He grins then, and maybe in front of a different King he’d be punished for his audacity, but Bran is no ordinary King. And Gendry has never been one to worship the ground at a highborn’s feet. 

But he’ll fight for any one of the Starks. Arya and her family time and again showed kindness and mercy to the common folk, and beneath their ferocious direwolf fangs they shared a gentleness for the innocent that Gendry had rarely seen among the rich and powerful. Even Sansa, the Red Wolf of the North, held a great tenderness concealed beneath her icy, calculating exterior, and people everywhere adored her for it.

Bran’s smile widens into a true grin, then. A feat so rare Gendry thinks he should get Grand Maester Samwell to check on their King’s health. 

“Yes, I can see everything. Anything, anywhere, at any point in time. But sometimes it’s nice to put it all away for a while, and be a normal man. Or at least act like it,” he replies. “I did see Arya, by the way. It appears she’ll be staying in Winterfell for a few more weeks before she starts her journey back here.”

Gendry’s face falls, but he catches himself and hopes the King doesn’t notice. The least she could do is send a raven, but she’s been oddly silent since her last message to him, and he’s getting worried. If she doesn’t send more word soon, he’ll go off to Winterfell himself.

Bran quirks a brow at him. “Storm’s End needs someone like you, someone who will take care of the people. Your uncles left the Stormlands in such disarray, but the Stormlords are willing to follow your command. Don’t worry about my sister, she can handle herself.” He smiles serenely at the former blacksmith.

 But what about me? Gendry thinks. Does she not understand that every day we’re separated feels like an eternity to me?

None of it will mean anything, if you aren’t with me, so be with me…

It will be nearly four months since Arya left to help Sansa settle into her role as Queen in the North. Four months since he last held her in his arms, since he tasted her on his lips and felt the warmth of her smile, since he saw the heat and tenderness in her gaze she reserved only for him. 

She had sought him out after the Dragon Queen had stormed King’s Landing, after Jon drove a dagger through his aunt’s heart and liberated all who would come under her tyranny. She had been covered in ash and blood and he’d never felt more fear in his entire life, that he would have to watch her die like this, but she was mostly unhurt, the blood had not been hers, not all of it.

“Ask me again,” She’d rasped, coughing out grey soot and clutching at him for dear life. “I thought I wouldn’t come back from Kings Landing. I was going to die there, and I couldn’t do that to you, I had to refuse,” She whispered, tears falling from her eyes and down her grimy face. “I couldn’t hurt you.”

And oh, she had never looked more beautiful, he had never loved her more fiercely than he did in that moment, not even on that night they thought would be their last, when she had kissed him down in the Winterfell stores and made breathless, frantic love to him. “You could never hurt me, love,” he’d said, wiping her tears away and crushing her to his chest. “I know you don’t want to be a Lady, I’ve always known. We can go wherever you like. Do whatever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere you go, till the end of my days,” he promised, and released her so he could kneel before her in the ash and dust. “My life means nothing without my family. Please be my wife. Please be my family, Arya of House Stark.”

And with that, she’d tackled him into the rubble with all the strength she could muster, and kissed him senseless. “I love you,” She’d breathed against his lips, “I will be your family. Your - your wife,” she broke off in a quiet moan, as he moved to press searing kisses down her throat. She held his face in her hands, stilling his sweet movements to look earnestly up at him. “And I will lead by your side, Gendry of House Baratheon.”

He stared at her in shock, his hands coming up to bracket her own. “You - you want to rule the Stormlands with me?”

Arya smiled at him, even though it hurt to do so and her face was bleeding. “I want to be here for the people who can’t protect themselves. I want to make our world a better place than the one we grew up in…I couldn’t save them in King’s Landing,” she’d paused as more tears trailed down her cheeks, and he dutifully brushed them away with the pads of his calloused fingers. She would tell him about the girl and her mother, later. The little family that had saved her from the stampede, only to end up burnt beyond recognition in the end. “I have to make sure this never happens again.”

Gendry kissed her forehead, the bit of it that wasn’t cut open. “As m’lady commands,” he’d murmured, threading their fingers together. “Now let’s get you a maester.”

“I also need to teach you how to use a fork, none of those idiot lords will respect you otherwise.”

He laughed and scooped her up into his arms. “I’ll need all the help I can get. I don’t know any other rich girls willing to teach me.”

Part 2 coming soon :)

#Anonymous #gendrya #arya x gendry #game of thrones #i'll post this on ao3 as well once it's finished #sorry if this is garbage lmao #but it's better than clownery i say

[multimatchupmadness]

hi!!! i love your blog!!! i saw that you write! and i saw this post where it's like write out the first two sentences of 20 fics you're working on! if you could do that that would be GREAT!!! id love to see your writing!! you obviously don't have to do 20, however many you want is up to you, thank you!! :D

Of course, no one has ever been interesting in my writing I’m so happy to share this with you thank you!!!! I have to see how many I have in the woodworks hahaha, but i’ll start off with my posted ones first! I’m also straying a bit and not doing the first two sentences, but the ones I like the most, because my style of writing doesn’t have like… gripping first lines? ANYWAY!!! moving on:

1: Greed 

    > Oikawa and Iwaizumi thought they would be able to deal with the hardships that came with a long-distance relationships. Thought being the keyword. After their break-up, Oikawa’s despair ends up placing his conciousness into a parallel version of himself. A demon king version of himself

“Can I trust you?” Akaashi challenged.

“I’m in a world where I don’t know what the fuck is happening most of the time. Iwaizumi is supposed to be my prisoner but instead he’s like a roommate. Kuroo is shifty around me because apparently I’m different from the Grand King in a bad way and I just want to go home.” Oikawa’s words sped up as he said them, the end coming out in a rushed jumble.”

2: A Thousand Years 

   > Iwaizumi and Oikawa have known each other since they were eight, it’s not until late in their lives that they realize how much they mean to each other

“Iwaizumi huffed and stood up, turning him away from the mirror, “Oikawa. You look great. Your hair looks great, your outfit is great. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Oikawa blinked at him a few times before bursting into a big smile, “Iwa-chan! If you flatter me like that, I’ll start to think maybe you have a crush on me!” 

Iwaizumi went red and scoffed, “As if I could like someone as annoying and stupid like you.””

3: Sissy That Walk 

   > Bokuto is a dancer at a club and a drag queen, Kuroo is in love

“”Yo, you weren’t practicing in those in the house right? You know how long it takes to get those scuffs out of the floor!” Kuroo called in his wake. 

“No no, I’m not trying to get reprimanded by you for a full hour again.” Bokuto said, coming back.

“Good, those are a real pain to clean. Also, no stretching on the counter anymore, you nicked the corner of the wood with the heel.” Kuroo said, rubbing at a little indentation in the edge.

“I’m the one that wears heels, yet you act like more of a housewife than I do.” Bokuto teased.”

4: To Win is To Lose 

   > Eren and Jean make a bet over who will be the first one to fall in love with who will be. It was a mistake both of them didn’t realize they made.

“Jean looked from Eren’s smiling face to the cotton candy and tentatively parted his lips and Eren pushed the sugar into his mouth. Both of their faces were dusted pink as they shared the sweet.

Eren looked over at Jean and went, “Oh, you have a little…” And leaned across the table and swiped at his lower lip.

Jean felt like everything went in slow motion when he felt the pad of his thumb drag across his lip. Eren leaned back, examined his thumb and then stuck it in his mouth. Jean just watched with wide eyes and jaw nearly on the table.

Eren smiled mischievously, a spark in his eyes as he said, “Sweet.” And winked.

Jean seriously thought he was going to die.”

5: Second Chances 

   > Yuu is a barista who runs into his childhood best friend, who carries some less than friendly emotions towards him. 

““You’ve changed, Mika.” Yuu said. It was supposed to be an insult, but honestly it sounded like he was pained.

Mika scoffed, “Of course I have. I grew up. Without you. So you don’t know me.””

ONTO THE ONES I HAVE YET TO FINISH LOL

6: Until It Breaks

***I’M ALMOST DONE THIS ONE AND AM PLANNING ON STARTING POSTING CHAPTERS AT THE END OF THE MONTH!!!!!!!***

   > Oikawa, the resident playboy, made a bet with Makki, his roommate and best friend, that he wouldn’t sleep with the hot guy that sits in the back of his physics class for a full month, but genuinely date them. Iwaizumi, the broody tattooed boy in the back of the lecture hall, made a bet with Mattsun, his best friend and roommate, that he would get the resident playboy to fall in love with him, to give him a taste of his own medicine. However will this fateful and oblivious relationship play out?

““I - Iwa-chan, what has gotten into you today?” Oikawa asked with a wary laugh at the end.

