Hey guys! I am delighted to present a new GOT fanfiction. Petyr Baelish is not a character that many people pair with an OC, and I thought it would be interesting to make a Bae/OC fic in a modern alternate universe. So…this story was born. Petyr's totally going to be like…a creep in this fiction, hahaha. I have to admit, Bae's actor Aidan Gillen is a handsome man…There is just something compelling about the way he portrays Petyr so eerily cunning and charismatic at the same time! Anyhow, I've put a lot of thought into how a modern GOT universe would work out. You shall see! I hope you guys enjoy!

WARNING: This fan fiction contains mature content and subject matter.


Chapter 1- A Touch


It was early morning on the first day of summer and the Stark family was full of anticipation. The younger Stark children were excited to end their home-schooling with Luwin for the year while Catelyn and Ned were happily waiting to welcome Robb home from university for the summer. Sansa, in that dreadful love-hungry tween phase, was eager to find her first dream boyfriend over the holiday. Jon was just happy to be leaving the Stark family after this last summer—he had been training for years to join the Night's Watch Armed Forces—and while he was sad to leave his half-siblings and home, he was more than ready to rid himself of the scornful eyes of Catelyn Stark and the whispers of his illegitimacy about town.

However, the eldest of the Stark girls—Rosie—was perhaps the most excited for the summer to come. Now 18, she had finished her general education, and she would be attending college in the capital city, King's Landing, after this summer. She had lived in the region of Winterfell her entire life—and she wanted to break free from the familiar town where her family was well-known and well-respected to explore the big city on her own.

Rosie smiled to herself, pleased to be free from Luwin's methodical tutoring for good as she tread down the staircase towards the dining room, long auburn waves trailing behind her in a messy low ponytail. She had just rolled out of bed, and she was far too lazy to change from her mismatched pajamas. Rounding the corner, she caught sight of Arya chasing a screaming Bran with a plastic sword. Where in Westeros was the adult supervision? Her brow rose as she cleared her throat.

"What are the rules, guys? No running in the house…." She crossed her arms on the final step of the stairs as Arya and Bran stopped in their tracks to shoot her guilty looks. Bran and Arya simultaneously mumbled under their breath.

"She was chasing me…"Bran whined with a grumble, giving her wide brown eyes.

"You said girls couldn't fight!" Arya rebutted quickly, stepping forward madly with the plastic sword to intimidate him. Rosie held in a snort at the antics of the two children. How she missed running around with so much energy and pluck. She eyed Bran first.

"Girls can do anything that boys can do, Bran…" She chastised and he frowned as Arya stuck her tongue out in victory. Rosie then directed her stern look towards the lively tomboy.

"And nobody should chase others around with a sword. Arya…" She scolded, holding her hand out for the plastic toy. It was Bran's turn to laugh in victory as his wild sister glowered in defeat and begrudgingly handed her weapon over to their older sibling.

Rosie took the miniature toy sword in her hands and gently bopped both Arya and Bran on their ruffled little heads with it before dashing towards the dining room with an amused cackle. The two young brunettes both joined forces and took off in pursuit.

"That's not fair!" Arya yelled out. Rosie could almost hear Bran nodding his head in silent agreement as the two followed close behind. She laughed evilly as she neared the sliding doors of the dining room.

"Life's not fair, guys! Life lessons from your beloved elders!" She turned her head to playfully taunt the two and saw them with wide smiles plastered on both their faces. The best way to get two siblings to come to peace was to simultaneously pick on both of them…It would seem the two young children had made up.

With a laugh, she sprinted to the dining room entry, sliding the blue stained-glass doors open. She did not, however, notice the two figures which were sitting at the long dining table in deep discussion as she dashed in with the two children at her heels. Stepping onto the hardwood floor in her socks, she lost her footing and slipped, falling onto her butt with a thump, the toy sword sliding across the floor under the dining table.

