#but Ned was pretty much all about them too!

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The Curse of Deansgate

An understudy for Chris Peterson? Most of Ned’s friends could not believe it. Nor could Ned, to be fair. The fact that Chris was even doing Broadway was almost just as unbelievable. Hollywood superstars, like him, rarely gave up the time for a twelve-week stint in a production like ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’. It was going to be, without a doubt, the hottest ticket in town.

Ned watched through some of Chris’ old movies before rehearsals began. He devoured them all: the romantic comedies, the science fiction classics, as well as the action hero thrillers where Chris’ shirt was pleasingly absent for multiple scenes. Ned swooned, still feeling unable to comprehend his good luck. He’d done the Broadway circuit for a few years now and was slowly building a name for himself. A major role in his last show had earned him the attention he craved within the industry, despite the show actually selling rather poorly. But Ned simply loved the theatre and couldn’t wait to see Chris in action on stage. He imagined that the guy would feel quite nervous performing to a large crowd every night, especially after exclusively working on movies for so many years. And, as his understudy, Ned would be sure to support him. He fantasised about them becoming best friends and forging a bond like no other. He felt the bubbling excitement in his stomach as the days ticked down, getting closer and closer to the beginning.

The media coverage was already everywhere, even before the two week rehearsal period. ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ was a rarely performed production due to the superstition surrounding its commercial failures in the past. Written in the early twentieth century, ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ had apparently never once completed a full run in any theatre; although Ned doubted that to be completely true. Like all superstitions, it made Ned laugh to think that the play would make the usually level-headed investors go weak at the knees; much like all the actors he had met over the years, too superstitious to utter the words ‘Macbeth’ on stage. But a ‘cursed’ play certainly made for an awful lot of clickbait; cleverly helping to fuel the audience’s anticipation, as well as the advanced ticket sales.

However, there was also another reason why the play was being discussed so much; one that Ned felt a little more nervous about. The director would be the incredibly talented Gordon Harrison; an absolute master; especially here on Broadway, crafting incredible productions over a career that spanned decades. He had once played the lead in ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ back when he was in his twenties, and was resurrecting it now, perhaps as a form of nostalgia for himself. However, if anyone was to meet Gordon, it might not have been his ingenious directing creativity that they first noticed. Gordon was known to be one of the largest men working in the industry; a ginormous gut and wide butt, weighing in at a waddling five hundred pounds or more. 

Ned was sure that many people had probably made fun of Gordon’s weight over the years, but none so publicly as Chris Peterson. It had apparently happened early on in Chris’ career, when he was still making a name for himself, playing a small role in one of Gordon’s rare movie productions. When asked what he thought of the renowned director, a young, pretty-boy Chris had been less than complimentary, remarking to a journalist about how grotesquely greedy and lazy the fat director was on set; rarely getting out of his reinforced chair to offer notes to the hardworking performers and crew surrounding him; also referring to him as just another ‘failed actor’ who had shifted to directing once his first career ended. They were throwaway comments, but even Ned remembered the media storm that inevitably came from it. 

Perhaps not for the right reasons, Chris Peterson undoubtedly became better known afterwards. He’d been remembered and picked for bad boy roles where a little edge to the character’s personality was definitely a requirement. From there, he’d only gone from strength to strength, after his management eventually taught him to hold his tongue a little more when it came to badmouthing people he had worked with. Now, the director’s offer of the lead role in this play had been widely seen as an olive branch to the handsome actor, as a way to leave the past behind them; one that had been graciously accepted by Chris’ management team who convinced him to sign up straight away. And so, for the first time ever, the money was pouring in from investors, hoping to get a slice of success as ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ was about to be performed to the public for the first time in thirty years.

Some men just had that aura about them. It was the thing Ned most remembered about Chris Peterson, the first time he strolled into the theatre. Like any Hollywood hunk, he was painfully handsome, not to mention stylish. But Chris was also incredibly tall and muscular, giving the perception that he could have turned his hand to any sport at all, had the acting career not worked out so well for him. Ned remembered how aroused he was, sitting in the wings, watching the final act, when Chris rehearsed the penultimate scene, completely shirtless: the broad back, the stunning chest, the insane six pack. Not that Ned was a stranger to the gym himself, it was pretty much given in his line of work, but there was just something so awe-inspiring about the physique of a true Hollywood leading man.

Unlike any other production Ned had ever been involved in, there were journalists waiting outside from day one of rehearsals. Gordon had made it clear that no one was to talk to them or pose for pictures, but that didn’t stop them shouting for attention each time the cast walked out. Usually they wanted to know about Chris, or about how Gordon was doing, working with a guy who had so badly insulted him almost ten years ago. If Ned had been allowed to answer them, he could have told them that, in fact, everything was absolutely fine. Ever the professional, a now twenty-seven year old Chris took to the theatre work with ease, and Gordon didn’t seem in the least bit resentful towards him at all. Perhaps that was the point. The reality was so fundamentally boring, keeping the air of mystery kept the media writing about the play and building that appetite for it.

As for Ned’s dreams of becoming best friends with Chris Peterson, well, that had always been unlikely. Although the man had learned all their names and was friendly enough, Chris kept himself to himself during break times and retained that Holwood mystique with the rest of the cast; continuing to be one of the only people Ned knew who could get away with wearing sunglasses indoors and still look sexy. But, in regards to being an understudy for him, Gordon had told Ned straight out that it was never going to happen. People were coming to this production to see Chris and that was exactly what they would get. It was the investors who had insisted on there being an understudy, just in case, but Ned was never going to actually get the chance to perform to an audience. He would simply stick to his significantly smaller role, dying before the end of the first act each and every night.

“Break a leg!” Ned smiled at Chris as the curtain was about to go up on their first night. He still got butterflies each time he had the opportunity to talk to the guy, even after the long rehearsals.

Chris smiled back, seeming as cool as could be; as if none of this phased him in the slightest. Then, with a final intake of breath, he stepped onto the stage, in front of a cheering crowd, surreptitiously dotted with some of New York’s harshest critics.

There was the strangest of feelings in the theatre that night; like an unheard frequency that was somehow ringing in the ears. Chris’ performance was powerful and moving; rising above anything they had witnessed in the rehearsals. Ned could already see the awards and accolades the Hollywood star was about to amass. The final act was a marvel, and Ned saw their large, oversized director sitting in an extra large chair on the front row, smiling with pride the entire time. When the final curtain fell, the audience rose to their feet, but Gordon remained seated. He looked pleased with himself, like he had just accomplished something he had been working towards for many, many years.

At the afterparty that evening, the excitement was electric. Everybody knew that the show was a hit; perhaps the biggest success they would ever be involved in; the pinnacle of their careers. Their director stood, having graciously acknowledged everyone in the cast and crew for all they had done, only leaving one final man to congratulate. He called Chris to stand beside him and slipped his big, heavy arm over the hunk’s broad shoulders.

“You’ve joined a very exclusive club this evening,” Gordon smiled. “There are very few ‘Gentlemen of Deansgate’ out there!” he nodded; acknowledging the fact that he too had once played the part, some twenty-five years ago. “You’re never going to be the same after this.” 

The grin on Gordon’s face was a little too perplexing for Ned. He couldn’t quite make it out. He held Chris’ stare for an almost uncomfortable time, until finally raising his glass and toasting the biggest Broadway smash in many, many years.

The reviews the next morning sang with praise, just as they had all expected. Ned poured over them all, hoping for even a brief mention of his own performance. Instead, Chris had stolen the show, and the promotional image of him in the final scene, shirtless and steamy, dominated much of the pages that were dedicated to the reviews. By lunchtime, Ned could recite almost all of them word for word. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had felt the curious atmosphere in the theatre that first night. Each review, every single one, seemed to comment on it in some form; like some magical awakening of acting greatness. Still, Ned cut every last one of them out, saving them all for his own personal scrapbook.

“Do me a favour,” Gordon insisted, raising his hand to get Ned’s attention as everyone else busied themselves backstage for the second night. “Drop these off with Chris, will you?” he insisted, thrusting a box of doughnuts towards Ned.

“What? Take them to his dressing room?” Ned asked, delighted and nervous about getting the opportunity to go and see Chris before the curtain went up. “Does he even eat doughnuts?”

Gordon chuckled. “Oh, he eats them alright!” he smirked, already waddling away to deal with something more pressing.

Ned held the large tray of doughnuts in his hands, feeling empowered, simply to go and see the star of the show before he went on stage. He raced along the corridor like a man on a mission and knocked firmly on the door until he heard Chris’ deep, masculine voice telling him to come inside.

Half dressed, Chris’ fine torso was on show as he collected all of his bits for the first act. Ned felt like he had entered at the absolute perfect time. “Um, Gordon sent these over,” he mumbled, trying to think straight and not stare too much at the gorgeous man in front of him. Just how many people would have paid serious cash to be standing exactly where he was right then?

“What are they? Doughnuts?” Chris asked, dropping his belt on the floor and heading straight over. He reached in and grabbed one with each hand, pushing one immediately into his mouth with the biggest bite Ned had ever seen. He moaned aloud and chewed quickly, as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

“I didn’t know you were so keen on doughnuts,” Ned chuckled awkwardly, simply standing there, holding the box, not knowing where he could put it down. Chris was still purposefully in front of him, seemingly getting ready to take another round.

Chris didn’t answer. He simply moaned as he gorged on doughnut after doughnut; not even caring that his mouth was now covered in sugar. Ned stood there, watching the car crash in slow motion as the entire box was devoured in less than three minutes flat.

“Fuck!” Chris chuckled, swallowing the last of it all. “I had no idea I could do that!” he smirked, turning to look at himself in the mirror, then laughing at how immediately bloated his stomach had become. “Bring me another one of those trays after the show and I’ll let you suck me off,” Chris suddenly declared, reaching his hand down to his crotch and readjusting the suddenly obvious erection that was pressing against his purposefully tight pants. 

“What?” Ned asked; his heart beating faster than ever before. Had he heard that right?

“Don’t act coy,” Chris shot back. “You heard me. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Bring me another tray of doughnuts after the show and I’ll let you suck me dry,” he repeated, reaching for Ned’s limp hand and placing it directly across to his boner. “Deal?” Chris asked, knowing that there was no way Ned would ever refuse him.

Ned left Chris’ dressing room almost shaking with elation. Was this really happening? The hottest, straight hunk in the world was going to let him go down on him after the show? Surely this was just a dream? 

With the first act soon over with, Ned snuck out to the doughnut place across the street and bought the exact same tray of treats that had been delivered earlier. He stood around, pretending to wait purposefully in the corridor, having concealed the order under a pile of clothes in his small, shared changing area. 

The next thing Ned knew, he was back on stage for the curtain call. He’d started to doubt himself; to dispute reality. He was going insane. Chris hadn’t really made such an advance on him, nor made the bizarre request! He was just slowly succumbing to madness. But as they all cheered their way off the stage, Ned felt a very firm hand on his shoulder and the Hollywood superstar bringing his mouth close to his ear, whispering. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

After the buzz of the first night, the second night always felt anticlimactic, with people darting off quickly after the show ended. Ned waited until there was a slight lull in the noisy corridor, until he stood outside Chris’ dressing room holding the doughnut tray, knocking until he heard the call for him to enter.

This time, Chris was sitting. already stroking himself in his chair; legs parted and pants removed, ready for Ned to do what he had come here for. Of course he had a large penis, Ned thought to himself, watching the sexy guy stroking it like he was filming a porn scene. 

“Give them to me!” Chris demanded, having eyes only for the tray that Ned was carrying. He reached out, ripped them from him and immediately began gorging, like he had before. Then, with only a nod of his head, he ordered Ned down to his crotch.

Slipping onto his knees, Ned could hardly believe what he was about to do; something he never imagined could be done. He started slowly, determined to get it exactly right; to give Chris as much pleasure as he could. If he delivered Chris the best blow job of his life, he would. He pursed his lips and worked his tongue to perfection, hearing Chris moan with pleasure as he pushed those doughnuts into his mouth. He felt the guy’s large, sticky, icing-covered hand press onto the top of his head, pushing him deeper into his crotch. Ned obliged, willing himself not to gag as his throat opened further. Then, absolute magic. He’d done it. He’d made the Hollywood superstar climax in what sounded like the most intense orgasm imaginable. 

Ned stood, feeling proud, looking down on the hunk slouched in the chair. The man was a mess, covered in icing and sugar all around his face; his toned stomach now bloated and hard. The man seemed dazed, either from the eating, or the intense relief of having ejaculated so forcefully. He sighed multiple times and began tapping his own face as if to bring himself back into reality. “Fuck! That was good!” the man growled, before sitting up and casually feeding himself the larger fragments of doughnut that had fallen onto his chest during his rampant gorging minutes earlier.

Grinning, Ned knew that this was a tale he would be able to recount for the rest of his life: the day he sucked off Chris Peterson in his dressing room!

“What are you doing this evening?” Chris asked, finally getting to his feet.

“Um, nothing much,” Ned replied, feeling the shadow of the large man cross over him.

“You know this city, don’t you?” Chris pondered. “You’re from here, aren’t you? You can take me out.”

“Yes,” Ned answered, without evening thinking; his heart almost leaping out of his chest. “But I wouldn’t know where to take a Hollywood star like you. We’d be harrassed by journalists the whole time if I took you to the bars I usually go to.”

“Then don’t take me to the bars,” Chris shot back. “Take me back to your place and order in.”

“You… you want to come back to my apartment?” Ned spluttered, overjoyed and simultaneously embarrassed by the thought of hosting Chris Peterson in the miniscule space he rented in the city. Still, he had kept the place fairly clean… Maybe Chris just wanted another opportunity for them to be alone together again.

“Is it far from here?” Chris asked, already gathering all that he needed and slipping a few items of clothing back on. 

“Not far,” Ned replied, realising that he didn’t really have a choice either way. “We can head out through the back and be there in five minutes.”

“Good,” the man nodded, already pushing Ned towards the door. “Lead on.”

Just over an hour later, Ned was accepting the second delivery at his apartment whilst Chris lounged on his couch, gorging himself on the pizzas that had arrived five minutes earlier. The moment he went back in, Chris dropped his greasy pizza down and made to grab the bag of Chinese food, not caring that the slice landed topside up on the couch, leaking the oily residue into the material. 

“I didn’t know that you were such a foodie,” Ned sighed, hoping that Chris’ hunger wasn’t going to get in the way of them having more fun later on. He ran to grab a cloth and began attempting to get the stain out.

Chris’s kisses were passionate and arousing after all the food. Ned had seen some bizarre Hollywood diets in his time, but this binge eating of Chris’ had bloated his stomach up like nothing he had ever known. He was gentle around the man in the bedroom, wondering whether he might throw up should things get a little energetic. Hosting a Hollywood superstar, making him climax in his very own apartment, it felt like a moment Ned had been waiting for his entire life; an experience he could boast about for years to come. Had Chris wanted to stay the night, Ned would have been more than delighted, but the man seemed restless and keen to get back to the hotel he was staying in, ordering himself a ride and bidding Ned a goodnight.