Iwaizumi shrugged, “Maybe it’s something in the air.”

Oikawa gave him a quizzical look, “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’m having a good time, with a guy who is on his first date in a while, and is kinda cute. So what if I get a bit carried away?” Iwaizumi said, smiling at him and walking ahead of him.

Oikawa stared back him, his chest felt like it was constricting in on him, but he felt really really good. Oikawa smiled and walked to catch up with him, “Only kinda cute?”

“For now.” Iwaizumi said, a small smirk dancing on his lips.”

7: Satisfied

   > An Iwaoi one-shot based off the song “Satisfied” from Hamilton (yeah its painful lmao i hate myself)

“”I’m planning on proposing to her, Tooru.” Hajime said suddenly over lunch one day. 

Everything sort of went in slow-motion for a few seconds for Oikawa, it was like his brain hay-wired and everything inside of him shut-down. Proposing. He’s getting married. He’s losing him to someone else. They were in public, so Oikawa couldn’t meltdown like his nerves were threatening so he just looked up at Iwaizumi with an as-natural-as-possible smile, “That’s great, Hajime, I’m happy for you.””

8: Make Me Whole Again

   > A MikaYuu fic inspired by Yuri on Ice, really only because Yuu is an ice skater. But the premise is that Yuu is an ice skater that needs to change his style from aggressive to bring a shock-value, so he confides in the prima ballerina, Mikaela and learns more about him than he expected.

““I appreciate the sentiment, Yuu-chan. But you can’t fix me. I’m not fixable. I’m this… empty thing… but it’s okay. I’ve always been this way.” Mikaela said, looking at him with watery eyes, pulling back and away from Yuu.

“Then I won’t fix you. But let me help you fix yourself, because you deserve at least that much.” 

AND THEN HERE’S TWO THAT ARE JUST IDEA RIGHT NOW BUT IM 100% GONNA WRITE BC I’M SUPER HYPE ABOUT THEM!!!!

9: Supernatural based fic

   > Kageyama enrolls in a mixed school, mixed being supernatural beings and  humans attend classes together, because he’s a mixed child, something rare since the presence of supernatural beings is newly accepted in the common world, however, he has yet to tap into his supernatural side and has never met his father, so he’s unaware of what his supernatural side is. In the meantime of trying to figure this out, he’s paired up in his botany class with this annoyingly pretty and just plain annoying fire fairy named Hinata. It all goes downhill from there. 

10: Harem fic!!!!!

   > The Hinata harem is strong in Haikyuu, so I decided to just make a super-duper cliché harem story, Hinata being the MC, Kageyama being the mysterious, broody love interest. Oikawa being the overly flirty, charming boy who may or may not be dating his best friend, Bokuto being the over-protective older brother, Kuroo being the mischevious trouble-maker who is also ridiculously smart which makes him lethal, Kenma as the best friend, Tsukishima as the antagonist that isn’t actually the antagonist but wants to be. Side cast: Suga and Daichi aka the best parents ever, Asahi is the uncle that everyone is scared of but is a sweetheart, Akaashi is the boy Bokuto is ridiculously in love with

That’s it for the ones that have the most potential to be posted!!! I do have a few *cough*NSFW*cough* fics but I’m not posting them here, nor have I actually posted them bc EMBARASSING and there are others that i have in my archives, but i highly doubt they’ll ever actually get written. Thank you so so so much for this ask again!!!!

~ Mod Usagi

#answered #anon #writing #fanfics #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #hq #aot #snk #ons #iwaoi #bokuroo #mikayuu #erejean #shipping #ships #haikyu #haikyu!! #hq!!

[hotarubi-e]

Make me a promise I know you’ll keep

prompt: Then some Keith of course!! He gets injured, like bad, I wouldn't say really bad bc I don't know how much you're comfortable with, but him with his lance? I'm sorry I'm too excited to request now lol btw my writing blog where I do injury and sickfic is godhelpthesickies ;)

Summary: When Lance and Keith get sent on a mission to a dead planet, a landslide that buries them in rubble threatens Keith’s life. With only Lance there to get his boyfriend out, it’s down to him to figure out how to pull the metal pillar from his side and get him back to the lions before he bleeds out on the ground.

Lance didn’t know where he was. He was lying down, he knew that much, but.. why? He couldn’t remember lying down on the floor, and couldn’t quite understand why everything was spinning. He shifted his arm, pulling it back instantly as it drew a gasp, sharp and filled with pain through his lips. This wasn’t right. There was something seriously wrong with the fact that he couldn’t remember, and the pain pulsating down his arm had him significantly unnerved.

Cracking his eyes open against the sliver of light barely reaching his face, Lance edged around until he could see the sky.

Well, at least it should have been the sky. But in its place was a crumbling mass of pillars and rock, tumbled down from the structure above him. It looked, to his hazy eyes, like it had once been a building, stood high on the brink of a cliff - the same cliff he now lay at the bottom of.

Right. Of course. He and Keith had been sent on a diplomatic pilgrimage of sorts to honour (and simultaneously woo into forming an allegiance) the resident species of the planet Balah. But any and all point had been rendered moot immediately upon landing, as it became painfully clear to the paladins that the planet was long dead. All signs of life had vanished into the ether, leaving a planet crumbled and rotting in the wake of a civilisation Allura had hailed as the pinnacle of societal beauty.

They had been on their way back to the lions when an earthquake had struck, triggered by the destabilised crust of the withering planet. They must have been caught beneath the rubble as it came thundering down -

Lance’s brain cut off as quickly as it had previously managed to reboot. Keith. Where the hell was Keith?

Fighting against the pain in his arm, Lance managed to push himself into a crouch, testing the comms unit hidden away in his helmet. He would have to thank Allura and Coran later for the durability of the armour - he didn’t even want to consider how terrible the landslide might have been had his head not been so thoroughly guarded.

‘K-‘ he made it no further through Keith’s name before he was cut off by a cough, dust vacating his lungs in vicious spurts. ‘Keith! Keith, buddy, you there?’

No answer but a static-y crack ominous enough to raise the tempo of his heart.

‘Keith, babe! Come in! Answer me, goddamnit!’

‘La-…’

‘Keith! Oh my god, is that you? Tell me that’s you!’

Another crackle punctuated the brief sound of Keith’s voice, and Lance felt the growing urge to shove his face into the dirt. Maybe he wouldn’t be thanking Allura and Coran after all - what was the point of a protected brain when you lost your other paladins because of feedback?

‘La-nce.. I-I’m.. I’m here.. do you - do you read me..?’

‘Keith, fuck, thank god,’ he sighed, burying his fingertips into the soft of his eyes. Perhaps he had been rash to condemn the armour after all. ‘Wait - why do you sound all weird? Are you alright?’

‘Lance, you.. ugnn.. y-you gotta come quick, I’m - I’m stuck. There’s..’

‘Keith? There’s what, babe?’ His face blanched and he was on his feet before his brain was even aware of sending the request to his legs. ‘I swear to god, if you say the word ‘blood’, I’m divorcing your ass..’

There was silence for a moment before a small pained huff made its way over the comms. ‘..O-okay, I, uh.. won’t say it, then..’

‘Oh God, Keith..! Okay - where are you?! I’m on my way!’

He shoved a low lying pile of rocks to the side, not waiting for them to hit the floor before he was climbing over them, scrambling desperately against the rough, broken terrain as he waited for Keith to respond. It took an agonisingly long time, but eventually his voice crackled back into being within Lance’s helmet.

‘I-I think.. I hear you.. I can - fuck.. I can see the cliff, it’s.. I’m close to the bottom..’

Now that Lance considered it, he thought he too could hear Keith’s voice drifting over from his right, lending the strange reverberation of a ghost voice to the feed in his comms.

‘I think I’m close -‘ as soon as the words left his mouth he rounded the side of an upright metal pillar and screeched to a halt, all but falling over the Red Paladin, who lay prostrate on the ground. ‘Oh..- oh my God.. Keith!’

The pillar, which Lance had at first thought punctured the ground by the Paladin’s side, in actual fact broke through it, piercing his abdomen on its way through to the dirt below. Pools of blood stained the metal, coating it a slick shade of red which glistened in the distant light filtering down from above.

A gurgling cough broke from Keith’s lips, drawing Lance’s mind back down to Balah, away from the shock he had been spiralling, frantically into.

‘L-Lance…’ Keith stared up into his eyes, face drawn and crumpled in pain as his hands flittered around the wound. No, not flittered, Lance realised. They were shaking. Keith was shaking so terribly that his hands waved like leaves caught in the wind. ‘I c-can’t.. I tried to move it.. made it worse..’

