It’s been months of people asking if she’s all right. If she’s over it. If she’s better. She doesn’t expect posing naked for an art student’s senior project to be the thing that actually makes things almost normal again.
This fic was originally supposed to be a drabble prompt by Marta, who has had me feeling like all of the Bluth Brothers as it grew longer and longer.
His hands gripped the arm rests of his pilot’s chair. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears, could feel the eyes of his crew burning holes in his back. If he made one false move he could kill his entire crew, so instead, he kept his eyes trained forward at the…
(This is a continuation of this drabble, featuring Arya and Gendry as members of Robb’s wedding party. I’ll maybe eventually be expanded these drabbles into a one-shot that I’ll maybe eventually post on AO3. ;))
After what felt like an eternity, Arya was finally back from her duties as bridesmaid.
"Come on," she said impatiently. Like she was the one who’d been waiting on him. Without waiting for a response she pulled Gendry by the hand towards the crowded dance floor.
Disclaimer: i wrote this literally… like 2 years ago. i found it in my word doc folder… it’s so badly written… i dont even want to talk about it. i’m just posting it because i regret deleting Going Places. i tried to proofread and fix it up a little but… the stories plot is the worst damage and its already been done so.. whatever
Remember I have a prompt stoked? You said because of my help that you'd write me something. I know you're busy but I finally got an idea: Arya having to tell her Ned that she's pregnant with a bastard. No modern Au, make it as angsty as it it should
Ned sat before the heart tree sharpening Ice with a whetstone. He raised his head when he heard footsteps. Arya stood a little distance away, her face looking rather uncertain.
“I did not want to interrupt.”
He beckoned to her and she darted forward. A smile brightened her face and she held out her hand to him.
“The blue winter roses are blooming. I picked some for you Father. I have seen you looking at them.”
The sight pained him but he made himself smile anyway. The image of her holding the roses and looking so like Lyanna was both a blessing and a curse. She wore a gown today but her hair still hung wild and loose. No doubt she had been running through the castle grounds, most likely trying to evade the Septa.
“Sit with me sweet one.”
Arya took the invitation, dropping gracefully to the ground beside him. He took the roses from her and sighed. Cat had spoken to him once again about Arya’s marriage prospects and the betrothal was now made. I do not wish to let her go yet. Sansa had been married two years prior and with Arya at age sixteen, Ned knew it must wait no longer but he worried. Memories of the past haunted him.
She is too like Lyanna.
Arya fidgeted and he realised she did not visit him solely to give him flowers.
“What troubles you?”
She did not answer him straight away. Her hands fluttered anxiously and she smoothed her skirts.
“I do not want to disappoint you.”
She kept her eyes lowered. Ned reached out to cup her chin in his hand. She blinked at him, her dark eyes filled with worry.
“You won’t disappoint me. Is this about the argument I hear of? Is it about the report of you stealing food from the kitchens?”
Arya shook her head.
“I did not steal any food. They only think that because my gowns don’t fit right.”
Ned let go of her in confusion. Arya flushed red as he looked at her and her hands went to her middle.
“Please don’t hate me.”
Tears filled her eyes and Ned tried to hide his dismay.
She began to cry and he reached for her, taking her into his arms. Ned tried to soothe her, all the while trying to think of how they might deal with the news.
“Who?” he began to ask, already thinking he knew the answer.
Arya sniffled and pulled back from him and her expression became stubborn. She bit her lip.
“Don’t blame him,” she said quickly. “He did not make me. He wants to marry me.”
Ned sighed. I should have seen it coming. Cat tried to warn him of the time Arya spent in the forge. She tried to say that Robert’s bastard son would bring no good but Ned resisted the notion. He took the boy in as a favour for his friend.
This is my punishment.
“What will you do?” Arya asked, wiping roughly at her eyes again. New tears gathered once again.
“You are betrothed. There is a promise.”
“No,” she cried. “Don’t send me away. I want my baby and I want to stay with Gendry. Please father.”
Ned looked at her red rimmed eyes. Beautiful and wilful, just like her. He hoped for it to turn out better for his daughter. He fingered the blue roses lying on the ground beside him. Some of the petals already came loose. Arya’s hands reached for him again, clutching at him as she pleaded.
“Please father, promise me.”
The memory came back to him vividly and the shame and guilt with it
“Promise me Ned.”
“Please,” Arya pleaded again.
He closed his eyes and felt dread coil within him. “I promise,” he whispered.
“Lya, I promise.”
He had tried so hard and yet it seemed history was doomed to repeat itself.