Gordon didn’t seem to care when Chris didn’t show in time for their pre-show meetings, rolling in with just enough time to get into costume and get on stage. For the first time, the backstage crew began to grumble about him, knowing that they were only one week in, with another eleven long weeks to go. But just as the lead actor had seemingly lost all passion for it, so had their esteemed director; no longer bothered by the silly little mistakes that were made by the lighting department on the fifth night, nor the fact that Chris had missed his cue several times by the start of week two.

On their opening night, the show had felt like a slick, well-oiled and ambitious machine. Now things were getting sloppy and haphazard. The excellent reviews of the previous week were being replaced by curious clippings in gossip columns about Chris’ amateurish performances. Not only that, but a rogue cell phone had snapped a picture of Chris during his shirtless scene looking significantly thicker than he had seemed in the promotional shots. Ned had seen it first hand as he continued to slip into Chris’ dressing room after a performance for some fun. He’d known that the make-up department had painted on a six-pack for the last three performances. However, nothing could mask the unmistakable width of Chris as he turned to his side; a distinct paunch starting to form. All of a sudden, that one picture seemed to be everywhere and all of the press interest in the play turned directly towards Chris’ weight gain.

“There’ll probably be more people trying to get pictures of you tomorrow,” Ned warned as he snuck into Chris’ dressing room and caught the guy gorging himself on a couple of boxes of cookies that had been left in there for him.

Chris scowled and nodded for Ned to lock the door behind him. “That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he grumbled, sliding down in his chair and pulling out his hardness for Ned to suck on as he ate.

Ned assumed the position, noticing the roll of stomach fat that was beginning to encircle Chris’ waist. His fingers slipped onto it as he took Chris’ hardness in his mouth, noticing the soft and doughy nature of it, slyly ruining the ultimate Hollywood sixpack. Ned knew he was in some way enabling Chris by not walking away and failing to challenge him on his eating but when else in his life was he going to have the chance to be with a global superstar like this?

With the doughnuts gone, Chris stood up and removed the last of his clothes, ready to fuck Ned over the table at the back of the room. Ned obliged, catching the view of Chris’ softer glutes in the mirror as they began kissing; the back fat standing out so much, the skin starting to roll. “Chris…” Ned started, knowing that he could no longer stay silent. “Don’t you think you need to do something about this?” he asked, pinching the actual lovehandles that had blossomed in just over a week.

“Do you want to get fucked, or not?” Chris growled back, clearly too consumed with arousal to think of anything else. Discussions about the guy’s weight were clearly off the table. Ned, lay across his table, spread his legs and allowed the horny glutton to at last get some exercise.

Their esteemed director seemed slightly different over the following days. Unlike Chis’ stomach, which seemed to grow more prominent each day, Gordon appeared to be deflating. His large gut didn’t seem quite so extreme as he strolled about at a faster pace, going from department to department. There was a twinkle in his eye as he saw Ned and a look that suggested that he knew exactly what went on between him and Chris behind the closed doors of the dressing room.

The man had rejected calls for the shirtless scene to be altered so that Chris could cover himself with a shirt, positively laughing at all the press that surrounded the hunk’s sudden gains. “All publicity is good publicity,” he grinned as if he hoped for a boost in ticket sales from it all; not that there was any need. The show had been booked out for weeks before they’d even started rehearsals. 

News outlets began reporting that Gordon had insisted Chris diet immediately and that he had threatened to kick him out from the show should he not comply. However, none of it was true. Of all the people working on that production, the director was the only one who was not in the least bit flustered by it all, even as Chris’ management seemed determined to find a way to get him out of the play and end this constant barrage of bad publicity. 

Ned felt it all very personally, having fallen for Chris during this strange period of his life. But with so much gossip and speculation flying around, how much longer could his fling with Chris stay a secret? A public ‘outting’ was absolutely the last thing either of them needed right then.

“Eight more weeks to go!” Gordon sang, almost tauntingly at them all as Chris stepped up behind the curtain, a rounded stomach pressing out, ready for the shirtless scene. Gordon appeared to wait, listening intently for the inevitable gasps of the stunned audience as the former hunk went out on stage. Then the director would chuckle to himself and stroll happily away.

Getting in to see Chris was becoming harder and harder. A team of people seemed to surround the man the entire time he was at the theatre; men and women who had been flown over from Hollywood to kick Chris into touch. None of it seemed to be working. Even under the strict eyes of his babysitters, Chris’ stomach seemed to be expanding daily. Tensions with the director seemed to flare up as Gordon failed time and time again to renegotiate the star’s watertight contract. The looming fear that the play would end hung like a dark cloud over all of them. As Chris’s belly blossomed into a small, stout and rounded beer gut, each of them looked at each other and sighed. Would this be their last show? How much longer could this insanity continue?

Like a petulant child, Chris appeared to detest all the fussing around him. Sometimes, at night, he would appear at Ned’s apartment, having snuck out undetected from his hotel. He’d order take-out, complain bitterly about his situation and completely fail to show any self-awareness of his own part in the evolving crisis that surrounded him; even as he gorged on pizza after pizza. He’d drawn Ned in, making him feel like the only one in the world who could sympathise with him; the one sane person in his life whilst all the madness threatened to consume him. Ned had been flattered. He felt special. And even though he could see the giant ball of stomach fat growing larger and larger; even as a double chin began to spread itself under Chris’s handsome face and his tight glutes softened with each passing day, Ned still fell for him and stayed up late into the night, pleasing him in any way he could.

It was week four when everything seemed to crash around them. Ned saw the news flash up on his cell phone before anyone at the play got in contact with him to let him know. Chris had left the production, paying a hefty, multi-million dollar fee for exiting early and ending the show.

“You’re up!” Gordon sang down the phone an hour or so later. “You’re my Gentleman of Deansgate!”

“But I thought…” Ned mumbled back; his head spinning.

“One last performance!” Gordon exclaimed excitedly. “Chris’ team were quite insistent upon it as they added a nice buffer into the cheque they signed this morning to get him out of his contract.”

“Why?” Ned asked, remembering how adamant Gordon had once been that he would never allow Ned to understudy for Chris. “What does it matter to them?”

“Just be here early,” Gordon replied, immediately ending the phone call.

Ned didn’t know how to feel. The last few weeks had been the strangest of his life. On the one hand, he felt elated that he was about to have the biggest career highlight to date, seeing his name appearing in the articles about Chris’ sudden departure as the Gordon’s team sent out their official press release about the final show. However, he also knew that he was unlikely to see Chris ever again. The media had already reported that he had left New York for his home in Los Angeles. Just like that, it was all over.

Gordon positively skipped about backstage, racing between the different departments. There was no denying that he had lost a significant amount of weight in the last few weeks and the spring in his step seemed to catch everyone off-guard. Everything had to be perfect once more and the sloppiness of the last few weeks had to end immediately. Yet, despite all the demands and high standards Gordon was insisting upon, there was still a smug, sickly grin plastered all over his face.

“He’s just had a massive payout from Chris’ people,” whispered one of the lighting guys as Ned watched the man with obvious confusion etched across his face. “I was here late last night when they were all negotiating.”

“Well, I expect it must be a relief for him now all the tickets will have to be refunded for the rest of the run,” Ned nodded.

“That stuff’s all covered,” the backstage man replied, shaking his head at Ned’s misunderstanding. “I mean Gordon himself. He’s just had over five million dollars from Chris to let him go early and to ensure there’s this last performance tonight.”

“They paid Gordon personally?” Ned asked. “But that makes no sense!”

Twenty minutes later and the crowds were starting to move into the theatre, bitterly disappointed that the main attraction for attending this play had inexplicably left the production. Ned had no doubt that he wouldn’t be able to please the audience, no matter what he did that night. Ned had braced himself for Gordon’s assertive approach to managing him, yet the man had barely uttered more than a few words. Despite micromanaging everyone else, as the new lead actor, Ned felt almost as if he was going into the whole thing blind. Gordon stood behind him as the music began to rumble into life, placing his hand on Ned’s shoulder just before his cue. The role had been Gordon’s once, many, many years ago. Perhaps he felt like he knew how Ned was feeling. “Welcome to the club,” he whispered, grinning excitedly and nudging Ned onto the stage.

If Ned could have found the words to describe the feeling as he acted on stage that night, his explanation would have been akin to the accounts of out-of-body experiences. It was as if he no longer needed to recall the lines of dialogue; like they simply flowed through his body. His movements did not feel like his own; his walk and stature had altered. It was as if he embodied the character and had no control over any of it at all. In the papers the next morning, they would criticise him for mimicking Chris’ performance to the very last detail, but in Ned’s mind, the only thing he had actually done was to step out onto that stage. Everything else had been autopilot.

Unlike the final show of every other production Ned had ever been in, the mood that night was too low to celebrate afterwards. People hugged backstage and collected all their things, knowing that they would not have an opportunity to do so at any other time. Meanwhile, after all the obligatory praise, Ned headed back into the main dressing room as if his mind had drifted below a dense fog. He simply sat in his chair, staring at his reflection in the mirror. What on earth had come over him?

Half an hour later, a drunken Gordon came skipping into the room, holding a glass of champagne for himself. “You did wonderfully!” he beamed at Ned, despite the fact that Ned had already been told that Gordon hadn’t seen a moment of it; too busy celebrating backstage. “And now, no one else will perform this play for many decades to come!” he beamed. “‘The Curse of Deansgate’ has struck again! An incomplete run, just like every other time it’s been attempted. No financial backers will go near it again,” he laughed, as if this had all been such a vast, cunning plan from the very beginning.

“Everything worked out pretty well for you, though,” Ned managed to utter, catching the scent of something sweet down the corridor and suddenly feeling remarkably hungry. 

“Even better than I expected,” Gordon nodded emphatically, running his hand down his surprisingly deflated gut. “But the curse has never been about financial ruin, has it?” he laughed. “The curse has always been something much more insidious. I taught that arrogant fuck a lesson and got a very decent payout at the same time.” He looked at his reflection in the mirror, seeming pleased with what he saw. “It’s been a very successful few weeks!”

“You never really did forgive Chris, did you?” Ned asked, feeling the strangest sense of familiarity with Gordon. The man’s last words to him before he had gone on stage had been to welcome him to the Deansgate ‘club’ and now that Ned was there, he felt as if he could ask Gordon anything and be told the exact truth.

Goron closed the door that he had been propping open with his large body and stepped inside so that he could not be overheard. “Of course not,” he laughed. “And you sealed your fate the moment you started sucking him off back here after each performance.” He looked down at Ned disapprovingly. “You’re a serious actor. You should have known better than that!” he scolded him. “Perhaps I should have fired you then and saved you from all this.”

Ned dropped his head. Gordon was certainly right there.

“I hadn’t ever planned to let you take the lead. But when Chris Peterson’s management figured things out, the opportunity to throw you under the bus was simply too easy.” He looked down at Ned with triumph dancing in his eyes. “Lay down with dogs and you get fleas.”

“What did they figure out?” Ned asked, having the strangest feeling that the way his mind was so clouded at that moment was all related to something much larger.

“Here,” Gordon grunted, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. “I’ve been told to give you this.”

An envelope was thrown into Ned’s lap without Gordon even making an effort to step forwards. Ned opened it up and found a plane ticket to Los Angeles, departing at 2.05am. 

“Lover Boy wants to see you!” Gordon explained, holding back a snarl.

Silently, Ned felt elated. From the moment he’d read that Chris had left New York, he had believed that their fling was over. Now he was realising that he hadn’t been forgotten after all. “Well, I guess there’s no point in sticking around here these next few days, anyway” he sighed, looking around the dressing room he would have to vacat shortly.

“No, I quite agree,” Gordon smirked. “I’ll message him to let him know that you’re on your way.” He placed his hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Now that you’re the very latest Gentleman of Deansgate instead, I have a feeling that you’re about to meet the real Chris Peterson at long last…”

Ned felt eyes on him the entire time as he made his way to the airport and flew across the country, not really knowing what was going to happen when he finally arrived. In the arrivals lounge, a driver was waiting, holding up a banner with his name written across it. Ned’s only backpack was taken off his shoulders as he made his way to the expensive car that was to carry him away. 

They pulled up forty minutes later at the most obscene residence, overlooking the Hollywood hills. The whole residence seemed llavish beyond words. Unlike the chill of a New York winter, the sun shone gently on Ned’s face and he sighed in appreciation at his own good fortune.

A member of Chris’ extensive team came straight out to greet him, ushering him inside almost as if he was expecting a team of photographers to ambush them from the gates . Everywhere was pristine and surprisingly immaculate, from the large marble pillars to the extensive windows at the back of the property, overlooking an enormous swimming pool and the incredible view across the valley.

Ned sat down at the large breakfast bar in the kitchen, where pastries and snacks filled several plates for the members of Chris’ entourage. He was told to help himself whilst the man left the room to let Chris know that he had arrived. Whilst Ned ate, he heard the splash of someone emerging from the pool and suddenly saw the large, looming shape of Chris Peterson marching across the terrace towards the expansive kitchen. Dressed in only his swim shorts with a towel lazily draped over his shoulders, Chris moved with an assertive speed that Ned had not seen from him before; although, his fat stomach popped out in front of him, firm and rounded under his large pecs.

“Excellent!” Chris cheered, spotting Ned and striding straight over to place his hands on his secret lover’s shoulders as he ate. Chris’ strong fingers massaged Ned’s shoulders, not offering any other sign of affection, most likely because his team were all so close by. “Did anyone see him arriving?” Chris asked someone behind them.

“No, sir. It was all very fast and discreet,” replied a deep masculine voice.

“Good,” Chris replied, his hands massaging more softly now and leaning in to whisper into Ned’s ear. “I bet you’re hungry after all that travelling.”

Chris suddenly stood bolt upright and marched about once more, heading to the refrigerator and pulling out as many things as he could.

“Sir, sir…” counselled a woman from his staff. “You don’t need to do that. We’ve got this covered. You can head back to the pool. We’ll look after Ned.”

Chris looked across at Ned, as if calculating whether he could trust his entourage to do what they were promising. “Fine,” he spat, turning around and marching straight out, clearly in a mood about something. “But I need results. I need all of this mess sorting out now!”

Coming down from the high of his great performance the night before was almost impossible. Ned had hardly slept at all on the plane and he had the remarkable feeling of being almost drunk. Time seemed like nothing at all as Chris’ friendly team fussed around him. He was led out onto the terrace to watch Chris’ gruelling swimming training with his coach. Every now and then, the unnecessarily angry actor would call out to his team any time he looked up and saw that Ned wasn’t being looked after with something to eat or drink.

“You’ve got one fucking job!” he yelled from the pool, making them all rush about to serve Ned something else.