‘O-okay.. okay buddy, just stay still, alright? I-I’ll get you out of here, I promise.’ He crouched down on his knees, hands weaving deftly around the pillar to explore the wound, examine how far into Keith’s side it cut. Only a few inches, but enough to have spilled so much blood he was painting the world his own unique shade of red.

Keith coughed again, wincing against the pull of his flesh as it moved against the metal. ‘H-hurry up on that g-getting me out of here, Lance.. f-fuck.. it.. it hurts..’

‘I know, baby, I-I know, but.. I gotta figure out how safe it is to move you right now. If I move you too quickly, I could just cause more damage and I don’t wanna do that,’

‘Just-! Hgnn… L-Lance, it hurts, it hurts..!’

Lance dropped further down into Keith’s side, desperately trying to see the depths of the wound, where the pillar ended and Keith began. But with so much blood clouding his view it was nearly impossible to find the edges of a wound that seemed to make up the entirety of Keith’s body. ‘I know it hurts, God, I know, but baby I swear, you’re gonna be just fine,’ he almost amazed himself at his own optimism, mentally reminding himself to dive off the cliff above them if it turned out to be a lie.

Keith’s breaths were coming fast and shallow, his chest hiccupping in tandem with the beat set out by his tiny gasps. When Lance caught his eyes close from the corner of his vision, his hand shot out of its own accord, startling Keith awake with a too-hard slap. His eyes blinked blankly, empty of all shine or life until a small, stuttered breath came from his chest.

‘…D-didn’t you ever hear, i-it’s not.. not nice to slap sleeping people..’ Keith’s words slurred together, tongue warring for dominance over teeth in his mouth. Blue lips pulled themselves tight into a line.

‘And didn’t you ever hear it’s not good to sleep when you’ve donated half your blood to a pile of dirt?’ Lance countered, pushing the panic Keith’s daze drew from his gut down into his feet. He could deal with it later when the love of his life wasn't bleeding out on the ground.

Digging into his utility belt, he pulled the knife he had stowed there free and slipped it into the thick material of his own armour’s under-suit. It wasn’t perfect, and left him exposed, but the bleeding needed to be staunched and all other available options amounted to none. He tore the fabric lose, and put the knife back, hands hovering momentarily above the cut. He didn’t want to do this, but in lieu of all else, he knew it was his only choice.

‘Keith? Keith, I need you to listen to me, okay? This.. I’m not even gonna lie, this is gonna hurt so much, babe. Like, next level shit, alright? But I gotta do it - I gotta get you out of here and I don’t think it can wait anymore, not with the way you’re looking right now,’

A slow hand shook free from the blood covering Keith’s chest and slid itself like the weakest vice around Lance’s own, stuttering low and hard as it fought to grip his fingers tight. Lance breathed sharply, scared eyes meeting Keith’s own hazy ones.

‘’s’okay, Lance.. ’s’okay, I-.. trust you. Promise.. promise me something..’

‘Oh, no, no we are not doing that, Keith. I am not sitting here listening to you tell me your dying wish - that is not happening, no way!’

Keith’s head shook languidly side to side, each movement seeming to eat into the already waning strength he had stored. ‘..Not a d-dying wish, Lance. I- you gotta cradle me, okay?’

‘..Huh?’ Of all the times for Keith to decide to try and be cute, it just had to be then. Why couldn’t he save the sweet talk for when they were in bed like a normal person, not when he was half dead buried in rubble on an alien planet with little chance of getting out with all his organs intact?

‘C-cradle me in y-your arms.. dumbass.. I-I can - I can pretend not to.. remember..’

‘Oh. My God. Yep, definitely divorcing you.’ But it bought a smile to his face, reminding him just for a moment that if he had survived so terrible a wound then Keith could too. ‘Alright, if you can bear this next bit, then I promise I’ll give you all the cradling you want after we get back to the lions, okay?’

Keith’s weak nod signalled the start of what Lance knew he could no longer deny - he was going to have to pull Keith free from the pillar. And leave what part of him it had taken out behind.

With a small smile of warning, Lance placed the cut material around the edge of the wound, pressing tight to halt the flow of blood as best he could. Keith cried out so sharp and loud that Lance wished he could cover his ears, but he fought the urge, instead stepping over him to crouch on his other side, across from where the pillar impaled both him and the ground. One hand still occupied by the cloth, he used the other to slip beneath Keith’s shoulders, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of pain Keith let loose from his lips as he got as good a hold as possible around him.

After just a moment to collect himself, Lance braced for the worst thing he thought he would ever have to do: he pulled. He pulled Keith’s body, tense and convulsing as it was, away from the pillar as fast as he could, fighting down bile at the sounds of tearing flesh and screams so loud they echoed off rock.

Keith’s reaction had been instantaneous. As soon as Lance’s hands had pulled him, his body had jerked, head thrown back in abject pain, fear perilous as it bounced around his vocal chords, distorting his sounds into wails. But as soon as he was free, Lance was catching him, hands wrapping tight around his waist, still holding the torn suit close to his side as more blood than before gushed out of him.

The wails turned to sighs, gasps lilting from his throat, his body no longer capable of producing real sound. Lance tightened his hold, feeling Keith’s limbs drape like lead weights down around him. The blood was seeping through the cloth, and so he pushed harder into Keith’s ribs, trying with all his might to at least slow the pouring red rain. It earned him a weak, barely vocal moan from Keith for his efforts.

‘I got you, Keith,’ he whispered, hoisting Keith’s body into his arms, careful to maintain as much pressure on the wound as he could. ‘I got you, I got you. You’re gonna be okay, now, baby.. we’re gonna go back to the ship. There’ll be a pod waiting for you, and when you get out, I’ll have your favourite blanket, and I’ll smother you up in it and never let go, even if you still refuse the fact that you love that thing,’

He looked down into Keith’s face, willing the Red Paladin to reply, but met with silence, he whimpered as he put one foot in front of the other, making his way slowly back to where he knew the lions were waiting for them.

Blood coated his hands, slick on the metal of his armour, running red and vibrant down Keith’s side, but at least he was free. He was free and breathing, and even with his eyes so stubbornly closed, Lance knew that he going to make it. How could he not, when he was pressed so warmly into Lance’s chest?

‘Hey, Keith,’ he smiled, as the Red and Blue lions came mercifully into view. ‘seeing as I’m cradling you in my arms, I think I deserve a word or two from you - don’t you?’

A small grumble from the pained, sickly white bundle in his arms acted as acknowledgement that his desperate prayer had been heard.

‘…S-shut up… ‘m not gonna ‘member this… I s-swear..’ it was weak, but it was there, Keith’s voice drifting over the ruined world, mouth smiling in spite of itself at his own terrible joke.

#voltron #major injury #injury #landslide #keith kogane #keith (voltron) #lance mcclain #voltron lance #blood #voltron legendary defender #klance #whump #like so much whump it makes me happy #lance cradles keith in his arms #irony

[avatarsarny]

and summer comes again

ao3

The finished version of this. How GoT ended in my head, because D&D's bad fanfic version can go in the dumpster where it belongs. For @gendrie, @gendrywatersseaworth, @gendryadempsie, and @starrynightshade, whose blogs and fics have kept me sane these past few weeks of clownery and terrible show writing lol. Thanks for feeding us so well with that good good Gendrya content throughout!

For context: In my head, everything ended similarly to the show version with some notable adjustments: Jon is not exiled to the (nonexistent) Night’s Watch; he decides against being king and goes to bring the Wildlings back down to the North with Tormund (bc the lands beyond the wall are a barren wasteland wtf) and thereafter settles at Winterfell to be Hand to Queen Sansa. Bran is made King of the 6 kingdoms as he was in the show, with Tyrion as his Hand and ruling with his council. Jaime did not turn on Brienne in the last moment, didn’t erase years of character development, and instead left to kill Cersei himself, finally realizing the disease she really was, and became Queenslayer for the good of the realm. He survives Daenerys’ attack on KL and is serving Bran in the new Kingsguard, under Brienne the Commander. 

Finally, Arya does not randomly decide to become Christopher Columbarya and sail the ocean blue, erasing years of her own journey to finally be home with her family again, no sirs, she finds Gendry after the sack of KL, after she realizes what Sandor was trying to tell her to do, to choose life, and tells him to ask her again. You can guess the rest from what you read below :)

And in keeping with the pack survives narrative (bc that’s what good writing is about!! Consistency!!) the Starks remain closer than ever, visit each other often, and don’t end up alone and separated! Hope you guys enjoy.

P.S. - can you spot the Okoye reference? Definitely not straight outta black panther

“And reinforcements from the Stormlands will arrive tomorrow, Your Grace, if I’m not mistaken. Lord Buckler of Bronzegate sent me a raven saying twenty ships worth of food and supplies will be here just after sunrise.”