Bran and Arya laughed at her as she sat on the ground rubbing her bottom in pain before they went silent, both their faces pale as they stared forward. Rosie gave them a confused look before she heard the distinct clearing of a throat from the direction of the dining table. Damn

Slowly, Rosie turned her gaze to meet the weary face of their father at the head of the table. It was not just him, however; sitting beside him with multiple papers scattered neatly over the expanse of the table was Petyr Baelish—a longtime friend of the family. As prim and proper as always, his hair was neatly cropped and he wore a sharp pressed suit and the same elegant mockingbird pin at his ironed collar. Did he ever wear street clothes? His face was naturally quite good-humored and refined, but she could detect the faint amusement on his features as he gave a slight smile and knowing nod in greeting.

She felt her face instantly grow hot with embarrassment. Not only had she childishly burst into their apparent meeting like a downright imbecile, but she had also managed to ungracefully fall on her butt in the process. It did not help that she was also clad in her less than mature nightwear—pink shorts, an old shirt, and a now uneven pair of horribly juvenile knee-high socks. And I was swinging a toy sword like a looney…An internal cringe threatened to meet her features as she lifted herself off the ground with as much pride as her adult-self had remaining—which was very little. Staring between her father and Petyr Baelish, who was now brandishing his usual deceiving smile, she spoke awkwardly.

"Good morning dad…Mr. Baelish…" A weak smile escaped her as her father smiled back tiredly. Petyr Baelish, on the other hand, offered a smirky-smile which would appear like a jovial expression to the average eye. But to her, it seemed more than smug. It was always plastered on his face…and it never reached his eyes. Her smile faded as chills set in. Something about him had always creeped her out, but nearly her entire family seemed to think the opposite as only her and Jon noticed something off about his trustworthy disposition and seemingly flawless reputation. Petyr Baelish was a bit of a mystery…He was a well-groomed and charismatic businessman who skillfully dabbled in politics, financing, and God knew what else. It seemed he had his hand hidden in everyone's cookie jar…Including her family. It did not help that he always appeared in the least expected of places and times…such as now. He was like a damned shadow.

"Ah, little Rose, how you've grown. You favor your mother's side in fairness. I always knew you'd outgrow your garden…" Petyr stood from his seat, his duplicitous words and hidden meanings all too familiar as she forced a smile and accepted his eerie compliment. His speech was so archaic and he used far too many eerie metaphors for comfortable conversation…what did he even mean by garden? Was he calling her fat? Her forced smile remained in place as she tried to analyze his overly friendly speech. She had thankfully not seen Petyr Baelish in over a year…Hopefully he would leave soon, and she could enjoy her summer, go to college in peace, and never see him and his creepy face and obnoxious little mockingbird pin again.

"Thank you, Mr. Baelish…So, what were you two discussing?" She returned awkwardly. Turning to glance behind her swiftly, she saw that Arya and Bran had run off in her moment of dire embarrassment. Bloody traitors

Turning back around, she flinched with a gasp at the sight of Petyr Baelish standing right in front of her, obscuring the view of her father at the dining table. The corners of his mouth twitched with a subtle smile at her startled reaction and she could just imagine the well-oiled gears turning about steadily in his head...She had never actually revealed her true suspicions about the man to his face, but she could just tell that he sensed her discomfort…and the sick bastard probably relished in making her squirm over the years. Holding in a scowl of disapproval, she glanced up into his emotionless grey-green eyes—don't let him smell your fear, Rosie

"Business that does not quite concern you children…yet. It is not my place to advise you on the matter, Rose. That is for your father to discuss," He came in close as he spoke with his alarmingly calm and soft voice, hovering over her to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. She froze at the ghost of his trim stubble which had brushed between her brow. As he pulled away with an unnervingly pleasant trace of a smile, she blushed despite herself. Every time he came around the house to visit, he made her feel like an incompetent child. Not even her family called her by her given name—Rose. And she had never really liked the way he referred to her as "little Rose" all the time. Perhaps he knew how much it absolutely pissed her off. Without thinking, she grumbled out while rubbing her forehead.