Ned was half asleep when he heard Chris’ voice mumbling around him. “Fucking wake him up then!” he ordered one of his team, before huffing and coming over himself. “Ned… Neddy…” he called out in a voice that was barely soothing. “It’s dinner time, buddy!”

Ned opened his eyes.

“He’s awake,” Chris nodded to two guys, who promptly lifted the back of Ned’s deckchair up so that he was sitting upright. “It’s time to eat now, buddy,” Chris explained to Ned, like he was a toddler, using the kindest voice he had heard from him all day. “Mmmm! Look at all this!” he cooed, as a perfect height table was rolled underneath the deck chair so that a table sat just in front of Ned, loaded with different items.

Overcome with hunger, Ned set to work without questioning any of it. Once food was in front of him, nothing else seemed to matter.

“Good. This is good,” Chris nodded again at his team, as he looked back and forth between them and Ned. “He seems to like this the best,” he pointed at one of the dishes, as if that was a cue for them to get more. 

Faced with so much food, Ned found it hard to concentrate. He was given large, chocolate flavoured drinks that were thick and almost difficult to swallow, however Chris seemed to nod his head in approval each time Ned managed to get one down.

Ned wished that everyone else would disappear. He felt so uncontrollably horny for Chris, yet there were always people around, making it impossible for them to come together. Something about the food seemed almost… erotic. He’d never felt this way before, nor eaten so much in only a few short hours; although he wasn’t quite sure how much that was.

As night time approached, Chris entered Ned’s bedroom carrying a large tray of doughnuts. “A little treat before bed!” he winked charmingly, throwing them down on the mattress.

Ned felt his body lunge for them and he began stuffing the first one into his mouth. Chris hopped on beside him, throwing his arm over Ned’s shoulders like they were old friends, rather than lovers.

“That fucking play, huh?” he grumbled to Ned as the guy ate. “Gordon did us both dirty with that one… and I had no fucking idea!” he laughed, like he had had some lucky escape. “That’s why it’s always important to have people looking out for you behind the scenes. That could have been the end of my whole career!”

Chris noticed a large piece of Ned’s third doughnut break off as the houseguest ate a little too fast. Chris picked it up, not caring about the sticky icing that had spread across the sheets, but keen that Ned should get it down him. 

“I’m afraid I’m not going to try and stop you eating, like you did with me.” He looked down at his own, stout gut and sighed. “Look at all this!” he complained, grabbing a large wedge of it. “How the hell did you ever let me fuck you, looking like this? It’s disgusting!”

“You’re beautiful,” Ned mumbled through a mouthful of food, spitting a little out.

Chris tutted and exhaled in frustration. “You’re wasting it!” he growled in annoyance. Getting more fed up when Ned tried to apologise and did the same thing again. “Look, just sit back a bit more and let me take care of this,” he insisted, handing Ned yet another doughnut and feeling his hand into the eager guy’s crotch, grabbing at the hardness, but not stroking until Ned started to eat. 

Ned had never known bliss like it: the tastes on his tongue and the pleasure down below. Each time he swallowed and opened his mouth to moan, in went a fresh doughnut. There were multiple points when he felt like he could have climaxed, yet Chris seemed to hold him back until the very last moment. He came, feeling like a strong jet had erupted from his groin, opening his eyes moments later to see Chris dropping the emptied doughnut tray onto the floor and wiping his hands on the bed sheets. “Was that nice?” he asked, returning to that slightly patronising tone.

Ned nodded, feeling utterly spent.

“Good,” Chris smiled. “Would you like the same again tomorrow?” Chris asked, like he was trying to bargain something out of Ned. So when Ned nodded, stuffed full of food and bloated, the man couldn’t help but chuckle, heading back to his own master suite.

Chris had lost weight. With all his training and determination, Ned had never seen a belly shrink so quickly. Yet, over the coming days, he felt an onslaught of fat begin to slide onto his own stomach, inflating it with softness in an unnaturally speedy manner. Sometimes he would wake from an afternoon nap to find a measuring tape had been wrapped around his arm or thigh, by a member of Chris’ staff; no one seeming in the least bit surprised at the sudden transformation, despite monitoring it closely.

Ned knew he should be paying more attention to his body. But food was everywhere and his brain felt like it was in such a fog. Dressed only in a pair of swim shorts, he couldn’t detect a stretching in his clothes, nor remember where he had even put his cell phone to communicate with the rest of the world outside of Chris’ incredible house. Nothing he seemed to do from that point on appeared to annoy Chris, with the man’s face lighting up each time he saw a shirtless Ned lazily trotting towards the breakfast bar to eat. The other staff were relaxing too, with fewer of them there in the day now. The ‘crisis mode’ of the previous week was now over. 

Chris lifted his arm and still felt a slight stubborn clinging of fat around his love handles. “Do you want some ice cream?” he asked Ned, as if this would somehow remedy the problem. Without waiting for an answer, he headed over to the freezer to fetch it and dumped the complete tub in front of Ned, along with a large spoon. 

Back Chris went to the mirror, turning and flexing, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Ned.

“It’s almost time for you to go home soon,” he smiled. “A couple more days and things should have worked themselves out.”

“I don’t think I want to go home,” Ned replied, feeling his heart sink.

Chris laughed and came over to pat his chubby friend on his back. “I know. I know,” he smiled. “But what am I supposed to do with you once I’m back to my old shape?” He looked down at Ned’s shirtless body and seemed to grimace at the rolls of fresh blubber along his side. “You’ll just be getting more and more out of shape and I don’t really want that hanging around outside by the pool.” He ruffled Ned’s hair playfully. “I’m sure you can understand that,” he laughed, pulling a fresh bottle of water out from the refrigerator and sliding a bowl of potato chips closer to Ned instead. Then, off he went onto the terrace, diving into his pool once more.

Ned didn’t see Chris after that. The guy had disappeared later that afternoon after a lucrative advertising deal had emerged. He read later on that Chris had claimed his appearance in the play had been caused by some form of abdominal distension, unrelated to weight gain. Several so-called ‘experts’ disputed that, but when the hunk reappeared in beach shots looking just as fit as ever only a few days later, all other explanations seemed to be implausible.

No such rapid recovery came for Ned, however. Once home, his ravenous appetite seemed to consume him and he was dropped by his agent only six months later after piling on a ridiculous amount of weight in that period. And, although he could never prove it, Ned always had a suspicion that Chris Peterson’s team had been at least partly behind his declining career; desperately wanting to reduce his influence after everything that had happened with their golden boy.

Ned’s handsome face seemed to bloat and his chiselled jawline was engulfed and framed by an unflattering amount of neck fat. His pecs drooped within a month and his stomach fat swelled into a giant ball of surprisingly squishy blubber. Pants were hard to come by, given how wide his rear had become after the first year. Ned found that he had to detach himself from his old life and form something new; taking inspiration from the only other man he had known to have gone through the same experience….

It was thirty years later when Ned sat in the same old theatre where they had performed ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ all those years ago. It had taken him decades to finance a new run and convince his investors. But, at long last, the show was ready to audition the lead roles. 

Years ago, after Ned had had time to think and understand it all, unemployed and gaining pounds and pounds of lard by the day, he wrote it all down; every last detail of that play he would one day hope to direct: the lighting, the sound, the timings, the instruments. He didn’t know which parts were important to whatever power fuelled the curse that he had lived with for so long; transforming him into the gluttonous man he had been all these years. Everything had to be perfect.

“I’m very grateful to you for coming all the way over here to audition,” Ned smiled at the handsome, young hopeful standing on the stage: the image of his beautiful father. 

“I’m very flattered that you wanted me,” the athletic twenty-seven year old replied. “I believe you were the understudy for my father when he performed here? It was his only Broadway appearance.”

“Yes, yes,” Ned nodded. “That seems like a lifetime ago!” he lied. “And I’m sure your father would be very proud to see you standing there now, ready to fill his shoes,” he smiled, pretending to be sorry that Chris Peterson’s drug-fuelled car crash had claimed his life five years earlier.

The audition went well; not that Ned had ever seriously considered anyone else for the role. Revenge could come in many forms, but few as sweet as this poor boy.

“I think this show is going to be a huge success!” Ned grinned, eyeing his new lead actor’s cute butt as he skipped out of the theatre having just signed a watertight contract. “I can’t wait to get started!”

[visenyaism]

ASOIAF POV characters ranked by how good of a guest judge they would be on drag race (definitive ranking)

24. Arys oakheart. spectacularly bad in a way that would also be bad TV because he simply would not know what to do. and would be icky about it.

23. Ned stark. canonically gets suspicious of people just because they are gender nonconforming.

22. Aeron greyjoy. people are going to wonder why i put him as Victarion on this list. this is because I think victarion has a better personality for reality TV.

21. Victarion greyjoy. good TV, would win reverse GLAAD award for most homophobic event on television.

20. Areo hotah. too stoic.

19. Quentyn. little nerd in over his head. if Barristan Selmy is telling you that you are not serving hard enough it’s already over.

18. Barristan selmy. a #ally for revealing that egg legalized gay marriage for his kid daeron and being happy about it, but does not have a lot else going for him. would probably say everyone looks nice

17. Bran. seven.

16. Joncon. IS gay, but does not seem like he’s super into all that.

15. Jon. Would probably awaken something in him.

14. Jaime. does not serve cunt, is one.

13. Brienne. Listen she’s trying her best okay.

12. Samwell Tarly. Would DEFINITELY awaken something in him. too busy blushing and telling everyone they look great to be an actual judge.

11. Arya. One thing about her is she WILL be finding people and she WILL be talking to ALL of them which makes her a great TV personality, but i think she would get bored.

10. Davos. Can’t explain this one i just think he would be down.

9. Cat. Serves, afraid to FULLY serve. Ally.

8. Asha. gets off on being mean to pretty boys so you know she is having a great time.

7. Dany. what can i say she’s a star.

6. Tyrion. definitely has the personality for it.

5. Cersei. is a fascist but showing up in full rhaegar eleganza to her husband who she murdered’s funeral. cuntress. You KNOW she would kill it.

4. Arianne. Definitely the first person you would think to ask to guest judge and for good reason.

3. Sansa. 13 year old fashion icon who loves gay people so much. Is so into it the whole time. meticulous notes.

2. Theon. could be the greatest to do it if he could ever get over himself but as it stands simultaneously knocks it out of the park and is a total train wreck. extremely fun to watch.

1. Melisandre. Serves like her life depends on it which she thinks it literally does. Obsessed with appearances and performances. off putting antagonistic cryptic and weird. fantastic TV.

[axelsagewrites]

Hii, I had a request...Robb and Jon having a crush on the same girl, maybe she could be the Bannerman daughter or something, just lots of teasing and rivalry and angst :)

Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Share

Pairing: Jon x f!reader, Robb x f!reader

Platonic: Sansa x reader

Word count: 3975

This is part one. Part two will be the smut.... (this was just too long to make into one part)

Masterlist Here

A/N: This is set with Sansa as being 15 and Robb, Jon, and the reader being 18. We’re also gonna pretend Westeros is still in a chill time with King Robert drinking away their money with Ned still alive and safe in Winterfell.

Robb and Jon were used to random Lords and Ladies staying at Winterfell for periods of time but when they saw their newest guest both had the same though. Gods she’s pretty. Your family where Bannerman’s of House Stark, ever loyal to Lord Eddard. Sansa had recently started whining, much to her brother’s dismay since it was all she talked about, that she had no need to be cared for by Septas or wet nurses any longer. She was determined she was old enough to not need to be constantly watched. However, when Catelyn suggested a lady in waiting Sansa jumped at the idea.

This was how you now stood in the courtyard at Winterfell, preparing to start your new journey. It was an honour for your house when you got the raven. Sansa was slightly younger than you, but you had remembered meeting her before at feasts and balls. You had also met Robb and Jon at these events but neither one had taken notice of you till now.

Robb slapped Jons shoulder to get his attention when he noticed you climbing out your carriage. “Is that (Y/N)?” he asked his half brother who looked up from where he was plucking arrows out the target he had just been practising with.

Jons eyebrows scrunched as he looked at the now woman who climbed out the carriage, “She did not look like that last time,” he said with a low voice.

“Tell me about it. Wait is she Sansa’s lady in waiting then?” he said, eyes not leaving the lady who was now being greeted in a hug by his mother.

“Your mother told us that last night,” Jon said rolling his eyes before glancing at the woman who was now merrily chatting with his half-sister, “Do you ever pay attention?”

“Not really,” Robb said with a chuckle as he took the bow from Jon, “Maybe I should from now on,” he joked. Robb did not attempt to hide his glances like Jon did. After all Jon was a bastard whereas Robb was used to the attention of the Northern ladies. However, this one had yet to look at either boy. “C’mon give me some arrows,” Robb said

“You hate archery,” Jon said despite handing him one of the arrows he had just plucked from the target. He moved back to allow Robb to line himself up with the target but couldn’t help noticing the glances he kept firing at (Y/N) while he began to load the bow. “Oh, gods you’re trying to woo her with your shit archery?” Jon smirked at his half-brother.

Robb shot Jon a glare, “Will you shut it?” he hissed glancing over to see if she had heard, which of course she had not, “Besides im not shit,”

“You’re not good,”

“Fuck you,”

“No thanks,”

“Fuck off Snow,”

Their scawbling however did get them noticed “Boys!” Catelyn called across the courtyard with a sharp look before turning back to the girls.

While Jon smirked Robb had noticed you looking over at him, a faint smile ghosting your lips that made him even more determined to show Jon he was wrong. Robbs eyes kept flickering back to you as he knocked his arrow and drew the string back. He enjoyed the feeling of your eyes on him as he did so. He finally turned his attention to the target. Taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders back, he lined up his shot, breathed in then. Release.

The arrow hit the second inner ring of the target. Robb grinned to himself, knowing secretly that Jon was right about his shooting skills. But when he looked back, he realised you were no longer there. He sighed but when Jon began to laugh, he felt his skin grow hot. “Fuck up,” he said, shoving the bow back into Jons hands.

“You tried to woo her with archery, and she didn’t even stay to watch,” Jon couldn’t control his laughter. He had noticed you walking away as soon as Robb turned his attention to the target but did not say anything as he wanted to enjoy the view of you undisturbed. The bonus was of course his brother’s ego being knocked off its high horse.

“Please like you could do any better,” Robb grumbled as he retrieved the arrow.

“I could,” Jon said, chest puffed, and shoulders raised, “Girls like me,”

“What girls?” It was Robbs turn to laugh, “I can’t even imagine you flirting,”

“You tried to flirt with an arrow,” Jon shot back.

Robb rolled his eyes, “Mate trust me,” Robb said, putting a hand on Jons shoulder which he quickly shrugged off, “She likes me,”

“She’s been here for two minutes,” Jon rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,”

“Yeah. We will,”

“Fine,”

“Good,”

“Whatever,”

Theon walked over to the bickering duo, “What are you two on about now?”