Bran nods in approval and looks up at the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the newly - reconstructed Royal Council solar. Daenerys’ rampage had left little of the Red Keep standing, but some of the personal chambers had remained mostly intact, so the new King and his council lived in close quarters for the past three months while they supervised the city’s recovery. There were still many injured and many more starving, so Bran called upon every Lord and leader in Westeros, high and low, to contribute whatever they could to the city’s smallfolk; who had suffered the most.

Bran glances over at the man across him. His blue eyes are bright with belonging and purpose, his dark hair is gradually breaking free of the short crop he had sported when Bran had first met him, and he wears fine leathers in same way his father and uncles had, only this time adorned with clawlike marks on the shoulders of his tunic.

The young King smiles at this observation. Stags don’t have claws. But he can think of another animal that does.

Gendry catches his gaze. “What is it, Your Grace?”

Bran’s smile grows ever so slightly. “When is my sister returning, my Lord? It’s been a fortnight since her last raven.”

Gendry sighs and looks out a window, where the city gates rise from the sea of ruined buildings far out in the distance on one end, and the azure waters of Blackwater Bay lay calm and still on the other. “I’m not sure. She said she wouldn’t leave Queen Sansa at Winterfell until she’s made sure she’ll be well protected.”

“Won’t Jon be there soon?”

Gendry blinks. “Yes - er - I didn’t know that until this morning - got a raven from Tormund. How’d you find out?”

Bran throws him an unimpressed glance. “Well I am the three eyed raven. I flew over Jon and Tormund’s group last night. They’ve settled the Wildlings in some unoccupied lands about a day’s ride from Winterfell. Sansa wants Jon to be her Hand, and it looks like Jon’s agreed to it.”

Gendry nods slowly, trying to process the King’s extraordinary statement in a way he can understand. “I’ve heard of your abilities, Your Grace, but forgive me, I’m not sure how one flies when they can’t even walk. But if what you say is true, then you can see where your sisters are, too, can’t you?” He grins then, and maybe in front of a different King he’d be punished for his audacity, but Bran is no ordinary King. And Gendry has never been one to worship the ground at a highborn’s feet.

But he’ll fight for any one of the Starks. Arya and her family time and again showed kindness and mercy to the common folk, and beneath their ferocious direwolf fangs they shared a gentleness for the innocent that Gendry had rarely seen among the rich and powerful. Even Sansa, the Red Wolf of the North, held a great tenderness concealed beneath her icy, calculating exterior, and people everywhere adored her for it.

Bran’s smile widens into a true grin, then - a feat so rare Gendry thinks he should get Grand Maester Samwell to check on their King’s health.

“Yes, I can see everything. Anything, anywhere, at any point in time. But sometimes it’s nice to put it all away for a while, and be a normal man. Or at least act like it,” he replies. “I did see Arya, by the way. It appears she’ll be staying in Winterfell for a few more weeks before she starts her journey back here.”

Gendry’s face falls, but he catches himself and hopes the King doesn’t notice. The least she could do is send a raven, but she’s been oddly silent since her last message to him, and he’s getting worried. If she doesn’t send more word soon, he’ll go off to Winterfell himself.

Bran quirks a brow at him. “Storm’s End needs someone like you, someone who will take care of the people. Your uncles left the Stormlands in such disarray, but the Stormlords are willing to follow your command. Don’t worry about my sister, she can handle herself.” He smiles serenely at the former blacksmith.

But what about me? Gendry thinks. Does she not understand that every day we’re separated feels like an eternity to me?

None of it will mean anything, if you aren’t with me, so be with me…

It will be nearly four months since Arya left to help Sansa settle into her role as Queen in the North. Four months since he last held her in his arms, since he tasted her on his lips and felt the warmth of her smile, since he saw the heat and tenderness in her gaze she reserved only for him.

She had sought him out after the Dragon Queen had stormed King’s Landing, after Jon drove a dagger through his aunt’s heart and liberated all who would come under her tyranny. She had been covered in ash and blood and he’d never felt more fear in his entire life, that he would have to watch her die like this, but she was mostly unhurt, the blood had not been hers, not all of it.

“Ask me again,” She’d rasped, coughing out grey soot and clutching at him for dear life. “I thought I wouldn’t come back from Kings Landing. I was going to die there, and I couldn’t do that to you, I had to refuse,” She whispered, tears falling from her eyes and down her grimy face. “I couldn’t hurt you.”

And oh, she had never looked more beautiful, he had never loved her more fiercely than he did in that moment, not even on that night they thought would be their last, when she had kissed him down in the Winterfell stores and made breathless, frantic love to him. “You could never hurt me, love,” he’d said, gently wiping her tears away and crushing her to his chest. “I know you don’t want to be a Lady, I’ve always known. We can go wherever you like. Do whatever you want. I’ll follow you anywhere you go, till the end of my days,” he promised, and released her so he could kneel before her in the ash and dust. “My life means nothing without my family. Please be my wife. Please be my family, Arya of House Stark.”

And with that, she’d tackled him into the rubble with all the strength she could muster, and kissed him senseless. “I love you,” She’d breathed against his lips,“I will be your family. Your - your wife,” she broke off in a quiet moan, as he moved to press searing kisses down her throat. She held his face in her hands, stilling his sweet movements to look earnestly up at him. “And I will lead by your side, Gendry of House Baratheon.”

He’d stared at her in shock, his hands coming up to bracket her own. “You - you want to rule the Stormlands with me?”

Arya smiled at him, even though it had hurt to do so and her face was bleeding. “I want to be here for the people who can’t protect themselves. I want to make our world a better place than the one we grew up in…I couldn’t save them in King’s Landing,” she’d paused as more tears tumbled down her cheeks, and he dutifully brushed them away with the pads of his calloused fingers. She would tell him about the girl and her mother, later. The little family that had saved her from the stampede, only to end up burnt beyond recognition in the end. “I have to make sure this never happens again.”

Gendry kissed her forehead, the bit of it that wasn’t cut open. “As M'lady commands,” he’d murmured, threading their fingers together. “Now let’s get you a maester.”

“I also need to teach you how to use a fork, none of those idiot lords will respect you otherwise.”

He'd laughed and scooped her up into his arms. “I’ll need all the help I can get. I don’t know any other rich girls willing to teach me.”

“Lord Gendry?” the King addresses him, drawing his attention away from the cloudless sky, out of his reverie.

Gendry starts. “Sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t catch that. I was just - thinking about how we could allocate the food to the city once it arrives tomorrow. I’m thinking we should just set up the distribution points along the docks, that way we won’t need to spend half a day hauling it all through the streets to get to everyone. Most of the needy are already down there, which makes our jobs easier.”

He said all this rather quickly.

Bran smirks. “Well, I hope this helps you see why you’re the best man for the job. You grew up here. You know the people. And you care, which is the only qualification that matters, in the end.”

Gendry turns to his King. “I still don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I know nothing of ruling or leading people, or throwing fancy feasts, or running castles.”

“But you remember what it’s like to live as an outcast, among the very worst of men, to live in the dirt and the muck, and what it’s like to go hungry for weeks on end. You want a world where the powerful protect the weak.” Bran says quietly. “My sister knows this, too. The realm could use more people like you.”

Gendry lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. “I..well, thank you, Your Grace.” He straightens up then, and smooths out the map of King’s Landing he’d been going over before King Bran had entered the room. “Then I will give the realm everything I have to make it a better place. I won’t hesitate.”

Bran nods in affirmative. “I’ll be depending on you a lot, Lord Baratheon.”

Someone knocks on the doors of the solar just then; Ser Brienne walks through the threshold and bows her head in greeting.

“Your guest is here to meet you, Your Grace. Shall I bring them in?” Her eyes slide over to rest on Gendry, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “It’s good to see you, Lord Gendry. You look well.”

“As well I could be, Ser Brienne,” he smiles at her. He nearly admits that he could look better, much better, if only his little she-wolf were here with him, and not a thousand miles beyond his reach. But given Brienne’s fierce protectiveness over Arya, he thinks better of it. He’s not sure he could best the formidable Lady Knight in a fight, even with a hammer.

He’d only gotten two days, just two measly days with Arya, before she’d gone north with Sansa. When he sees her again (if ever, he thinks just a little sourly, for she may decide to stay in Winterfell for good, and forget about him, and marry a handsome Northern Lord who knows exactly what he’s doing, especially how to eat with proper utensils.)

Seven hells, he is pathetic.

Bran nods, his smirk growing wider than ever. “Please bring them in.”

