ayra x gendry week

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Apr 9

Caught

So I got a little upset with this other fic and had to write this for the Evidence prompt, even though I have a looming deadline IRL. I’m horribly screwed, but happy. :) Always loved big bro Jon and the Stark siblings. But this ended rather abruptly, so there should be a part two or something. Maybe. Bless, bless. – NYC Sidewalk (but I lurk in Tumblr in another name)

“Damnit, Arya!”

Her little sister suddenly looked up from her bowl of Frosties and mumbled through a mouthful of cornflakes what sounded like a “Whuuufhhh?” as milk dribbled down on her chin. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he held up a brownish, gooey clump on his gloved right hand. “Get rid of your goddamn hair when you use my shower!” he growled. Jon would have looked more terrifying if he didn’t have shampoo suds on his head and wearing only a white towel around his waist and a yellow rubber glove.

“Gross,” Arya said flatly. Jon was inches from chucking that hairball to her breakfast, but instead resigned to angrily dumping it in the kitchen trash bin. Whenever Arya stays the night at his flat – mainly because she was too drunk or too annoyed or too lazy to go home – she always leaves behind a trail of mess and sheds hair everywhere. She’s worse than Ghost. “Yes, you are very gross,” he growled again. “Well, I’m not the one dripping water on the floor and walking around naked in front of guests,” she pointed to him with her spoon. “You’re banned from using my shower! You hear me?!” he yelled before retreating back into the bathroom and slamming the door.

***

“I think Arya has a boyfriend.”

Gendry violently choked on his soda at that. Jon, who was sitting next to him on the sofa, narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Went down the wrong pipe,” Gendry explained when he can finally breathe. “Why do you think that?”

Jon drew his eyebrows together and grumbled, “She barely stays at my place anymore and she’s always making up lame excuses on weekends. I bet it’s that blue-haired douche from her fencing team! He gave her a ride home that one time.”

“What blue-haired douche?” Gendry looked upset with this information, but quickly schooled his face. “Well, you did ban her from your flat,” he pointed out. Jon doesn’t remember mentioning that conversation to his friend. “Maybe she’s just busy with practice. It’s semi-finals next month,” he continued. Jon also doesn’t remember talking to Gendry about Arya’s training and he didn’t even know she has a competition coming up. When did they become so close?

***

“Can’t stand. Too full.”

Jon moaned after his second and a half helping of Gendry’s homemade lasagna. “You are a domestic god,” Arya told Gendry, who was chortling next to her. Since Jon kept whining on how he barely saw his sister and friend these days, Gendry offered to make them dinner at his flat and hang out. “And as your god, I now command you to do the dishes,” he replied with a booming voice. Arya just raised an eyebrow, “You command me?” Gendry smiled at her and sweetly added, “Please?”

Jon would like to think he isn’t a very suspicious man, but something is definitely up with these two. He still thinks Arya is hiding a secret git of a boyfriend somewhere and, when he spied a hickey on his friend’s neck during football, he figured Gendry has a girl he’s keeping away from him too.

Arya was already taking their plates to the sink when Jon excused himself to go to the bathroom which is in Gendry’s bedroom. Well, Arya is right; Gendry could be a domestic god. His room is always neat – as neat as can be for guys – and his bathroom is impossibly clean. He was looking for a towel after washing his hands when he noticed something — a dark mass clogging up the shower drain. He doesn’t know why but he inspected closely and saw long, brown, not unlike the hair that he usually finds on his drain. No. Jon shook his head. Not a chance. He left the bathroom with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Gendry could just be seeing some random brown-haired chick. There are millions of brown-haired chicks, he thought logically. But when he spotted more wisps of the same mousy brown hair on his white pillow, everything suddenly clicked. Fuming, he went back to the kitchen ready to demand a confession. But then he saw his sister doing the dishes, happily chatting with Gendry who is standing close and drinking his after-meal coffee. She’s smiling. She hasn’t truly smiled like that in a while, Jon thought.

Apr 8

AxGWeek Masterlist

Hey Guys!! I’ve organized all the axgweek 2013 and monthly prompts fics into this Masterlist! If you’ve written something for either of these events please double check that it’s on the list, if I missed anything let me know and I’ll fix it!

Don’t forget, this month’s prompt is Evidence!

Apr 6

On the Prowl - Chapter 3 - lady_illiya - Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin [Archive of Our Own]

ladyilliya:

I wrote a 3rd chapter to my AU college fic for the axgweek prompt, Shoes. It’s a short and sweet one but I hope you guys like it! Furiousfanfiction also beta’d it for me so thanks John!

Apr 2

On the Prowl - Chapter 2 - lady_illiya - Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin [Archive of Our Own]

ladyilliya:

I wrote a second chapter to On the Prowl for the February axgweek prompt: Plead.

Thanks John for being an awesome beta!

Enjoy!

Apr 1

Phantom Limb

jeeno2:

A Gendrya drabble written for the AxGweek tumblr’s April prompt, “Evidence.”

Read More

A Kind of Habit

jeeno2:

(Written in response to February’s axgweek prompt, “Plead.”  Quite NSFW.)

Read More

April Prompt: Evidence

Hey Everyone!