(Giving this prompt a slight tweak, if that’s ok with you.:))
Gendry looked himself over one last time before deciding his bow tie was about as straight as it was ever going to be.
If Robb didn’t like it — well. Robb knew what he’d gotten himself into when he’d asked Gendry to be an usher at this thing. Or at least he should have known. A perfectly straight bow tie just wasn’t part of the deal.
Arya x Gendry. Gendry is the brother of Arya's best friend please :D
She wasn’t supposed to look. Gendry was older than her by three years, and his adoptive younger sister, Meera, was her best friend. Looking at her older brother, even if non blood related was a big no no. IF Bran was off limits for Meera, Gendry was certainly off limits for Arya. But at this point, she couldn’t care about any of that. The way she was watching, they both knew it. He was cleaning, the pool, as Meera was dosed off next to her, tired from working the late shift at the grocery store, Arya took the liberty to openly gawk at her friends brother.
His muscles constricting underneath the sun light. His chiselled stomach was etched with a sculpture touch as she thought about tracing her fingers down his muscled spin. Sending shivers through her system.
This was not Arya. She was not the boy crazy sister. Sansa was the one who went goe-goe-ga-ga over boys. Ayra was their best friends. A tomboy, but she threw that out the moment she bought this bikini. Instead of the boy shorts and sport bar like two piece, she had recently purchased a string low cut show stopper from Victoria Secret. Curiosity of said sister. When Arya asked her sister to help get his attention, not knowing who it was, she offered to buy her the swim suit. It was the middle of July, and tanning was the new thing, that Meera and Arya were planning on doing this summer for the first time in ever. So she jumped at the chance.
But now sneaking looks at Gendry, she realized how much it was revealing. For the first time since beginning to look at him, she noticed his stares at her. The way his eyes cascaded down her long legs, and her fully developed breasts. She was 17 going on 18 this year. He was 20 going on 21 in only a couple of weeks. She felt like a stupid schoolgirl, trying to get her dream crush to notice her.
And the moment she made eye contact with him, she realized that she was one of the lucky ones. Not only was she getting his attention, she made him grow slightly more pink at the realization he was caught. Yes she thought, this was going to be a good summer.
Arya anxiously scans the crowd of people milling about baggage claim, hoping to catch sight of the shock of black hair and the bright blue eyes she hasn’t seen in what feels like several lifetimes.
She sees businessmen in three-piece suits hugging their wives and children. Parents, picking up long-haired college students who’ve come home for the summer. Elderly couples holding hands as their middle-aged sons carry their suitcases.
Right before Arya is about to scream — to stomp her feet, to throw something, in frustrated impatience — she finally sees the men of Gendry’s troop, walking single file down the corridor and right towards her.
DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS??? ROBCELLA AU PROMPT TIME!!!!!!! Girl Imagine Robb as a firefighter, and Cella and a medic. And they're together and work out of the same station (just imagine it would happen even though it totally never would). And the rest is up to you. Just, Robb as a firefighter.
(OMFG YES YES YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES TO THIS MY DEAR!!!!)
His hands shook, even as they rested against the mattress beneath him. He could still see her face, the little girl with the brown pigtails, her little dead ashen face starring up at him. He closed his eyes to try and block out her mothers cries but nothing worked. It wasn’t until hours later when a familiar pair of arms wrapped around him that he could breathe again.
"The guys told me. I’m so sorry, Robb." Myrcella whispered soothingly. She rubbed his back gently and he felt, almost immediately, the wave of tension roll off of him.
"Today is your day off. You should be at home sleeping. They keep putting you on the graveyard shifts, you must be exhausted."
"She was six, Cella. A six year old girl who I didn’t save."
Myrcella kissed his shoulder gently and ran her fingers through his hair. He still had his uniform on and half his equipment. Soot lingered in his hair and clung to her fingers. He had black streaks on his face and his eyes were red rimmed from crying, “Robb,” she started. “We both knew getting into this line of work….that we couldn’t save everyone. You are a good man. And I know that you did everything you possibly could to save that little girl.”
Robb sniffed and wiped at his eyes, “Its just really hard sometimes. This job.”
Myrcella nodded, “I know it is.” she told him. She placed her hand on his cheek and turned his head to face her, “But you’ll be, okay.” she leaned forward and kissed his lips gently. “Come on, lets get you cleaned up. You’re a mess.”
Despite his mood, he laughed. “Am I?”
Myrcella nodded, “You sorta look like Bucky Barnes’ eyeliner got into a fight with a raccoon.”
Robb laughed, his deep hearty laugh, the laugh that always made Myrcella’s stomach turn into butterflies. “Well, I suppose I should go shower then.”