Gendry takes this as his cue to leave, and starts gathering up his things. Maybe he’ll seek out Ser Davos and convince him to grab a large jug of ale with him. The Onion Knight always knew what to say.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a small figure stroll into the solar, clad in a floor-length gown, with a sword at her hip.

“My King,” the young woman says softly, kneeling in front of Bran, before turning to Gendry. “My love.”

Gendry’s jaw drops to the floor, and so do the maps he holds in his arms.

He wheels around to see Arya Stark rushing forward to squeeze Bran in a tight hug.

“I missed you, little brother. Sansa is happy and safe, Jon is with her now.”

Bran seems to lighten up ever so slightly at the sight of her, a ghost of the boy he used to be flits across his normally blank features, the boy who had looked upon his warrior sister with awe and immense pride, who had wanted to be as good a fighter as she was, well before they knew what fighting really was. He wraps his arms around Arya to squeeze her back.

Gendry stands there, taking his betrothed in for the first time in months. She’s wearing a dress, Gods help him, the long skirts billow out from her waist and clings to her petite figure in a way that sharply forces him to remember he’s in the presence of civilized company, and he immediately tries to control his breathing.

Her hair is just a little longer than the last time he saw her, falling loosely down her back, save for the Northern braids woven at the crown of her head. For once, she looks like the warrior princess she is, and Gendry couldn’t tear his eyes from her if he tried.

Bran releases his sister. “I’m happy to hear. It’s been quiet here without you. Although I’m sure Lord Baratheon here felt that more than anyone.”

Arya turns to him then, raising one dark brow and raking her storm - grey eyes over him. Just as she’d done back in Winterfell, watching from the shadows as he worked the dragonglass into weapons against the dead, before she had made him hers forever. Gendry barely suppresses a shiver.

“Have I surprised you, my Lord?” She laughs, her eyes bright and glinting with mischief. “I’ll bet you thought you’d have a few more weeks of peace without me.”

Peace? He thinks incredulously. He’s felt anything but in her absence.

Gendry moves to open his mouth in a retort, but their King interrupts.

“Ser Brienne, I must go off to the upper floors and survey today’s reconstruction progress, and Lord Tyrion has called a council meeting after lunch. If you would be so kind as to take me there?”

Brienne looks from Arya to Gendry to the young King, and valiantly attempts to conceal her knowing grin. “Of course, Your Grace.”

On their way out, Bran pauses and looks to the pair still standing in the solar. “I’ll be waiting to hear all about Winterfell and how Queen Sansa is faring at dinner tonight. For now though, I suggest you take care of the pressing matter before you. See you in the Great Hall later.” He waves his sister goodbye, and Brienne hastily converts her snort into a cough as she pushes his wheelchair out the doors.

Gendry flushes beet - red as he stares after the King. Arya flashes her betrothed a wolfish grin and steps closer to him. As a girl, she’d loved to rile him up and annoy him till he’d chase her through the forest and muss her boyish locks in revenge. Now, she gets an even bigger thrill simply seeing him blush like a maiden, because of her.

She must do it more often.

“I like this,” she says, bringing her small hands up to run along the clawlike marks in his leather tunic. “What inspired this break from Baratheon clothing tradition?”

“What inspired yours?” He breathes, bringing his own hands to circle her waist, and pull her even closer. “Who forced you into wearing this?” He grins, gesturing to the garment that hugs her form and fans out from her hips, embroidered with leaves and direwolf motifs all over the sleeves and skirts.

Arya scowls just a little. “Sansa. She made it for me and ordered me to wear it on my journey home. Does my Lord like it?” She asks coyly, scanning his gaze for his reaction.

She needn’t have asked.

His eyes are dark and wanting as they travel over her form, and she suddenly feels so, so warm. Gendry, for his part, makes a mental note to send the Queen in the North a large pile of gold upon his return to Storm’s End.

“You’re always beautiful,” he murmurs, “No matter what you’re wearing. Or when you’re wearing nothing at all.” She presses herself flush against him at that, and he has to shut his eyes to keep his thoughts coherent. “I’m very thankful to your sister right now. Hail Queen Sansa, first of her name. May she make you many more dresses to wear. I’m a grateful man.”

“I’m glad. I have suffered so in this gown. At least one of us is pleased,” she quips, rolling her eyes.

Gendry can’t quite take it anymore, he moves to capture her lips with his own; he needs to taste her once again, needs to breathe in her scent of wildflowers and leather and the spring breeze of the outdoors. He’s just about to close the gap between them when she suddenly wriggles out of his arms.

Oh, Arya has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at the utterly woebegone expression that crosses Gendry’s face as she pulls away.

“Arya,” he nearly whimpers in exasperation. He looks so forlorn that she almost loses her resolve, but she steels herself and moves away.

“Spar with me,” She asks breathlessly.

“What?” He blinks down at her, dumbstruck.

“I’ve gone four months without a worthy opponent. No one at Winterfell is good enough to best me, except perhaps Jon. And I managed to throw him on his back just before I left to come here.” She says, just a little smugly.

Gendry quirks a brow at her. “And you think I’m the one who could best you, my Lady? I’m not a soldier, as you know.”

She locks her dark gaze with his own and moves so that they’re mere inches apart, once again. “No,” She says softly, her hands come to cup his cheeks, stroking the rough stubble that grows there, “But you’re a fighter.”

He smiles at the reference, and leans into her touch. Her hands are soft and cool against his burning skin.

“Meet me in the garden courtyard later. The one with the view of the sea. Bring your hammer. But feel free to leave your leather shirt behind, as lovely as it is.” With that, she pulls his face down to her own, kissing him deeply, her sweet mouth hot and wet, melting against him and causing all sense to leak out of his mind.

Their kiss is over far too soon for Gendry’s liking, and she saunters out of the solar. “I’ll be waiting, Milord,” she says, grinning at him over her shoulder, and then she’s gone.

Gendry sighs and stares up at the high, vaulted ceiling. “I’m a dead man,” he chuckles to the empty room.

The sun is high overhead as Tyrion and Jaime stroll past the balconies overlooking the vast palace gardens. There’s a warm breeze coming off the sea, signaling the winter’s end, and the encroaching summer.

It’s enough to put a spring in nearly everyone’s step. After the wars ended and Bran was made King, peace descended upon Westeros, and people everywhere watched with cautious optimism in their hearts as the summer flowers began to bloom and the winter chills slowly faded away.

The charred remains of the Red Keep’s gardens had been replaced with exotic plants from every known part of the world, and were open to all who wished to enter, be they the poorest smallfolk or the King himself. But today, the paths and courtyards criss-crossing the greenery were mostly empty, with the rebuilding efforts taking up most of the city’s free time.

Tyrion pauses to look over a particularly scenic vantage point. “I’d say winter is well and truly over, brother.”

Jaime smirks, and nods. “Strange that the Starks, who never shut up about winter, would be the ones to end it.”

Tyrion chuckles. “I’m not in the least bit complaining.”

Jaime smiles down at his younger brother. “Neither am I.”

The relative quiet is broken then, by clashes of steel and shouts of triumph. Jaime and Tyrion throw each other bewildered glances, before starting off in the direction of the commotion.

“D’you think someone’s trying to break into the Red Keep again?” Tyrion wonders aloud.

“Just another day on the job,” Jaime drawls.

The Lannister brothers turn a corner before skidding to a halt on a landing overlooking a large circular courtyard.

“Well well! It appears our Lady Stark has returned from the North.” Tyrion pants, bending over to catch his breath. “I’m very glad I was informed beforehand of her arrival.” He deadpans. “I do love being in the know of what goes on in this city.”

Jaime squints curiously down into the courtyard. “It also appears she’s challenged her own betrothed to a duel.” His eyes widen at the sight below him.

A panting Arya Stark, brandishing that skinny little sword she refused to part with, circles a much larger - and barechested - Gendry Baratheon, who wields a warhammer and stares his future wife down, trying to calculate her next move.

Tyrion looks upon them with great interest. “It’s like looking at a pair of ghosts,” he says quietly.

Jaime throws his brother a questioning glance. “What d’you mean?”

“Look at them. Really look. Who do they remind you of?”

Jaime turns back to the sparring pair below them. And then it hits him.

“Robert and Lyanna,” he breathes. He doesn’t know how he missed it before, but now the resemblance is jarringly uncanny.

Gendry - broad shouldered and muscular, looks every bit like young Robert once did, with thick black hair that falls into trademark Baratheon blue eyes. He even wields a hammer in the same way his father did, though he’d never laid eyes on the former King, much less seen the way he’d fought.