April’s Monthly Prompt is Evidence.

Evidence of what, you say? I’ll let you guys decide that ;).

Don’t know what monthly prompts are all about? Check it out here. Feel free to still post for previous months if you get inspired by one of those prompts.

Because the world needs more Arya x Gendry fics (however bad they turned out to be, like this one, haha). Wonder what the April prompt will be? :)

She has been inspecting his cleats for a whole minute now and kept comparing them to her current 37-sized red sneakers. Her brothers and their childhood friend, Gendry, just came home from their ritual Saturday football scrimmage and, as usual, they dumped their muddy shoes by the door and headed straight to kitchen to grab some snacks. She was on her way out to take her Alaskan malamute, Nymeria, for a walk, when she noticed Gendry’s tattered, white – well, now dark brown with a side of green grass – cleats.

“Whatcha doing there?” Gendry startled her from behind. He was wearing that cocky grin of his, clearly amused at seeing Arya crouched down staring at shoes. “Dude, you have gigantic mutant feet,” she said straightening up and masking her embarrassment at being caught. “Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet,” he said smugly. Heat started to rise up her neck and cheeks, when he added with a smirk, “We have big shoes, Arya. Big shoes.”

This good-looking, infuriating ass wipe, she thought. “Dude, size doesn’t matter. It’s the performance that counts,” she retorts looking pointedly at his crotch before opening the door. It was his turn to redden.

if you have any prompt ideas just shoot me an ask

March Prompt: Shoes

Hope you guys have read the Shoes entries so far! They’re awesome!

This month’s prompt is Shoes if you’re feeling creative, but feel free to still post Prowl and Plead if you wrote something for those.

Stupid shoes

For the shoes prompt.

“Seven fucking hells!”

That was the fifth time she had tripped on nothing that night because of those stupid, bedazzled heels. Arya didn’t care if Sansa specially ordered them online from Myr or that they cost a shitload of Gold Dragons or that it, in her sister’s words, “beautifully matched” her blue lacy dress, which Sansa also picked out especially for Aegon Targaryen’s homecoming party tonight.

The shoes were too shiny, too girly, too high, and too painful. “Stupid fucking shoes,” she grumbled as she took off the right one and hobbled out the emergency exit and to the fire escape in order to, well, escape the concentrated phoniness in that flat and let her and her feet breathe.  

“Why wear it then?,” said a low voice from the dark. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the fire escape and late summer night, Arya saw a dark-haired guy staring at her feet, hunched on the stairs and smoking a ciggie. Arya thought she might have spotted him in the party hovering near the bar. “This,” she pointedly said, waving the sparkling shoe in his face, “is not a choice. But a form of punishment.”

The guy looked up to her with a condescending smirk and she met with probably the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. “Really? Eating expensive cheese, drinking expensive wine, flirting with expensive snobs, wearing expensive clothes for a party? That’s a punishment? Aren’t you one of them?,” he spat with disdain as he stood up, discarded his cigarette butt and stretched to his full, very tall height.” He might be handsome, but also an idiot. How dare he call her a rich snob.

“Excuse you. Not all of the people in there are rich, pretentious bastards. Maybe 90% are, but not all,” she doesn’t know why she’s defending that gods awful party. “And you should talk, you drank their booze and currently advertising a Stag watch,” she acidly said pointing to his right wrist. He was wearing what she calls a Robert Baratheon token watch, a large golden watch with a prancing stag design; a gift the fat King’s Landing mayor gives to his “dearest” friends. She should know, her dad has one. Hell, every Baratheon has one. Come to think of it, he kind of looks like Renly, but he can’t be his son. Renly’s gay as they come. 

There was a pause and the two just looked at each other, or rather sized up each other. With a snort, he touched the large watch and said, “Yeah, this is a punishment too.” Arya shrugged, took in the sight of the smoggy city skyline and removed the other offending shoe. “Everyone was being a dick to me tonight. I’m not used to this… crowd,” he said by way of apology. She laughed at that. A lifetime of being blackmailed to going, and sometimes event hosting, these kind of parties and she’s still not used to it. So she kind of felt bad for this poor fellow stuck in the same demise. “Trust me, you’ll never get used to it,” she said pushing herself off the rail and headed for the exit. “Well, I’m done with all this fuckery for the night, so I’m going out for a burger.” She turned to him. “You hungry?” His eyebrows shot up at that and his cheeks reddened a bit, but he smiled anyway. “Already asking me out on the first meeting? I could be a serial killer for all you know.” She faced him then. “Three points: one, not a date; two, I would kick your ass; and three, what are the chances that we’re both serial killers?” His laughter was loud, a real belly laugh, Arya decided she liked it. “Ladies first,” he exaggeratedly motioned an arm to the door. “Fourth point: I’m not a lady,” she frowned. He laughed again and his blue eyes crinkled at the sides. “Hang on,” Arya quickly turned to the railing again and threw her shoes into the night sky. They made a loud banging noise when they landed on what she imagined to be the dumpsters below. He was suppressing a laugh when he said, “I’m Gendry. You?” “Arya,” she said. “Let’s go then, Arya underfoot.”