"It's Rosie…" She looked down at her uneven socks as Petyr considered her with soft smile and vacant eyes.

"Of course…You are indeed not little anymore. But you must forgive a man for old habits," He rubbed her shoulder gently as her father came over with a light laugh from his seat.

"Rosie, Petyr will be joining us for dinner later this evening. Let your brothers and sisters know. I'm sure they'll be excited to see him again. He's brought gifts for you all from his time in King's Landing and the Eyrie. I'm sure you'll love to hear all about the capital, Rosie," The young woman looked at her father with a nod. Of course, everyone else was thrilled to see Petyr Baelish…The bastard

"Sure, dad. I'll go tell them now…" She hid her distaste at the notion of Petyr Baelish coming over for a family dinner. Sure, he had been around since she was an infant…But that didn't mean she had to like the man. Before turning to leave, Petyr gave one last word.

"I look forward to seeing you this evening. Do not forget your sword, my dear," His hands were clasped primly behind his back, his expression annoyingly affable and his eyes filled with humor as she paused and stared at him with wide eyes and burning cheeks. That smug bastard was most likely making fun of her…

"Yeah…" She replied blandly before quickly shifting past him and bending at the foot of the dining table to retrieve the blasted toy sword. The damned thing was stuck in the middle and she silently cursed as she got on her knees to climb underneath. Stupid, stupid sword…Stupid socks…Stupid Petyr Baelish

Unnoticed, the man she was internally cursing keenly watched her move with the intensity of a hawk. On the surface, his countenance displayed friendly amusement at the girl's plight, but his stony eyes were truly focused on the manner in which the young woman was bent so suggestively. His gaze subtly trailed up her sock-clad calves to her exposed thighs. Those pink shorts were quite short. If she were his daughter, she would certainly not be romping about in such attire. But of course, she was not his daughtera most favorable truth indeed. He stood even straighter when said shorts clung to the expanse of her bottom as she stretched under the table to retrieve the child's toy. Yes, little Rose had grown into a woman of surpassing beauty over the past year…and she was far more beautiful than Catelyn had ever been. Indeed, out of all the Stark children, he had always favored Catelyn's first-born girl…If only they knew how fond he truly was of the young woman. It was ironic indeed that Rose was the only Stark child to shift about him with little trust. It was wise indeed—he was a less than honorable man…A man that would do everything and anything to possess what he wanted in life. As of late, he found himself wanting very much indeed

Rosie grasped the toy sword and shuffled out from under the table. As she backed up, her right leg hit something and she glanced to the side to see a distinct pair of slickly pointed leather dress-shoes. Looking up blankly, she saw Petyr Baelish staring down at her with his fake smile and an extended hand.

"Allow me to help. We wouldn't want any more slips today," His gaze gestured to her socks and she pursed her lips before warily taking his hand. It felt warm and smooth as he helped lift her off the floor. As she stood with a fumble, his other hand rested on her upper arm to steady her.

She gasped at the cold sensation of metal on her skin and she quickly looked down to see the ring on his last finger—a dark metal piece with an oval-shaped black stone in the center. She swiftly shrugged out of his light grasp and made her way to the entry with the toy in hand, muttering a hurried thank you.


Rosie angrily shut the door to her upstairs room with a huff. She threw the sword onto her bed before plopping down and burying her face in a pillow with a frustrated groan. It was official—Petyr Baelish gave her the creeps and his touch made her spine tingle in an unpleasant way. The man and his unsmiling eyes gave her goose bumps…His trim and meticulous appearance made him seem even more devious…Stupid little bird-pin…stupid creepy-ass pinky ring...She wanted to find out what his problem was—there was definitely something off about him.