“Nothing,” The brothers said in unison before storming off in separate directions.

----

What did Robb know about girls anyway? Jon wondered as he walked the halls of Winterfell. Sure, he had girls’ attention because of his position but that doesn’t count. Besides Jon knew how to flirt. All be it he didn’t do it very often, but he was sure in theory he would do just fine. Why did Robb deserve you more than him anyway?

His mind soon went from frustration to thinking of you and suddenly his problems began to melt away. When he had noticed you, it was like all the air had been knocked out his lungs. Out of all the ladies he had seen you were by far the prettiest. The wide smile you wore when greeting his sister had warmed his heart from all the Norths cold. All he had been able to see was your hair and face due to the large clock you had been wearing but as his mind wandered, he couldn’t help but wondering what you looked like beneath it.

Jon was quickly snapped out his thoughts when he felt someone clash against his chest. His arm shoots out to grab the persons arm to steady them. “Apologies my- “Jon looked up to the person he had literally ran into and he felt his cheeks flush. “My lady I did not see you,” he stuttered, eyes flickering away from you in embarrassment.

“Jon?” You asked and he could hear the smile in your voice, “I hardly recognised you. It has been so long,” Jon couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face when he saw your wide grin. “You’ve grown,”

“As have you,” he said before his face fell, “not like that well like not in a bad way my lady- “

“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I know what you mean Jon. You have never been anything kind to me,”

Jon cleared his throat as he tried to stand tall, pretending he hadn’t made a complete arse of himself in front of you, “Are you off anywhere particular this evening my lady?”

“So formal,” you laughed hitting your shoulder as you continued your walk, Jon quickly turning to follow, “I was going to sneak to the kitchens to try squeeze a snack in before dinner. Mother forgot to pack us any food for our travels,”

“You don’t have to sneak my lady. You are a guest im sure lord stark would be more than happy to see you fed,”

“But is it not so much more fun this way?” you said in a low teasing voice, “I remember how we used to sneak away with Robb during feasts. Don’t act like you don’t like it this way,” Jon blushed at your words as a completely different potential scenario flashed across his mind, “Perhaps you could escort me to the kitchens?” your voice snapped him back to reality.

Jon cleared his throat, “Of course my lady,” Jon said as he took your arm you had outstretched to him.

You rolled your eyes as your arms linked, “You don’t need to be so formal Jon. No ones listening anyway. Besides we have so much caught up to do,” Jon had almost forgotten how chatty you had been but was glad to see the quality had not gone away.

Jon laughed along in your conversation, and grinned when his own jokes made loud laughs come from your mouth. Within minutes he was already so comfortable beside you like he had spent a lifetime by your side. However what Jon hadn’t noticed was Robb Starks icy glare when he spotted the two sneaking down the kitchen stairway.

---

When dinner time had rolled around you were informed by Sansa you would be joining the Starks at their table, which you found out included Jon which you were secretly pleased about. When you walked in the room the only ones at the table were Catelyn and Robb who grinned when you entered. You tried to hide your blush when you noticed his perfect smile. Robb had also changed from when you last saw him, and he had grown at least a head in height.

At both ends of the table sat a larger chair, one of which Catelyn was currently occupying. Three chairs ran down one side of the table, four on the other. Robb sat beside his mother on the side with three chairs, leaving two left. “Lady (y/n),” he greeted when you entered, “I hadn’t known you were joining us my lady,” he had. He had asked his mother who shot him a silent questioning look, “Allow me,” he said as he pulled the chair next to him out for you.

You laughed lightly as you took your seat, Robb pushing it in for you with a smile before taking his own chair. Sansa rolled her eyes at her brothers’ antics as she sat beside you, “She’s my friend not yours,” she grumbled.

“Sansa!” Catelyn said sharply, “She is our guest as much as she is your lady,” you did your best to not laugh but a small smile graced your lips, “Sorry about that (Y/N),” she said with a sorry smile.

“Its okay Lady Catelyn,” you said.

“Call me Cat,” she said with a smile, but the conversation was interrupted as the youngest three Starks sprinted into the room. “Behave you lot,” Cat said as she helped the youngest Rickon into the chair beside her. Bran and Arya took the two closest chairs to the empty one at the head of the table, leaving the one across from you free. Robb mentally scowled at his siblings but figured sitting beside you had the far superior advantage.

When Jon arrived, their father was with him and as the two took their seats the food was brought out. The way you and Jon smiled at each other made Robb wanna roll his eyes, but he resisted as he acted the perfect gentleman. As dinner went on Sansa kept stealing your attention which Robb figured was at least better than Jon doing so. He thought he would never get to talk to you.

Until that is you turned to him, “Don’t you think so too Robb?” your voice brought him back from his daydreaming about you. he hummed in response as he came out his daze, “I was saying to Sansa how she should go horse riding more often. Riding can be so thrilling after all,” Robb tried not to blush when he thought of what he would rather you be riding. “You do still enjoy horse riding?” you said with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh yeah of course,” he said quickly, “Sorry my mind has been preoccupied lately,” he said causing Jon to roll his eyes, “but Sansa trust her there are few things better than it. (Y/N) always knew how to have fun,” he said with a smile which made you blush and quickly turn to face Sansa, but Robb had saw it. he looked at Jon with a slight smirk which only made the boy roll his eyes and look away. When Robb heard Sansa and you discussing plans to go riding tomorrow, he had a plan.

-----

Robb wasn’t being weird by being close by the stables around the time he knew you would be coming by. He just was tending to his own horse. Definitely of course, a complete accident that he was there when you appeared with Sansa in tow laughing about something. “Robb,” you exclaimed when you noticed him, “Are you joining us?” you said glancing at Sansa.

Sansa quickly shook her head saying a firm no. Robb rolled his eyes at his little sister, “I was just tending to my horse my lady,”

“That’s sweet,” you said as Sansa went off to retrieve her mother’s horse which she had said she could borrow before they decided to get her one of her own, “So many lords just toss their reigns aside when they’re done,”

Robb chuckled as he stepped away from his horse and followed you to yours, “Do you ride often my lady?”

“I try to at least go a few times a week,” you said as you took you went to saddle your horse only for Robb to step in.

“Allow me,” he said as he readied your horse for you.

You laughed gently, stepping back to allow him to do so, “Thanks Robbie,” you said as he did up the leather and clasped.

Robb couldn’t help his blush at the nickname you had been using with him since childhood, “Its no problem,” he assured before stepping back from the horse, “That’s you all set,”

“Help me up?” you asked as you stepped closer to the horse. Robb couldn’t help but notice your slight smirk when you had asked and with a quick inhale and a sudden wave of confidence, he stepped forward to pick you up by your hips and place you on your horse. You giggled as he did so and quickly steady yourself on the saddle, “I didn’t realise how strong you had got,”

Robb grinned at your comment, “Thank you my lady. Sometimes I don’t notice my own strength,”

“Then I feel bad for whoever ends up at the other end of your sword,” you laughed.

“You should watch me practise someday,” Robb said, “I do almost everyday at the training grounds,”

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled down at him as Sansa trotted over on her horse. “Ready?” you asked the girl.

“I am if you stop flirting with my brother,” she smirked before riding out of the stable. Robb would’ve been embarrassed if he had not seen how your face had flushed and how you quickly rode after her. wait till Jon heard what you had been saying.

----

“You can’t just grab a ladies’ hips,” Jon said, wide eyed. The pair were in the training yard getting ready to practise some sparring.

Robb smirked, “Really? Cause I did,” he said as he grabbed his practise sword off the rack, “Good hips by the way,” Jon rolled his eyes at his brothers’ antics, “You’re just mad that she likes me,”

“Maybe she was blushing because she was so embarrassed at the idea of flirting with you,” Jon said making Robb grumble, “At least she thinks im funny,” he added while he took his stance across from Robb.

Robb struck first. “Funny looking,” he said as their swords clashed.

“Fuck up,” he snapped, and Robb grinned. The grin fell when Jon took his own strike, quicker than Robb and harder too, “Are you really gonna let a girl come between us?”

As soon as Robb caught up to his brother’s speed, he replied, “If you won’t admit she likes me and not you then yeah,” Robb smirked only making his brother groan and knock Robb hard enough to drop his sword.

Robb cursed under his breath as he picked it up and took stance again. However, as he was doing this Robb happened to notice a certain someone walking into the training yard, arms linked with his sister. Robbs jaw almost dropped as he saw the new dress you must have recently made that was far more form showing than any of your other cloaks had been. He could see your curves even under the thick fabric and it made him strike his next blow even harder.

Jon was almost caught off guard at his brother’s seriousness however he had sparred with Robb long enough to know he only fought like this when he was angry. While he didn’t see the anger in his eyes, he knew how he would mess up. Jon only had to spar another few blows with the Tully boy before his footing got sloppy and Jon was able to knock his legs out from under neath him. “Cheap shot,” Robb spat as he pulled himself up from the hard ground.

Soft claps rang out over the training ground and Jon spun to see what had caused his brothers sudden intensity. And gods did he understand when he saw the smile perched on your lips as you clapped for him. Jon turned back to his brother with a smirk, “You’re just made she likes me,” he said emulating his previous words.

Robbs sword moved before Jon even had a chance to raise his own causing him to need to duck to dodge the blow. Sansa had never seen her brothers practise with such intensity or for any of their sparring to last so long. she glanced at you who was watching the pair intently and suddenly seemed to realise her brothers’ peculiar actions for the past week. “We should go,” she said softly.

At this point Robb had just managed to knock Jon to his feet. Again, you clapped before reluctantly drawing your eyes away and continuing your walk with Sansa. You couldn’t resist waving to the pair however as you were walking past. You smiled at the dopey grins on their faces as they waved back.

----

For the next few weeks, the pair continued their relentless bickering and it turned into a competition of sorts. Every time one managed a private moment alone with you the other was around the corner to get the same. Jon would go out of his way to escort you to places you already knew the way to such as the kitchens or gods wood, but you never complained, enjoying his jokes along the way. Robb began to escort you and his sisters horse rides, much to Sansa’s annoyance, and suddenly took far more of an interest in the library after he noticed your frequent visits. One of Robbs favourite sights was watching as you curled up with a book in an armchair by the fire in the library. He thought you didn’t notice his shameless stares and gazes, but you had.

You had also noticed the way Jons cheeks tinged pink each time you laughed at his joke or touched his arm. Robb did not blush the way Jon did, but you began to notice his lingering touches when he helps you on your horse or past you a book off the top shelf. The attention was something you had grown rather fond of and weren’t about to complain about.

Sansa however was a different story. She was sick of her brothers bickering, something all the Starks agreed upon but only she had noticed why. She was also sick of her brothers both crashing her talks with you or stealing you away. “You do realise they’re both totally in love with you?” she asked as you sat with her in her chambers doing some embroidery, the one place they wouldn’t disturb you.

You blushed at her words, “I wouldn’t say they’re in love,”

“Okay but you do know that they like you like you,” she clarified rolling her eyes. You had grown fond of the admittedly sassy Sansa Stark, “They’re gonna end up killing each other,”

“That’d be no fun,” you fake pouted before laughing as she rolled her eyes, “What do you want me to do? I didn’t ask them to fight over me,” even as you said it the words felt silly. Sansa sat her threads down, giving you the classic Sansa face you had grown to hate and love all at once. “Fine, I’ll talk to them,”

“Thank you,” she smirked before turning back to her threads, “Maybe they’ll finally give us some peace,” she said and all you could do was laugh at the irony of her demanding your attention while being upset about her brothers doing the same.

---

You hadn’t expected to talk to the boys as soon as you left but as you were walking from Sansa’s chambers to go find them you paused when you heard Robbs voice around the corner. “Maybe you should just back off,”

“Why do I need to back of?” When you heard Jons voice you slowly crept closer to the corner, pressing yourself against the wall just before the bend to hear properly, “Not everything is about you Stark,”

“Same for you Snow,” the venom was practically dripping off their voices. It would be concerning if the sound hadn’t sent a shiver up your spine at the hotness of the situation. The two most handsome men in Winterfell arguing over you? how could you complain?

“Well maybe we let her choose,” Jon said.

“Maybe we should,” Robb spat back.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to reveal yourself as you walked round the corner. Jons eyes grew wide when he saw you emerge and Robb quickly spun on his heels, his jaw slackening slightly at the sight. “My lady- “he began to stutter.

You held your hands up and he quickly stopped. You took a deep breath as you glanced around the corridors, “I think its time we had a little talk,” you said to the boys as you walked closer. The two almost hung their heads in shame, “Let’s go somewhere more private,” you said as you brushed past them and began to walk to your chambers.

The pair followed silently, tails between their legs when they realised, they had been caught. “This is your fault,” Robb mumbled but he groaned when Jon stuck his elbow into his side.

Luckily your room was not far, and you were soon ushering the pair in, latching the door behind you before facing them with your back pressed against the door. “What exactly am I supposed to be choosing?” you asked, eyebrow raised with a secret idea toying in your mind.

“My lady we can explain,” Jon began to stammer, cheeks going that cute shade of pink again, “Robb and I well we- “

“We both have an affection for you,” Robb continued trying to sound confident, but his voice failed him, “And we have been uh debating,” Robb said causing you to laugh.

“Debating?” you questioned, “It sounded more like an argument,” this time it was Robbs turn to blush.

Jon continued for his brother, “We just were trying to figure out which one of us you liked. Assuming you do like one of us,”

“I might,” you said with a slight smirk causing both boys heads to snap up, their eyes watching you intently.

“Well, which one of us is it?” Robb asked with eager eyes. He was internally praying to the gods to give him some luck or at least to have him swallowed up by the grounds if he was wrong about your affection. Jon was silently thinking the same.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Who said it was one of you?” you said with a slight smirk. Both boys looked confused at your words. Pushing yourself off the door, you walked closer to the pair, “Would it be so bad if I didn’t choose? Were you not taught how to share?”

Part Two Here - Competition

Game of Thrones Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy

[intheupside]

who would survive on a deserted island (dkpitt)

Bryan Rust: I feel like Harkins probably could. He seems like a guy who would be climbing trees and cutting them down with his bare hands, maybe even chewing them down. I think he would do well.

Reilly Smith: I wouldn't say any of us! No, you know what? Harks. Harks could survive. He can probably find weird things to eat. He'd be sufficient at just getting by.

Jansen Harkins: Ned. He just seems resourceful, and I feel like he could just chill. I don't think he needs too much.

Alex Nedeljkovic: Jars. He seems like an outdoorsy guy. Survivalist? I don't know if that's a real word.

P.O Joseph. Not Ned! I'm going to say Gravy. He's from the Maritimes, I feel like they know a little about the outdoors is my guess. On a serious note, I think Ned would definitely be someone that would be good at it, just his capacity of adjusting in places. He would be good at it.

Lars Eller: Sid. He seems to be going different ways about things, about a lot of things. He doesn't rely too much on new technology, let's just say that.