Arya, with her dark hair falling wildly about her face, the gleam in her grey Stark eyes, and the grace with which she moves as she swerves away from Gendry’s blows with ease reminds Jaime sharply of how the late Lady Lyanna, the wild Northern beauty, had moved on horseback, with her bow and arrows.

Tyrion smiles sadly at the realization on his brother’s face. “They were a match doomed, and Robert began the war that changed the entire continent for his Lady Lyanna. But the future for these two appears much brighter. This Baratheon isn’t at all like his father, and she possesses the foresight her aunt never had. One generation had thousands die fighting in the wars they started, the next helped save many thousands more.” He says, watching them pensively.

Jaime only hums in agreement, still intently observing the pair below. The play-fight between the young couple is getting more intense by the second. Amid the flurry of steel and limbs, they’re clearly taking care not to actually hurt one another, but they’re just as certainly not going easy on each other, either.

Gendry swings his hammer at the girl with all the famed Baratheon strength he inherited from his father, but Arya is far too quick for him, and she laughs at his attempts to disarm her.

“You’re too slow,” she taunts, darting left and pretending to cut him across the belly with Needle. “Dead.” He swipes at her.

Arya dodges his blows again, then smacks her blade harmlessly against the back of his neck. “Dead again, Milord,” she grins up at him.

Gendry circles her, growling in frustration, catching her eye and nearly making her gasp at the raw desire she sees burning in his gaze.

She focuses her attention on the way his raven hair is long enough now to fall across his brow, and watches the play of muscles in his broad chest, slick with sweat, as he draws in rapid breaths and sneaks heated glances at her when he thinks she isn’t looking.

She’s missed him so much.

Her guard falls just long enough to be her downfall, as Gendry seizes her momentary pause to grab Needle from her hands and toss it aside, and proceeds to tackle her onto the painted mosaic floor of the courtyard.

Up on the terrace, Jaime and Tyrion look on in stunned silence. Arya Stark, the Princess that was Promised, the she-wolf who had slayed the Night King, taken down in a mock fight by non other than a former Baratheon bastard.

“What’s got you two so suddenly interested in the gardens?”

The Lannister brothers whirl around to see the new Master of Ships walking curiously toward them.

“His Grace is looking for you both to take lunch with him. Have either of you seen Lord Gendry? I’ve been meaning to ask the lad to come eat meals with me, he’s been looking a little - er - overwhelmed lately.”

Tyrion chortles. “Your lad has just managed to knock Azor Ahai herself to the ground in a duel, Ser Davos. It was quite a thing to see.”

The Onion Knight’s eyes widen in surprise. “So she’s back, then?” He looks down from the edge of the balcony to see Gendry pin Lady Arya beneath his arms. “I guess he won’t be eating with me, now.” He watches them wrestle with a fond, sad smile.

Jaime smirks down at the pair again. “I’m not sure this match is quite over yet.”

Gendry straddles one of her legs and lays an arm across her chest, securing her beneath him so that she can’t move from his grip. He grins cheekily down at her, pupils blown so wide his eyes are nearly as black as his hair. “You should’ve stood sideface, M’Lady.”

Arya stares defiantly up at him, before the mask is dropped completely, and she breaks into a giggle. “So I’ve heard.”

The sound of her bubbling laughter is the sweetest music to his ears. “Although I’m not sure how much smaller a target I could get than you,” he murmurs.

Their resounding laughter echoes across the deserted gardens, and while Arya’s got him distracted, she twists her hips and flips Gendry onto his back in a swift, deadly maneuver, her Valyrian steel dagger presses up against his throat in a flash.

Check and mate.

He blinks dazedly up at her, mesmerized by the way she straddles his waist, her triumphant victory gleaming in his she-wolf’s eyes. The sight brings back wonderful memories of that first night, when she’d pushed him atop those sacks of grain and made him lose himself over and over in her.

“I win,” she whispers, breathing hard, and she releases her hold on his wrists to sheath her dagger.

“You’ve won,” Gendry agrees. “Show me how you did that.”

She smirks down at him, crossing her arms over her chest, her legs still wrapped around his hips. “Not before I claim my prize,” she says, and the lilt in her voice makes his heart hammer in his chest. He suddenly remembers how long they’ve been apart. Too damn long.

“And what’s that?” He inquires softly, gazing up at her astride him.

Arya hums, innocently tilting her head and shifting her hips just so against him, and his eyes flutter shut in bliss.

Far above them, the three men watching quickly avert their eyes and turn away in varying degrees of mortification.

Jaime snickers, shaking his head. “That wasn’t a fight we were watching. That was foreplay.”

Tyrion loudly clears his throat. “Well, Ser Davos, you’re welcome to take lunch with us instead, seeing as Lord Gendry is rather occupied at the moment.”

The Onion Knight smiles ruefully down at the King’s Hand as the three of them make their way to the Great Hall. “They grow up too fast.”

Arya flicks her gaze up to the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Their adoring fans are gone.

Good, she thinks. Not that she will ever be ashamed to show her love for Gendry, to touch him freely in front of others, but this moment, here in the warm sunlight as the sea breeze ruffles through their hair, belongs to them and them alone.

She trails her hands slowly up over the hard planes of his glistening chest, biting her lip as she admires the sight of him flushed beneath her, in broad daylight.

“I missed you, love.” she admits in his ear, emitting a low gasp when Gendry reaches up to grasp her hips and press her down onto him.

He’s firm and throbbing against her belly, and the blush spreading over Arya’s face does nothing to help calm the fire coursing through his veins.

He tenderly brushes her hair away from her face. “I was afraid you weren’t coming back. That you were going to stay at Winterfell and forget me.”

She smiles softly and leans down to press her forehead against his. “As though I could ever forget you. Not even the House of Black and White could erase you from my memory. And they tried, believe me.”

He trails warm fingers against her cheeks, down to her chin, and guides her mouth to his. “My family, my wife,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her as though he were a man dying of thirst in a desert, and she’s the life-giving oasis that saved him.

Arya brings her fingers up to tangle in his hair. “Not yet,” she reminds him breathlessly between kisses. “A whole three months to go until I meet you in the godswood.”

“Aye, that’s true,” he mumbles, his tongue coaxing her lips apart and swallowing her moans, “but you’re my wife, even so. And you’ve been my only family for years now.”

Because Gendry can’t bring himself to give a shit about the ceremonies. He is hers, and she is his, and they’ve been married ever since she stumbled into his arms after the burning of King’s Landing, as far as he’s concerned.

She pulls away from their kiss to regard him with large eyes. Suddenly, Arya seems much more like a shy doe than the fierce she-wolf he’d been sparring with, and a wave of protectiveness washes over Gendry.

Arya swallows. “I never imagined I’d ever get married. I didn’t want to just be a womb for some stupid old lord to produce sons. So many women have been chained into it by our society, I didn’t want to be one of them. I never thought I’d fall in love, not before I met you.” She pauses.

Gendry nods, kisses her knuckles, and waits for her to continue.

She leans in to brush her lips against his. “You always protected me, you could’ve been a bully like all the rest but you were kind and good. I was just a scared little girl, but you made me feel less alone. You were such a stubborn bull, but you were my best friend in the whole world.” She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears welling up at the memories. “I would’ve died back then, had it not been for you.”

There’s a lump in Gendry’s throat. “Arya,” he breathes, and he surges forward to kiss her more fiercely than ever. “You saved me too, so many times,” he says roughly. “I never would’ve left you on your own, I should’ve listened to your distrust of the Brotherhood. After Davos helped me escape the Red Woman, I tried so hard to find out where you’d gone. A part of me did die that day, when I heard you’d been killed at the Twins. I never forgave myself for my stupidity.”

Arya hugs him close. “I’m here. I have you, now.”

Gendry holds her tight, and he’s never letting her go again. “You have me, now and always.” he promises.

Arya smiles against his mouth, and she pulls away to beam at him. “I need a bath.” She whispers, running her hands down his bare torso. “I’m very sweaty, and tired from my long journey. Help me wash, husband mine?” Her eyes grow large again as she looks at him imploringly.

Gendry moves to stand, but he keeps Arya in place when she tries to climb off him. He grips his hammer and holds his Lady in his arms, and she lets him carry her back to the Red Keep.

Hours later, Arya wakes up to the late afternoon sun streaming through the curtains of the chambers she’d lived in the last time she had been in King’s Landing, when her father was still Hand to King Robert Baratheon, and she and Sansa were still mortal enemies, back when she was still learning water dancing from Syrio Forel. Before her world and family were torn apart by Cersei, before she’d run into Hot Pie and Lommy, before Gendry had come to her aid and asked her where she’d stolen her Needle.