Over the years, she had come up with many theories about him. One cringe-worthy theory was that he was still creepily into her mom. He was at least six years younger than both her parents, and when he was young, he had proposed to her mother. Was nobody else disturbed by that? The man was single in his mid-thirties, and he never had a wife or any significant other of which to speak. Unless he kept someone hidden in a basement all these years or something…Rosie found it plain bizarre; Petyr Baelish was beyond successful and put-together…so why did he constantly hang around her family and poke his nose into their business?

She squirmed, further burying her face into the pillow as she thought about how not even her father felt uncomfortable about keeping the master of the friend-zone around after her mother apparently rejected him in their youth almost two decades ago.

It was not just the man's obvious remaining affection for her mother that disturbed her greatly; she had other theories about the slyly charming man. One was that he was secretly a psychopath that planned to kill them all…and another was that he got his less-than socially acceptable kicks from the women that worked for him in King's Landing.

Yes—it was well-known to everyone that Petyr Baelish owned a surprisingly legal and flourishing business in the capital that sold sex in all shapes and forms…But somehow he was still well-respected and held an abundance of political influence. His power as an advisor and friend to many authoritative figures was more than shady… Rosie could just imagine him in the role of a puppet-master, working in the shadows and whispering in the ears of the wealthy as he plotted for his own personal gain. She sighed…perhaps she was just being paranoid…But she still didn't trust him, and she would do everything she could to avoid him during his stay in Winterfell. Hopefully he would leave soon…

Hoisting herself off the bed, she dressed in a pale blue blouse and simple high-waisted black skirt. She threw on a pair of flats and made her way downstairs to sneakily retrieve some breakfast before going to find her siblings. The Stark house and property was rather large; it would take a while to find everyone to tell them about dinner. Sighing, she entered the kitchen to see three familiar faces sitting at the table with their wolfish looking pup companions at their sides.

"You two deserters! You left me to die!" She playfully eyed Bran and Arya as they dropped their spoons into their cereal bowls, guilt on their little faces. Rickon was also sitting at the kitchen table, still cozily dressed in his pajamas as he quietly ate his bowl of sugary cereal, sneaking an occasional piece to Shaggydog. Bran was the first to defend their retreat from the dining room.

"We didn't leave you! We just came here because we were hungry…" Arya nodded her head in agreement as she took a bite of cereal. Rosie sighed and shook her head in amusement.

"Whatever you guys say…You two would know who is coming to dinner tonight if you hadn't run away with your tails between your legs…" Rosie tried not to grin as the three children perked up, clearly curious.

"Who is it? Who is it?" Rickon flung his spoon about, getting specks of milk on the kitchen table and Arya's pup Nymeria, who was sitting close to his chair. Bran and Arya glanced at their older sibling, begging her to tell them. Rosie felt her iron will falter. They were just too adorable to deny.

"Alright, I'll tell you! Please don't give me the sad puppy-eyes!" Rosie laughed as the three children stood from their seats with a cheer.

"Mr. Baelish is coming to dinner tonight," Rosie took a step back as the three young ones jumped up and down in excitement, their pups circling them in shared excitement. I guess I'm the only one not excited here…She smiled weakly at their severe enthusiasm.

"Littlefinger is here! Did he bring gifts? How long is he staying? Where is he staying?" Arya questioned happily as Bran and Rickon looked on eagerly, waiting for an answer. Rosie flinched at their nickname for Baelish…He had told them the story of how he had grown up as a small boy on the smallest of a group of islands known as The Fingers. Thus he was called Littlefinger as a boy…But she certainly wasn't about to call him that. For all she knew, it was some perverted reference to his "dabbling".

"Slow down, guys! I don't know how long he'll be here, and I don't know where he's staying. But yes, he did bring gifts for everyone…Just be ready for dinner tonight, okay? Go let Sansa know, my little minions," Rosie covered her ears as the three squealed at the mention of gifts, running towards the staircase with their pups to go wake up Sansa.