Jake Guentzel: Sid. He's just an outdoorsman, that's kind of his vibe. I'm sure he could find something to live off of.

Chad Ruhwedel: Sid or Carts, or myself. They seem like they could handle themselves in a tough situation. I think I would do OK.

Kris Letang: Sid, he lives in the middle of the woods.

Erik Karlsson: Sid. I just feel like he would be very creative and would probably figure out a way to sustain himself for as long as he needed.

Valtteri Puustinen: I would say Kopi (Joona Koppanen). He's the smartest guy, I think. He knows what he's doing. I think if I went with myself? I'm dying. But he's a smart guy.

Joona Koppanen: I'll take Carts. He has the wisdom and the dad strength.

Colin White: John Ludvig. I feel like he's pretty handy, he'd like the outdoors like that.

Drew O'Connor: Luds, probably. He seems like he would. Look at him! He seems like an animal, don't you think?

John Ludvig: I'm going to say Cookie (Noel Acciari). Cookie's a burly man, he can handle himself. I'm pretty sure he'd find a way to survive wherever he was. I'll go with him.

Noel Acciari: Rudy (Chad Ruhwedel). He has a military background with his dad, he just seems handy.

Marcus Pettersson: Rudy. I think he's pretty handy, he could make something out of nothing, make himself a good shelter. That's big, I think he could build a shelter. Raks is a good fisherman, but the problem is he's alone on that island. He doesn't touch the fish, he hates touching the fish. He doesn't do it. So it'd be a problem, he'd need somebody with him.

Jonathan Gruden: I feel like Petey (Marcus Pettersson) would be good, just being around him for a little bit. He's pretty good, he could work his way around it and survive. Not OC. But P.O could maybe survive too. (Me: Half the team picked P.O for who couldn't survive.) I've got P.O's back! Maybe he's fooling me.

Magnus Hellberg: Can I pick myself? I'm really big into the outdoors and hiking, hunting, fishing. I think I've watched every season of Alone and all those survival shows. I like to be out in nature. When I think about all the guys, I feel like I'm the most nerdy with that stuff, spend a lot of time on the water. I would say myself, but in a humble way.

Rickard Rakell: I think Sid would do pretty well. I feel like he lives out in nowhere over the summer.

Sidney Crosby: I think I'd say Ricky (Rakell). He's pretty chill, I think he's got some survival instincts. He's got the tools.

Ryan Graves: Maybe Jars, I feel like he's outdoorsy.

Jesse Puljujarvi: Maybe Jarry. I heard he stays on a farm? So that's why.

Tristan Jarry: Tanger. He'd find someone to come pick him up.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You 7

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note:Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

When Peter returns, he’s not alone. You stand, feeling gangly as you hunch, as he introduces his friend; Ned. You offer a tense smile and your name. He’s friendly, like Peter, but still a stranger.

“Yo, Pete,” Ned approaches the TV, “why are we not racing for the mushroom cup right now?”

“Ned,” Peter drones.

“He’s a sore loser,” Ned scoffs as he grabs two colourful shapes; one red, another blue. As he nears, he holds one out to you. The buttons on it suggest some sort of controller. “So, how about it, you ready to dethrone the champ?”

“Take it easy on her, Ned,” Peter slides a tray of crackers and cheese between the bowls of chips.

“I’m sure she’s not half as bad as you.”

“Um, I never…” you take the controller and rub your lips together, “I’ve never played… actually.”

“Ah, a noob, no worries then,” Ned plops down on the couch, “we’ll play easy.”

“Oh, uh, okay, I guess, but er…” you look around, “if Peter wants to play–”

“Actually, I need to listen for the door,” Peter counters.

“Right,” you turn back to the TV and sit. You thumb the stick and examine the buttons as the loud music erupts from the speakers.

“So this one you can steer, or you can tilt the controller,” Ned explains, and you press this button to go…”

You try to keep track but you’re not too sure. It seems pretty intuitive. You think.

A new screen comes up and there’s an array of characters to choose from. You choose the princess in the yellow dress over the dinosaur. You wait for the first track to load as your hands sweat around the controller.

The first lap has you veering and crashing but on the second you get a handle of it. It’s not as hard as it seems. Your usual clumsiness doesn’t translate to the digital. You come in fifth. Not as bad as it could be.

As you wait for the second race, voices carry from behind you. You turn as two girls and a guy enter. Ned peeks over, “hey.”

“Hi,” one of the girls chimes back as she approaches, “oh, you must be the one Peter mentioned. I’m Gwen,” she announces, “MJ,” she points over her shoulder, “and Harry.”

“Oh, okay,” you stand again, awkwardly swaying on your long legs, “do you wanna play?”

“We can wait,” she assures, “actually, we’re going to check out the snacks.”

“Right, uh, nice to meet you,” you murmur and sit back down.

Ned asks if you’re ready and you nod. He hits a button and a new race begins. You’re silent as you focus on staying on the road.

“I’m no good at parties either,” he says suddenly, “not that this is much of one. Peter’s not exactly the cool guy.”

“Right, er, it’s… just a lot of strangers.”

“Relax,” Ned says, “I’m gonna get you good. You’re gonna beat them all.”

You laugh, a bit less nervous as he keeps it light, “yeah, I… I’ll try.”

“Pizza,” Peter’s voice punctures the din.

“Finally,” Ned groans but keeps playing, “save me a slice of deluxe.”

The savoury, greasy scent permeates the room almost instantaneously. Your stomach roars but you focus on the screen. You bump another character out of the way as you squint. You’re almost done the last lap.

“Hey,” Ned says, “that was me.”

“Oh, sorry,” you utter as you cross the finish line.

“Woo, first place,” he nudges you lightly, “see, you’re a natural.” He stands as your stomach continues to gurgle, “I’ve trained you well, young padawan.”

“Um,” you furrow your brows.

“Right, not a Star Wars fan, noted,” he smirks, “anyways, I’m starving. How about we feed that dragon in your belly?”

You look down, embarrassed.

“I’m okay,” you say.

“There’s plenty to go around, better get it while it’s hot,” he insists and leaves the controller on the armrest.

You reach over to do the same but stay seated. Your stomach really hurts and your head is starting to pulse. You should eat but you just feel… out of place. Like you shouldn’t be here. You don’t belong and you don’t deserve to share all this nice food.

“Hey, you like cheese,” Peter sits beside you, “got double.”

He holds two plates, hovering one before you.

“Oh, you didn’t have to…”

“You can always switch up if you want pepperoni,” he holds the plate before your nose. You salivate. You can’t hold out any longer.

“Thanks,” you accept the plate, nearly shaking as dizziness swirls in your head.

“No problem,” he sets his plate in his lap and lifts the first slice.

You mirror him and take a small bite of the end. You chew slowly, trying not to betray how your stomach clenches violently. You could devour the slice in a single bite but you don’t want them to judge you. You continue with measured nibbles.

“If you don’t like pizza…”

“No, I do,” you assure him. “Thanks, it’s really good.”

“Well, next time, I’ll make sure to get your fave toppings. You like mushrooms? Oh, don’t tell me you’re an anchovies girl.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t… had that,” you shake your head as you pick at the crust.

“Or maybe you’re more into hamburgers? Oh, how about pasta? Sushi?”

“No, no, I like pizza,” you assure him.

“Well, you can help yourself, there’ll be lots of leftovers, I’m sure,” he stands up, his plate empty as you break the crust of your first in half, “you need more water?”

“No thanks,” you focus on your plate.

“Be right back,” he promises and shuffles away.

“So,” the girl named MJ comes around, chewing while she talks. You look up at her and put the crust down. “You and Peter, how long have you been together?”

“Pardon? Together? Oh, I only just met him a few weeks ago–”

“You two must be getting serious,” she says, “you’re a cute couple.”

“What?” Your heart hammers. “No, I–”

“You know,” Gwen approaches, “just like Peter to spring a girlfriend on us without warning.”

Your mouth opens and you blink dumbly. They think you and Peter are together?

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you say.

“Oh, ha, sorry, no labels,” MJ winks, “it’s only what he told us.”

“He said that?”

“To be honest, when we saw you, we didn’t believe him,” Gwen snickers.

You swallow and stand up. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say a word. You take your plate to the table and put it down. You grab a paper towel from the roll and wipe your fingers off as you head for the stairs. You’ve never been more embarrassed in your life. 

They couldn’t believe Peter would be with someone like you. They’re right to doubt that but it still stings. Just as always, you’re not good enough.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

You know we've all discussed ad nauseum why it's racist to depict Ed as uncontrollably violent and prone to flying into rages, but I actually think it would be very easy to write a fic where Stede's the one who needs to have his disruptive tendencies "managed" without stepping all over canon too much.

There are two things about Stede that really work for this: he holds a grudge and he genuinely delights in breaking rules. Killing Ned Low is your classic example; he had Ned entirely beaten purely through typical Stede Bonnet methods, you could make an argument that killing Ned was for the best because he might've come after them again but the framing makes it pretty clear that Stede kills Ned not becasue he has to but because he's angry at him and he wants to. Ned was a dead man walking from the minute he mockingly played with Ed's hair and we saw Stede's furious expression. And Stede just loves doing crime, it's one of his most endearing character traits. Have you ever seen a man so happy to dine and dash before?

Where are all my fics where Ed has to be constantly talking Stede down from setting restaurants on fire because the server was a little rude to Ed. Where are all the fics where Ed has to walk the line of giving Stede enough enrichment (stealing small items from the local merchants) while keeping a low and positive enough profile that they don't burn all the bridges with the new people they live near. Where are my modern AUs where Stede cuts their grocery bill in half by habitually stealing from the Walmart self-checkout line and has a dozen speeding tickets on his record because he thrives in the thrill of the chase

[the-kr8tor]

Another potion request I think you may enjoy brewing up (Using my second and last slot).

A few stalks of baby's breath, mixed with epsom salt poured into a ❣️. Billie and Ramona could be from an orphanage that hitched a ride on the boat, the same fate as you...apart from the fact they just wanted some fun and weren't running away, and have adopted both BDAS!Hobie and you as parents. Signed by yours truly -🐦‍⬛

QISJJWIWJS BDAS + TWINS REQUEST?!!!! At your service 🫡

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6 k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, Billie and Ramona AU, dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, Pirate AU, BDAS AU, CW food mentions, FLUFF!

A/N: hmmm I think every BDAS enjoyer should read this

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The twins jump around in glee, running off to the side of the ship to watch the anchor fall down with a loud splash. They've been your pride and joy the moment they fell into your lap, literally, they fell off the sail and into your arms one sunny morning and you've since become their adopted mother from then on. Hell, you've got the bump on your head to prove it from how you tumbled just to catch Billie in your arms while Ramona who's nestled in the crook of your arm watches you with wide, curious eyes. Hobie saved the day though, if not for him you'd have more than a bump on your head. It's safe to say that the girls fell into your arms and Hobie's.

It's been two years since then, they've grown from little five year olds who refuses to leave yours and the captain's side; to a couple of seven year olds who cannot stand still for even a moment while they run around the ship looking to annoy someone. Usually it's Ned or James, but today, the little ones prefer to watch as the beloved ship anchors down near a lonesome island.

You pop in next to them, arm snaking around their shoulders, chin placed on top of Billie's curls that you've personally braided for today. You're still in awe at how much they look like Hobie now, so much so that you've questioned Hobie where he was seven years ago and if he had relations during that time. To which he always (lovingly) jabs you with his chin above your shoulder, whispering in your ear, saying that there was nobody else. And he definitely has never been in the town where Billie and Mona’s orphanage once resided. You believe him of course, but you never miss a chance to tease him about it.

Maybe they're starting to look like him because his love for the twins are so strong that it's starting to show on them. You like that idea better.

The entire crew loves them too, Finn always makes whatever they want to eat even if he just cleaned up for the night. Because of the girls, there's always an abundance of chocolate and sweets on board, to which you couldn't complain about. Yuri teaches them how to climb up the crow’s nest, which was a scare to you at first. You or Hobie always wait down at the deck with arms out just in case. Because of Ned, they're an expert at sewing, you once joked to Ned that they'll replace him one day. He sulked the entire day, you had to give him a peace offering of Finn's finest wine after that. And if suddenly the girls have gone missing, they're almost always by Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen, who are all happy to babysit them. To which Hobie always takes the opportunity to yank you into the captain's quarters to hoard you all to himself.

“Are you excited?” You mumble into Billie’s hair, hand rubbing softly at Mona's shoulder where Billie accidentally hit her with a toy wooden sword just yesterday.

“Mm-hmm!” Billie nods enthusiastically, while her sister stares at the lush island a few miles away.

“It's so pretty.” Mona whispers in awe. She turns her head towards you with a smile. “Do you really think the treasure's there?”

“Of course—”

“The map never lies, cheese.” Hobie pops up from nowhere, sliding up next to Mona's side, winking briefly at you, you chuckle softly, hand already reaching for him. Mona looks up at him with admiration, giving him a wide toothy smile while her sister does the same. “It's just like what Miles said, he pinpointed exactly where it is.”

“Uncle Miles is a genius!” Billie screeches, Hobie meets your hand halfway, immediately cupping your hand behind the girls' back.

“He’s brilliant!” Mona happily jumps in place when Finn starts to uncover the dinghy boat from the side of the ship.

Hobie mocks offense, “what ‘bout me and Y/N then? We're the one who got the map for you two.” He's right, sort of.

You and Hobie made the map yourselves for the anniversary of the day they fell into your arms. You both worked day and night to perfect it, making elaborate riddles that made the red sail pirates bend over backwards to sail all over the south end of the country to where you and your captain laid ‘traps’ and more riddles that would lead to the ‘treasure map’ of their dreams. The crew was on board the entire time, but you've never anticipated how fast the girls figured all the riddles out. It took them less than a week to find the map when you and Hobie thought it would take at least three weeks. Now the so-called treasure hunt is finished early, a few weeks off the anniversary.

“Oh, you and mum helped too, dad.” Mona grins at you and then to Hobie. You can never get used to the titles, your heart always sings whenever they call you ‘mum’ or more sweetly, ‘mummy’. Hobie shares the same testament, he feels like dancing whenever they call him ‘dad’ or ‘captain dad’.

Billie stares at Hobie, you can tell that she's up to something. “Nah, you were little help, dad. Mum at least got us satchels for the treasure.” You hide your laughter over Billie's head.

Hobie gasps, chuckles poking through the act. “‘Little help?’” the girls giggle at his reaction. “‘Little help?!’” The laughter gets louder as Hobie wildly throws his long arms about. “Whose bloody ship brought you to all the places, huh?” With a heave, he scoops them in his arms, lifting them and carrying them over his shoulders. You wish you could capture the moment as your little found family plays around your home.

“Mummy's!” They both exclaim, shrieking happily. Hobie fakes another offended gasp, blowing raspberries on each of their sides while he slyly moves over to the raised dinghy.