All of it seems like another lifetime ago, like the past few years have been a dream, like she’ll wake up any minute now, in the same bed, and she’ll be 11 again and still have a Father and a Mother, and Robb and Rickon.

Arya turns to her side; the sheets are cool against her bare skin, but she is very warm, thanks to Gendry who is wrapped around her, with his nose buried in her hair as he sleeps on.

Had she been told, years ago when they were still being hunted through the Riverlands by Lannister men, that she would be married to her stubborn Bull, and that she’d be waking up next to him in the Red Keep not as a prisoner waiting to be killed, but as the Princess (however much she loathed that title) of the Six Kingdoms and the North, and that her crippled little brother would be the Sovereign himself, she would have laughed in their face and pushed them into the dirt for spewing out such a nonsensical lie.

That Sansa would be Queen in the North, and love Arya enough to want her little sister to sleep in the same bed as her every night after they reunited, to make up for the years of lost time, the years when sisters become friends.

That she would see her beloved Jon again, her brother for always, no matter whose son he was, and that she’d see him happy at Winterfell, supporting Sansa’s rule as her most trusted advisor.

That Gendry would look at her like she’s his sun-and-stars, with gazes full of awe and love and unending hunger, instead of the grubby little girl he’d spent two years protecting, mussing up her hair and teasing her and perpetually getting on her nerves.

Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle.

Gendry shifts in his sleep, and instinctively moves closer to her warmth, securing her fully in the circle of his arms.

Arya leans back, ever so slightly, so that she can get a better view of him. She reaches out to trace a finger lightly down the bridge of his nose, over his rough, stubbled jaw, over his lips, which are still pink from her kisses hours before.

Blue eyes, bluer than the famous Braavosi canals she’d spent so long near, crack open to regard her, and the lips she’s tracing press a gentle kiss to her fingers.

“Hello,” Gendry croaks, and he stretches a little before smiling tiredly down at her. “Did you sleep well?”

Arya flashes him a satisfied grin. “Better than I’ve had in four months.”

She sighs into his mouth when he leans down to capture her lips for perhaps the hundredth time that day, but it still feels as thrilling as the first time. She melts beneath him as he rolls over to gently press her into the sheets.

He’d been feverishly attentive to her during their bath, taking care to wash every inch of her skin and pressing searing kisses all over her. His strong hands had held her hips still as she sat in his lap and washed his hair for him, trying unsuccessfully to deter her sweet, torturous movements above him, but he’d groaned in defeat when Arya reached down between them.

“Wait,” Gendry had hissed when her fingers closed around him to take him inside her. He kissed down the side of her jaw to suckle her earlobe. “Want to take care of you,” he’d mumbled, his warm breath tickling her neck, his fingers reaching between her legs to stroke her slick heat, rubbing lazy circles around her clit and sending tidal waves of sweet pleasure coursing though her.

“Gendry…” she’d tossed her head back in pure bliss as he slipped a calloused finger into her, and then another. The hot coil in her belly wound tighter and tighter as he worked her, and she whimpered against his lips as he stroked against something that made her see stars.

He’d grinned up at her. “Yes, love?”

“Gendry, I want…” she’d panted, “I want…”

He kissed down her throat, curled his fingers inside her, and suddenly the tight coil deep in her belly snapped, and Arya fell over the edge crying out his name.

Gendry laughed softly, holding her quivering body against him, helping her come back down to earth. “That?”

She’d grabbed his chin to kiss the smirk from his lips, and he instantly melted into her mouth.

“You. I want you,” she’d corrected, “I’ve wanted nothing else but the feel of you inside me and your taste on my lips for months, husband.” She admitted sweetly, and he’d never been so damn hard in his life.

He’d flushed at her confession, and gazed up at her in pure adoration. He couldn’t deny her anything, not anymore.

“As M’Lady commands,” Gendry breathed, and made love to her over and over, until they collapsed into bed hours later, utterly spent and sated.

They’re just reacquainting themselves with each other when a low growl rumbles from Arya’s stomach, and they break apart, bursting into laughter.

“And here I was, thinking I’d finally satisfied you,” Gendry sighs, pushing himself off her and holding out a hand to pull her up with him.

“Nonsense. To gratify me in the way you’re insinuating, you’d have to have me like this three times a day, every day,” Arya smiles, her eyes glittering with mirth.

Gendry’s mouth falls open at her words. “Gods, Arya. Don’t tempt me.” His hands come up to trace the scars crossing her belly, the scars he’d spent ages lavishing his attention and his warm lips upon.

She hums in reply, and kisses his cheek before leaping off the bed to pull on her breeches.

He watches her from his perch against the pillows. “What would you like to eat? I’ll go bring whatever you want from the kitchens.”

Arya pauses to pull her tunic over her head. “Thanks, but I think my brother wanted us to take supper with him.”

Gendry nods, and looks out the windows to see the sun starting to sink closer to the edge of the horizon, casting deep orange bands of light over the sea in the distance. “Then we should get going.” He climbs off the bed in search of his discarded clothing.

He manages to find his breeches and his undershirt, but his leather tunic is nowhere in sight. He turns around to find Arya holding it, she's smoothing it out on the bed, running her fingers over the jagged slashes on its shoulders, an immensely soft expression on her face.

Gendry moves so that he’s pressed up behind her, and winds his arms around her middle. “Those weren’t there originally,” he says quietly, and he dips his head to kiss the back of her neck. “I wanted everyone to know I was yours without actually saying it. I think they got the message well enough, because the other Stormlords haven’t brought up marriage proposals ever since.”

Arya turns in his arms to peer up at him with tender eyes. “I should wear something of yours, then. Make it even.” She whispers.

Gendry kisses her forehead, then her nose, then finally her lips. “Always trying to one-up me,” he teases, and dodges when she aims a smack at his head.

“You’re getting better at that, I see.”

“M’lady’s a good teacher,” Gendry quips back. He takes her hands in his own. “I’d give you my cloak to keep, but tradition says I must save it until our wedding.” He grins and tilts his head, considering her. “I’ll make you a new hilt for your Valyrian steel dagger. Make it black and yellow, if you like,” he murmurs.

Arya reaches up to plant one more lingering kiss to his lips. “I’ll hold you to it.” She smiles, and pulls him by the hands out the door.

Daylight still lingers in the sky outside as Arya pushes open the large oak doors to the Great Hall, a clear sign of winter’s final death. The days during the last few years had steadily declined in length, growing shorter and shorter until the entire world had only a handful of hours in which their candles and lanterns remained unlit.

Until the end of the Long Night, when Arya thrust her dagger deep into the Night King's frozen heart, and destroyed Death himself.

Dawn had returned to shine down upon the world, and the warming rays of the sun brought life and greenery and hope back to Westeros.

Arya and Gendry walk in to find the newly-rebuilt Hall deserted, the long tables empty, save for a few members of the Royal court on the far end. Gendry glances at her, his brows knitting together in confusion. She wordlessly shrugs at him.

“Excuse me Milord, Princess Arya,” (the Princess in question grits her teeth at the title) says a kitchen boy carrying a large platter of fruits and cheese. “His Grace wished to take a private supper out on the upper terrace. He wants you to join him there. Please follow me.”

The kitchen boy leads them up through the castle, up many flights of new stairs, until they reach an unfamiliar landing that faces two intricately carved wooden doors.

Gendry pushes them open to help the kitchen boy pass through, and they find themselves standing on a vast open balcony, high over the rest of the Red Keep, with candles and lanterns glittering everywhere as the sunset turns the sky around them pink.

There’s a single long table in the middle of the terrace, and there Bran is seated, along with Brienne, Podrick, Davos, the Lannister brothers, Samwell Tarly and his Wildling wife Gilly, and (to no one’s great pleasure) Lord Bronn of Highgarden. The young King looks up and smiles at the newcomers.

“Welcome, sister,” he pats the empty seat next to him at the head of the table. “And Lord Gendry,” he nods. “We had a bit of a change in dinner plans, so I sent Terry here to fetch you.”

Arya smiles at her brother, and takes her place beside him, and Gendry seats himself on her other side. Terry the kitchen boy sets down the enormous platter with some difficulty, and for his effort, Arya slips him a large strawberry pastry from a nearby plate. “Thank you.” she tells him kindly, and the young lad blushes furiously at being directly addressed by the Bringer of the Dawn herself, taking the sweet from her with slightly shaking hands, and he all but flees from the room.

Gendry watches the exchange with a fond smile. “You highborns aren’t so bad after all,” he concedes. Arya elbows him in the ribs, and he laughs.

The bright orange-pink of the sinking sun fades to pale purple dusk, and the candlelight casts warm glows all around the table as they all tuck into their food, engaging each other in familiar conversation over the clatter of plates and cutlery.