Rosie sighed heavily—now all she needed to do was find Jon. Robb would arrive home in the evening; their mother had been so eager for his return from university that she had driven early to the airport to pick him up from his flight. Rosie had always held the suspicion that their mother favored Robb...he was her first and original child, after all. That only meant Robb was a mother's boy... She snickered and shrugged a coat on, making her way out into the cold towards the vast courtyard where Jon always ran and trained. She knew that mother would most likely not welcome him at the table for dinner…but she needed to tell him about Petyr Baelish's presence in their home. Both her and Jon found the man shady—a trait nobody else in the family seemed to detect. Walking the long path into the courtyard, she saw Jon jogging at a steady pace on the far side of the lawn with Ghost at his side. He took his training so seriously…She hadn't even seen him eat a cupcake or any other sweet in over ten years. His discipline and passion was beyond admirable. Jon was only a year older than her, yet he was mature beyond his years.

"Jon!" She yelled across the yard and Jon stopped in his tracks. Ghost stopped as well. He looked in her direction with a quizzical expression and began jogging over. As he neared, she could see he was drenched with sweat. He had clearly been training out in the yard since a very early hour.

"Rosie, it's cold out here…" He looked down at her skirt with a raised brow. She shook her head and gestured to his attire.

"It's always chilly out here, Jon. I'm used to it. Plus you don't have a coat on," She gave him a look as she pointed out his sweaty grey t-shirt. He gave a small smile before nodding.

"Right," He stated simply before walking to her side and towards the long bench in the courtyard where his towel and water bottle were resting. She followed close behind, waiting for him to question why she was outside. He knew she preferred to leave him undisturbed when he was running since it was something he usually did on his own. Rosie liked that about Jon—he was a bit taciturn and he kept to himself more often than not, yet he was always the most attentive sibling when she needed to confide in someone.

"What is it, Rosie?" He picked his towel up from the bench and wiped his forehead before slinging it over his neck and sitting down on the bench.

"Baelish is here. And he is staying for dinner tonight," She huffed and Jon sat quietly for a few seconds, his brow furrowed as he carefully mulled over her words.

"What does he want, then?" Jon spoke out lowly. Rosie sighed.

"I don't know…He just enjoys visiting us whenever he can. Maybe he is busy plotting and he wants to enjoy a happy dinner with the Starks before he kills us all and sells our organs to his secret blackmarket distributor friends," She quipped sarcastically with a frown. Jon smiled with a light laugh before shaking his head and standing.

"I don't trust Baelish, Rosie…Your mother…We both know he always visits to see her," Jon considered his younger sister as she bowed her head in agreement.

"He even spoke of gifts for us all, the crafty sycophant," She stood as well, crossing her arms and shuddering dramatically at the mention of his gifts. Jon smiled and gave her head a playful pat.

"Don't worry, I don't think he'll keep giving you dolls," He joked lightly. Rosie laughed.

"I know that, Jon…I'm just terrified of what he possibly could have brought an 18 year old girl…It's just a bit weird to be getting a gift from a grown man you're not even related to…family friend or not…I'm a grown adult, damn it!" She crossed her arms.

"Hey, Robb and I still unwillingly get gifts from Baelish…Is that not the same?" He looked on with mirthful brown eyes.

"It's not the same! You're both guys…" She sighed. Jon gave her a pat on the back before offering a sympathetic look.

"You can survive one dinner…Just accept the gift…Robb and I pleaded to stop receiving gifts long ago…" He chuckled weakly before placing his towel back onto the bench and quickly jogging across the path into the yard. Rosie watched him turn in her direction before he called out.

"Don't claw his face off, Rosie," He mused lightly before turning around once more to continue his rigorous jog. Rosie snorted.

"Trust me, I have more self-restraint than that!" She called out at his retreating form before she began heading back to the estate. She would endure one dinner with the creep, and then hopefully Petyr Baelish would be gone.


