Welcome to the brutal world of Game of Thrones. Get better acquainted with some of your favorite characters. They're just waiting to fall in love with you in these pages.
Logistically speaking, there's a gif with each of these imagines and they're...
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"I DON'T WANT to marry him, Gendry! I don't!" You tried to keep the playful tone in your voice, but your smile was quickly fading.
"He's high born, (Y/N), and he clearly fancies you." Gendry wouldn't stop to face you as he spoke, and what had been a teasing conversation with your best friend was taking a dangerous turn.
You followed after him. Your brow furrowed as you wondered if this was as serious to him as it was to you. There was more at stake in this conversation than you were sure you were willing to admit yet.
"Gendry, I said I didn't and I don't. That's it."
"You'd practically be royalty." He paused so abruptly you almost crashed into him. His fingers brushed the worked wood of the table he'd stopped beside. It was so old and worn it was practically black. His eyes finally met yours. "You'd be m'lady," he whispered.
His eyes were so soft, so gentle on you. As if even though the words drove a sword straight through him, he didn't mind if it was you pressing it through his ribs.
"I don't want that." A deep-set frown cast over your face as you murmured your reply to him. You took a step towards him, on instinct, and he opened his body towards you in response.
"I don't care about titles." Your eyes traveled over the worn leather tunic he wore, his worked hands, the discolored fabric of his sleeve, his soot stained face. "You should know that, Gendry. I don't care."
"Do you love him?" Every word fanned against your face at your close proximity and those soft eyes bore into your own.
"No." You answered almost before he could finish.
You searched those eyes, willing him to ask what you knew came next. A featherlight touch traveled up your forearm. His fingers on your bare skin, but you held back a shiver, intent on maintaining the eye contact.
"Do you love me?" He whispered desperately.
"I do." The words came out as a plead. His gaze turned hard, scrutinizing for a lie in your expression. When he didn't find one, the touch traveled slowly up to your shoulder, then disappeared only momentarily before it was pushing hair behind your ear and cupping your face. You keened into the touch. He leaned down to you, so close the tension in the air would've suffocated anyone else, but he paused a hair's breadth from meeting your mouth with his.
"I love you, Gendry," you whispered against his lips. Eyes flitted to his before returning to his mouth breathlessly.
"I love you, (Y/N)."
He finally pressed his mouth to yours in one charged motion. Heat lit across you as he took his time tasting you, tilting your mouthes together. You could feel him holding back, trying to savor this first kiss but you couldn't take it. You pressed your tongue softly against his and almost as if on reflex his free hand pulled your hips against his. All gentility was abandoned as you pressed your hands against one another in desperation and no space was left between you. ——— WORD COUNT 526