“That is a crime against your captain!” He yells, raising them up above his head effortlessly while you watch on with the biggest grin. “What is the verdict, my dear medic?”

You tamp down a laugh, matching his acting. “Sounds like the punishment is thrown overboard, my cap'n.”

Hobie winks at you, the girls scream as their dad ‘throws them overboard’. Their eyes widen at the treachery, but Finn, who has been waiting in the dinghy with arms open, catches them without a hitch. You exhale properly once they're safe and sound in his big burly arms. You trust Hobie and his aim, but you don't trust the wind and gravity.

The girls kick about, while Finn is unbothered, watching the bundles in his arms. “Thank you for catching them, Finn.” You say, climbing down on the dinghy with Hobie's hand helping you down. He grunts in reply, releasing the twins back into your arms.

The girls clamber their way into your lap, sending death glares at Hobie who sits down across from you. Finn gets out of the boat, slowly letting the small boat down into the tides.

“What?” Hobie asks, acting innocent. Billie and Mona huff at him, tiny fists wrapped around your (Hobie's) leather vest. “I was just followin’ orders! Your mum delivered the verdict!” They turn to you simultaneously, you stumble on your words.

“Mum!” Their furrowed brows would be adorable but they have the same fire in their eyes that you sport when need be.

“Sorry?”

It was an awkward rowing for only a moment until you placate them with chocolates that you've hidden under the seat just for the occasion. They've forgotten about you and Hobie's transgressions the moment they bit into the sugary treat.

Billie's the first person to rush into the sandy beach when the boat reached the island. She grabs Mona by the hand, giddily bouncing up and down in excitement. Hobie pulls the boat inwards while you watch the girls count their steps according to the map in their hands.

You follow behind, hearing their little arguments as they get turned around in confusion. Hobie's arm snakes around your waist, face tucked into your neck, sighing as his shoulders relax.

“Hi,” you smile, craning your neck to peck at his temple. “What are you doing?”

“Sniffin’”

“Ah, continue on, captain.”

After a beat, with you and Hobie spectating the twins, Hobie mumbles into your neck. “Do you remember the first time we were on this island?”

You smile fondly, still following the girls as they walk inside the lush greenery. The familiar canopy shields you from the sun, Hobie straightens up, hand sliding down to hold your hand. “I do, some of it was bad, but it was mostly good I think.”

He squeezes your hand, “yeah? It was all worth it wasn't it?”

The girls finally stop in front of a pomegranate tree that has fully blossomed. They pause in awe before noticing the red ‘x’ beneath their feet. They take the little shovels that Hobie made, excitedly pulling it out of their satchels, digging immediately with a grin.

You sniff, meeting his grey eyes. “It was. It was all worth it.”

Hobie smiles, arms finding penchant on your hips, pulling you close until you're chest to chest with him. You cup his jaw, his stubble making you chuckle as you rub gently along his jawline. He moves his head down to press a kiss against your palm, eyes never leaving your own.

You lean closer, heart thrumming, lips brushing along his own—

“We found it!” Billie exclaims, while Mona dances around the wooden chest that you and everyone who loves and cares for the girls have prepared for them. You two move away from each other quickly.

“What are you waitin' for?” Hobie matches his girls' energy. “Open it then!” The second they're occupied, he pulls you back into his arms, giving you a chaste yet saccharin kiss that leaves you breathless, that reminds you of the first time he kissed you under the moonlight.

[parkerpeter24]

this is my idea for the spider-man x fangirl thing

so peter and reader are best friends and reader always talks about how much she loves spider-man and peter always rolls his eyes and acts annoyed even though deep down it makes him happy. then one day reader was walking at night when she got like robbed or something and gets saved by spider-man. he swings her to someplace safe and when she calms down she starts freaking out that she met spider-man . you can add more but idk i’m not good at this but that’s jus like an idea??

let’s hope you guys enjoy this.

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader.

masterlist

“so you don’t think it’s like, a fifth date kind of revelation?” you asked peter as the two of you walked on the pavement. when a reply didn’t come out of your best friend, you looked to the side, only to catch him giving you the same look of exasperation, “what? oh, come on. i’m not in love with him!”

“you’re in love with him.” he concluded, “why do you even wanna know who he is?”

“i don’t know, i’m just-”

“in love with him.” peter reiterated, forcing you to give him a glare to shut up.

“curious.” you said, rolling your eyes.

the two of you walked in silence for a while as you made your way towards delmar’s deli. you had decided to go to peter’s for today’s study session and you were ready to eat off his ear again talking about spider-man. and he knew. he’d seen the new video of himself– the link to which you’d sent him– fighting off four guys at the same time.

you kept him updated on spider-man and even though he pursed his lips and rolled his eyes whenever you started getting all giddy about the new news, the only people who knew you had a crush on peter– well, spider-man– were himself and ned.

after getting your favorite sandwiches, you both made your way to peter’s place, a few blocks away. once you were inside, you made a beeline for his room, setting down your backpack on his bed.

“that’s new.” peter pointed, noticing the pop socket stuck to your mobile cover. you looked at it and nodded.

“there was only one left. i had to buy it.” you grinned as you sat down, pulling out your books.

“if you would just admit it, you’re obsessed.” peter chuckled, sitting down beside you.

“am not.” you raised your eyebrows.

“are too.” peter retaliated, making you roll your eyes at him again, “come on, it’s not a bad thing.”

you shrugged, “i just admire him.”

it was pretty late at night when you left his place, may was yet to come back and you missed her trying to make you stay for dinner. putting your hands in either pockets of your jacket, you began your walk to your place.

but just a few blocks down and you spotted a man in dark grey hoodie and torn jeans. you tried to walk past him but got worried when he started following you. as your steps quickened, his did too. just as you were about to run, the guy held your arm, pulling you into an alley.

you were shocked, he had pointed a knife right at your exposed neck. you tried not to move as he gave you an intimidating look, “hand me your money and we’re even.”

you trembled, trying to open your mouth. your mouth came out shakey, “p-please, i have nothing- j-just books.”

you felt the cold metal pressing against your skin, the slightest sting on your neck as you gulped, closing your eyes as tears pooled in them.

the next few seconds were very confusing. you were free, the pressure on your arm and disappearing as you heard a ‘thwip’. the knife was yanked out of the robber’s hand, and he got a kick to the side of his rib, making him fly further into the alley.

you gasped as your saviour landed in front of you, robotic eyes squinting at the guy, “come on, dude! ‘no’ means no.”

he yelled towards the guy before turning to you, noticing the tears in your eyes, “hey... are you okay? ...miss.”

your mouth opened, then closed. then opened. then closed again.

“it’s okay. i think you’re star-struck.” he tried to ease the tension. you noticed he moved his hands a lot.

“um... thank you for... knocking that guy out.” you wiped away your face and touched your neck, feeling the smallest cut, “i wasn’t planning on getting killed tonight.”

“you should clean that up.” you noticed he moved his hands a lot when he talked. it made your heart flutter a little. on the same night, the superhero had managed to save your life and make you feel all warm just by being the way you’d imagined him from the youtube videos.

you nodded at him, “i will...”

“you can call me spider-man.” he shrugged and you liked the idea that he might have been smiling at you under the mask. you noticed that he was making his voice sound thicker, putting on a heavy accent, but you tried to ignore it, following that he was in a full body spandex suit.

“i will, spider-man.” you smiled back.

“i... could walk you to the home.” he offered, almost immediately adding, “just to make sure you’re safe!”

you nodded your head, “well, unless you have to go save someone else...”

“i’m free for now.” he chuckled as as started leading the way.

as the two of you walked, a silence overtook the atmosphere. you tried to scan your brain for something, just so you could avoid the awkwardness, “i’m a big fan, by the way.”

peter wanted to laugh at your giddy voice. he’d never heard you be this shy around him– which, now that he thought, was making him a bit jealous of his alter ego, “thanks! just doing my job as the friendly neighborhood spider-man.”

once the two of you had reached your apartment complex, you faced the superhero, “thank you, spider-man.”

he did a little salute with two of his fingers, “glad to help.” and with that he took off, swinging away from you.

you sighed softly, feeling a little disappointed at his departure. you went inside and texted peter immediately– characters mismatched and all caps as you typed– ‘THETES NO WAY YPURE GONNA BELIEVE EHAT HAPPED!!!’

peter chuckled, watching the texts come through on his screen as he sat atop your building.

the brunette sighed softly, “man, tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #129

In an AU where everything is the same except Tony survived the snap in Endgame, MJ and Ned are both very aware that something is up with their memories. Huge, overlapping chunks of their lives are gone. And Spider-Man has something to do with it.

The only public figure Spider-Man has ever been closely associated with is Tony Stark. In need of answers, and not the types to just let something like this go, the kids hack and heist their way somehow onto Tony Stark's secret lake house property. It's weird that no alarms go off when they get close, but they manage it. They're about to knock, when Tony Stark, savior of the universe, opens the door.

He does not look great. Aside from the general post-battle healing and the fact that they have literally caught him at home, there's just something...off. It doesn't take long for them to realize that it's the same thing that's off with them, too.

Something important has been taken from all of their lives. Someone.

After Tony calms down from his initial freak-out, MJ and Ned (though mostly MJ) manage to convince him pretty quickly. The fact that FRIDAY never alarmed because they're in her system already is a huge point to their side. 

And, the fact that he agrees with them. He survived the battle, everything should be fine. But something is so, very wrong. He's grieving someone he doesn't even know.

So, a new team is born. A trio united to find their shared missing person, the eraser mark in their memories none of them can bear to lose, all for different reasons.

They don't have much to go on, but Tony agrees with them on one thing: Spider-Man is involved somehow. And that's a good place to start.

[dailyheadcanons]

Sansa loves having her hair braided. She can do it on her own but she prefers someone else to do it.

Ned was actually pretty good at it but was always neverous when she asked him. He also sometimes braided Catelyn’s hair when she was pregnant or just wanted to. It calms him down to braid hair.

Robb is actually really bad at braiding hair but is slowly getting better as he keeps trying and praticing.

Jon is the best of them all and she usually chooses him. Sansa was hesitant at first to ask him to, scared that he would say no or do a bad job, but he actually is naturally good at it. (Sansa cried the first time he braided her hair after reclaiming Winterfell, it reminded her to much of how Catelyn braided it).

Arya used to braid her hair at night in their chambers sometimes. Though she threatened Sansa that if she told anyone she would coem to regret it.

Bran never really tried but he was about the same as Robb, but he had no desire to practice. Though Sansa knew if she ever asked then he would try to make her happy.

Rickon was too young to try before Sansa left for the south, but he loved her hair. After he got out of the stage of pulling it harshly, he would bury his face in it when she would carry him or lye him down for bed.

Theon was actually really good at braiding her hair (and actually loved doing it) , but would never admit it and would usually never do it. He broke down the first time she asked him to do it after his escape from Ramsey.

(I didn’t add Catelyn because she was obviously the main person who braided her hair!)

[madwomansapologist]

notes on The Illuminating Storms

"We remember the good times and the bad ones, forgetting that most times are neither good nor bad. They just are." - Kaladin, chapter 21.

I need to explain something that really bothers me about Dalinar. He's wrong. Even if he's right, he's wrong.

I agree that fighting this war won't led them anywhere. That going after gems while ignoring what's happening on their nation is not very inteligent. I also don't think Elhokar is... smart.

Still, Dalinar is on the wrong for being so openly about how he would rather not fight this war. This is a stupid thing to say and to do. His brother was killed. It doesn't matter if he feels the lack of Gavilar: in what world one of the leaders could act as if this war wasn't the most important thing to ever happen and not be on the wrong?

I think he's right. Since I haven't finished the book I can't say anything about if his methods worked or anything like that, but as a politian Dalinar was the absolute worst. You can't not listen to your family that has the same goals as you but listen to your enemies who wants to make you look worse than you're and expect things to work the way you want to.

He's Ned Stark. Good, but stupid. You need to understand when to voice your believes, or else you might ended up telling the queen that you know her children are bastarts.

Again, I think Dalinar is right. But you don't build a reputation about being a fucking monster on the battlefield just to wonder about morallity during the war to avenge your brother.

All that being said, i love Dalinar. I think he committed attrocities, I'm pretty sure he killed his wife, and I expect him to fuck his dead brother's wife.

His whole "don't make your soldiers do what you wouldn't" is fucking basic human decency, but everyone on camp disagrees. Is like telling your parents that if they have covid they need to quarantine just to see you ENTIRE family laughing at you.

It's not a pacifist doing that. This is a man known for being good at killing. And even he thinks that using those bridges is too much. Of course we all think this is a horrible thing, but to have him react this way about it makes it even clearer how dehumanizing this is.

The way he wants to protect Elhokar makes me want to cry a little. That feeling of being responsible not because Elhokar is his nephew, but because he is his brother's son (yes, there's a difference), makes me so sad. As the eldest daughter, everything about siblings hits harder.

I hate Elhokar.

His horse is smater than him.

If your uncle says he isn't sure if fighting is the best thing, you don't tell every other leader around you.

When your uncle asks you for a rise, you don't ask his ex-best friend what he thinks about it.

I want Dalinar to fuck Navani just so Elhokar will get hit -999 psychic points.

Wit I love you. I know he's important for the Cosmere, if I'm right his name is Hoid, but eitherway he's so amazing. Even with me not knowing who exactly he's, that man is iconic.

The way he hates Sadeas... iconic.

The way he likes Renarin... iconic.

The way he talks to Navani... iconic.

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[15-lizards]

ASOIAF ATLA Au bc I saw a JJK one and was mesmerized

Dany is the avatar this is not up for debate. Born into the disgraced former imperial family of the fire nation, she shows signs of being able to bend other elements but never acts on them because her opinion of herself is too low and she doesn't believe she could be the protector of the world. After Drogo dies she fully unlocks her earth bending during his funeral ceremony while creating the pyre and everyone's like omg Miss Avatar. Then continues on with her heroes journey/bad roadtrip to take back her throne. The zuko parallels are everything to me. Yes she still brings back the dragons cause they were (thought to be) extinct in ATLA too

Jon who thinks he's a non bender (and Ned prays he is) until him and Robb are play fighting in the yard one day as kids and he accidentally burns his brother's eyebrows off. Still goes to the Wall bc could the fire and ice symbolism even be more in ur face. Most of the wildlings distrust him for his destructive abilities but he learns to control himself and becomes a symbol of light and life instead of destruction when he becomes a leader (Zuko parallels AGAIN babey).

Arya is a water bender who completely rejects learning about healing because she thinks it's so fucking boring. Syrio starts to train her and she starts to develop her shifty and quick fighting style that most trained benders find confusing. Learns ab blood bending while on the run and is Understandably Horrified. The faceless men force her to learn how to heal. They also force her to use her blood bending more so she's not having a great time rn.