Halfway through the first course of creamy soup Bran inquires Arya about their sister in the North.

“Is Sansa happy, there?” Bran asks slowly. “I know she didn’t want our family separated.”

“She is,” Arya assures him, “She’s already had Winterfell and Winter Town rebuilt, and she’s overseeing the allocation of lands to the Windlings, with Jon’s help. I think,” she pauses, looking out at the city over the edge of the balcony, “I think this is what she was always meant to be. A Queen. She’s never felt more at home than she does now.”

“She was,” Bran agrees. “I try to check up on her when I’m flying as a raven. She looked happy the last time I saw her, but also a little down. I’m sure it’s because she misses you.”

“She misses you too. She worries for her little brother down South, in what she describes as a rotten nest of vipers.”

Tyrion, who had been listening in ever since their conversation turned to Sansa, now spoke up. “She wasn’t wrong, Lady Arya,” he says with a sad smile, “She’d suffered the most while she was trapped here as my sister’s prisoner. It’s because of this that I, and the rest of us sitting here, are trying our best to rid this capital of those very snakes. We want to do our part to leave that world behind us, and amend for our pasts.”

Arya looks out over the others eating at their table. Once upon a time, she would have felt in danger among them, especially with Jaime Lannister, but so much has happened since then, so much has changed, that she not only feels comfortable sitting here with them, but at peace.

With a pang, she thinks of how scared Sansa must have felt, during those years she was held in this very castle, and what horrors she went through. Arya wishes her sister could see the Red Keep now, under their brother’s rule, and how it’s nearly unrecognizable from those days when it was ruled under tyranny and greed, and the Lannister Queen’s insatiable lust for power.

“Sansa didn’t want me to leave,” Arya whispers, then. Bran gives her a small smile, for he’d known this, too. “She didn’t want me to come back down here, she’d wanted me to stay in Winterfell with her and Jon.”

Gendry puts down his fork, and Arya feels his eyes on her. “I told her, that my family wasn’t just in Winterfell. I needed to come back and watch over you here,” She tells her brother softly, and reaches beneath the table to grip Gendry’s hand. “And I made a promise, to be Lord Baratheon’s wife. I’m his family, too.”

Gendry’s heart swells, and suddenly it’s too big for his chest, and he squeezes her fingers in return.

“We know,” drawls Jaime Lannister nearby. “No one here is in doubt of that. Incidentally, when is the happy day? We’re all dying for a bit of merriment, although this afternoon seemed plenty merry for you two.” His eyes flash with a hint of a smirk over his goblet of wine.

“Were you impressed by our fighting skills that much, Ser Jaime, to watch us for as long as you did?” Arya replies coolly. Jaime’s eyes widen in shock.

Gendry nearly spits out his ale. “He saw us?” He sputters. He hadn’t merely sparred with his Lady in those gardens, they’d also… he flushes at the thought. This gods-damned castle really did have eyes everywhere.

“Oh, it wasn’t just Ser Jaime,” Arya informs him brightly. “I believe Lord Tyrion and Ser Davos were present, too.”

Gendry whips his head around to throw Davos a look that could have roasted him.

The Onion Knight feverishly shakes his head in denial. “No no, my boy, I only happened to stumble upon you two by accident, believe me lad, I had no intention of - “

Arya leans across to place a hand on the old smuggler’s arm. “It’s alright, Ser Davos. Don’t worry about it.” When the anxious expression still doesn’t leave the Knight’s face, she smiles. “Come eat meals with us from now on, Ser. Gendry doesn’t admit it, but he’s missed you these past few weeks.” She’s grown rather fond of the man who had taken such good care of her beloved Jon and her Gendry.

Gendry drops the act at once, and nods at his now-father figure. “It’s true. I’ve been so busy running between here and Stormlands, but I’d be lying if I didn’t miss your company and your considerable wisdom.”

Davos bursts out into laughter, smiling at the best Baratheon he’s ever known, after his little Shireen. “Not sure about the wisdom part, but I’d be glad to provide you with my company and bad jokes for as long as you want.”

“Still, you haven’t told us when your happy day is,” wheedles Jaime, who has since recovered from his shock and has now gone right back to being a thorn in Arya's side.

“In about three months, Ser Jaime.” replies Gendry, looking at Arya. He squeezes her fingers again, her hand so small and warm in his own. “We’ll be married at Winterfell. When’s yours?” He shoots back.

The entire table hides their grins, and even the King himself spoons more stew into his mouth to keep his expression neutral.

Brienne turns pink, and Jaime’s face bypasses it entirely to burn scarlet. Arya decides to rescue them, if only because she loves the tall, blue-eyed Lady Knight across her.

“Sansa would be happy to see you married at Winterfell, too.” She gently tells Brienne. “She misses you a lot. Come North with us when we go.”

The Kingsguard Commander looks over at her King. “If Your Grace will allow, it will be my honor to see Queen Sansa again.” She turns to cast Jaime a shy smile, “and if you have no objection to it,” she says softly.

Arya swears she’s never seen Jaime look at anyone so tenderly. “I will go wherever you go, Ser Brienne,” he says simply. “Anywhere, as long as I get to marry you, and call you mine.”

Brienne blushes as red as Jaime does, unable to keep the joy off her face. Podrick pats her hand beside her. “Your Grace, I will be happy to remain here with the other Kingsguard while Sers Brienne and Jaime go North.” He pipes up.

Brienne swiftly turns to her former squire, now a young and capable Knight whom she loves like a little brother. “But I want you to be there too, Podrick,” she says quietly. “You can’t miss your own commander’s wedding, after all,” she declares, and Podrick beams at her.

Bran waves his assent. “You may come with us to Winterfell in three months’ time. The Grand Maester and our Master of Coin will manage affairs here until our return.”

Samwell nods eagerly. “Worry not, Your Grace, Lord Bronn and I will take care of everything.” He wilts a little then, as Bronn shoots him a withering look.

“Yes yes, you all go ahead and run off to your weddings and your celebrations, we’ll do all your work for you and run the Six Kingdoms in the meanwhile,” drawls the Master of Coin. “At least the North will be paying for these things, Highgarden can’t afford to be doling out gold for parties and funding the realm at the same time.” He grumbles under his breath.

The rest of the conversation fades into jumbled words in Arya’s ears, as she leans back in her seat to watch the twilight blanket the city and the sea in the distance in purple hues, and the stars are beginning to wink into existence far above them. The night air is cool, but the numerous candles provide warmth, and the weight of delicious food in her belly is a welcome feeling after nearly three weeks of riding down the Kingsroad from Winterfell.

Arya blinks slowly, her eyelids becoming heavier by the minute. She’s not sleepy, she will stay awake and alert to pay attention to the very important discussions taking place, she’s a damned Faceless assassin for gods’ sake…

Gendry feels something small and warm press into his side, and he looks down see his wife-to-be leaning against him as though he were a particularly comfortable pillow.

Arya’s pulled from her doze just long enough to register Gendry’s arm wrapping around her. “Shall I take you to bed, M’lady?” He whispers, his breath warm in her ear, his smile clear in his voice.

She hums softly in protest, her eyelids refusing to remain open any longer. “M’ awake,” she mumbles, “M’ just resting my eyes for a while.” A yawn promptly betrays her words.

Little Arya Stark would have never allowed herself to fall asleep in the company of anyone but her family, would rather have died than expose such vulnerability, but she isn’t worried tonight. The people at this table are her pack now, too. The Lannister lions sitting nearby are tame.

This place is no longer the den of venomous snakes where her family had suffered so much. It is a stronghold that protects the ones she loves the most, her old friends and new, and as long as she lives, she will honor her promise to Sandor Clegane. She will choose her family, her life, and give everything she has to ensure their happiness. But for now, Arya Stark will rest.

Gendry presses a kiss to the crown of her head, like her Lord father used to, every night before he tucked her into bed.

During moments like these, she can swear her Father sent Gendry to watch over her in his place.

“Awake. Of course.” Gendry chuckles into her hair. “With your eyes closed. Don’t start snoring on us, M’Lady.” Arya mumbles an incoherent retort, aiming a kick to his shin with all the accuracy of a drunken archer firing arrows into the night, and her leg meets nothing but air.

Gendry now laughs in earnest, the sound reverberates deep in his chest and gently lulls her to sleep, nestled in his arms.

The others at the table smile at the sight, and take care to speak in hushed tones for the rest of the evening.

#gendrya #arya stark #arya x gendry #gendry waters #braime #game of thrones #this is how got ended for me and i refuse to think otherwise #lord n lady of storms end come thruuu #also i apologize if this is garbage #but it's better than clownery i say #anyway d&d aren't valid #my fics