Sansa tugged at a lock of long deep auburn hair as she wound it into a braid at the crown of her older sister's head. Rosie flinched at the sharp pain and brought her hand up to rub her poor scalp before the back of her palm was smacked lightly.

"You'll ruin it," Sansa whined in annoyance. Rosie pursed her lips and silently trooped on as she let Sansa do her hair for dinner. She heard the younger girl mutter as she finished up the elegant braid.

"It should be a crime to have this hair and not know how to do anything with it," Sansa fussed with the long wavy bottom layers, attempting to arrange them into the perfect position. Rosie groaned before escaping her younger sister's clutches and standing from her chair.

"I know how to do a pony-tail…that counts for something," Rosie gave her young sibling a silly smile before looking in the mirror at Sansa's handiwork. Her face lit up at the sight of the beautiful braid Sansa had wound her top layer into. It sat like a small crown of hair on the top of her head as the bottom layer fell neatly down her chest.

"It's beautiful. You're like the hair-whisperer…" Sansa rolled her eyes at her sister's exaggeration before turning to fuss with her own fiery locks. Rosie exited Sansa's room, leaving the young girl to her own pampering as she tread downstairs in a fitted pale blue dress with long lacy sleeves and ballet flats. She really wouldn't have dressed up for a dinner with just Petyr Baelish…but Robb was coming home from university for the first time in a year, and that was something to actually celebrate.

As she reached the second to last step, she saw the despised man himself standing ever so calmly at the foot of the staircase with the same calculated smile on his face as always. He had changed suits, but he still wore the mockingbird pin at his collar. Did he have an endless supply of suits? She looked at him as courteously as possible.

"Why aren't you in the dining room, Mr. Baelish?" She asked politely, internally cursing him for creeping around the house when almost everyone was gathering in another area. The man stepped forward, holding his hand out cordially as she reluctantly made it to the final step. Rosie glanced at the hand before staring at his friendly face in hidden suspicion.

"Am I not welcome in your home beyond the dining room?" He questioned nicely, his voice warm as he gave her a perplexed smile. She took his hand, not wanting to offend him. He led her down the final step before his smooth hand slowly released hers.

"You're welcome here…but why aren't you joining everyone else?" Rosie felt the hand slowly caress the small of her back and she held in a shiver as he began leading her in the direction of the dining room with a low chuckle.

"As much as I do enjoy the lively company in the dining room, your mother sent me to collect you from your sister. I understand Sansa will require some extra time in preparing for the evening," His eyes shone with mirth as he mentioned her sister's prolonged endeavor to get ready. She gave a light laugh, temporarily letting her guard down.

"She would be ready by now, but I asked her to help with my hair. She is a bloody perfectionist, so it took longer than I thought it would," Rosie tensed as she felt the hand gently rub her back, his guiltless gaze directed ahead as he continued to lead her forward innocently.

"You look stunning, my dear," The hand continued to rub along her lower back, his fingers never quite reaching low enough for his touch to be deemed blatantly inappropriate. She blushed at his compliment and nodded nervously, wanting to reach the dining room more than anything. As soon as she could get Petyr Baelish and his unsettling hands away from her, the better…As unnerving as his tender touch felt, the longer it remained, the more soothing it began to feel…And that disturbed her more than anything.


Bae is creeping….big time…But nobody notices except for Jon and Rosie…I've made Catelyn and Ned a bit more amiable towards Baelish in this story so I could wedge him in as a close family friend. In a modern Westeros, I think Baelish would be friends with the Starks by default since he is close to Catelyn and her family. I can't wait to take creeper Bae to the next level! Next chapter, the Stark children will receive their gifts. On a side note, the title to this story is inspired by two Arctic Monkey songs—Knee Socks and Do Me a Favour. Check them out if you want some songs which inspired the story! Till the next chapter, guys!