Sansa is an incredibly talented healer for her age, but has no idea how to fight because "ladies aren't supposed to do that sort of thing." Forced to heal Lannister soldiers while stuck in the capital, though she just wishes she could let them die. ALSO unlocks blood bending due to this and is also quite unnerved. Forced to pose as a non bender in the Vale.

Bran the water bender who is devastated when it can't be used to heal him after his fall. Starts getting really into the spirit world, increasingly noticing raven spirits that no one else can see. Meera and Jojen (she's the swamp bender kind of water bender and he's a highly spiritual non-bender) take him north of the wall where the harmonic convergence takes place

Robb is an earth bender like his dad (Starks were originally a purely water bending family but started to marry a lot of earth benders) and he's well trained and good for his age, but that doesn't save him from being 15 and making poor decisions. Really heartbreaking as this desperate teenager tries to keep up with more experienced enemies as they attack him from all angles at the Red Wedding

Tyrion is now both a non-bender and a dwarf, which makes him doubly disgraced in Tywins eyes. Has to prove himself through his intelligence, being useful on the battlefield by creating the plans for benders and soldiers. Always has a lot of snarky comments about benders but always dreamed of being an air bender

Jamie and Cersei are both fire benders. Cersei used to spar with Jamie as children but Tywin quickly put an end to that and she was essentially forbidden from using her bending. Jamie is one of the best benders of his generation, and even years after the fact, Cersei still deeply resents him for being the prodigy she never had the chance to become

Cat is a water bender who was a pretty decent healer who patched men up after the war, but didn't really use her powers too much once she got married, because she didn't have much reason too. This bites her in the ass during the Red Wedding when she can't properly defend herself, and once Lady Stoneheart rises, she becomes a blood bender who is going to use her powers to their full extent this time around.

[visenyaism]

I haven't read the main series yet and I'd love to know the lore behind Harrenhal, love see you and others post about it but I sadly don't get all of it 😭

sit down followers it’s story time. Once upon a time there was this guy named King Harren Hoare. and he was king of the iron Islands where he was from, but he decided he wanted to be king of more than that also. so he invaded the Riverlands and conquered it all which was pretty easy because they were fighting each other like they always are instead of him. but being king of two places wasn’t enough he also needed to have the biggest baddest castle in all of the land. So he rounded up a bunch of smallfolk in the nicest most central important location in the riverlands and got them to building it. In his hubris he got too into it and mixed actual human blood into the mortars of the castle. unlike other feudal castles, this one is both literally and figuratively made from peasant blood. 

but he got his castle and it is in fact the biggest in the entire seven kingdoms. It’s notable for its five huge (now wrecked) stone towers. A million men could march on that thing and slide right off. but he forgot to account for the WMD metaphor that being Aegon Targaryen and his sisters flying in on their big big dragons, wanting to conquer everything that he had previously conquered. he refused to surrender because he thought his blood castle would keep him safe and they burned him and all his sons alive in it.

Ever since then, Harrenhal is this half-burned wreck of a castle but no family has been able to hold onto without all dying for more than two generations. my fav occupant was danelle lothston, a girlknight cannibal blood witch who later got executed for bathing in too much peasant blood. in the main series, the whole thing about Harrenhal is that it was the site of this tourney that happened when the main cast were teenagers where jaime lannister got knighted, ned got a crush on a dayne maybe, and lyanna got crowned queen of love and beauty by a very married rhaegar targaryen, all of which set up their generation-defining war. Harrenhal is also this cursed deeply hunted liminal space where time seems to be a lot looser. everyone thinks it’s cursed. there are many theories as to why, including:

1) harrenhal is cursed because of harren’s hubris, which is like the hubris of the lords (usually un-landed) who get handed the castle because they think they can turn it around.

2) the harrenhal curse is an allegory for feudalism, a castle made from peasant blood that eats the grasping lords who get handed it whole.

3) the harrenhal “curse” it’s just that it’s too big to defend and it’s centrally located in the Riverlands, which is important in every single war so it just sort of gets chewed up all the time and there’s no actual magic involved.

4) the Harrenhal curse is just the fact that Aegon’s descendants (Maegor, Rhaena, Daemon, etc) do have a tendency to keep coming back to kill everyone there.

5) the Harrenhal curse is a freaky blood thing that has something to do with its blood walls and a lot to do with its weirwood and the nearby isle of faces, an old god island no mortal, has ever successfully gone to, but several people have died trying. the castle is hungry for blood. 

Ultimately it is a super important place and also this haunted torment labyrinth sometimes the author will just stick characters like daemon or jaime into if they need to be stuck in introspective agony for a while. The current lord is littlefinger so everyone manifest it comes for him soon. 

[axelsagewrites]

Ned Stark*Wife

Pairing: Ned x f!wife!reader

Kinktober Day twenty-five: breeding kink with Ned Stark – there is a reason why Ned has so many children and it’s not as noble as many assume

Word count: 1145

Warnings: horny Ned, desperate Ned, really horny Ned, m!recieving oral, teasing, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

Ned Stark is an honourable man who serves his people and his gods to the best of his ability however his eyes were betraying him. All night he had watched as you danced around his name day feast. A southern quality of yours he usually enjoyed but tonight caused his cock to harden in his trousers. Well, that plus the sweet words you had whispered to him in his bed this morning before rushing away claiming you had ‘too much to do’.

His lords’ words fell on deaf ears since all his focus was on you tonight. When the feast began to lull, only drunken lords and giggling ladies left, Ned approached where you sat talking and giggling with friends. “Wife,” he said, his voice almost as Strained as his trousers had been all night.

“Husband,” you said, turning around giggling but your laughs fell into a knowing smirk when you saw the faint flush of his skin, “It is awfully late it not?”

“Aye,” he said, nodding to the ladies you had been sitting with, “I’m afraid I will have to steal my wife away,” he said as he helped you up from the chair and whisked you out of the hall.

“Why are you always such a little tease?” he questioned lowly in your ear, making sure no passing servants could hear.

You grinned widely, glancing over at your husband who walked very close behind you, likely to try hide the growing bulge you could feel anytime he bumped into you, “Because you like it my lord,”

The chamber door had no sooner slammed shut than your back was being pressed against it. your hands tangled in his hair while his fumbled with the strings of your dress, “I hate this thing,” he grumbled against your lips.

You laughed as you reached to unknot the ties he’d struggled with, “Liar,” you chastised, “I saw you watching me,”

He was never a wasteful man but soon he found himself ripping your dress just to get you out of. he chuckled at your gasp as his hands grabbed your hips, “Don’t worry I’m sure you can mend it,” he teased right back, giving you a taste of your own medicine as you stumbled towards the bed.

It was rare for Ned to be rough but that did not mean he was willing to wait. His hands gripped your hips tightly before throwing you back on the bed making you laugh as your back landed on the soft fabrics. Meanwhile Ned worked on pulling his tunic and undershirt over his head, tossing them in a heap somewhere with your discarded dress.

“Been thinking of this all night,” he said, his hands working on the laces of his breaches however you quickly sat up to take over. “What- “he tried to question as you pulled the fabric down, letting his already hard cock spring free.

“Relax my love,” you commanded him, taking his shaft in your hand and pumping softly making him groan, “and enjoy your gift,” you said before you began to trail kisses up his shaft. When his hand moved to rest on the back of your head you took your signal to sink your mouth down on his cock and Ned groaned loudly as your head began to bob up and down.

All the tension from the night plus the sight of his pretty wife using her pretty lips to suck him off made it hard for him not to spill down your throat. Instead, he did his best to hold back, not wishing it to be quite over yet but when he felt your hands cup his balls, he couldn’t help but pull you off his cock, enjoying the sight of spit trailing down your lips.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded in that stern tone that drove you wild and he knew it. its why he would always shoot a knowing glance your way whenever he had to use it on a lord.

You did as you were told and felt the bed dip as he positioned himself behind you, “Been thinking about this all day,” he said, running his tip along your slit making you shiver, “So have you apparently. So wet for me,” he chuckled, enjoying how your head buried into the pillow in embarrassment.

“Not gonna waste it by finishing in that sneaky mouth of yours,” he said, lining his tip up with your hole but not quite yet pushing in making your hips wiggle, desperate for the friction, “Wanna see you dripping with it,” he said before suddenly pushing in.

You gasped, gripping at the sheets as his cock began to stretch you perfectly. He went slow at first, sinking in till he was buried inside you with a low groan. Ned tried to wait a moment, allow you to adjust, but your hips moved back, and he lost all his honour.

He gripped your hips tightly, fingertips burning flesh as he began thrusting. The bed began to jolt, the wooden headboard beginning to hit off the stone wall, but the noises didn’t matter. Especially not when he could still hear the sweet moans coming from your mouth.

His hand reached around your hips, moving to rub fast circles on your clit making you clench around him. “Fuck,” he began to murmur but he wasn’t ready just yet. His other hand moved to push your back down, deepening your arch till his cock was able to hit another spot he had found many times.

As you felt him begin to pound the familiar nerves your moans became louder even as you buried your face into the pillow. A familiar tightening spread across your stomach as your peak threatened to spill only to be encouraged by your husbands’ words.

“Come on,” Ned mumbled, his thrusts becoming messy, “Let go. You know you want to,” he said, “Just c’mon and-fuck,” he gasped as he felt your body tighten and your walls clench around him again. A loud moan left your lips as you felt your peak crash over you, but the feeling just made his thrusts harder.

Curses fell from his lips as he fucked you through your peak just to hit his own. His eyes tightened, his body tensing, but his thrusts didn’t stop till he had ensured he’d fucked his seed deep inside you, enjoying the feeling of filling you up.

Ned paused for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he felt his cock begin to go soft. As he pulled out, he smirked briefly at the sight of you dripping before collapsing onto the bed beside you. “Are you okay my love?” he asked, reaching to his bedside drawer to pull out a fresh rag.

“Yes,” you laughed as your husband moved to clean you up, “Are you sweet husband?”

“More than okay,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy  @valeskafics

[miela]

First of all, thank you so much for this request. I love this trope so much. Gonna make this part of an AU of Shattered Memories version of this because this fits so well with it! Reader doesn't have spidey powers in this one, so the outcome would be very different which is why it's even more of an AU. Enjoy!

A Sense of Reunion {AU}

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark Daughter!Reader Genre: Fluff Warnings: devious child (lmao) Word Count: 3.4k 

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

Peter didn’t expect it to happen like this. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse, actually. He simply needed a job to pay for rent and be able to make a living for himself in the best way that he could. But he didn’t expect everything to drop into his lap like this. 

Peter had gotten fired from his job at the pizza place as a delivery driver. He was late one too many times on making deliveries which resulted him in getting fired. Although the job wasn’t all lavish and luxurious, it still helped with rent. He begged for another chance but the manager wouldn’t budge, which left Peter jobless and struggling. With juggling his Spiderman duties, school studies, and trying to function as an adult earlier than he would’ve liked to he had a lot on his plate. It made him feel rather lonely sometimes. Yeah, he had his college friends and the sweet neighbors in the apartment complex across the hall, but it wasn’t anything like when he had his friends from before.

And it was definitely different without you.

(Y/N) Jarvis.

You were someone who transferred into Midtown Tech during your sophomore year of high school. You didn’t make friends too easily and usually kept to yourself in general. It wasn’t until you decided to join the Academic Decathlon that you became friends with Liz Allan. That’s when you truly opened up. That’s when your true personality shined through. You were a sweet girl. Always helpful and always kind. Peter was taken by you fairly quickly. 

Peter was also surprised at how unconventional you were.

“You guys are building a Lego Death Star?” you asked intrigued from your locker which wasn’t that far from Peter’s. 

You had overheard Ned and him talking about it and you just couldn’t help yourself but go over and ask about it. They were kind of shocked that a popular girl like you approached them.

“Uhm…” Peter started nervously and hesitantly. “Y-yeah…!”

You beamed. “That’s so cool! I’m jealous! I have a Millennium Falcon that I haven’t had time to do.”

“Really?” Ned asked. 

“Yeah!” You smiled, took out your phone, and showed them a picture of you happily hugging the Lego box. 

Peter pretty much fell head over heels for you right then and there without realizing it.

The problem was that you were dating Flash Thompson at the time, and Flash did not like Peter. There were plenty of times when you had to defend Peter from Flash’s bullying and you had to apologize to Peter for Flash's bullying, which put a strain on your relationship. And it ended up in a breakup during the homecoming dance. You spent the whole dance crying in the bathroom by yourself until Liz found you and comforted you. Then the week after Liz had to move away. 

So you lost your boyfriend and your best friend within a week.

Peter will never understand why you confided in him, but you did which only strengthened your friendship and his crush on you that he didn’t realize until the beginning of senior year. Ned told him that you felt the same way but he just thought he was saying that because of how close of friends you guys had become. He wondered if it was actually true. He would never know. 

At least so he thought. 

When he had to sacrifice his identity to save the universe, he remembered your reaction to it. You were there that day and you were supportive of him throughout everything. Except when you had to forget about him. He had never seen you cry so hard before, beg so much before, and look so hurt before.

It broke his heart. 

And here he was a year later and you didn’t remember him along with the rest of the world.

When his college friend, Harry Osborn, heard about Peter losing his job he brought up something that changed his life. 

“You know the Starks are looking for a babysitter.” 

He perked up at the Stark name. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s very under wraps, they want to keep it secret that they have children. But it’s good money. I can put it a good word for you.”

And that’s how Peter ended up at the Stark’s lakehouse right outside of the city, in front of his old mentor and father figure’s face meeting him and his daughter for the first time again. It was strange to him that he had to pretend like this was the first time he was meeting Tony Stark and his family. 

Well, this was his first time meeting Morgan and she took an instant liking to Peter which pleased Tony and Pepper.

“Now she may like you, but the real boss will be home soon,” Tony mentioned. “If she doesn’t see you as a good fit she’ll fire you before I do.”

Peter couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but he chose to chuckle softly. He was also shocked to hear that he had another daughter. 

She must be like 12 or something if she can’t watch Morgan, he thought. 

Soon Tony and Pepper say their goodbyes to Morgan and Peter as they took off. They were apparently going to Malibu for the weekend for some business trip. Peter was surprised they chose him to be the babysitter but really, when you are Iron Man you can pretty much guarantee your safety from the average person (even though Peter isn’t an average person).

Peter looked down at Morgan who was smiling up at him. “Are you hungry? Do you want a snack?”

“Yes,” she chimed.

So he went to the kitchen with her and at her request, he made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He figured that he would make one for you too since you would probably be hungry when you got home. When he asked Morgan what kind of sandwich you would like she told him.

“Peanut butter, Nutella, and jelly, but the peanut butter has to be chunky and the jelly has to be strawberry jam and the Nutella has to be in the center because on the peanut butter side, you have to put potato chips and on the jelly side you have to put strawberry chucks and the one with the Nutella has to have banana slices,” she explained very meticulously. “And she likes to eat it with a glass of milk on the side. Oh! And the bread has to be honey wheat and toasted,”

“Oh…” Peter responded trying to go over the steps in his mind. “Wanna help me make it so I don’t mess it up?”

Morgan was more than happy to help and he grabbed all of the ingredients from various cabinets. Meanwhile, Morgan talked about anything and everything. One of the things he found out was that your nickname is “Luna” because it rhymed with “Maguna” and you had a moon and stars themed room. It reminded him a lot of you and how you would always draw moons and stars on the corners of your school notes when you were bored in class or as a way to distract you from whatever was making you feel uncomfortable at the moment. 

“I know my name is Morgan but Daddy calls me Maguna, Luna calls me Maguna and Mommy calls me Maguna so you can call me Maguna too.”

“But that’s your nickname for your family, right?” 

“Mhm!” Morgan smiled happily.

“So maybe I should call you something else? How about Miss Morgan?”

Morgan giggled and nodded. “Then, I will call you Mister Peter.”

“Deal,” he smiled.

“You should marry my big sister! She likes boys like you!” Morgan stated excitedly like she just came up with the best idea in the world. 

“I-I think, I might be too old for your sister, Miss Morgan,” Peter laughed. 

Morgan shook her head. “Nuh-uh, you are perfect for her! Her last boyfriend was a poopyface.”

Peter smiled at her enthusiasm and just let her live her little fantasy. As he finished putting your sandwich together, he heard the door open. 

“I’m home,” you sang.

“Luna!!” Morgan cheered and ran over to you. 

As Peter heard you and Morgan greet each other, he poured the glass of milk and put it next to the plate of the intricately detailed sandwich. Then he walked over to introduce himself as the new babysitter. But he froze when he saw who it was. It wasn’t a preteen girl like he was expecting.

It was you.

He wasn’t sure what confused him the more, the fact that you weren’t a child but someone his age or the fact that you’re Tony Stark’s daughter. He had so many questions but he didn’t even know which one he would ask first if he could ask any. You didn’t even remember who he is so he couldn’t even ask. 

You looked up at him and smiled as Morgan hugged you around your waist. “Hello! Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N).”

Peter remembered what Mr. Stark said and had to catch himself before he looked really stupid just staring at you like a deer in headlights. “H-hi!” He squeaked out after a moment and then cleared his throat to fix his voice from cracking in high octaves again. “H-hey, I’m…uh…Peter, the new babysitter.”

“We made you your favorite sandwich!” Morgan said excitedly before you could respond.

“Ooh,” your smile grew. ““I’ll be right back, I gotta get out of these clothes and into something more comfy and then I can enjoy the sandwich.”

And you went up the stairs to do just that and Peter watched you go until you were out of view. He was still processing everything that just happened. 

Morgan walked over to Peter. “Told you.” she sang and Peter blushed. 

When you came back down, you went straight the the kitchen where Peter and Morgan were sitting at the island. You wore a black oversized 90s vintage designed Taylor Swift tee shirt and a pair of drop-crotch joggers with blue fuzzy socks with cloud prints on them. Your face was cleared from makeup and you looked ten times more relaxed than you did when you first came home. You went straight for the sandwich, let out a satisfied breath, and closed your eyes as you chewed your first bite. 

“You made this?” You asked Peter. 

“Uh, yeah,” he responded as he rubbed the back of his head nervously. “With some help of course.”

“It’s perfect,” you smiled. 

“Really?” 

“Mhm!” you nodded and took another bite.

Peter gave you a tight-lipped smile in response.

“You seem nervous,” you mentioned. “Did my dad tell you that I'm scary and would fire you before he does? Relax, ignore him. He says that to freak people out.”

Peter wished that was what had him nervous, but he was still processing that you were here, that you were a Stark. He wondered where the name Jarvis came from. It didn’t help that he also has a major crush on you which only adds to his nervousness of being around you. 

“Man, he got you all freaked out, doesn’t he?” You asked when Peter didn’t say anything. “No worries, I’ll hang out with your guys so you can see that I’m not as scary as he says.”

Peter figured this would be one helluva day.  

After doing different activities with Morgan like having a tea party, puzzles, and drawing you guys settled into watching a movie which was Frozen II. Peter noted that you sang every single song without missing a single note or beat. Morgan sang a long too but with some songs, she would be too enthralled by the movie to really remember to sing. After the movie, it was almost eight o’clock Morgan had winded down but she wasn’t sleepy just yet. 

“Alright, Maguna,” you stood up from the couch and did a big stretch. “We can do one more thing before it’s bedtime. So what’s it gonna be?”

She looked up in thought and then a spark came to her eye and then, what Peter could’ve seen, was a mischievous smile. “Let’s play house,” She said.

Oh god, Peter thought and Morgan’s words from earlier echoed in his mind. It was bad enough that he was still processing all of this but he felt like he was about to be set up by a six-year-old.

“Alrighty then,” you agreed. “Who’s gonna be who?”

“You two have to be mommy and daddy,” she explained. “And I’m the baby.”

Peter decided he needed to avert the situation without completely throwing away the whole idea. “You want me to be Mommy, and (Y/N) to be Daddy?” Peter joked. 

Morgan laughed at the idea and you giggled looking at Peter with an eyebrow raised. 

“Perfect, I get to make fun of my dad for once.” You smile, amused.

Peter sighed in relief when you turned back to Morgan who was still laughing. 

After playing house for a while with you imitating Tony exaggeratingly and Peter doing his best mom impression, Morgan was finally tired enough to finally go to sleep. You carried her to her bed and Peter leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you tuck her in. Morgan seemed happy and in return made you happy which made Peter happy. 

He was exhausted though.

“Goodnight, Maguna,” you smiled and kissed her head. “I love you 3000.”

“I love you 3000,” she replied softly and sleepily as she hugged a soft bear plushie. 

“Goodnight, Miss Morgan,” Peter smiled. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Peter,” She yawned. 

You stood up from the bed and walked over to the doorway to where Peter was. You both smiled at each other tiredly.

“Ready?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” he nodded feeling relief that Morgan hadn’t done any funny business to make things awkward between you two.

But he mentally spoke too soon.

“Wait!” Morgan exclaimed startling you both as you guys looked a her wonderously. “You guys have to kiss goodnight!”

Peter felt his soul leave his body. He thought he was safe from this. It’s not like he didn’t want to kiss you, he’s been wanting to kiss you for years. But that doesn’t mean that you want to kiss him. Now it was going to make everything awkward. He didn’t blame Morgan though. She was just a kid with a big imagination. A very, very big and open imagination. 

“Us?” You asked with an unsure look on your face.

“Yes,” Morgan replied sitting up and crossing her arms.

You looked at Peter shyly and he could tell your face was burning from embarrassment. His face was also burning just thinking of the idea of kissing you. You gave him a look the read that you were willing to if he was.

“I can kiss you on the cheek,” you whispered and Peter’s blush bloomed even more.

“Yeah…!” he squeaked again and then cleared his throat. “No, yeah the cheek is good…mhm…yeah.”

“No,” Morgan whined and pouted. “Like how Papa and Mama kiss.”

You looked at Morgan horrified and Peter’s eyes widened and he froze.

“You gotta, otherwise I can't sleep,” Morgan stated. 

“Bullshit,” you sang lowly enough for only you and Peter to hear. 

“Morgan, I don’t think it’s a good idea-” Peter began but was cut off by a grunt from Morgan who pouts harder and crossed her arms over herself.

Peter wanted to crawl into a hole and scream. Mostly because he wasn’t against the idea but he didn’t want to do it in front of Morgan and he didn’t want to do it if you didn’t want to do it.

“I’m okay with it if you are,” you said knocking Peter out of his thoughts and nearly onto the floor. 

Did he hear you right?

“A-are you sure…?” He asked with wide eyes.

You nodded in response looking up at him. “It’s no big deal, right? Just a peck wouldn’t hurt.”

Oh my god, it’s happening. Peter felt his entire body buzz with a feeling he couldn’t really pinpoint.

“O-okay,” Peter squeaked once more and mentally cursed himself for it.

You stepped closer to him as you looked him in the eyes and he looked back into yours. You were just as pretty as he remembered and now you're so close to him getting ready to kiss him, He gulped nervously. His heart raced a million miles per hour.

He thinks he would have an easier time kissing Ned than he would you at this very moment.

“I’m waiting,” Morgan sang sleepily.

“Here goes nothing,” you said before you pressed your lips to Peter’s.

His heart jolted and he kissed back in a reflex. 

This kiss lasted a total of five seconds but to Peter, it was five seconds too short. You pulled back and pressed your lips together looking up at him for a long moment. He looked back at you with his heart still racing in his ears. He could’ve sworn he heard yours beating at the same rapid pace. After a long moment of looking at each other, you broke the gaze and looked over at Morgan. Peter never took his eyes off of you. 

“She’s asleep,” you whispered. 

Peter looked over to see a sleeping Morgan. Peter had no idea when she fell asleep but he was hoping that it was before you guys kissed.

 “Let’s get out of here before she wakes up and has some other bright ideas,” you whispered again.

“Y-yeah,” Peter walked out and you followed behind.

You closed the door softly and then walked down the hall with him so you guys could talk freely without worrying about waking up a sleeping Morgan.

“Uhm…” you started. “You can stay here tonight. It’s late and we have like three guest rooms that you can use.”

“Yeah, your dad told me earlier.”

“Oh! Okay, good, good.”

You guys stood there for a moment, ignoring the elephant in the room. Peter felt it and he was pretty sure that you felt it too. The curiosity of what a genuine kiss would feel like rather than one that was rushed, But neither of you wanted to bring it up. 

You cleared your throat and turned to walk towards your room. “Goodnight, Peter.”

Peter watched you as your hand grabbed the doorknob and before he could even make a decision, his mouth did it for him. 

“(Y/N)?”

You stopped and looked at wide-eyed Peter who was surprised by his own voice. 

“Yes?” You respond.

You guys looked at each other longingly again before his legs took him over by you. What are you doing? He stopped right in front of you. Another moment of looking at each other and wondering. 

You glanced down at his lips and he did the same to yours. That was all the answer he needed.

“C-can I try something?” He asked softly.  

“Yes, “ you answer before he can even finish asking. 

He glanced back at your lips a moment before looking deeply into your eyes. He then softly puts a shaky hand on your cheek and you close your eyes a moment before you look up with hooded eyes. He leaned in slowly and you let out a soft breath and closed your eyes. 

Then his lips met yours. 

The kiss was soft and sweet and Peter could actually feel the softness of your lips then time. You put your hands on his shoulders and grip his shirt as you deepened this kiss causing it to go from cute to passionate. Peter’s heart was racing once again and he let out a soft sigh of satisfaction.

He was finally able to kiss you after all these years and it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

After a moment he got a little more confident and he brought your bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment causing a soft gasp to escape from you before he kissed you again, taking your breath away. He had no idea what came over him, but you both liked it.

After another moment you pulled back and he chased the kiss not wanting to part just yet. He looked at you with hooded eyes before pulling back a little. You looked up at him and brought your hand up to touch your lips before you hesitated a moment and pressed your lips together.

“Uhm…we should…” you started your voice very low.

“No, yeah, yeah. We should…” Peter said and then stepped back slowly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” You replied and stepped into your room quickly and closed the door.

Peter turned and smiled big as he walked to the guest room. At the same time, you leaned against your door smiling and softly touching your lips as you still tasted his kiss on your lips.

~

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@letssee2468 @chrisevans-realwife @riordanness @peterdarlingg @thecrystalclarity @brckenmemories @paleprincesssxo @blackcanary130 @kindlover @i-have-no-life-charlie @melodicheauxxlovesfood

[swordsandarms]

i know you just tend to lurk (me too) but your fandomised rhaegar thoughts are very validating lol. ive always thought blue roses are symbolic of a child born from love, not symbolic of a woman. like lyanna has the roses cause she's jon's mother and rhaegar's love, not because they're her "thing"? never thought that was far fetched til coming online lmao.

OK, this was in my drafts for like a decade.

The roses aren't really the child or the woman, but a representation of the (tragic, but bittersweet) love itself. Though, of course, Jon as the "fruit"/"proof" of it is still at the centre of it all.

Used to hate the concept of "tragedy" and not understand how that can be compelling/satisfying. Turns out a lot of tragedy is badly done, hence the feeling of meaningless/pointlessness of it all some of them give you. Look at HOTD. The problem with the writing is that everything is made meaningless, not that your "favourite" isn't winning everything. It is the fact that it's all bitter and no sweet at the end of the day. (Not the book version, which is also a matter of how much better ASOIAF handles the "continuation" of the tragedy better than GOT).

I see Rhaelya as a representation of the concept: "The love was there. It didn't save anyone, it didn't change anything, but the love was there."

Once you get to look at it like that, it becomes very annoying when people in the fandom sound like a broken record of "what's nice about this?? EveRYoNE dIeS". Yeah, that's how tragedies work, but look at it as such and you'll see the nice, too.

It's not about how "oh, why would you think the author is trying to paint Romeo and Juliet as a romance when he liked Rosaline before, and now suddenly her overnight?"/"oh, it's all about how they are dumb teenagers messing up"/"oh, isn't Orpheus the dumbest for turning round".

Romeo and Juliet are young people finding a shiny thing in a shitty society that creates generational cycles of pain and hate for stupid reasons. The ending is satisfying not because the love is successful but because the characters - and readers are meant to - finally get that. Orpheus turns round because he loves Eurydice and if you did you would, too.

Westeros is a hellscape of ambition, heartlessness, and corruption. Everyone is stabbing everyone's back for a bit more of land, a bit more of wealth, a bit more political influence. Selling and pawning their loved ones for a corn chip. (Controversial opinion, neither Elia or Lyanna should have been in that position, but that's the reason why, "loving families" and all. Even more Controversial, Rhaegar shouldn't have been in that position also. And that's the "good" people - as Controversial as people might think that statement is for Rhaegar. But also OH, you mean selling off Cersei didn't work out well cause she was meant to be a pretty object and didn't have to be taught about armies and resources, just vanity? Or Lysa for some reason wasn't all that grateful to papa to give armies to the great alliance when they needed them, for reasons of keeping the one "trueborn child" she had sheltered, cause that's the one thing you promised her she could get if she did your bidding?) Looking away from what is fair when it is "lawful" according to the status quo (and fandom finds it easy to pinpoint it when it's someone deemed hateworthy, but will be 1000% lenient towards a Ned Stark, and will even hold characters they hate accountable when putting FAIRNESS ABOVE LAW).

And the thing about ASOIAF fandom is THEY LOVE THIS SHIT. They love to romanticise it all. But there's the paradox of it all. Romanticising comes with this idea of unrealistic wistfulness, I guess. If a character lives in "the cruel real world", the romanticised ideal is nice to think about. If they actually reach for ideals, they are fools who should get real about living in the "cruel real world".

Oop, I ventured far from the point. But I just love the whole CONCEPT of the blue rose at its roots. 💙 It literally means just that at its roots. Something wistful but unattainable.